#why do i spend all day writing these when i have other actual ao3 fics to work on

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[allpiesforourown]

OKAY SO I have way too many WIPs to write a role reversal fic and I meant to just yap about my au and ended up writing 2k words about it if you want to read it below...

oblivious shizun luo binghe / oblivious disciple shen yuan

First of all i've been reading a lot of role reversal fics lately but big shout out to ao3 user anqlbean for this fic because it really gave me "fuckboy shizun binghe, hiding that he's a demon lord" brain rot

Okay so anyway. In fair cang qiong sect where we lay our scene-

Luo Binghe is the Qing Jing peak lord. He’s also the heavenly emperor of the demon realm. No one knows both of his identities except for mobei jun and a handful of other people from his inner circle. It’s risky for a demon to hide as one of the cultivation world’s most prominent figures, but he likes having the best of both worlds!

Enter Shen Yuan: Shen Yuan's cultivation history is somewhat similar to Shen Jiu's in that he started cultivating late and joined Qing Jing well into his teens. He’s about 16 when he becomes Binghe’s student, but the thing is… Luo Binghe is kind of just the peak lord in name.

He spends his free time getting laid in the next town or going on an adventure with some hot demoness instead of giving classes. He’ll go on cultivation missions and take requests from villages and whatnot, but he doesn't bother teaching his disciples, just gives them a cultivation manual and tells them to figure it out. Half the time when students greet him on the peak he just nods because he doesnt even remember the disciple’s name. It’s fine though, once every few months he’ll take a break from all the one night stands and actually take a student along with him on a mission, just to keep the sect leader from complaining. “See, I teach my kids! Last month I took what’s-his-name on a night hunt!”

By the time Luo Binghe bothers to take Shen Yuan along for a mission, Shen Yuan is already 20 and has been on the peak for 4 years. Luo Binghe barely knows he exists, and he justs wants to collect this herb he was tasked with retrieving, send Shen Yuan back with it, and then get nasty with the woman back in the village who gave them directions to the cave that grows it. 

Unfortunately for Binghe, the cave is also home to one of the few flowers that can affect a demon lord. Binghe can’t move as he falls to the ground and hears his student yell “Shizun!” and run over.

They can hear monsters nearby so Shen Yuan’s two options are to 1) heal his shizun by taking advantage of Binghe's body or 2) abandon him to die and leave by himself. Binghe has experienced both multiple times, and is ready for either one. He's not ready for Shen Yuan to choose a third option that no one has ever chosen before: heaving Luo Binghe onto his back, transferring him qi, and using every bit of strength to carry him to safety. 

By the time they return to the cave’s entrance, Shen Yuan only has enough energy to use a talisman signalling the sect for help before they both pass out. 

When Luo Binghe wakes up, the Qian Cao peak lord is asking him how he feels while his head disciple is yelling at a sheepish Shen Yuan for doing something reckless again! Apparently this is not the first time Shen Yuan has exhausted himself for the sake of another person. 

Over the next few days, he can’t think of anything other than his student. 

(Also, he secretly feels kind of… angry??? Was his body so unappealing to Shen Yuan that he'd rather half-die than dual cultivate with him?? He's not sure why he's so pissed off by the idea, it's not like he's ever wanted to dual cultivate with a man before, but still…)

Finally he decides he has every right to be curious about shen yuan, that’s his disciple! Unfortunately while Binghe was ignoring Shen Yuan's existence for the past few years, his disciple has managed to build up… a reputation at Cang Qiong. 

Oh Shen Yuan selflessly saved Luo Binghe? Big deal, saving people is an average Tuesday for Shen Yuan, apparently! “He stopped my qi deviation” this, “he threw me out of a poisonous demon's way” that. 

For the first time ever, Luo Binghe is not special. If anything, he has less pull with Shen Yuan than anyone else at Cang Qiong, because everyone else knows Shen Yuan better. Luo Binghe doesn’t know Shen Yuan’s birthday, but the rest of his students make sure to throw Shen Yuan a party every year to thank him for all his tutoring. Binghe is SO far behind, which is a feeling he hasn’t felt in YEARS. 

About a month after the mission, he finally sees Shen Yuan sparring alone. Luo Binghe walks over, acting unbothered and nonchalant even though he's screaming internally. He greets his disciple and says, “This master has yet to properly thank Shen Yuan for his assistance at the cave… join me at the bamboo house tonight.” 

Shen Yuan apologizes, says he has important plans but would love to join him another night, then spends the rest of the day off the peak with the An Ding head disciple. 

Luo Binghe is flabbergasted. He's less important than an An Ding disciple???? Really??? Fucking An Ding????? 

After that, Luo Binghe……. He isn’t stalking Shen Yuan, despite what Liu Mingyan (Xian Su peak lord) might say with excited eyes. He’s just keeping an eye on this interesting disciple he never knew he had! In secret. 

He walks in on Qingge and Shen Yuan “sparring” and sees the exact moment Shen Yuan oversteps, loses his balance and goes tumbling on top of Liu Qingge. Binghe storms over, picks Shen Yuan up by the back of his robe like a cat, and physically separates the two of them. The two disciples gawk at how weird that was and he has no idea how to come up with an excuse for whatever the hell that just was. 

Instead he asks what they’re doing. 

Shen Yuan, being polite and answering the question: Liu-shidi and I are heading on a mission soon-

Luo Binghe: this master shall join you.

Shen Yuan: uh… it's a very simple request, two disciples are more than en-

Luo Binghe: this. Master. Shall. Join. You.

Liu Qingge: ???? What the hell is his problem 

Shen Yuan: Okay… this disciple is grateful for shizun’s assistance…?

Their flight to the village is dead quiet. 

The townspeople sigh theyre so glad they’re here, some demonic creature has been destroying their wildlife! This area makes most of their money with lumber exports, so if the creature continues to destroy their trees, it’ll result in huge losses. 

When they find the demon, Shen Yuan starts yapping non stop. It’s like he’s suddenly transformed into a textbook, explaining that this little beaver-esque demon needs to chew up trees for its survival. Luo Binghe is bored out of his mind and pulls out his sword. 

Shen Yuan gaps and picks up the small creature, holding it protectively against his chest. “This species isn’t even violent! We can’t kill it!” 

Luo Binghe crosses his arms and says they have to complete this commission somehow. Shen Yuan argues they can simply relocate the demon somewhere else! Luo Binghe expects Liu Qingge to complain or brutishly try to kill it, but he shrugs and says he’ll follow Shen Yuan. Apparently this happens regularly…

By the time they rehome the creature somewhere it won’t be a bother, it’s too late to fly back to the sect.

The only close by inn apologizes and says they only have two rooms left, and each one is a single bed. They can have a mat sent up, but…

Binghe says he should room with Shen Yuan because they’re both from Qing Jing, and (he glares at Liu Qingge as he says this) Liu Qingge is an outsider. Liu Qingge narrows his eyes and says it would be inappropriate for a peak lord to share a room with a lowly disciple, so he should room with Shen Yuan. 

Shen Yuan cheerfully chimes in that he and Liu-shidi sleep together all the time! “Whenever shidi and I camp outdoors, he says he prefers sleeping on the ground. He’ll be happy to take the mat.”

Luo Binghe's smile becomes a little forced, but shen Yuan doesn't even notice the murderous intent rolling off his shizun, aimed at his friend from Bai Zhan. 

In the end, Shen Yuan gets one room, and Liu Qingge gets the other. Luo Binghe insists his cultivation is high enough he doesn’t need to sleep, and had no intention to sleep tonight anyway.

This is a perfect time to go and find a brothel or a hookup. He realizes this is the longest he’s gone without sex in a long time, all because he’s been obsessed with Shen Yuan so much lately. But he’s got too much on his mind to do that tonight… He’s still thinking of the loving way Shen Yuan protected that small helpless demon, going as far as defying a peak lord for its sake.

Shen Yuan is… someone with shockingly good character. Despite being surrounded by cultivators, meeting people who are good is surprisingly rare. He doesn’t want his sweet disciple to have that lovely sense of justice stolen away from him by… gross perverts like Liu Qingge lusting after him! 

(He’s not projecting!)

He’s already neglected Shen Yuan as a shizun for so many years. Now he has to step and make up for all that time! He’s decided what he has to do. 

First thing in the morning, he knocks on Shen Yuan’s door. He hears a sweet ‘Come in!’ from inside and for some reason he feels… really nervous. Inside, Shen Yuan is sitting on his bed, brushing his hair, and he smiles when he looks up and sees Luo Binghe. “Good morning, shizun.”

Good morning??? How can he say something so casually, without a hint of shame, looking like that?? He’s wearing nothing but one layer that’s not even thick enough to hide his body! He can see Shen Yuan’s milky thighs and small chest!!!! What the fuck!?

(Is this how he walks around the shared dorms on Qing Jing? Do all the other disciples see the outline of his body through his thin layer every morning?? The longer he stares, the more he tells himself he’s making the right decision by doing this.)

He cuts right to the chase. “Once we return, Shen Yuan shall move his belongings into the bamboo house. This lord will teach him all there is to know about being Qing Jing’s head disciple.” He makes it clear that this is a statement, not a request – he’s not giving Shen Yuan a choice. 

Shen Yuan gawks at him, and Luo Binghe says they’ll discuss things more in detail once they return to Qing Jing, but from this moment on, he represents himself as Luo Binghe’s head disciple. It takes Shen Yuan a few minutes to really comprehend what’s going on, but eventually he bows in thanks and throws on another, thicker layer. Shen Yuan moves for the door and says, “I better tell Liu-shidi-”

Luo Binghe’s hand moves before he can stop himself, and they’re both surprised by the deathly tight grip he has on Shen Yuan’s wrist. 

Luo Binghe clears his throat and lets go. “You should let him be. Sometimes if you spend too much time with a person, it can become off-putting.” There, surely that will keep Shen Yuan away from that brute, right?

Shen Yuan says, “Ohhh,” and then smiles. “Don't worry shizun,” he says gently, “This disciple understands what you're saying. Once I move into the bamboo house, I'll make sure to give shizun his space.” 

Then Shen Yuan walks away and closes the door behind him. Luo Binghe can hear Shen Yuan telling Liu Qingge the good news, “I don’t know if shizun is joking or not, but wouldn’t it be nice for us to do our head disciple work together?” 

Luo Binghe realizes that Shen Yuan is going to RUIN him, and he’ll do it without even realizing. 

[noyaspeach]

first light

Summary: Could this be how every day begins?

After a long and restless night with no sleep, you go looking for something to while away the hours. As it turns out, Astarion is just as much of an insomniac as you are, and the two of you spend the early morning together.

Pairing: Astarion x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 4,334

Tags: Fluff and Light Angst, Pining, Feelings Realization (Kinda?), Second Person POV, Soft Astarion, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Insomnia, Watching the Sunrise

Author's Note:

not me returning to fic-writing over 3 years later with an astarion fic of all things. i can't even guarantee i'll write another one considering i'm about to start college again, but i would sure like to!

i was heavily inspired to write this because of the release of hozier's album. it perfectly aligned with me becoming obsessed with baldur's gate 3, and astarion is just so hozier-coded, how could i not? as the title suggests, i was inspired by the song "first light" which is the last song on the album, based on dante's ascent out of hell and his first taste of light and freedom. i imagine it's how astarion must have felt when he was no longer forced to do cazador's bidding and when he could finally experience sunlight again.

obligatory disclaimers: i haven't actually played the game yet, so this fic is informed by clips i've seen online, gif sets, the baldur's gate wiki, and other fics. if any details in this aren't chronologically sound or if anything seems a little non-compliant with the canon of the game... now you know why lol.

still, i hope you enjoy it! this is also posted to ao3! read here!

///

You stare up at the ceiling of your tent, frustration rolling in your chest as you struggle to rest. Your eyes are beginning to sting with the lack of sleep, but simply closing them does nothing to help. You’ve gone through all of your belongings twice already, looking for something to ease you into slumber, but no amount of reading or alcohol seems to do the trick. It certainly doesn’t help that the weather has been oppressively humid all night, leaving you coated in a thin, sticky layer of sweat that doesn’t seem to leave you no matter how many layers you shed.

You can’t bear to lay around in the thick air of your tent, so you decide to sit out by the extinguished campfire in the hopes that it will do more to relax you.

You quietly open your tent flap and emerge into the mild morning air. It’s much cooler outside, and a light breeze tickles your arm, already doing wonders to dry your sweat. It’s still too early for daylight, so the camp is only dimly illuminated by the moonlight. With the lack of light, you listen out for the sounds of the forest around you: the chirps of insects beneath you, hooting owls in the distance, and a trickling stream not too far away. Focusing on these scarce sounds, you already feel much calmer.

After a moment of peace, you hear a rustle to your right. You whip your head toward the sound, hands ready at your weapon, when you see a familiar face emerge from the trees. You let your hands drop to your side again. It’s just Astarion. He appears to be returning to his tent, noticeably empty-handed. You wonder what he’s up to this early in the morning, and he seems to be wondering the same thing, eyeing you with an inquisitive raise of the eyebrow.

“Restless sleeper, are we?” He remarks.

“Something like that,” you reply. “Just needed some fresh air.”

You notice that Astarion is still in his sleepwear, the sleeves of his white undershirt pushed up above his elbows. “And what are you doing out?”

“Oh, you know. Searching for a midnight snack, so to speak.” He gestures to the woods behind him. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a very fine selection tonight.”

You grimace at the thought of Astarion catching an innocent woodland creature between his teeth. It’s a less-than-flattering image, one that’s informed by the memory of the boar he drained a while back, and one that you’re eager to dismiss.

“Is that all you’ve been up to?” You ask.

“Why? Were you getting lonely without me?” He teases. You can only roll your eyes in response. When he doesn’t receive a retort, Astarion sighs and continues. “Right, if you want an honest answer, I was going for a stroll to pass the time.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Wandering about on your own while everyone’s asleep isn’t a very good idea. If something happens out there, none of us will be able to save you”

“Trust me, darling, I can hold my own just fine. But I appreciate you worrying about my safety. It’s almost touching.” He smirks. “I would appreciate it even more if you would refrain from telling the others about my… routine here. I don’t exactly want the company.”

“Routine? How long have you been taking these walks?”

“Since the day I joined you all, I would say.” Astarion’s eyes move to the entrance of his own tent. “I haven’t been able to get much sleep myself, and I figure there isn’t much use laying on my bedroll if I’m not resting or satisfying… other needs. So, I walk. And occasionally feed.”

You search Astarion’s face for any sign of deception, but he’s being surprisingly truthful, if a little bashful. You resonate with his sleeplessness, being something of an insomniac yourself. Despite the immense toll your travels have taken on your body, you can’t seem to rest very easily at all, especially when you need it the most. Whether it’s the vivid memories of past battles replaying in your dreams, the smothering climate of whatever campsite you’ve picked out that night, or the relentless wriggling of the tadpole in your head, there’s always something keeping you up.

“I’m surprised I haven’t caught you earlier, then,” you say. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” says Astarion. He smiles, and it seems he means it too. “Well, seeing as neither one of us will be getting to bed anytime soon, would you care to join me?”

You cross your arms. “I thought you would have preferred to be alone.”

“Misery loves company and all. I think I can make an exception for a fellow night owl,” he drawls.

You agree to walk with him then and quietly head in the opposite direction of both tents. You’re sure to bring your weapon with you in the off chance that something—or someone—attacks the two of you. A very small part of you still garners some suspicion for Astarion himself, especially considering that night in which he tried to feed from you while you slept. Perhaps that’s another factor in your insomnia; although you let Astarion drink his fill that night, you can’t be entirely sure he won’t try it again. That he won’t succeed in creeping up on you and draining you completely.

You shiver at the thought, but pass it off as a cold chill from the wind. As the two of you slowly move from the campsite, your surroundings become even quieter. The chirping insects from before are silent now, and the nearby stream is barely a whisper. You can hardly hear either of your footsteps. It’s at once peaceful and unsettling.

After a few short minutes, you’re the first to break the silence. “What do you usually do when you’re out here?”

Astarion thinks for a moment, and hums. “Hmm. Aside from hunting, I suppose I just sit with my thoughts. There isn’t much else to do, is there?”

You nod, but somehow you don’t think being left with one’s own thoughts is particularly relaxing for anyone in your party. You can’t imagine it’s any good for Astarion, especially.

“And what do you think about?”

“So much,” he says. “Plans, mostly. Where our next destination is, where I’ll find my next meal, what I’ll do when we reach Baldur’s Gate, how to get rid of this wretched parasite…”

“Do you ever think about your past?”

Astarion’s gaze is a bit distant until you ask that. He slows his pace and turns to you, looking unusually serious. “I prefer not to.”

He leaves it at that, so you decide not to push further. You only know a little about Astarion’s life before the tadpole entered his mind. You know he’s the spawn of an even more powerful vampire, a master to whom he was a slave for nearly 200 years, and you know he’s lived in the shadows up until now. It isn’t lost on you that this entire adventure is his first taste of freedom in centuries. You understand why he would rather focus on the future. Still, your nagging curiosity makes you desperate for more information about him.

“What about you, my dear?” He returns to his more amused attitude. “What do you do in that tent of yours to pass the time until the morning comes? Don’t tell me if it’s anything naughty… Actually, do.”

You shake your head and suppress a smile as he actually almost earns a laugh from you. “Nothing like that. I normally just try to distract myself until I can hopefully fall back asleep. Read something, sort my wares, hum a tune. Anything to relax.”

“I take it that hasn’t been working for you?”

“No. Not one bit. I’m actually kind of worried it might start affecting my performance from now on. Unlike some of the elves in this team, I actually need quite a lot of rest.”

“A true shame,” he tuts. “Although it is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I don’t need to sleep for very long. On the other, I can’t sleep for very long. Sometimes I do wish I could simply let the whole day pass while I doze off. That would be much easier than just waiting it out.”

You hadn’t considered this. While the rest of your traveling companions are able to sleep through the night, Astarion has no choice but to wait for everyone to wake up around sunrise. All he can do is hope to get a few hours of rest before sitting through the unnerving silence of the night, the only unique sounds being the faint snores and mumbles that float from the other tents. You and he are alike in this struggle, but you at least are lucky enough to have a few nights when your exhaustion is bad enough to force you to bed.

“Well, taking a stroll like this is a good idea,” you finally say. “Thank you for inviting me along.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Astarion’s lips. “Thank you for joining me. I will admit, it’s easier to pass the time with a… friend… by my side.”

Your heart swells at that word: “friend.” It’s a welcome upgrade from whatever you two might have been considered before.

A few minutes pass with the both of you chatting politely. As you walk, you make note of your surroundings to ensure that you don’t stray too far from camp or encounter any traps. This occupies your mind for a while, but Astarion seems to be running out of topics to discuss. Not wanting him to abandon your little trip just yet, you try to think of something to entertain him. Looking out at the forest and the sky in front of you, you notice that the moon has begun its descent into the trees, meaning morning is almost upon you two. This gives you an idea.

You stop and pivot to face Astarion. He stops too, surprised at your sudden pause.

“What is it?” He asks.

"Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

He’s taken aback only momentarily before he adopts his familiar flirtatious demeanor. “Trying to turn this into a romantic tryst, are you? If you want something more, you’ll have to be a little more direct than that.”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t mean anything by it. I want to know if you’ll sit and watch the sun come up with me. That’s all. It should be rising soon enough. It’s almost morning.”

He seems puzzled, his brows tightening and eyes scanning your face for any indication that you may be holding something back. When he doesn’t find anything, he settles back into an easy expression. “I seem to have misjudged. My apologies… Yes, I wouldn’t mind sitting with you.”

“Great.” You smile and begin to walk again. “I heard some water earlier, so I think there may be a stream near here. Maybe it’ll make for a nice spot.”

Astarion follows as you lead him closer to the sound of running water, and the two of you shortly come upon the stream. It’s a small, shallow brook that separates the woods from which you emerge and another expanse of trees on the other side. Right along the edge of the water is a line of smooth rocks big enough to sit on. It’s the perfect place to set up, you think.

The two of you find purchase on the edge of the rocks, feet just barely dangling off the side, hovering above the calmly flowing water. The rocks aren’t terribly big, so the two of you sit side-by-side, your knees close enough to touch. Across the brook, the trees begin to thin out, leaving a clear view of the horizon. You estimate that the sun will start its ascent in the next few minutes, but for now, the scene in front of you remains thinly bathed in moonlight.

In the quiet of the dawn, the moon casts its silvery glow on the world beneath it. Every blade of grass, every dewy flower, every mossy stone radiates with a hazy blue hue. The stream beneath you reflects this onto both of your faces, and you give a sideways glance to your companion next to you. You watch as the light dances across his cheeks, admiring how it shines in his curls, how it glistens in his deep red eyes, and how it collects in the space just above his lips. You inhale and the earthy scent of the forest mixes with the smell of Astarion’s perfume in your nose. As you do so, you realize now just how close in proximity you are to him. You’re close enough to trace his silhouette from the slope of his nose to his slender neck with your fingers if you so choose. You glimpse at the puncture marks just below his jaw and remember once more the night you let him drink from you. You remember the moment you awoke in terror before you realized who was crouched above you. You remember the uncertainty you felt as you gave him permission to continue, not sure whether it was a wise decision or not. You remember the sharp sting of his teeth entering your skin and the almost exhilarating dizziness that followed as he coaxed your blood out with his tongue. The rest of that moment is a blur to you, but you can still distinctly recall how he cradled your head with one hand, the other gently ghosting down your spine. For almost a full day after that night, the smell of bergamot and rosemary lingered on your neck.

“You do know staring is rude, don’t you, darling?” Astarion says. “Not that I particularly mind.” He leans back on his arms and turns to face you. “Not when it’s you.”

Your cheeks flush in spite of the cool temperature. You wonder when it was you became so vulnerable to Astarion’s flirting. Even though you have, you try not to entertain it. After all, you suspect his charming behavior is at least partly a ruse.

“Sorry,” you mutter and look back at the horizon. “It’s very pretty out. It’ll be even prettier in just a few more minutes, too. We’re in the perfect spot to watch the sun come up.”

“Is that so?” Astarion tilts his head as he continues to behold you. “You know, I’ve never watched the sunrise like this.”

You twist to look at him again, utterly shocked. “Seriously? Not once?”

He shakes his head.

“How come?”

He sighs. “I’m sure I must have before… everything. But I can’t seem to remember anything from back then. I lost most of my memories when I was brought back, save for a few of the important details. I suppose sunrises weren’t important enough to stick.” He frowns and stares out at a canopy of trees in the distance. “Then, as you know, it would have been incredibly stupid for me to be out in the light with this condition of mine. So, I never tried. I didn’t have very many opportunities to do so, in any case.”

Your brow furrows, but you don’t say anything. Instead, you let Astarion continue at his own pace.

“...I spent decades in my master’s lair, a- a dungeon, really. I was trapped in the darkness. The only time I was allowed out was when he needed fresh, new bodies, and even then it was always under the cover of night. For the longest time, that was all that I knew. In a way, it’s what I’m still used to…”

Suddenly his sleeplessness makes all the more sense to you.

“I know I’m free from that now, what with the tadpole and all, but…” He trails off. You understand.

After several beats of silence, you clear your throat.

“Once, when I was a child, I went playing in the woods with some of the other children in the village. There were maybe six of us in total? I don’t exactly remember. But we marched all the way from the market to the forest pretending we were a band of heroes. I was at the back of the line, right behind this boy that I really liked. I put myself there on purpose so that I could smile and blush as much as I wanted without him seeing me.”

“How cute,” Astarion comments with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean, I thought I was being clever, but it was pretty silly, wasn’t it? Anyways, when we entered the woods, we decided to split off into teams to see who could find the most ‘treasure.’ We just plucked up sticks, flowers, beetles, pinecones, that kind of stuff. I was paired with the boy I liked, and I was so giddy about it. I wanted to show him just how cool I was, so I climbed up every tree and jumped off every rock. Just hearing him laugh and clap for me was enough for me to keep going. So, I did. Before we knew it, we realized we had strayed too far from the rest of the group. We tried to call out to them but heard nothing in return. We were lost.”

You pause your story to get a brief look at Astarion. You half-expect him to be bored by this point, but you’re surprised to see that he’s giving you his full attention. He waves his hand, signaling for you to continue.

“We started playing late into the evening, so by the time we realized that we had no clue where we were, the sun had already begun to set. I remember cursing myself for wishing I could have some alone time with this boy because that wasn’t at all what I had had in mind. But, alas, that was the situation I was stuck in. When it reached midnight and we still hadn’t made our way back to the village, I started panicking. You should know that I used to be deathly afraid of the forest at night. I was terrified of what kind of creatures could be hiding, waiting to snatch me up and eat me alive.”

“Hmm, like vampires?” Astarion teases.

You smirk. “Precisely. You’ll remember, though, that I was stuck with the boy I liked. So, there was no way I could show that I was scared. I couldn’t display any sign of weakness or else he might not think I was as cool as I let off. Knowing this, I put on a brave face and silently begged the gods for some protection before I assembled a makeshift camp for the two of us. It was, admittedly, very shitty, but it did its job of giving us some shelter for the night. I told him he could sleep and that I would keep watch, and so I did. I didn’t sleep very much back then, either, now that I think about it. I guess not a lot has changed about me… But I digress. I stayed up the whole night, sitting outside our little fort, listening to him snore and talk in his sleep. I don’t think I could have left his side if I wanted to, considering how petrified I was. But I powered through the fear, for his sake. I was so young, but I cared about this boy so much that I felt I owed it to him to make sure he was safe.”

“You were quite the hero, even back then,” Astarion says gently. “Is this little story your way of telling me to be more selfless?”

“Not at all. I’m getting to the point, I promise. I sat there for hours as I waited for it to become day again. Eventually, I was able to focus on the more beautiful parts of the night: the moon, the stars, the lightning bugs, the sweet whisper of the wind through the leaves. The more I searched for the good in my situation, the less scared I became, until I was no longer scared at all. By the time dawn rolled around, I was at peace, actually. I was so proud of myself for making it through the night, I immediately woke the boy up to share the moment with him. Then, we sat together, kind of like this,” You gesture to your and Astarion’s seating position, “and just watched the sunrise in perfect silence. I had never watched the sunrise before. It was so nice, getting to quietly enjoy such a wonderful view with someone I loved.”

As you finish your story, you face Astarion once more. His gaze is soft as he listens to you speak, and the tender curl of his lips betrays a sincere gratitude for having shared this with him.

“Did anything ever happen between you and that boy?” He asks.

“Sadly, no. He eventually fell for some other girl in town. Last I heard, they had three kids together.”

“Hmm.” Astarion angles his chin away from you. “Well, that’s his loss.”

You look away, too, and smile to yourself.

Suddenly, the sky begins to transform before your eyes. The first gleams of sunlight begin to caress the horizon as the moon takes its final bow behind you. The forest, still coated with all the glimmering remnants of morning dew, stirs from its slumber under the streams of the emerging sun. As the sun slowly rises, its warm embrace spreads like honey between the trees, flooding the forest floor with rays of pink and amber. Shafts of light pierce through the lush foliage, creating scintillating patterns on the surface of the water that seem to dance at the promise of a new day. Finally, when the sun peers at you from above the treetops, it’s as if the sky erupts. A burst of brilliance envelopes the world below it in its welcoming embrace, casting everything in a blazing golden light.

You begin to say something to Astarion but stop when you see his face. He looks positively radiant. His face glows in the daylight, appearing even more magnificent than he did in the moon’s silver beams. His face and his hair are colored by the sun, making him look more alive than he ever has before. Every detail from the strands in his eyebrows to the smallest of moles is illuminated before you. You watch as his eyes glisten before softly fluttering closed. He breathes deeply, his chest slowly rising and falling, and he basks in the sunlight. He relaxes completely, letting the sun’s rays melt away any and all tension he may have been holding on to.

You want nothing more than to cup his face in your hands, then, and feel the newly imbued warmth of his skin as you press your lips to his. Instead, however, you carefully place your hand on top of his. His eyes blink open and he turns to look at you once more. You hesitate for a moment, ready to move away, but he doesn’t reject you. His eyes crinkle with appreciation and he laces your fingers together before gently stroking his thumb against the side of your hand. His skin is still a bit cold, but thanks to you, it quickly warms up.

The two of you sit there in tranquility, taking in all of the sights, sounds, and feelings of the early morning. Time seems to slow, then, as if the universe itself also wishes to savor this serene moment for just a little while longer.

Soon, you hear the distant sound of casual conversation as the others awaken for yet another day of arduous traveling. You sigh, knowing that the two of you will have to return to camp shortly and leave all of this behind. You don’t want to let go just yet.

“We should probably get back,” Astarion says first. “I wouldn’t want the others to think that I killed you and scurried off or something like that.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be very good for morale,” you joke. After a moment, you reluctantly untwine your fingers and push yourself up off the rocks. You extend a hand to Astarion to help him up, which he graciously accepts.

Neither of you moves at first until Astarion takes a step toward you. Standing so close to you, you wonder if he’s about to kiss you when he gingerly takes hold of your hands. He gives you that sincere smile again.

“Thank you again for this. It was… nice.” You almost can’t believe how vulnerable he seems right now, eyes staring into yours with no hint of false pretenses. “I’d like to do this again with you, if you’ll join me.”

“I would love to.”

“Wonderful,” he says. He lets go of you. “Shall we then?”

The two of you take your time walking back to the campsite, talking idly about what the next few days have in store. When you arrive, Karlach is the first to notice you.

“There you two are! We were beginning to worry.” She looks between you both and crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes mischievously. “Anything we should know about your disappearance?”

You chuckle. “Nothing that would excite you, Karlach.”

You walk past her and approach your tent. The rest of your team is already getting to work cleaning their weapons, armor, and other equipment, preparing to hunt, or strategizing together. Before you duck inside to retrieve your clothes for washing, you turn back and lock eyes with Astarion. He’s entered a conversation between Shadowheart and Gale, but he isn’t all that engaged. He shoots you a knowing look and another small smile which you return in kind.

As you wash your clothes in the river just south of the camp, you think fondly of the promise you’ve now made with Astarion and the many sunrises to come. Suddenly, insomnia doesn’t seem so bad.

[half-bakedboy]

please write established (maybe married) buddie on a call and oblivious buck getting hit on, jealous eddie "excuse me, he is married. to me"

loooove your fics

read on ao3

Eddie's barely paying attention to the patients he and Hen are caring for. They're both fine, really, and were sitting on the sidewalk when the 118 got there so Hen and Eddie went to work while Buck and Chimney dealt with the fire. He's too busy watching Buck fight each car flame with expert efficiency. He's laughing with Chimney, head thrown back as they spray the chemicals with the precision of two firefighters who had a bond like brothers-in-law.

It's times like these where Eddie remembers exactly why he fell in love with Buck. He finds joy in any situation, good or bad, whether it directly impacts him or not. Even the two patients seem amused by his carefree joy, and who is Eddie to blame them? Buck won him over that way.

"Since I'm all checked out, can I go take a closer look at the damage?" his patient asks. She's only got a small laceration on her arm, presumably from a piece of shattered glass, but is otherwise unscathed. She's fine to walk, but he's a little confused about what she thinks might be left.

"Yeah, sure. Buck!" he shouts. Buck turns around immediately, the smile widening on his lips. "She--"

"Beverly," his patient interrupts with her own shout.

"Beverly wants to take a look. You good?"

Buck nods his head and puts the fire extinguisher down onto the pavement. Eddie should notice the way Beverly practically rushes over, somewhere between a skip and a saunter, but he's hyper-aware of how close the end of their shift is.

He's got Abuela cooking dinner at home and three off-days in a row to spend with Buck, their first since they got married a few months ago.

(Eddie wanted to take a honeymoon but Buck wanted to take a page out of Bobby and Athena's book and wait a little while. Eddie had to nix the cruise idea almost immediately, even though he can't believe Buck even asked.)

He just wants to clean up, restock the ambulance for the next crew, then spend the next three days with his family.

But of course, nothing is ever easy for Eddie. Not with a husband like Buck.

"Ugh, this is just my luck. My boyfriend broke up with me yesterday and my friend was just trying to cheer me up with a drive." Eddie can practically hear a pout of her lips and makes eye contact with Hen who rolls her eyes playfully in return. "I can't believe I'm single and carless, now."

"I'm sorry, that really sucks," Buck says. He sounds so authentic, Eddie's heart clenches.

"You might be able to help me with one of those problems," she shamelessly says.

Buck, the beautiful man he is, barely notices the flirtation. "We have a phone in the ambulance you can use to call someone to pick you up!" He's like a puppy in his response, and Beverly deflates instead of praising him like he clearly deserves.

"I can find a way home." She pauses like she's trying to think of how to get him back on track. Eddie snorts because he's been trying to figure out how to do that for almost a decade now. "So, do you live around here? There's a lot of really cool restaurants I can recommend for when you're done with your shift."

Eddie has to give her credit for some really solid attempts.

"Our station is actually on the other side of town and I live in the opposite direction, but I'll keep that in mind if I ever find my way out here!"

Beverly sighs and glances at her friend for assistance, who is next to no help since she's still in shock, like Beverly really should be.

"So, you're at station 118 then?" he hears Beverly ask. Her voice is so obviously flirtatious that Buck has to have noticed.

"Uh, y-yeah. 118, that's us," Buck mutters, tone laced with nerves.

Eddie glances over at the stutter and sees Beverly much closer than even Eddie would be to him on a call. His eyes narrow but he stays put. Buck can take care of himself.

"I bet you can lift that much, too, huh?" Beverly makes a dire mistake, and that's to reach out toward Buck. "I'm only 115, so it'd be pretty easy for you to... you know, lift me, right?"

Hen mutters, "Uh oh." It's loud enough for her patient to ask what's going on, but Eddie doesn't wait for her answer. He does hear Chimney's practically diabolical laughter, and Buck's awkward throat clear.

"I just weighed in at 190 and most nights he lifts me with ease, isn't that right, Buck?"

Eddie almost wishes he'd been recording. Beverly's mouth drops comedically open before her hand slaps it back up, Chimney and Hen break into maniacal laughter that seems to break the other patient from her shock, and Buck blushes a deep red that disappears under his turnout and as far down as Eddie's sure Beverly was trying to get.

Just because he can, Eddie adds, “Though, I’m sure after we take our honeymoon, you’ll gain a lot of muscle during our… workouts.” 

“Jesus–” Buck breathes out. “It was great to meet you, Beverly. You said something about having a way to get home?” 

“Yeah, I’ve got a ride…” She turns to Eddie, a delightful smirk on her face. “Though, it’s not nearly as pretty as yours.” 

Buck’s a mess as Eddie bursts out in laughter, and he’s positive his team’s about to file a complaint to HR, but something about being able to stake his claim over Buck so openly now makes him giddy inside. 

Yeah, it's times just like these where Eddie remembers exactly why he fell in love with Buck. 

[yayakoishii]

Control | Henry Legolant

Fandom: Black Clover

Pairing: Henry Legolant x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Genre: Fluff. I don't think there's much, if a slight pinch, of angst?

Summary: To be able to be close to you, Henry has to learn to control his magic absorption.

A/n: Hellow!! First off, I just want to say that I never expected to actually write for this fandom, nor did I think Henry would be the first character (I legit love so many of them much much more than I do Henry) but this was the first cute idea that really struck me and I had time so here it is! :D I'm sorry if anyone is OOC, I'm not familiar with writing these characters yet.

This fic was inspired by that one scene in Ep. 113 (or was it 112?) where Henry says to Asta that he would love to meet the others when he learns to control his magic absorption.

also available on ao3!

"Henry!"

There you were again, with your bright, warm smile and genuine excitement to see him. When was the last time anyone was ever excited to see Henry? As much as Asta liked coming around to meet him, it was different from you. You, whose presence itself was like a spell of comfort, always met him like you had waited for it the entire time you had been away.

And maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, that you would want to meet him so much, but it made him so happy. That there was someone in this world who wanted to be around him freely. Everyone in the Black Bulls was kind and looked out for him, now that they knew about him, but nobody frequented his room as much as you did. You would visit atleast once a day, even if it sometimes took you a long time to find his room, except for the days when you were off on missions. Henry couldn't explain the empty feeling pressing on his heart on such days, where he spent every minute wondering if you were doing okay and when you would return.

You would always come back, relatively unharmed because your magic was more of the defensive type. But you didn't have a crazy amount of magic power and you weren't magic-less like Asta. This meant that every time you came to visit him, you would have to stay out of the doorway, far enough where he couldn't accidentally siphon your mana away. Even from that distance, he could sometimes see the cuts and bruises you sported, covered in salves or bandages.

You would tell him everything about your missions. Henry couldn't go outside and he couldn't go on missions but they way you vividly described everything, it made him feel like he was right there with you. You talked about all sorts of stuff, from the funny and crazy things the other members did to some of your personal feelings and thoughts. Henry couldn't help but feel a connection to you.

You were patient. You had to be a saint with the amount of patience you had; you had to, or else how would you be able to spend all the time you spent with him? Henry knew that he didn't speak fast enough or even at a normal pace, so having a conversation with him was not easy. But you always looked genuinely interested in what he had to say and waited for him to say it all. It had upset him so much once that he had nearly cried in front of you.

"I… just.. want… to… speak… pro-perly," he had grit out, frustrated with himself. Why couldn't he speak normally? If he kept doing this, wouldn't you get tired of him? "Don't… go… away… I want… you… to… always… stay…"

It was the closest he had gotten to revealing what he felt. That was the first time you had stepped inside his room, ignored the magic absorption and looked him straight in the eye up-close.

"I'm not going anywhere," you had said, a little breathless from the mana draining out of you. "I told you. Take your time and say what you want to. I want to hear it, and I won't go anywhere until I've heard it."

You eventually had to back off to your usual spot lest you blacked out from the mana loss. But that was the closest you had been to him and ever since then, he couldn't help but want it. He wanted to be close to you, to be able to talk to you like a normal person. He didn't want anything more– hoping for you to touch him was practically a fantasy that would never happen.

For all your kindness and compassion and genuine heart, Henry didn't think you could ever love him back the way he did you. And that was completely okay. He was fine watching you, feeling you from a distance – as long as you were happy and smiling, he would take what you were ready to give.

He just wanted to be able to talk to you properly, just a couple feet in between, instead of the large distance. For that, he needed to control his magic absorption. It wasn't like he hadn't tried (hadn't he been trying for his whole life at this point?) but your smiling face was a better motivator than any he had ever had.

He told Asta about his wish, the other guy already knowing about Henry's feelings for you. Asta had shot him a grin and a thumbs-up and said, "I have the perfect plan!"

That's how Henry started his secret training sessions with Gordon, Grey and Gauche. The latter had to be convinced a little but eventually stopped complaining when he realised that he could wax his poetry about Marie to Henry without being interrupted or told off while helping him out.

Every day, diligently, Henry put his all into trying to control his magic absorption. The progress was slow but he kept his goal in mind – it wasn't just you, after all. You were the first person he had wanted so badly to be close to, but the rest of the Black Bulls were also present in his head. He wanted to be able to enjoy and party with them too. He wanted to watch you be happy in their midst.

Henry practised on the three of them, aided by Asta's encouragement (which was mostly just yelling and doing push-ups in the corner as a weird form of training solidarity) and slowly but surely, his magic absorption zone reduced.

It took him months, but none of them gave up. Even on the hard days, when it felt futile, the rest would try to cheer him up. And then you would come, oblivious to the whole debacle going on under your nose. Your mere presence was uplifting. He could do this. If he wanted to be able to be around you, then he would have to put in effort. All that hard work for months culminated into him finally gaining control over his magic absorption.

The first time Grey managed to get close enough to press her palm against his own, the both of them had nearly cried. He did it. He managed to control it. All that time he spent on it had been worth it. Now all he had to do was wait for you to come to his room. He would surprise you for once, instead of it being the other way round.

You had surprised him with a gift on his birthday.

"It's not much," you had said shyly, handing him the scarf you had crocheted yourself. You had pressed it into his hands at the risk of draining yourself, "but happy birthday, Henry. I am so glad that you were brought into this world all those years ago. I'm glad I got to meet you."

He had been too choked up with tears to say anything. What could he have said anyway? Nothing could have done justice to explain what he felt about you. He didn't think he would ever get to hear someone say that they're grateful he was born. Frankly, he had never understood the point of birthdays until you said that.

Now, it was his chance to surprise you. To show you what you meant to him. The effect of your presence in his life.

•

The anticipation for you to return from your mission was worse than usual. He couldn't wait, feeling the impatience bouncing around inside him. When you finally appeared on the other side of his doorway, he sprang out of the bed as fast as he could. You startled but didn't step back.

You didn't know about his control. But you were willing to risk the draining effect if it was something so important to Henry that he was actually getting close to you on his own. Usually, he would be the one to tell you to stay away so if he was coming to you, then it meant it was something equally serious or important. So you waited– for him and for your magic to drain.

Except it never happened. With every step Henry took towards you, you couldn't feel the familiar feeling of mana being drained out of you. Your eyes widened in shock.

"I… learned… how to… control… it," Henry gave you a weak smile, walking closer until he was just two feet away. "Gauche… Gordon… Grey… and… Asta… helped… me… do it. We… prac-tised… for… months. I… wanted… to… talk… with you… closely… like… every-one… does. I… really… wanted…you…"

He cut himself off, cheeks pinking slightly. He couldn't do it. Even after all his effort, he couldn't tell you his real feelings. What if it ruined what you two had? What if you stopped visiting him because you didn't feel the same? Henry wasn't greedy. He was happy with how things were.

So he focused instead on whether you liked his surprise. He looked up, his light blue hair shifting out of the way as he took in your tear-stained face. Your hands were covering your mouth and you were shaking. Before Henry could ask you if you were okay, you wrapped yourself around him.

The sudden touch was overwhelming; your scent was everywhere and it was like all his senses were flooded with you, you, you. Henry nearly lost his composure and his control on the magic absorption was about to slip– but the mere thought that you would stop embracing him made him rigid. He held a tight grasp on the power; he was only controlling the magic through the sheer willpower of wanting to feel you against him. His mind was in shambles.

"You did it, you did it," you were mumbling, sniffing into his chest. Henry was sure that you could hear his heart thudding in there with how close you were. He couldn't see your face, only the top of your head but he let his arms wrap around you gently, like you were a fragile piece of glass.

All he had wanted was to close the distance. He had already gotten so much more than he had thought; you were holding him tightly, like you were scared he would slip from your fingers.

It felt like all too soon (and yet it had felt like forever) when you let him go and stepped back to look at him, your face flushed with embarrassment. Henry was pretty sure his face was much, much worse. He probably looked like all his dreams came true at once. (They did.) (You hugged him !!)

"S- Sorry," you mumbled, looking up at him shyly. Was it possible to die from seeing something too adorable? Henry felt close to it. "I should have asked you first, but… I have wanted to do that for so long."

All the practice confessions Henry had stammered through in front of Asta flew out the window at your admission. The way you were looking at him right now… Henry didn't need you to say anything out loud. For once, he let himself hope that you felt the same way– and he let himself believe it too.

"Me… too…"

°•❀•°

All likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

[rockinlibrarian]

Post-Umbrella Academy S4 Reaction Part One: Reacting More to the Fandom than the Show (only vaguely spoilery)

I would like to state for the record that I enjoyed The Umbrella Academy Season Four. I had plenty of issues— things that weren’t to my taste, abandoned or neglected plot or character threads, plot contrivances and wasted opportunities— and I wasn’t satisfied with the ending AT ALL (it COULD have worked if done…completely differently?)—but I enjoyed myself, minus the downer at the very end (and I mean VERY end, I was hoping for more post-credit redemption than we got, and that could’ve fixed it for me). It’s like that post I reblogged this morning goes— there’s enjoyment, there’s in-universe sense, and there’s art-of-storytelling sense, and they can all stand separately.

I’d love to chew over the stupid bits and gush over the brilliant bits, but it’s kind of hard right now, because so much of the reactions online are not, well, objectively balanced discussions? People’s issues erased any of the enjoyment, and now the whole thing is trash and I think we all agree this never happened.

I’m not writing this post to call anyone out for that. All our reactions are valid. It just feels like the angry voices drown out the other voices, and it’s made me uncomfortable, and that is ALSO a valid reaction to have, so I just want to put my voice out there, too.

The weird thing about me and The Umbrella Academy is that this is the first fandom where I’ve ever been more invested in fanworks of it than in the original show (and in the comics, not at all. Though I still want to see Viktor and Diego start a punk band). So I think that’s why I’m not Ragey. I wouldn’t say I COMPLETELY didn’t care what happened in the show, but I know that there’s a thousand other AUs of it out there ALREADY. So I honestly went into it almost as if reading a fic of it. In fics there are inevitably interpretations I don’t agree with, ships I don’t care for, things I would have done differently, but the writer loves the same characters as me so let’s see where they go.

And then I leave a comment about all the positives. “Oh, I love what you’ve done with Viktor!” (I won’t MENTION that I think you should have let him get back into music and spend a LOT more time with Five, because it’s not my story, and hey, you have done some LOVELY, thoughtful things with one of the characters that is dearest to me so let me tell you that in this comment!) “I’m REALLY enjoying your Allison-and-Klaus partnership, we don’t see enough of that but it’s so obvious in retrospect that they should be friends. They probably bonded over fashion as children when Viktor was like ‘Sorry Allison you know I REALLY DO want to be friends with you but I JUST DON’T GET IT’.” (I am thinking about how you never really resolved the huge emotional thread between Allison and Viktor in your last chapter, but that’s not what we’re talking about here). “This is admittedly not my ship, but you’ve successfully captured my own beliefs about HOW this character would behave in this situation” (shouting out to @stephsageek for that one, who did it, and did it well, before canon even thought to attempt to. ;) ) I could write lots more in my theoretical Comment on “Season Four of the Umbrella Academy” on AO3, but I don’t want to be too spoilery in this post and I’m just being metaphorical.

Honestly, I’m more upset now after a day of discourse than I was about the ending, and I think it’s because I’m afraid of people rage-abandoning the fandom. Because Legion, the show that started me on Seriously Writing Fanfic, was a mess after season 1. I personally didn’t enjoy MOST of season 2, but I DID enjoy season 3 even though so much of it made no sense, and I can rant about it (Legion did a variation on the same terrible ending as TUA, actually! I have to say that the emotional beats were handled better, but the plot itself was way way stupider). But I didn’t start writing fic until after the dreaded (but not without redeeming qualities) season 2, when quite a lot of people had given up on the show. I’ve written fix-its, mostly ones that embellish on the canon of the later seasons, fixing it without actually throwing it away. I’ve been playing in the whole sandbox for six years now, and “Magic Man of Oz” uses like every grain of sand in it, and it’s my favorite fic I’ve ever written, and I am genuinely sad about all the people who rage-quit that show so will never read it. I am mostly sad that the person who got me on AO3 to begin with abandoned the Legion fandom the moment they finished their epic How Season Two Should Have Ended fic (or before— pretty sure the last few chapters were written with gritted teeth determination to just be Done with the whole thing) and so THEY never read “Magic Man of Oz.” And they were my biggest cheerleader when I started posting fanfic! Honestly, is this whole paragraph just me freaking out about TUA fandom just because not enough people read a fic of mine from a different fandom that was fairly cult to begin with? It might be. Sorry. I apparently have issues?

(That first sentence is really the thesis statement of this post now. The moment I wrote it, I reread it and said, "Oh. THAT'S what's happening with me, isn't it?" My 11th grade research writing teacher is yelling at me in my head to move the dang thesis statement to earlier in this essay, but too bad, this is Tumblr).

I can’t help comparing Legion and TUA, not least because the latter only got bumped up my watch list by someone describing it as “Legion-Lite”— and it really is, in so many ways! But they’re also my top two most-written-for fandoms, and I’ve been toying with a crossover or two— which I feel even more compelled to write now, because it’s post-canon for both shows (even though both shows claim there IS no post-canon— I have found the way!) And it honestly helped ME emotionally to accept the end of TUA when I could immediately say, “OH, well actually, that flows right INTO how I was already going to start working-title A Legion of Umbrellas!” I originally started this paragraph in parenthesis because it seemed like an aside, but it’s really not, because all I’m saying is fanfic flows eternal! and so forth.

So, hi, out there. Just letting out my feelings and hoping someone out there feels the same way (maybe not about Legion— I keep TRYING, but can’t find any takers), and I may still write a more detailed and spoilery reaction post to the show ITSELF, but I had to get this off my chest first.

[americas1suiteheart]

When Can I See You Again?

Patrick Stump x Gn! Reader

Here's the Ao3 link if you prefer to read on there :)

Summary; Pete sets Patrick up on a blind date with one of his friends. That friend just happens to be you, and regardless of how unenthusiastic the both of you were, the date goes more than well.

Notes; This might be shitty. I decided to write this at 12 in the morning, but it's fine because I get a fic out. I'm finally starting to become more active again (yay!). This is also cheesy as shit as always, as all my Patrick fics have been. :)

Warnings; Just some foul language, as always .

Volume: ■■■■■□□□

"Come on, Pete. Really, it's fine, I'm perfectly fine not having a boyfriend *or* girlfriend!"

"Y/n, you know I love and care for you, man, and that means finding you someone that you'll love, and that will love you. Trust me, the friend I'm setting you up with is awesome, you're gonna get along great with him."

"I really don't see why you think it's so important that I have one."

"Come on, Y/n. You're 19 years old, live alone, go to college, *and* work 6 hours a day on top of that. You need something to look forward to when you get home *OTHER* than sleeping."

"Pete I-"

"Nope! You're going on this date. Worst comes to worst, you don't like him and you just go back to your boring, horrible, unhealthy way of living."

"Fine, fine! I'm only agreeing to this so you shut up and stop bothering me. If I don't like it you have to promise me that you won't try to do this shit again, okay?"

"Deal." Pete says, putting his hand out to shake yours and you shake his back, settling on an agreement.

You'd been friends with Pete since you were a little kid. He was 4 years older than you, but you two lived next to each other when you were growing up, so he just became an immediate friend.

You loved him, you really did, but sometimes it was impossible to actually deal with him. Of course what he was doing was all in good intentions, and you hate to admit that he was right when he said you were lonely, but you felt that you unfortunately never had the time or energy to be in a romantic relationship with someone.

You go into your room and take your cellphone and apartment keys. You were already ready, and usually you would be spending your weekend sleeping an relaxing, Pete decided to set you up on some blind date with one of his friends, or one of the people he was in a band with to be more specific.

If this person were to be anything like Pete is, you probably won't go on with it, it sounds shitty but you could barely handle one Pete as it is.

"You ready, man?" Pete asks, getting up from the small couch you had in your small living room.

"Yeah." You say blandly.

"Be more optimistic about this, dude. You'll like him, or at least become friends with him, believe me, he's totally what you're into." Pete says, punching your shoulder and you to walk to the door.

"How do you know what my type is? What if I don't have a type?" You say, rubbing where he hit you.

"I just know, you know?" Pete shrugs, waiting for you to lock your door.

You sigh and roll your eyes as you make your way to your car.

"Okay, where is this place again?"

"It's just that diner across the street from that record shop we used to go to. The one we got kicked out of. Remember?" Pete said, sitting next to you in the passenger seat.

"Ooh, that place has the best burgers!" You exclaim, then drive out of the car lot onto the street.

You smile to yourself as you recall that memory. The last time you had gone to that diner you and Pete got kicked out for being too loud. You weren't usually the type of person to be loud or rambunctious, but Pete had the tendency to make you come out of your socially awkward shell when you hung out with him.

Pete talked to you the whole way, it was only a 10 minute drive from your apartment complex, but time always seemed to go by faster when he was ranting about, he always had the most interesting things to talk about, and this rant was about some of the songs that the band was recording.

You arrive at the diner and park your car. You and Pete get out and he goes up to the building window and points out a guy, seemingly around the same age as you, sitting at one of the back booths with two milkshakes in front of him.

"That's the guy you wanna go to. Call me when you two are done and try to have fun." Pete says, putting his hand on your shoulder.

"Wait, you're not going to stay in there with me? At least at another booth away from the one I'll be at?" You say, looking at Pete with wide eyes.

"I can't stay, I've got stuff to do, man. Plus, I don't wanna creep over you two." Pete says, walking away.

You were left standing there in complete shock. You'd fully expected for Pete to sit somewhere farther in the diner where he wouldn't be visible but still be there just because, and you were surprisingly upset and afraid when he said he wouldn't.

You take a deep breath and walk into the diner. You haven't been on a date since you were 16, and it definitely didn't work out then. If this little date somehow worked out and led to something more serious, it would be the first romantic relationship you would be in.

You make your way to the booth and stand awkwardly as you wait for him to notice you before you ask to sit.

"Uh, hey. I believe you're the guy that Pete set me up with?" You say quietly, rubbing the back of your neck.

The boy looks up and quickly fixes his posture. "Oh, uh. Yeah, yeah." He looks up at you and looks somewhere else after a few seconds.

"I, uh, do you think I could sit with you?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that, yeah of course you can."

You sit at the seat across from him, slowly sinking into the worn out booth seats.

You always thought that Pete was a pain because he was the complete opposite with you, but you now found that he was so much easier to talk to than another person that was just as awkward and quiet as you were.

This guy was cute. You don't tend to find people attractive, maybe because you're always in such a rush and tired with everything, but he was seriously cute.

His face was slightly on the chubbier side, he had a button nose and shoulder length hair with sideburns and a pair of glasses. That's pretty much what already did it for you, but his eyes that hid behind that pair of glasses were such a pretty colour that you were lucky enough to see within those few seconds of awkwardly looking at each other.

"Oh, I ordered you a milkshake. I didn't know what flavor you liked so I just got you vanilla. I hope you don't mind." He said, pushing the milkshake and straw closer to you.

"Oh! Thank you that's very sweet." You say, a smile on your face.

"Being that this is the first time meeting each other, we should probably introduce ourselves, I think?" You say after about a minute of swirling your straw around in your milkshake.

"Yeah, probably. I'm Patrick, I'm 18 and I just graduated high school. What about you?" Patrick laughs lightly.

"I'm Y/n, I'm 19 and am in my first year of college right now. I'm going to be completely honest, I don't really do anything or go out much. Pete usually drags me places to get me out more." You laugh.

"I totally get that. So, what do you do?" Patrick says after taking a drink of his milkshake.

"Well, I'm majoring in computer science right now and have a minor in music technology from an AP class in high school and am trying to get it for college, too so that I can do it professionally with theaters, venues, and maybe even bigger bands. After I finish my classes for the day, I work at a comic book shop most of the day and then I work at Hastings as a night shift sort of thing. So I don't really get breaks. But to be honest, It's actually something I like, a lot of people I know enjoy their resting time but I hate not having anything to do."

"Wow, that's impressive. So I'm assuming you don't really have time to do stuff like this, huh?"

"Yeah, I think this is like, the second date I've ever been on. The first one I'd been on was when I was 16. I never ended up hitting it off with the person, so I've also never been in a relationship. Anyways, enough about me, I want to know more about you." You say with a small smile, putting your elbows on the table and holding your hands together underneath your chin to keep your head upright.

"I'm in a band with Pete and a few other guys right now. I can play the drums, guitar, piano, and can sing, too. We're actually recording our first album together! But I also have a job, I just work at a retail store right now, nothing too special." Patrick says.

"That's nice. You like to keep it simple. I do wish I could actually appreciate my time to myself, honestly. Four instruments is impressive, though. I only know how to play the bass and it's only because Pete taught me so I could have something "fun to do and not be a loser" as Pete said. I do admit, though, I really enjoy it."

You've never actually talked this much with someone you just met before. Something just clicked with him, that made you feel comfortable and interested. You don't know why, but maybe this date isn't going as bad as you thought it would, and that Pete, unfortunately, was right. How he managed to know exactly who you would find interesting when you didn't even know yourself is beyond you, but right now, you're glad he did.

You continued to talk about interests and found you liked most of the same things, making the conversation all the more exciting and long.

"So, you said you had experience with music tech, right? Has Pete ever offered you to do anything for or with the band? Like, working a mixer or setting up mic's for the instruments correctly?" Patrick asked, leaning in closer to the table.

"No, surprisingly he hasn't, actually. Why?"

"Well, since we're getting into recording our songs, I figure we could need someone that knows how to do that sort of stuff, but Pete is the one that usually organizes that sort of stuff. I don't know why he hasn't asked you yet." Patrick explains.

"I'd love to work with stuff like that again. I might have to ask Pete about that."

Maybe Pete was right. Maybe this is exactly what you needed and that he did know your "type". Getting out and talking to people other than Pete was actually nicer than you thought.

You realized then that you needed to be with other people and not be such a hermit, maybe that's why you were feeling so sad, the only person you had were your parents' occasional calls (or not so occasionally to be honest) and Pete.

"Yeah, you totally should. I feel it would honestly be pretty cool to get to work with you." Patrick says, leaning back into his seat and looking away.

"I will. It'd definitely be nice to work with you guys, too. Especially you, I feel." You say. That was probably the boldest thing you've ever said. You didn't actually think you'd said that until Patrick looked up at you with a shocked expression, yet still a still small smile on his face.

"Yeah, definitely."

This was getting more and more enjoyable by the minute. You never burned up like this before, but the dorkiness of him was making you flush more than you would've ever expected. He was like you in an odd way. Same interests, same way of how you both acted, you've never had anyone be almost the same as you. It was nice talking to him about things that you liked and that he knew about too.

Sure, Pete was somewhat dorky and knew what you were talking about sometimes, but it always would end quickly from his rather short attention span.

By now the two of your milkshakes have already melted long ago, half of them still left from all the talking you two did rather than drinking it.

You hear a ding from the door, thinking it was most likely just another customer. Patrick looked behind you and fixed his posture from the way he was hunched over the table so that he was now sitting up straight.

You look behind you to see what Patrick currently was.

"You guys have been here for like, 2 and a half hours now. I mean, I'm assuming it's going great and I hate to cut it not so short but I gotta get home." Pete says, scratching his head as he looked down at you and Patrick.

"It's been two hours!?" You shout at Pete, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yup!" Pete says, popping the 'P'.

You run a hand through your hair and sigh. This felt way shorter than two hours, and to be honest you were really sad about it. You'd had a lot of fun talking to Patrick and getting to know him. He had this sort of charm to him that reeled you in even more, regardless if he might've been conscious of it or not.

You get up from the booth and clean up what very little mess you and Patrick left on the table, Patrick helping and doing the same.

You get your wallet from your back pocket to take some cash out for a tip.

"No, no. Don't worry about it, I'll get it." Patrick says, taking a 5 dollar bill out quickly and placing it on the table.

"No, you already paid for the milkshakes, please, Patrick, I'll leave the tip."

"Nope, it was my treat, don't worry."

"But, Patrick-"

"You know what, I'll leave the tip. Here, take your money back." Pete sighs, taking the bill from the table and shoving it into Patrick's hands, then leaving one of his own on the table, clearly tired of you and Patrick going back and forth about the tip.

"Thanks, Pete." Patrick says, scratching the back of his neck.

"Hand me the Keys, I'll start the car while you flirt with each other." Pete says, snickering.

You take your keys from your pocket and hand them to him, your face rapidly heating up from his comment.

"Fuck you, Pete." You say, glaring at him.

"Uh-huh, yeah, whatever." Pete says, giving you a grin before walking out the door of the diner.

"You and him are complete opposites, how'd you two get to know each other?" Patrick laughs lightly, pushing up his glasses.

"Me and him were neighbors. I never really had any friends so Pete was the one person I ever hung out with. When he moved out of his parents' house I was still living with my parents, so we didn't see each other all that often, but we still called each other and hung out sometimes. He's always just kinda been there for me since I was a kid."

"You two have known each other that long already? I've only known him for a year now. He's a character for sure, though."

"Oh yeah, 100%." You laugh.

"I um, I had a lot of fun today. When do you think I can see you again? Or if you want to of course, you don't have to if you don't want to and I totally get it if not." Patrick says, rambling towards the end.

"I would love to see you again, Patrick. I had a lot of fun talking to you, too." You smile.

"Cool, cool, yeah. Can I get your number? To text you when or where, y'know?" Patrick awkwardly says.

"Yeah, of course! I'll put it into your phone." You say, putting your number into his phone and giving it back to him.

"Thanks. So, I'll see you sometime soon?"

"Yup, just call or text me and set up something, I won't be doing anything on weekends so thats probably the best time for anything, or whatever." You ramble.

"I'll do that. Thank you, Y/n. So uh, bye for now?" Patrick says with a crooked smile on his face.

You have no idea where you'd gotten the courage to do so, or what was even going through your head when you gave into the urge.

"Bye, Patrick." You say quietly after leaving a small peck on Patrick's cheek.

You quickly walk out of the diner to your car, now realizing what had just happened.

"Wow, what happened? Did I just see that?" Pete says, a smirk plastered on his face.

You slam your head onto your steering wheel and grip it tightly, staying there for a while before covering your face with your hands at an attempt to cool down your burning cheeks that were only getting hotter and hotter.

"Oh my god, why did I do that? How did I do that?!" You say to yourself, your voice muffled from your hands covering your face.

"Hey, first base already, huh? Maybe you'll make it to third quicker than I thought." Pete teases, nudging your shoulder.

You uncover your face and punch Pete in the arm, earning a whine and hiss from him.

"Fuck you, Pete."

You pull your car out of the parking lot, but catch a glance of Patrick. He was holding the side of his cheek with his mouth agape, watching as you drove out.

You did that. You're the reason he has that reaction. Holy shit.

Pete turns the radio down and rolls his window that was previously down back up.

"Told you that you would like him. Do you admit I was right, now?"

"What?" You say, turning your head to look at Pete for a couple of seconds then going back to the road.

"Y'know, the whole thing about me knowing your type and exactly what you needed. Admit I'm right." Pete persists.

"What? No way, man!"

"Hmm, okay, then. Patrick and Y/n, sitting in a tree, K-I-" Pete starts to sing.

"I'll throw you out of this fucking car and make you walk, Pete, I swear I'll do it If you don't stop." You say sternly.

"I'll stop *only* if you admit I'm right!"

Pete was stubborn, and he knew you wouldn't throw him out. Trying to ignore him would prove to be useless, too, unfortunately you'd have to admit it even if you didn't want to. Because he'd never stop.

"Fine! Fine! You were right about everything! Will you shut up now?" You say, throwing up one of your hands from the steering wheel.

Pete lays back into the seat and smiles proudly, staying silent for the rest of the ride back to your apartment.

You park and sigh as you get out of the car, locking it after Pete exited.

"Well, I've gotta go now so I could go get shit for me to eat. Thank me for this later, man." Pete says, walking off to his car parked not to far from yours.

"Bye, Pete."

"God, why did I do that?" You say, throwing yourself onto your bed.

You lay there, the same thing replaying over and over again in your head. You'd be honest, you were kind of proud of yourself for actually being able to do that. You have no clue where the bravery and boldness of that action came from.

After a little while, your phone dings, indicating you had a message from someone, most likely Pete to continue to tease you.

You pick it up, only to see it was from an unknown number.

-Hey, Y/n. It's Patrick!-

You immediately get up and look at the text message closely, a smile forming on your face.

You save his phone number into your phone as a contact and quickly type out a reply.

-Hey, Patrick! What's up?-

You had the same smile plastered on your face until you remembered the kiss you gave him on his cheek before you left the diner.

Oh shit. What if he's texting me to say something about it? What if I fucked up? Oh my god.

-Nothing right now.-

Three dots appeared on the bottom left corner of the screen. Appearing, then disappearing a few times before another text was sent.

-Hey, about that kiss before you left..-

You cringe, thinking of the worst possible outcomes and messages after that text was sent.

You bite your lip out of nervousness as you type out a response.

-Sorry. I just kind of did it without thinking. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I totally understand if you're like, weirded out or something.-

-No! That's why I wanted to text you, I didn't want you to feel like it bothered me. I didn't really mind it. Like, at all.-

You look at the message and let out a sigh of relief. Calmer about the fact that he wasn't bothered by it.

-Oh okay. Cool, cool. You dont know how relieved i am to hear that '•○•-

-I was already thinking.. Maybe if you're free next Saturday, we could go downtown and just walk around and eat somewhere for lunch?-

The smile that appeared on your face was so big it started to make your jaw hurt.

-That sounds great, I would love to!-

-Awesome! I'll talk to you later, though, I have to go to sleep now so I can get up early to practice with Pete and the other guys. He'll probably give me another "motherly" lecture if I'm late and tired again.-

You laugh to yourself as you read the text. Pete has given you more than enough of those motherly like lectures Patrick just texted about, so you weren't even surprised.

-Goodnight, Y/n. I'll talk to you tomorrow?-

The three dots showed again for a brief few seconds before one final text from Patrick sent.

-Please do. Goodnight, Patrick<3-

-<3-

Your heart skipped a beat and your cheeks began to burn up even more, impossibily more.

Pete's antics of getting you out never worked and you were never fond of, but this time you're glad he forced you to this one.

Volume: ■■■■■□□□

This one took me like, a week to finish? Maybe one of the few I've ever finished this quickly. This was very very cheesy but it was really fun to write, and it's a Patrick fic, so it gets an exception. Hope you enjoyed it! I'm currently working on two other Patrick fics as you're reading this, too!

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Capriciously_Terminal! @capriciouslyterminal has 106 fics on ao3 in the Stranger Things fandom and 105 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@mustardyellowlilac recommends the following works by Capriciously_Terminal:

Where the Sun Can't Reach

Spit Me out, You Don't Know Where I've Been

It's the Ritual of the Thing

Baby I'm Your Man (Don't Fear the Reaper)

It's as if she writes memories, rather than stories, and that makes them tangible and devastating -- @mustardyellowlilac

Below the cut, @capriciouslyterminal answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I started writing Steddie because the characters of Steve and Eddie have such specific and human voices that I literally couldn’t get them out of my head after watching the first drop of S4. (Also I’d just gotten a new puppy who didn’t love sleeping through the night so I had plenty of time to think). The more I wrote for them the deeper I found myself in their voices and thinking about what they could do and I had to keep going until I ran out of steam.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love a good “Steddie interwoven into previous seasons’ canon events” story. Especially if an author makes it SO specific. I want Steve and Eddie in Starcourt. I want Eddie Munson popping up at the pumpkin patch. I want Eddie Munson in the background at Starcourt drooling. I want him to spend this whole time watching Steve’s character growth and finding it impossibly hot before getting twisted up in the horror.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I definitely love adding Eddie Munson to canon (thinking about him and life-guard Steve Harrington is where this all began, afterall). However I think that I, as a person, am just as obsessed with The Horrors. As such adding monstrosity/new flavors of spooky to this show was my favorite thing to do.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I can narrow it down to two! My favorite piece of Steddie fic that changed my brain chemistry has got to be fastcardotmp3’s “that’s just wasteland, baby!” (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42351597) because the scene in the lake? The genuine wonderful take on in media res apocalypse living? Dot’s talent for characterization/love? I’ll never live it down. Actually, go read everything by fastcardotmp3. Do yourself a favor. The other has to be “every mistake was made purposefully” by birthdaycandles (https://archiveofourown.org/works/41795838/chapters/104862381). It turns out I’m a sucker for excellent narration and watching Steddie/plot shenanigans from Tommy Hagan’s prickly point of view. It gave me everything I’ve ever wanted.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I always wanted to write a When Harry Met Sally AU about Steve and Eddie meeting throughout their lives/development. I don’t know if I’ll ever pick it up again but it’s still there knocking at the back of my mind. I’ve also got like fifteen of the drabbles in i love you you dope with bits of continuation in my head too.

What is your writing process like?

In general, my writing is a very all or nothing process. It’s either going to go all day, through meals, and not stop until the idea is finished OR I’m going to be stalled completely. Generally, though, if I’m in my crazy inspired phase I’ll have an idea (specifically the beginning of something) and if that idea sticks in my head for more than a single day then I probably can’t leave it until it’s done. However, this did change with my writing i love you you dope. I decided to answer p0ck3tf0x's "100 Ways to Say I Love You" list one prompt at a time. Once a day. RIP. This led to a writing process which was more of a sit down after work and immediately write the first thing you could think of until it’s done kind of affair. I can’t recommend that style lol. It led to some pretty intense burnout by the end but I am proud of how many ideas came because of it. It showed that, through tenacity, most ideas could be something worth pursuing.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I can’t help but put first and second person pronouns in descriptions as if speaking to the reader and I’m a frequent and blatant tense shifter. It’s all over the place at times lol. I also LOVE a good stream of consciousness description, flitting from one image to another, which probably lead to these grammatical quirks and a shit ton of run-on sentences.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Before I started writing i love you you dope I very much preferred finishing my writing before I posted it. It took ages but nothing felt worse than having to leave something unfinished because I’d lost the plot (which has happened several times).  However, part of the draw of i love you you dope was that (as a challenge) I had to write and post daily. While I learned I can write on such a grueling schedule, I can safely say after finishing it that I prefer having the time to ensure something’s to my standards. Or, at least, until I’m tired of looking at it and just want other people to see it.

Which fic are you most proud of?

If we branch outside of my Steddie work it’s a fic for a little show called Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency that I think I’ll never top. A Road Song in Quartet that Smells like a Trio is basically my novel/brain-child about my favorite rowdy vampire boys and I have to shout it out everywhere I go. However, to stick to the Steddie, I had such a great time with characterization in writing It’s the Ritual of the Thing. Some of those descriptions are still some of my best work. Or, I’d have to say, Can We Both Be Lonely If We’re Both Looking at Each Other? It’s an AU modeled after the world of The Magnus Archives Podcast and not only was I proud of the way I was able to layer monstrosity on both Eddie and Steve but I just loved the world. I actually planned out a whole main plot for the world that never saw the light of day.

How did you get the idea for Baby I'm Your Man (Don't Fear the Reaper)?

I can’t remember which came first, the title or the idea of Eddie meeting Death as played by Steve Harrington, but the song title by Blue Öyster Cult had definitely been sitting in my head for a while. The idea initially started as a Seventh Seal reference with Eddie having to challenge Death with Steve Harrington’s face to a game of basketball but that scene wasn’t working so instead we got a trip through various S4 locales and a fun Death with good hair.

When writing Spit Me out, You Don't Know Where I've Been, what was something you didn’t expect?

I honestly didn’t know if anyone would vibe with the language/story. For a fic that focused a lot on unease, offal, and how hard it would be to picture a future in a small town I was waiting for people to not touch this one with a ten foot pole. So to hear that it actually channeled people’s feelings or that it was something that people enjoyed (as opposed to just me shouting stressful things at the sky) was a big expectation dodge.

What inspired It's the Ritual of the Thing?

When I was in high school I had a friend who asked me out once, the first person to ever do so, and my first instinctual response was to genuinely ask him why he was really calling me after school. He insisted that he really did want to ask me out and for some reason that made my blood run cold. The date did not go well, obviously, but I remembered the gut punch to think someone wouldn’t want you/the desire to say no just because it frightened you for years afterwards. It felt like such an Eddie thing to feel, especially if Steve Harrington was the one to ask him out. Honestly…I poured a lot of my own worldview into Eddie Munson as I wrote him and that’s where a lot of this came from.

What was your favorite part to write from Ritual of the Thing?

I’d have to say it’s a toss up between two parts. Firstly, I’ll never get over the descriptive imagery in the beginning (I’ll never forget lines like “Suddenly it’s like he’s a Jack-O-Lantern with his mouth carved open. A candle sits on his tongue and its light is shining out of his eyes”). It was the kind of sentence I was thrilled to read after I wrote it. Secondly, I was really proud of Eddie and Robin’s conversation after Steve told her about his asking Eddie out. I loved both of their voices in that moment and the thought of Robin trying to explain how much Steve could love you even after you’d had to let him down…and her little fake nightmare discussion.

How do/did you feel writing Where the Sun Can't Reach?

On one hand it felt like I was exorcizing something because I show my class The Sandlot once a year and that means for one day I watch the scene where the kid fakes drowning to make-out with the lifeguard four times. That’s too many times. I had to process that. But I do remember that feeling of loneliness that could come with summer. That could come with wishing for a room somewhere with someone you loved when it felt impossible. I remember when the smallest of things could mean the world when you had nothing else…so in a way maybe I was exorcizing that too.

What was the most difficult part of writing Where the Sun Can't Reach?

Besides the jokey answer of reliving the aforementioned scene from The Sandlot on purpose, I’d have to say trying to accurately consider the physics/feelings of Eddie’s trip into the water. The feelings/actual consequences of hitting his head. I’m not too sure I got the details right but I remember working on it so many times that I eventually threw in the towel and went with what I had.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I think…it’s gotta go to my lone vampire Steddie fic I Go Hungry Every Night. The whole thing’s one big treatise to Upside Down skinned vampires and food/service as a love language? And also the fact that I love vampires/monstrosity. I just went way too hard with the line: “If you asked Steve what the opposite of tracing constellations in someone’s freckles in the afterglow would be he’d say this, making shapes in the pieces of the wound they’ve given you. The one that weeps red slowly.”

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

While I wish I did, and I’m always thinking about various unfinished fics in the strangest moments of my life, I think I’m pretty knocked from my Steddie writing mojo. I love you you dope was an incredible process and I am so proud of it…but I think it cauterized my writing brain for Steddie. I’d love for people to poke around the fics I wrote and I will say that other people’s intrigue sometimes pulls my attention back to old ideas…but I do believe I’m a bit out to pasture here lol.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Writing Steddie was something that kept me sane during a really stressful transition from college to adulthood. These characters and all the people I got to meet/talk with in this fandom have been one of the greatest joys in my life. I’m so honored, like honestly floored, that anyone would nominate me for something like this. The thing about writing fic is that oftentimes when you start it can feel like you can’t possibly amount to what other people do. Like you’re just a little voice that doesn’t have anything special about it even when you tried so hard. But I stand as someone who felt that way and still found that people did enjoy what I wrote and if I can do it, honestly, anyone can. <3

Thank you to our author, @capriciouslyterminal, and our nominator, @mustardyellowlilac! See more of Capriciously_Terminal's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[soaps-mohawk]

Hi! I was the one who asked about making a fic of your fic and I wanted to say thank you for the response! I’ll always ask before going off and doing something like that!

As a fanfic writer myself I’m very careful on asking, because I know personally how I feel about people making fanfics of my fic as someone with a relatively popular fic on ao3.

I know how easy it is to get attached to the characters you interpret.

I do love you fanfiction though! I had a question about like scents in your fic.

How does that work? I don’t fully know how to word it. Does like another pack realize who the omega “belongs” to. And does everyone in the pack get scented? I know you mentioned something about Soap almost passing out the first time.

Anyways, Love your fic! -🍭Anon

Thank you so much for understanding. That really means a lot. 💚

As far as scents and scenting goes, everyone has their own unique scent. It's composition depends on both just natural scents based on the body and also status. Status-based scents have similarities, like the reader states betas all sort of have the same scent that the can project that has sort of pheromones that induce a sense of calm and relaxation. Alphas and omegas have a sort of baseline scent that's the same that alerts others to their status, on top of their own personal scents.

So, when someone is scented by someone else, they're sort of putting a claim on that person. So, just using Soap as an example, he has his own scent, and then he was scented by the other three members of the pack. So he now smells like himself, but there's also the other three scents sort of below the other one. So if someone else outside of the pack approaches him, they'll be able to smell his scent and tell his status, and then they'll smell the members of his pack as well. And if they know the personal scents of any of the members, they'll be able to know who exactly it is. So if someone was familiar with Price's scent, they'd be able to pick up Price's scent on Soap and know it's Price who scented him.

That's also why the reader wanted Price to scent the sweatshirt he gave them. Partially it was for the reader just to have his scent there, but also it's a sort of signal to others that they belong to Price.

Everyone in the pack scents everyone. A more formal scenting is done when a new pack member is introduced, like we saw in chapter one where they all exchanged scents. After that, it's pretty easy to keep scents on other pack members since affection is very common between pack members and scents can be rubbed off on someone by cuddling or wearing each other's clothing. Soap and Gaz would smell heavily like the reader after they spend the day cuddling in chapter 8. Ghost and reader have been exchanging scent sort of unintentionally during their training sessions.

And I know someone's going to ask, no, typically the guys don't go spreading their scents around while they're on missions fighting people. They usually wear scent blockers, and so would anyone attempting to do something illegal since scents can be used in that regard to prove guilt or involvement in crime.

Scenting is not a strong enough claim in a lot of cases though, as it can be easily done with anyone. That's where claiming marks come into play. That's why Price said the reader should have someone with them at all times at least until the claiming. Scenting is sort of like writing "we're married" on a piece of paper, while a claiming mark is an actual marriage certificate.

But yeah, I hope that answered your question lol. Thank you again for being so understanding. 💚

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

A Strange Sort of Family

hi, resident evil fandom, i'd like to throw my hat in the ring

look, i don't even really go here, the fandom mold just got into my brain and would not fucking leave. this is my first time writing any of these characters so if they feel a bit rocky, please forgive me. my media analysis brain has been spinning nonstop since we started the resident evil brain rot and ho boy would I love to sink my teeth into a proper horror fic but! i don't know if i'm there yet so i figured i'd start a bit easier for me :)

also--we all know there's no way ethan's just gone from the franchise now, right? like, sure, he's dead, but he died like 30 minutes into re7 and that didn't fucking stop him

ALSO also big shoutout to @dragonsareaqueerthing and @greenninjagal-blog for the encouragement to actaully make the words go :) hopefully i'll be spending more time in this fandom now that I've got that ball rolling

Read on Ao3

Warnings: talk about events of shadows of rose dlc, nothing explicit, bullying

Pairings: implied ethan/mia/chris, but Ethan & Rose is the focus

Word Count: 10,919

You'd think after about 16 years of being treated like a child and the most powerful bioweapon the world has ever seen, you might get used to it.

Nope!

Not even slightly.

Sometimes a family is a molded bioweapon, a traumatized agent, a former bioterrorist, and a series of golden, sparkly words. Sometimes family is decorating your room with your mother, sometimes family is hugging a pillow because your dad isn't here anymore. Sometimes family is training too hard and going out for ice cream, sometimes family is a dinner where your parents won't stop teasing you.

Or, five times Ethan Winters was there for his daughter, and one time Rosemary Winters was there for her father.

1.

You'd think after about 16 years of being treated like a child and the most powerful bioweapon the world has ever seen, you might get used to it.

Nope!

Not even slightly.

Okay, well, maybe slightly, but only in the way she's able to shake off some of the lesser things that would've made her really upset before. She's no longer threatening the lives of the agents that call her Eveline, to her face or behind her back when they think she can't hear them. Even when she really, really wants to. Small victories.

But despite her best efforts, she still returns to the cell block of a room—Chris had been so insistent that it wasn't a cell, but it was all concrete walls and a tiny window and a camera that she knows is in the corner—and curls up on her bed, jamming her headphones in and refusing to engage with the outside world until she could summon up the resolve to impersonate a normal person again.

Today had been no exception.

Rose throws her backpack onto her desk chair and slings her hat over the hook, kicking her shoes off and collapsing face-first onto the bed with a groan. More tests today, always more fucking tests. Didn't they have every inch of her shitty, moldy body cataloged by now? She has half a mind to start making shit up when they ask her the same stupid questions. 'How are you feeling today, Rose?' Oh, you know, just getting stuck with more needles than a fucking porcupine, how do you fucking think I'm feeling? Yeah, no, no homicidal instincts yet, just had one murderous thought the other day when I was imagining mold eating the bitch who called me a charity case. Although I did go to the park after I snuck away from that asshole you have tailing me on Tuesdays to see if I could amass a mushroom army, how was your day?

A small laugh leaves her throat at the thought of the doctor's face if she actually did say that, but then she'd probably have two assholes tailing her until they deemed her 'no longer a risk.' God, they were supposed to be these super highly trained agents, then why the fuck do they suck ass at being subtle?

Turns out, even having mold superpowers means she still has to breathe like a normal person, so she drags her face up from the bed and doesn't even bother to fully get up to inchworm up to the pillows. She mashes her face against the slightly cold surface—honestly, the best part about this prison-cell-ass room was that the air conditioning was always on Arctic, so her pillows were always cold—and grabs her phone, squinting at the notifications.

One from school saying her group project deadline was coming up…something from some shopping website she'd logged onto out of pure boredom three weeks ago…and a text from Chris.

Rose sits up a little more and opens the text. "Overseas this week…sorry I'll miss the—you fucking dick!"

Of course Chris is working this weekend, of course he's not gonna be fucking here to take her to the cemetery—great, that means another two hours of bus rides until she can actually go see her dad. She swears he does this on purpose sometimes, how often does he actually need to go overseas for 'work?' And it's not like anyone else here would be able to take her, she's learned her fucking lesson about asking them for anything more than more fucking food. Not bothering to stifle her groan, she flops back onto the bed, only for her phone to clatter out of her hand and onto the floor.

Great. Now she has to move again to pick it up.

She decides that moving is actually not what she's going to do right now, letting one arm hang over the edge of the bed, her cheek scrunched awkwardly against the lip of the mattress. She tucks her face against the collar of her jacket and rubs her thumb against the ring on her finger.

"Sorry it's gonna take me longer," she mumbles, "I really wanted to spend longer with you this time."

Her eyes widen when gold sparkling words appear on the floor next to her phone.

it's okay

"What the—" she whips around to look at the door, closed tightly, and jerks back— "how—"

The words are still there. The words are still etched into the floor, right next to her phone. She should check if they're on the camera—no, they can fucking hack into her phone whenever they want, and she doesn't—she can't—if this really is—

Rose swallows the lump in her throat as the words shift and change.

you ok?

"I—what—how are—" she swallows again, camera in the corner of the room, "uh, M-Michael?"

A pause as the words reform: sure

"I mean, I—I know," she says quickly, "I know what—I know what this is, I…I remember, it's just…"

camera, I know

"How is this possible?" she whispers, not daring to move from her haphazard scramble up the bed, "I thought you were—I mean, at the end, when we, uh, did the thing, it seemed like you were…that you were going again."

The words sparkle again as she grips the sleeve of her jacket—his jacket.

apparently i'm bad at it

"Bad at what?"

staying dead

Another laugh chokes its way out of her throat and she reaches out without thinking about it, just to touch the words. They glow a little bit brighter as she touches them and the tips of her fingers glow. Almost as an afterthought, she grabs her phone and shoves it behind her, hopefully muffling the microphone and at the very least, getting its cameras away from her dad.

Her dad. Those are her dad's words, that's her dad, he's here, he's here.

"Are you—is this…are you really here?"

sort of, as the golden words swirl around, part of you

"What do you mean, 'part of me?'"

not a scientist

"You're the only other m—person like me I know, I'm sure it'll be fine." She can almost hear the little huff of laughter as the golden sparkles swirl again. It seems like it's the same as it was when she was in there, with her dad only able to say a few words at a time.

i'm part of the mold, just like you, we're sharing a part right now

"Are you always sharing a part with me?"

i wish i could, and she feels her chest hurt a little bit, takes energy

"I guess that makes sense." Her arm begins to ache from being so stretched out. "I really miss you."

i miss you too sweetie

Fuck, she's 16, she should not be getting this choked up over her dad calling her 'sweetie,' but fuck it, she's a mold person and her dad's dead, she's allowed to sniffle a little when those words glow warmly under her fingers. Some hysterical part of her wonders if he'd be able to give her a tissue or a hanky the way he gave her guns and chem fluid in there, but she scrubs at her nose with her sleeve and decides that it's enough right now that he's here, in her room, still calling her sweetie.

***

2.

She almost recognizes it the second time, a tug in her gut. Given that she's got her hands over her face and is currently doing a fabulous impression of an angry seal, it'd be harder for her to see it. Still, she can't help the dumb smile on her face when she rolls over.

bad day?

"Oh, you know," she mumbles, "just your average day of being a human guinea pig."

ew

She snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle it. "You know I get a look at their notes sometimes? That's what they call you, just your initials."

surprised they're still talking about me

"What do you mean? Of course they're still talking about you, you're the—" she cuts herself off. The golden sparkles swirl.

i'm the what?

"Never mind."

The floorboards wait expectantly, but she twists the ring around her finger, chewing on her lip. After another moment, new words appear.

can i help?

"With what? With the tests?"

with you

Another tug in her gut, this time at the fact that she can't actually remember the last time someone asked after her, not their biggest liability or their most dangerous weapon. She props herself up on the cold pillows—thank you, government AC—and sighs. "I'm just really tired."

i bet

"Like—are they bored? What do they get out of sticking me with the same needle fifty different times? And it's not like they talk to me about anything, they just look at each other and then fake-smile at me and they tell me 'you're doing great,' like I'm supposed to know what that means. And the other people aren't any better! They keep trying to train me how to do a thing but they're not—it's not like they tell me why we're doing something or what I'm supposed to be doing instead, they just tell me I'm wrong and that's it."

that sucks

She huffs. "You have no idea."

After a moment, though, she realizes that might not actually be true. From what little she's actually managed to get Chris to tell her, and what she can learn from Mom, they were both held in BSAA's quarantine for ages before they moved over to Romania. And if Mom knew about Dad's…not-aliveness way before he did, then they must've done some sort of tests on him too.

"Can I ask you something?"

anything

"Did they, um, did they test you too?"

The floorboards stay empty for a minute, but it feels more like he's thinking than it does him avoiding the question. Sure enough, after another moment, words start appearing again.

they did, they didn't tell me anything either, just that i was lucky

"Lucky how?"

to have made it, even when i didn't

"You did, though," she mumbles, fiddling with the ring again, "you—this part of you made it. Chris told me, Mom told me. You…even after you were…gone the first time, you…you came back. The important parts of you, they came back."

and i'm grateful for it, for you

"You're gonna make me cry," she mutters, scrunching up a little tighter.

i love you Rosie

"Shut up." It's empty and they both know it. A few extra sparkles swirl around and she could swear he's laughing. "I love you too."

Sunlight streams in through her tiny window and she finds herself looking at the way the leaves on the tree dapple the shadow across the floor. Part of her dad's words are still glowing. She looks at the nightstand, bare except for her charger and alarm clock, then over at the desk where her school stuff is, then at the dresser. She reaches out and touches the metal bedframe. It's cold underneath her fingers.

what's wrong?

"Nothing." The words remain and she sighs. "I'm just being mopey."

you're allowed to mope

"Someone at school said something today," she says before she can think better of it, and she winces at how young she sounds.

bullies?

"Not really, it wasn't even really about me, I just—it's stupid."

if you're upset it's not stupid

"They were just talking about this thing they got for their room, okay?" Embarrassment makes her curl her fingers into the loose fabric of her jacket. "It's this mirror thing that hooks up to your phone and lets you play music and stuff from there. They were just talking about it and I thought—see, I told you it was stupid."

There's another pause. The breeze rustles the leaves outside. The shadows dance over the walls.

do you want it?

"Not really…I don't like mirrors that much anyway. And it's not like they'd let me just have another thing that connects to the Internet in here." She glances at the alarm clock. "I barely got them to let me get a laptop for school stuff. I don't think they've got a 'Mold Bioweapon Allowance' in their budget."

The silence grows thoughtful. She turns her head to look at the floorboards again, watching the few sparkles there swirl around.

it's your room, they say finally, it should feel like it

Rose scoffs. "What am I supposed to do, walk up and ask them to sponsor a shopping trip?"

why not?

"They're not gonna do that. They're just gonna brush me off again or tell me they're busy."

you've tried?

"I told you, I barely managed to get a laptop, which is something I need to be able to do schoolwork or anything, even have a taste of what being normal is like. And even then I had to argue for like, ages, and I had to get one of my teachers to write an email saying that it's necessary." She swats the white pillowcase, bitterness seeping into her words. "Everything else isn't necessary. They're all about practicality, like I'm just some other expense they have to deal with."

what about Chris? or Mom?

"Chris isn't here. He's always off somewhere doing something or he's here glaring at me like I'm some stupid new recruit that he doesn't want to have to train. And Mom's…I don't want to bother her, you know? She's got her own life now."

she's your mom, come the words almost before she's done speaking, she'd want to know

Rose sighs, sitting up to lean against the headboard. She twists the ring around and around her finger, chewing on her lip. "I don't know. Sometimes it feels like she's…like she doesn't want to know."

Another pause. What her dad had said before, about them sharing a part of the mold—she can feel something in her chest. An emotion that isn't quite hers, something like a deep and exasperated sadness. It's faint, not quite enough to put words there, but she can tell when she needs to look back down at the floor.

she does love you, let her

"Okay. I'll try."

thank you

"Would you come shopping with me?" she asks, even when she knows the answer. "If you could?"

The room gets a little happier as the sparkles swirl around.

i'd spend all day with you

"What did you want to have in your room? When you were my age?"

telescope

"A telescope?" She laughs. "Did you want to be an astronaut?"

astronaut ew

She laughs again and the sunlight seems a little brighter.

***

3.

She meets Mom at a coffee shop near the big bookstore downtown. She's not wearing Dad's jacket—it still feels weird to do, even after Mom's said it's fine—but she has his ring on a necklace under her shirt. Mom waves her over to a table in the corner, nodding to the smoothie already waiting.

"Pineapple mango," she says as Rose sits down, "your favorite."

"Thanks, Mom." She takes a big drink, savoring the weird feeling the pineapple leaves on her tongue. "How're you?"

"I'm okay. Work's been getting busy again recently with the month's end rush." Mom swirls her straw around her coffee. "Did I tell you about this new thing our boss is trying to make us do?"

"No, what?"

"Apparently some young CEO in the area made it big on corporate social media about 'team building exercises,'" and Rose is already groaning in sympathy, "so he sent out this survey this past week about what activity we'd rather do."

"What were the options?"

"This group painting class thing, where we all paint the same picture—"

"Like in kindergarten?"

"Like in kindergarten," Mom agrees, "there's a bar-arcade place that's just opened up on the West Side that does private events, and then there's a good old-fashioned work dinner."

Rose makes a face. "That's it? No, like, crazy obstacle courses, or escape rooms, or anything?"

"We barely had the budget for the normal year-end stuff."

"So what did you vote for?"

"I ended up voting for the painting, actually—"

"What? Mom, that's so lame."

"Hey!" She jokingly flicks a napkin at Rose. "Lamer than the most awkward dinner you can imagine or sitting and drinking for a whole evening?"

"Isn't that what adults do? You sit and drink and talk?"

Mom sighs, shaking her head as they both laugh. "Yeah, well, I figured it might be better if we tried to do something that wasn't just sitting and drinking."

"I guess."

"Besides, I'm still missing something for the bathroom upstairs. Maybe I'll hang up whatever I manage to make there," she adds, winking at Rose.

It's supposed to be a joke at how bad at art she is—really, even Chris looked at her stick figures and struggled to find something nice to say, and Mom just laughed it off—but Rose's smile fades and she shuffles a little in the chair. She drinks more of her smoothie. Dad's words turn over and over in her head.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Mm?"

"Would you…" She fights the urge to reach for the ring. "Would you help me decorate my room?"

Mom's brow furrows. "At my house?"

"N-no, my…my room at the compound. It's stupid, never mind."

"It's not stupid, Rose," Mom says, picking up her coffee, "I'm just—I guess I'm just surprised. Most teens don't really want their parents anywhere near their rooms."

"Yeah, well, forget it."

A car drives by. Despite herself, she reaches for the ring anyway. Something warm pulses in her chest.

"It's just," she manages, "I don't really have anything in there. It's just the military stuff."

Mom's coffee cup hits the table with a thud. "What do you mean you don't have anything in there?"

"I mean, there's just a dresser, a desk, and a bed. And my little side table thing. They didn't really give me any—"

"How much time do you have?"

Rose blinks. "Huh?"

"How much time before you have to get back?" Mom's already getting up and putting the lid back on her coffee. "We're not that far from the big stores and I have my car."

"I, uh, I think I have a few hours, so—" she scrambles up too, reaching to grab Mom's arm— "wait, you're really okay with doing this?"

Mom pauses for a moment, then reaches out and covers Rose's hand with hers. "You're my daughter, Rosie, I'd love to help you decorate your room."

A lump appears in her throat and she swallows it down. "Thank you."

"Come on," Mom grins, "what are you thinking you want?"

"Uh, I was thinking maybe like a whiteboard? That way I could write down stuff that I might forget? Or like—a magnetic one so I could stick stuff to it?" She gets into Mom's car and they start driving. "Or a corkboard—I've seen a lot of people pin like, pictures and stuff to a corkboard on their walls."

"What if you get both? A corkboard to put pictures and cute stuff and then a whiteboard to write on?"

"I also want a lamp. The normal lights just make my head hurt. And they buzz, you know?"

"Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about. It's like the world's most annoying crickets, isn't it?"

"And there's no, like, in between! It's either no light at all or—"

"Or my eyes are being scorched out, that's right."

They pull into the parking lot of the store and get out, still bouncing ideas back and forth. Mom grabs a cart and they head straight for the stationary section and they spend about five minutes talking about the different corkboards and whiteboards. Then Rose decides she wants magnets so she can stick stuff to the whiteboard, then Mom spots a cute set of push pins, and then another mom and daughter walk by with one of those fancy photo printers that print out pictures from your phone like Polaroids, and they just have to get Rose one of those.

As they pick out lamps and wall decor and sheets that actually have some color, she's struck by how normal this is. She's with her mom. They're shopping for stuff for her room. They're freaking out over the pillows that have little penguins on them. She's actually smiling and laughing and she's excited. She can't wait to get back and put all this stuff in her room.

She just…wishes Dad could be here too.

"I think I'd prefer the yellow lampshade, but it's up to you." Mom looks up from the shelf to notice she's gone quiet. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Nothing, nothing," she says quickly, wiping surreptitiously at her face, "…just…I kinda wish Dad was here too."

Mom's fingers stutter on the box and for a moment, she thinks she's going to see those walls go up again, the ones that always go up when she tries to talk about Dad, but then Mom puts the box down and rubs at her wedding ring. She still wears it sometimes. Rose reaches for Dad's, under her shirt.

"I wish he was here too, Rosie," Mom says quietly, "he'd be so proud of you."

Rose swallows, and her eyes catch on a tiny monkey LED lamp further down the shelf. She picks it up. "I think he'd vote for this one, don't you?"

A hint of fond exasperation comes to Mom's face. "God, did I ever tell you what happened when he found out that you loved that little monkey you got when you were still a baby? He tried to buy everything monkey-themed he could find because he thought you might like it."

"Wait, really?"

"I had to get Chris to help me talk him out of buying an entire monkey crib for you."

Rose puts the monkey lamp in the cart. Mom smiles and they keep walking. They end up spending way more than she thought they'd be and sheepishly tries to put some stuff back, but Mom won't hear a word of it and bags everything up.

"Chris can help cover the cost if he's so worried about it," she declares as they pull back up to the meeting spot where the car is supposed to take Rose back to the compound, "anyway, all of this should have been done years ago."

"Thanks, Mom," Rose says, "I had fun."

"We should definitely do it again. I'll help you decorate your college dorm too."

Rose smiles and gets out of the car. It fades a bit when she sees Paul again, leaning against the side of the van with his arms crossed. She turns her back deliberately on him and goes to help Mom get all the bags out of the trunk.

"You're late," Paul says, like he has any right to sound like a smug, condescending asshole.

"By like five minutes. Open the trunk."

"What's all that?"

"Stuff. For my room."

"Well, I—hey!" Paul finally moves when Mom just opens the trunk and starts putting the bags inside.

"You must be the agent Rose told me about," Mom says, her voice saccharine as she dusts off her hands, "is that right, honey?"

"Yeah," she mumbles, "that's him."

"Paul," he says, "Ms. Winters."

"Mia." Mom holds out her hand and he takes it, Rose peering at them from under the brim of her hat. Her eyes widen when Mom yanks Paul closer to her, her smile fading as she hisses in his ear. "Call my daughter Eveline again and I'll break your nose, are we clear?"

Paul jerks in surprise, before turning his head slightly. "Stand down, it's fine, I can handle it."

"You can't afford to make a scene in such a public place," Mom says, her voice still perfectly even, "and Chris won't risk harming me or Rose. So you can start treating my daughter like a person or I can break your nose right now and Chris can clean up your mess."

Rose can't stop her snort as Paul sheepishly walks back to the front of the car and gets in. Mom watches him go before she turns around and says, loud enough for him to hear, "Make sure you send me pictures when you get it the way you want it, okay?"

"I will."

"And if you decide you want anything else, we'll get it next time."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, Rosie." She glares once more in Paul's direction before she walks back to her car.

Rose doesn't stop smirking as Paul drives them back to the compound. He slinks off with his tail between his legs after helping her get all her stuff into her room. She can't cover up the camera—and let them know she knows about it—but she can play her music out loud as she decorates, hanging up the little plants they found and pinning a few photos to her new corkboard. It still strikes her how normal all of this is, dancing to her music and putting up all of her new things, finally collapsing onto her now-colorful blankets with a laugh.

She texts a few photos to Mom, who responds with gushing reviews and excited emojis, before she rolls onto her side to look at the floor.

"What do you think?"

The words only take a second to appear.

it's beautiful, sweetie

"You were right," she murmurs, "it was really nice to let Mom take care of me a bit."

i'm glad

"Oh! I forgot to show you the best part!" Rose jumps off the bed and goes over to the far wall, switching on the fairy lights she hung from the ceiling amidst a bunch of fake vines. "Now the camera will just think the glowing is from the lights!"

Golden sparkles swirl beneath the soft glow.

you're so smart

"I mean," she blusters, trying not to show how pleased she is, "I was just tired of lying down to talk to you all the time."

i see, still clever

"Thanks." After a moment, she reaches over and picks up the little monkey lamp and her stuffed monkey, safely hidden beneath her pillows. "Mom told me you wanted to buy a monkey crib for me."

it would go with the onesie

"You got me a monkey onesie?"

mom has pictures

"I'll have to ask her next time." She chews on her lip, running her fingers over the seams of the monkey's ear. "I wish you could've been there."

me too

"Mom threatened to break Paul's nose if he was rude to me again." The light swirls as Dad laughs and she laughs too. "I'd kick him in the nuts too."

that's my girl

***

4.

"Stupid fucking dickhead," she spits as she slams the door, throwing her backpack onto the chair so hard it scrapes across the floor. "Fucking asshole! I'll fucking rip his head off, the fucking bastard!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a tiny sparkle from the floorboards, and she stomps over to the lights, turning them on. Almost immediately, golden words swirl up.

what happened?

"Your buddy Chris fucking happened!" Rose throws herself onto the bed and punches the pillow. "He keeps treating me like I'm some—some fucking gun that only he knows how to fire and I'm fucking sick of it!"

It had been especially bad today, too. Chris apparently woke up and decided yeah, today's the day I'm gonna be a total fucking asshole for no goddamn reason. He started them out sparring, which he never does, he always has them warm up first because it's important not to strain yourself, except apparently not today when she was thrown against the fucking ground three times before she could even open her mouth long enough to say hi.

Or maybe ask what the hell crawled up his ass that morning.

And then he kept fucking looking at her like he was disappointed! Like it was her fault she wasn't expecting to be slammed up against the wall or pinned to the ground by a man fucking three times her size and then grunted at when she winced in pain because that fucking hurt, you asshole! And he kept on saying these stupid little comments that just made her angrier and angrier and then he had the gall to be like hey, you need to get a handle on your emotions like he wasn't pushing every single fucking button he knew she had!

You need to be sharper, he'd said like he had any right to try and be reasonable as he almost dislocated her fucking shoulder, emotions make you sloppy.

Yeah, well, he could try being sharper when he was being bullied for no fucking reason.

And when she'd finally screamed at him that she was done, that she didn't want to fucking do this anymore, he had the fucking audacity, the nerve to scoff and cross his arms and tell her that no, she wasn't done, she was only done when he said she was done. And yeah, she hadn't really made the decision to rush at him after that, her body did that on its own, but he literally just tossed her aside like a fucking doll and then said she wasn't leaving until she could do the fucking stupid thing he wanted her to.

She tried. She really fucking did.

But she couldn't do it.

And Chris kept refusing to help, saying he'd been training her for so long already, that he'd wash her out if she were any other recruit—to which she'd screamed that she wasn't, so why the fuck was he being like this? And he didn't fucking answer! He just told her to try it again and he kept making her angrier and angrier and she could tell Chris was getting angry too which just made hers worse because what fucking right did he have to be mad at her? What the fuck did she do to him?

It ended really badly. She'd gotten so mad she'd thrown herself at him again, not caring about proper technique or what was smart or anything, she just went for him. He grappled her, obviously, and that was supposed to be their tap-out, fight's-over thing, but she hadn't stopped. She'd scratched him and punched him and kicked him even when he growled at her to yield, and when that didn't work, she'd bit him.

Chris fucking wrenched her off of him and threw her across the room and she heard three guns click.

They'd glared at each other, Chris holding his arm like it was a fucking biohazard, and then he'd stalked off without a word while agents forcibly shoved her back to her room.

She's panting by the time she finishes, glaring a hole in the wall right below where the words normally appear. Her hands still tingle from where she'd hit the walls and the pillows. She looks up when she sees the familiar swirl.

you shouldn't have bitten him

The anger surges up her arms and she clenches her fists. "That's all you have to say? No 'I'm sorry he was such a dick, Rose?' 'You didn't deserve that?' You're fucking defending him?"

i didn't say that

"I just told you that your friend, the person you told to watch over me and keep me safe was fucking bullying me for no goddamn reason and the only thing you can say is that I shouldn't have defended myself?" Betrayal steeps vehemence into her words. Her nails bite into her palms. "I'm fucking glad I bit him!"

he's trying to help

"How in the fuck is he trying to help," she cries, "by being as bad as the bullies in school? By treating me like a freak that needs to be kept muzzled and on a leash?"

you did bite him

She picks up one of the pillows and hurls it at the wall. It hits with a pathetic thwap and falls limply to the floor. It only makes her angrier when she sees the words calm down when the lights stop shaking.

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down! You're supposed to be on my side!"

i am

She barks out a humorless laugh and picks up the pillow, throwing it back on the bed. "You're not on my side, you're on his. I don't need you lecturing me too. Just leave me alone."

More golden words swirl as she turns away, throwing herself onto the bed and curling up tightly around her stuffed monkey. She chokes around the lump in her throat and wills herself not to cry. She'd almost cried in front of Chris today already, she won't give either of them the satisfaction of seeing her cry now. She won't, she won't, she won't! It's not fucking fair that Chris did that. It's not fucking fair that he gets to act however the fuck he wants and then she's the only one punished for it. He gets to go all over the fucking world and only see her when it's convenient to him and he gets to be an asshole about it.

Dad's not even alive.

A sob chokes out before she can stop it, and then it's too late. She's blubbering like she's a stupid fucking baby again and she can hear the echoes of their voices in her ears. All alone, poor freak Rose, crying like a baby who doesn't get her way. She's so weird, she's so stupid, she can't do it. She's useless, she's not strong enough. Just go away. No one wants you here. No one wants you. No matter how hard she presses her hands to her ears, they won't fucking shut up!

Maybe she should've fucking kept the purifying crystal. Maybe she should've left with no powers and had a normal fucking life. Maybe she should've just left her dad to—

As soon as the thought threatens to cross her mind, she recoils from it. Guilt and anger war in her gut as she nearly grows sick. How could she fucking think that? After all he'd done to save her, protect her, how could she think about something like that, even if it was in a fit of rage?

A strangled noise escapes her throat and the bruises and injuries from her humiliating 'sparring session' abruptly make themselves known. Her body screams in pain; her shoulders ache, the bruise on her ribs throbs, and her jaw feels like it's about to explode. She has the hysterical impulse to bite herself and she wonders if it would hurt more than everything else. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpses a glow coming from the floorboards now and she curls up tighter, burying her face in the monkey's tummy. Fuck it, she's been called overly emotional and childish enough times already, she may as well throw her tantrum properly.

It's like falling into the Megamycete again; she has no idea how long she lies there, wallowing in her own emotional turmoil. Flashes of the bullies, of Chris's stupid fucking face, of watching herself get tossed around and left behind…even stranger things like massive castles filled with screams and horror, creepy old houses that just feel like tombs, deep water and clanking metal, all filled with whispers of freak, dangerous, stupid child, not good enough. Everything is too loud and too quiet and she just wants it to be over.

When she finally manages to rouse herself from whatever malaise she'd fallen into, the sun has long set. Her clock shows that it's close to 10—that would explain why her stomach is trying to dig a hole in her intestines. The anger fled unknown hours ago, leaving her weary and wrung out. In its absence, she no longer feels like the bioweapon that she's supposed to be, only the scared and lonely child. It's cold. She's hungry.

There's still a soft golden glow coming from over the side of the bed.

Her lip wobbles. She doesn't want to face the consequences of yelling at her dad and throwing a pillow at him, but she can't stop the blooming warmth that he didn't leave. She crawls to the edge of the bed and peeks over.

i'm sorry Rose

She sniffles and rubs her cheek on the sheets. "'M sorry too."

you were right, i should've been on your side

"You're always on my side," she mumbles, "I know you are."

still

She sniffles again and tucks the monkey under her chin. "Why was Chris so mean today? Did I do something wrong?"

i don't think so, sometimes he's just like that

"Why?" She's ignoring how much she sounds like a baby, thank you. "It's not fair."

no it's not sweetie

Rose closes her eyes, basking in the soft glow of her dad's comfort. "Was he ever mean to you when you were training?"

yeah

"What did you do?"

broke his nose once

It startles a laugh out of her. "You what? Wait, what happened?"

he was being an asshole, so i punched him

She giggles again, both at the image of Chris's surprised face with a broken nose and at the fact that her dad got so angry with Chris that he punched him hard enough. A few more golden sparkles surround the words before they change again.

you shouldn't try it though

"Aw," she complains, mostly for show, "but you did it."

do as i say not as i do

She's quiet. After a moment, she lets her arm hang down to touch the words again. They glow gently. "I don't like fighting with you."

me neither

"I'm sorry. I was being a brat."

The words swirl up quicker than she's ever seen.

you were upset at something unfair, not a being a brat

She sniffles again, reaching over to grab a hanky and blow her nose with a sharp honk. She throws it over to the laundry basket and lies back down. The words have changed.

if you need to hear it, i forgive you

"I forgive you too."

rest

She nestles up against the pillows. "Will you stay until I go to sleep?"

of course sweetie, i love you

***

5.

Mostly Rose doesn't dream. She'll close her eyes and open them again and it will be hours later and it's time to get up. Most of the time when she does dream, it's weird half-memories that aren't hers mixed with something she does actually remember. She has dreams of a house with a red chimney being taken apart by little robotic goats, or of a crocodile swimming through a swamp filled with dead crows, or of bugs crawling over test tubes and dirty flasks. Some of them make sense when she digs into the files she's not really supposed to have access to, some of them don't.

On rare, awful occasions, she has nightmares.

She's been curled up and unmoving for who knows how long, desperately trying to feign sleep. The mold in her keeps prickling like there's something else in the room, watching her, just waiting for a sign that she's awake to pounce. Her white-knuckled grip hasn't wavered either. She dares hardly breathe; even though her rational brain knows there's nothing there, there can't be anything there, her entire body is screaming. She can feel the milky sweat beginning to ooze from her palms.

Something creaks.

She goes stiff as a board.

A creak, a groan, a rumble as the air conditioning turns on and she forces herself to relax, cracking open one eye to see that yes, this is just her room, there's nothing to be afraid of here, she's fine.

Her eyes land on the switch to the fairy lights.

The small and whimpering part of her lunges for them, for the warm glow of the light, her dad's words, in lieu of running to her parents' bed to be comforted. The other part hisses that the second she moves, whatever's lurking in the dark will strike. The monkey wheezes as she tightens her grip, staring at the innocuous plastic box hanging against the wall.

With a sudden burst, she launches herself from the bed, slapping the button, and curling back up beneath the safety of the blankets.

Immediately, the soft warm light chases away the worst of the shadows and she can peek over her shoulder to assure herself that yes, nothing is there, she's safe in her room, everything's okay. Golden sparkles are already swirling, a quiet inquisitiveness filling that one empty part in her chest as she lies back down. He's rotated his words so she can read them easily.

what's the matter, sweetie?

"Nightmare," she whispers, more into her pillow than anything else.

i'm sorry

She curls up tighter, trying to pull the blankets up almost over her head. The sweat's almost ruined her monkey—she's going to have to wash it again—and she wipes her hands on the sheet. The absence of it hits the cold air and she shivers, hunching tighter in the covers and sniffling. A sudden and sharp ache sears through her chest and she shudders, harder this time, only the top of her nose peeking out over the comforter. She's so cold. Not in the way where she can pile more blankets on and it'll go away—she could put the whole world on top of her and she would still be cold. This horrible, achy, exhausting cold that seeps into her bones and makes her want to cry.

what can i do?

"You said in your—in your letter," she hiccups, "that you'd hold me when I had nightmares, and—and sing to me until I went back to sleep."

But the words on her wall are just words and words can't hold anybody.

She wants a fucking hug, goddamnit. No one touches her anymore, not unless they're running some stupid test, or sparring, or escorting her roughly down the hallway like some—some prisoner. The last time someone touched her and it wasn't that it was Mom, telling her she'd help decorate her room and that was so long ago, everyone else just—just—

"I want to go home," she sobs and it lands like a dead weight in the still room.

what do you mean?

"I want to go home, I want to go back to that house you showed—showed me when I was in there, where you—where your memories are and I can actually h-hear you and it's warm an'—an' safe, and you love me," she cries, not caring that it's the middle of the night and she's talking to a wall, "no one here loves me. No one loves me, the doctors think I'm some—some experiment that's run too—too long and the agents all think I'm a l-liability and Mom's not here because she gave me up and Chris h-hates me."

he doesn't hate you sweetie

"He does! He does, he does, I can feel it." She hugs her monkey tightly to her chest. "He h-hates me for being the reason you're not—you're not here anymore and he hates me for reminding him that you're dead and he hates me for—for being like this and—and—and—!"

shh…shh…shh…

But he's not here and she can't hear him shushing her and she's all alone in her cold, dark room and she wants to go home.

don't cry, Rosie, it's gonna be okay sweetie

"It's not. 'S not okay."

The wall doesn't move for a moment, then it swirls again.

scoot back, i'm going to try something

Frowning, she does, shuffling awkwardly back until she's on the far side of the bed. The golden light swirls around for another second, before it writes itself on one of the pillows.

hug me

"D—Michael?"

i'm right here sweetie, i love you so much

With trembling fingers, she reaches for the pillow, touching the words with a soft gasp as they glow warmly against her still-slick palms. A sob of disbelief leaves her throat and she bundles it to her chest, burying her face in it. A soft scratching and buzzing fills her ears as more words write themselves across the pillow, but she doesn't pull her face away to read them. Not when this is the closest thing to hugging her dad she's been since she was in the deepest stratum of the Megamycete, crying over his dying body. Not when she's still so cold and the words are so, so warm. She tucks her face into the crook of the pillow's embrace and she cries.

The words don't stop writing themselves over and over and if she focuses hard enough, it almost sounds like her dad is humming.

She falls into a light sleep, not willing to miss a moment of actually being so close to her dad, soothed by his presence. Soon, light has begun to break through the window, the auto timer on the lights long since activated to switch them off. The pillow is all gross from a mixture of drool, snot, and tears, and she sheepishly tries to wipe it away when a small glow comes from underneath.

it's okay

"It's kinda gross."

my privilege, i'm your dad

"Still."

ew, remember?

A watery smile. "Thanks."

i love you so much, i'm so proud of you

"I love you too," she mumbles back, curling her arms around the pillow. Another set of words writes itself and she leans back.

do you really think Chris hates you?

"I don't know. He…he looks at me like he can't sometimes. Or like he's waiting for me to…I don't know, turn crazy or bad or like he's waiting for me to turn into you, almost." She rubs her fingers over the pillowcase. "He used to be nicer."

have you spoken since?

She doesn't need to ask what he's talking about. "No. He's been out of town again. He's supposed to be back, um…"

She leans over to check her phone, eyes widening when she sees the date.

"Uh, today. Shit, I actually think we're supposed to have a training thing today."

Before more words can write themselves, there's a knock on her door. She freezes, phone still in her hand, pillow clutched close.

"Rose?" Fuck. "It's Chris. Can I come in?"

be brave, says the last flutter of words before her dad vanishes, i love you

"…yeah."

Chris opens the door. Rose tugs on her dad's jacket over her pajamas and clutches the pillow in her lap. She doesn't look at him. He moves around a little in the doorway before he shuts it with a click. After a moment, the bed dips and groans under his weight and she sneaks a glance at his arm. Her bite mark is still there.

"Surprised they let you walk around before that healed."

"You didn't even break the skin."

It's probably meant to come off in a way that means she doesn't have to worry about it, but it stings anyway. She turns away again.

A car drives by outside.

"I owe you an apology," Chris says finally, his voice low and gruff, "I shouldn't have been so harsh. I'm sorry."

She doesn't reply, but she shifts to face the window instead of the wall.

"There's been talk of getting you moved to another squad," he continues, and her stomach drops—is Chris leaving too?— "and I thought…if I could prove that you were good with us, that we had it all under control, then they'd drop it. Leave you alone."

At the rustle as he shifts, she glances over at him. His jaw works and his hand twitches on his knee.

"I thought…" He trails off, then scoffs at himself, shaking his head. "I don't know what I thought."

He turns to meet her gaze and her gut clenches at the obvious guilt and remorse she can see there. She swallows.

"You were mean." Her voice comes out a lot smaller than she'd hoped. She swallows and tries again. "I thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you, Rose," he says in a rush, turning to face her, "please don't think that."

"So you're not trying to get rid of me?"

"Shit, Rose, no, I'm not trying to get rid of you. You're—I think Mia'd kill me if I tried, no, I'm just—" he takes a breath— "I'm just trying to keep you safe, okay?"

"Then you should've said something! I would've trained harder if I knew—we could've—I would've done something else, did I do something wrong?"

"No," he insists, shaking his head, "no, you didn't do anything wrong."

Relief begins to pool warily in her chest. Her grip on the pillow loosens and she scoots a little closer. "I'm sorry I bit you."

He shakes his head again. "It's fine. You, uh, you have good bite strength."

"Good bite strength?"

"Yeah. Your contact's really good." He gestures to the bite mark on his arm. "Got all of them in there too."

"Thanks," she says, laughing a little. Chris smiles and it's a bit easier to breathe. She gives herself a shake. "So, what's today? Weapons, sparring, how to punch boulders?"

"Actually, I, uh, thought we'd go get ice cream."

Rose pauses, looking up at him, blinking as if she'd heard wrong. "Ice cream?"

"Weather's gonna get cold soon, the good place around the corner's gonna close." He shrugs. "Been craving it."

"Yeah…yeah, ice cream sounds good."

"Great."

And before she can think too much of it, she throws herself at him and hugs him for all she's worth. She feels him stutter, not quite sure what to do, and then his arms slowly wrap around her, holding her just as tightly. And oh, she's on fire, Chris is big and warm and solid and he's holding her like she's something special and she's gonna fucking cry her eyes out if she stays here a moment longer and she's gonna die if she lets go. Chris lets out a noise of dismay when she sniffles and scoops her up, like she's a little kid again, holding her in his lap and now she's making a mess of his shoulder too.

She could swear she feels Dad smile.

***

+1.

"I'm telling you," Rose says as she lounges on her bed, "you're wrong about the cover. It's actually pretty good."

i like the classics

"Yeah, well, you're old and boring, so that makes sense."

:(

The sight of the old-fashioned emoticon frowny face makes her burst out laughing. "Oh my god, that's so lame. I don't think I've seen someone use that in years."

it's a classic!

"You gotta get with the times!"

totes dope fam

Rose winces at the immense amount of psychic damage those three words dealt, her neck protesting as she almost cringes it out of alignment. "No, D—Michael, just no."

lol

She tosses the pillow playfully at the wall again, laughing when another frowny face appears on both it and the wall. "Aww, okay, I'm sorry, here."

She picks it up and cuddles it and the frowny face turns to a smiley face. Lying back down, grin still on her face, she toys with his ring. It's gotten shinier from all the rubbing, except where she ties the cord around it so she can wear it as a necklace. She turns it this way and that, watching the sunlight glint off of it. As she does, she catches sight of the engraving on the inside.

Always and forever.

"Do you want me to tell Mom and Chris about you?"

The words swirl for a moment.

up to you

She pushes herself to sit up, propped on one elbow. The ring glistens as she slides it back onto her finger, turning it to and fro. "I don't know. It feels bad keeping something like this from them, but I want to be selfish about it too, you know? I kind of like having you all to myself."

it's not selfish

"And what if Chris thinks it's bad?" She twists the ring harder. "What if he tries to take you away from me?"

i won't let that happen

Her shoulders drop a little and she picks up the pillow again, cuddling into it. A few words write themselves across it just so she can feel their warmth and she rubs her cheek against it. "Don't you miss them?"

all the time

A melancholy that isn't hers hangs in her chest and she squeezes the pillow again. "Then should I? They miss you too, you know. I think they'd be happy to, you know, hear from you again."

The words fade and the wall glows again as he thinks. She lets him have his time, rubbing the ring back and forth, listening to the slight rattle it makes as it spins around her too-small finger. When she hears the familiar soft scratch again, she looks up.

they're happy now, i don't want to ruin that

"They're not happy," she can't help but say, "they still miss you."

content, then

"You wouldn't be ruining anything," she argues, "I thought—I thought I'd never get to see you again after I got out of there. The day I heard you again? That was the happiest moment of my life."

mine too sweetie, or my un-life i guess

The words glow brighter as her fingertips glow too. She gets up and lays her hand against the wall, smiling as their powers dance together. "I really think they'd be happy."

A pulse of warmth runs up her arm to her chest as the words shift once more.

when you think the time is right

"I'll tell you, I promise."

i'm so proud of you, Rose, i love you so much

"I love you too."

That time doesn't come on their terms, though, because that would be easy. No, instead it's when she and Chris are over at Mom's house for dinner and Chris asks a question out of nowhere that almost makes her spit all over the table.

"What?" Mom asks as Rose glares a hole in Chris's stupid forehead.

"I said," Chris says like an unrepentant asshole, "who's Michael?"

"Michael?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rose mutters, staring down at her lap.

"I was coming to get you for training last week and you were talking to someone called Michael." Chris takes a bite of steak and talks with his mouth full, like an asshole. "So who is he?"

Mom elbows her, winking. "Someone you like?"

"What? Ew, gross, no!"

Chris and Mom just laugh and Mom elbows her again. "Don't worry, I was your age once too. That's how I reacted when my mom asked me about my crush."

"Michael isn't my crush!"

"Boyfriend, then?"

"No, he's not my—" she covers her face and sighs. "He's not my boyfriend, he's not my crush, he's not someone from school, happy?"

"So who is he?"

Well, fuck it, no time like the present. She pushes back from the table, muttering about using the bathroom. They wait until she's halfway up the stairs to start talking again, their voices low in that way where she knows they're still talking about her, but she pays them no mind as she goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. She braces her hands on either side of the sink and takes a deep breath.

"I'm guessing you heard all that."

The words swirl up right below the mirror.

yeah

"I mean, it's not like we'll get a better opportunity."

probably not

"Are you ready?"

are you?

She rubs at the chip in the linoleum and turns on the cold water, just to make sure there's no milky sweat on her hands. "I'm nervous."

me too

"No matter what happens," she says firmly, "no matter what they do or say, I'm here for you, okay? I've got your back. I love you."

i'm so proud of you, sweetie, i love you too

The words glow cheerfully against the weird tile pattern and she reaches out to touch them. They share a moment before the words fade and she takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders in the mirror and nodding to herself. "Right. Let's do this."

She marches back downstairs and Mom and Chris do a horrible job of pretending not to be nosy and expectant. She sits back down and folds her hands in her lap.

"I'll tell you who Michael is," she begins, "but you have to promise not to tell anyone else."

"I promise, honey," Mom says, miming zipping her lips shut.

"Chris, you promise too."

Chris looks at her for a moment like he's going to disagree, then he winces as Mom kicks him under the table. "I promise too."

"Good." She takes another breath and reaches for the ring around her neck. The second she brings it out from under her shirt, Chris's silverware clatters against the plate and Mom inhales sharply.

"Rose," she says shakily, "where did you get that?"

"Before I said yes to joining you," Rose says, "I met K outside the lab. He told me there might be a way to get rid of my powers for good."

Chris frowns. "K never said anything like that to me, what do you—"

"I'm getting there. He took me to the lab where there was a piece of the Megamycete, and said that—"

"He what?"

"Will you both just listen to me?" The two of them quiet down. "Thank you. So, like I was saying, he took me to see the piece of it and said that there was a purifying crystal that Miranda discovered that could take the mold out of someone. All I had to do was look through the Megamycete's index of consciousness to see if I could find it."

"That's incredibly dangerous, Rose," Mom says quietly, and Chris looks like he's trying to strangle his fork. "Please tell me you didn't—"

"I wanted them gone," she interrupts, looking at her Mom, "they were—I was just a freak with no friends. Someone offered me the chance to be normal, are you telling me you wouldn't have done the same thing if you were a teenager?"

Mom looks at her for a long moment, but she doesn't disagree. Rose squeezes the ring and keeps going.

"It wasn't that easy, obviously. It was…really hard. And really scary. I had to fight my way through these, like, twisted versions of the places in Miranda's village, like that big castle and the creepy doll house, and there were all these versions of me that kept getting killed and tortured, I fought a version of Eveline too—"

"Rose," Chris tries to say but she doesn't let him.

"—but I had help," she continues. "There was something helping me. It helped me figure out where to go, what to do, gave me a gun and taught me how to use it. There were these glowing words that would appear when I needed them most and it…it was like having a guardian angel."

"Michael," Chris says, and she nods.

"Yeah, I called him Michael. He—he kept trying to get me to leave, said that it wasn't safe, but I wanted to find the crystal and so he helped me. And then we found out K wasn't actually K and it was all a trap set by Miranda—"

"It was what?"

Chris is already getting up. "Is she still in there? Do we need to—"

"Sit down, Chris, it's fine, we beat her. She's dead now, like, really, actually dead. She crystalized and turned to dust, I saw it."

His face still looks like he ate a lemon, but Chris sits slowly back down. He exchanges a worried look with Mom and she puts her hand on Rose's shoulder. "You said 'we?'"

"Me and Michael." She looks down at the ring and turns it over in her hand. "Until I found out who he really was."

Mom gasps, a small and shuddery thing. She holds her hand over her mouth and stares at Rose. "Ethan."

Chris makes a noise too as Rose nods. "Yeah. It was him the whole time. He…he protected me. From Miranda, from Eveline, from everything."

"He loved you so much, honey," Mom whispers, her eyes growing wet, "he never stopped loving you."

"He showed me our house in Romania," and to her horror, she can feel her voice growing thick too, "with all his memories. I heard his voice, Mom, he—he wrote me a letter, did you know?"

"Yes," Mom says, trying not to sob, clutching her shoulder, "yeah, honey, I know. He cried so much while he was writing it, he wanted you to get old enough to read it with him, oh, Rose…"

She swipes a hand under her nose and turns to Chris, who's doing that big, tough, I'm-too-manly-for-my-emotions-right-now thing and reaches for him too. After a moment, his hand turns and covers hers. He's trembling. "He taught me how to fight, Chris. We—we fought together. He shot the monsters in the face with a shotgun and gave me his power so I could kill Miranda, once and for all."

Chris swallows heavily. "Your dad was…he was one of the best men I've ever known, Rosie. He would be so proud of you." He sniffs. "You said he shot them in the face with a shotgun?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah, that sounds like Ethan, alright." Mom laughs and it sort of sounds like a sob but she and Chris are smiling now, so it's okay. Chris looks back at her and nods a few times. "So you were talking to him, then?"

"Yeah. When you walked by on Tuesday, I think it was…yeah, we were arguing about whether the original Blade Runner was better than 2049." She wrinkles her nose. "He said the original was better but I like the remake."

Chris frowns. "What do you mean, he said—"

The words scrawl over Mom's dining table, illuminating their faces.

i like the classics, that's all

Rose would laugh at the way Chris almost falls out of his chair if his hand and Mom's weren't trembling. She looks at Mom, who stares at the glowing words, and at Chris, who looks like he's about to be sick.

Mom breaks the silence first. "…Ethan?"

The words move, now right next to her forgotten plate.

hi honey

"You're—you're—"

bad at staying dead?

Mom's breath leaves her like she's been punched in the gut. "Oh, Ethan, I—I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry—"

breathe, it's okay

She squeezes Mom's hand as she takes a few shaky breaths. "What—how is this possible?"

rose

"We're both part of the mold," Rose says when Mom looks to her, "he's…he's using my part right now, we're sort of sharing it."

told her i'm not a scientist, figured you'd get it :)

"No one uses those anymore," Mom mumbles and Rose whispers a quiet told you so! as the smiley turns to a frowny for a moment, before the words change again.

i know it's been hard, i'll always love you

"Oh, Ethan," Mom whispers, reaching out to touch the words. She gasps as a flicker of warmth pulses through them and Rose squeezes her hand again. "I miss you."

i miss you too

Another glow flickers up next to Chris, who startles and stares down at the words in shock.

you too

"E-Ethan, I—" he cuts himself off as the words swirl again.

thank you for taking care of my daughter

Chris swallows heavily. "She's incredible, Ethan. You should be proud of her."

always am

"I'm sorry," Chris whispers, and something in Rose's gut clenches at how close to tears he looks too, "if I'd been faster, we could've gotten you out of there, we could've…"

it's okay, Chris, we're all okay

"You're dead."

i died in 2017, doing pretty well considering

"He is really bad at staying dead," Rose adds, "Miranda said so too. You should've seen her, she was so mad at us."

Chris looks like he's having a hard time deciding whether he wants to laugh or cry. The sparkles swirl again.

she's a fighter, she gets that from you too

His free hand jerks and Rose squeezes the one in hers. "You can touch, Chris, he won't bite. That's my thing."

it won't hurt, promise

Chris takes a deep breath and slowly touches the words. His breath leaves him in a rush as they glow warmly under his fingers. Rose smiles as she feels the mold connect all of them there, in that moment, through her and Ethan. Some part of her clicks into place. As if he can feel it too, which he probably can, another set of words appears in front of her.

we're so proud of you, Rosie

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbles as she feels heat rush to her cheeks, "shut up."

no :)

Mom laughs. "We finally have all three of us together again and you want us to not tell you how proud we are of you?"

"They've got a point, Rosie."

"I'll break your nose!"

"No, no," Mom says as Chris squawks, even though she's still smiling, "no breaking Chris's nose."

even if he deserves it

"Hey!"

As they all laugh together, Ethan's words still glowing in the warm, quiet house, Rose sits back in her chair and twists her dad's ring around her finger. Sure, being a mold bioweapon teenager was weird, but if this is the family she gets to have because of it, it can't be all bad.

[phoenix-writez]

Decided to post entry #1 here as some people may not enjoy reading things on ao3 :D

I'm not sure how to format the fic on tumblr, so feel free to give me criticism! (Constructive. Criticism. I will ignore insulting)

So, have fun with Scar's POV! It's in first person, so if you're not a fan of that... Sorry! I try to analyze the characters beforehand and write them as themselves! Scar's a silly little guy, so I hope I got that down!

—

Entry #1

[SCAR]

August 18, 1997

This place is fun, honestly! I got here just four days ago!

A theater filled with red and pink strobe lights, it feels rather disco-ey, if I'm being honest. There's a rather large stage where people step up and say whatever they want. There's actors, circus acts, and even singers. Or karaoke.

Why is karaoke spelled that way? It should be kareoke, but to each their own!

Either way, I've gone up there a few times just to sing songs from my favorite cartoons. Had a few cheers from the crowd, but not many.

I loved it here though!

When I first got to the theater, I had been with a few friends. I don't know where they went, lost track of them. I remember this guy welcoming us, holding out his hand and grinning fancily.

“Welcome, all! This is the Eye’s Spy Theatre!”

Trust me, it's not spelled theater. I learned the hard way.

“Want me to take you to your rooms?” The fella acknowledged each of us. He had a towel folded over his arm, just like a butler would in a fictional story. I tilted my head to the side like a dog, “Sir? No offense, but I don't recall this being a hotel.”

“Perhaps you missed the sign, but all is well, Scar Goodtimes, your room is already booked. First floor, as always! Can't be giving you anything further than that with your given situation, can we?” He says, then steps behind me.

I raise my hands, “WAIT– Hands off, fancy guy! Firstly, what do you mean?”

“How do you know his name?” My friend asked. Fancy Guy looked over, “When you book a room, we get your names on the screen. Besides, I know everyone in this town.”

Right.

—

August ??????

I woke up with a start, hearing a bang nearby. I pull myself onto my chair and roll onward, out of the room.

“What?! What happened–”

I look towards the stage, my breath slows. “Oh! Obviously.” I giggle, then I do a double take. What the– “What am I doing up there?!”

On the stage, was me in a weird outfit. I've never seen this kind of outfit before, honestly. Maybe some new fashion shaped itself in the six days I've been here.

Wait… how long has it been?

I blink, but I can't really think. My memory is kinda foggy.

I see more characters on the stage, some blue haired guy and this ginger lady clearly tired out and breathing heavy. I'm not sure if it was Hollywood level acting, or they were actually just overworked out of their minds.

I roll towards the bar, and no, this bar isn't necessarily an alcoholic bar you see at night time when everything else closes. I'm sixteen! I can't even drink anyway! I doubt rules changed that much when I've been here.

I grin at the tender, “Do you have anything other than really warm milk? It was you, after all, who said you'd make this the best experience possible y'know.”

“I… we do, in fact. Anything you want, dear hero.”

“Hero? My name is Scar, did you forget that fancy pants?” I smirk. “No. I did not.” He said flatly.

“Oh.”

“I'd like just a simple water, honestly.” I said. “Ah, only the crispiest we'll hand out for you.” The man kneels towards the shelves.

Huh? I blink. He's reaching up at them actually, I swear I've been seeing things.

I spend my time drinking the water and distracting myself from the fact I may have just met my walking doppelganger. Though he's using a cane, still those legs can work and I'm jealous.

Just kidding, I don't care.

—

After a few minutes, I nearly jump, but I keep my composure. Another guy, looks around my age but surprisingly short. I'd give him a… 4’11? Jeez, really needs a growth spurt by now.

He ordered an orange juice and stared into the distance. That's when he spoke to me, “Fun act, right?”

“I wasn't really interested, too confusing. What was that back there, some kinda jester or whatever?”

“I'd give it a 5 out of tried their best.” The short guy said, then he turned to look at me and giggled. “You look like one of the actors.”

“Must be a long lost brother.” I put my cup down and look at him, and woah. My eyes widened and I smiled awkwardly. “Well! That's a… so what's your name, orange juice?”

“Oh! My name's Grian.” He smiled so brightly. I chuckled, “Cool! My name is Scar.”

“Oh I know–”

“Huh?”

“Sorry, long story.”

“Everyone knows my name in this place!” I look back at the table in front of us. “That would be a given. This place isn't really, well, real.” Someone walked towards us both.

Actually, a group.

The actors.

“Aw, I'm getting a standing ovation from the fellas themselves–” I look around. “Where's the guy who looked like me?”

“Hi.” This strange lab coat wearing guy– oh! I know him. Cub?!

I blinked. How long ago did he show up here? Two days ago I saw him on the news and he looked much shorter, and he'd been running away from a police department, some sort of forensics office he'd blown up.

Cub raked his hands through his hair, it looked really messy. “I sorta used this weird amulet to change my appearance.”

“Are we still acting?” I asked, “Amulet, you say? Well, I simply cannot!” Immediately, my hand impacts my forehead dramatically. “... We're acting, right?”

“No.” Grian said, “Though he is lying, listen, Scar. I'm gonna ask you a really weird question and you have to answer me.”

“Uh-huh…”

“What year is it?”

“Oh! That's easy, 1997, duh! Did you guys hit your heads or something?” I smiled, chuckling. The bartender finally came by and gave Grian his orange juice. Then he vanished.

Grian grabbed his cup and he took a sip. “1997, hm? What if I told you it's not?”

“I wouldn't believe you.” I giggled. “I've been here for a week, duh! Got here just Monday with some of my friends. Where did they go, though?” I looked around. I still couldn't see them.

“They probably got out.” The sassy blue guy said, “Yeah, or stuck.” The ginger crossed her arms. I looked at them. “They’re just in their rooms.”

“Why don't we take a look then, huh? Where are their rooms?” Grian asks, I shift awkwardly. “...Third floor.”

“This thing doesn't have an elevator for you?” Cub asks.

“If a building ain't as tall as five stories, there's no need.” I lean back in my chair. “Which is, uh, needless to say, no.”

The ginger thought for a moment, then she grinned. “Tell them the numbers, and we'll go on from there. I'll stay back with you, just so you have someone near you!”

“I'm fine on my own.” I looked at her. “Absolutely not,” she glanced at me up and down, “genuinely, if I had to guess. You're dehydrated, probably haven't eaten much, and the moment you see the sun your eyes will wish you'd gone blind.”

“With these strobe lights? Might as well have gone blind already.” I shrugged, she stared at them. “They're LED now.”

“Meh! I think they always have been, luminescent and whatnot.” I said, “What's your name, by the way?”

“Gem. That there is Scott, he's uh… something, alright.” She sighed. Scott, the fancy blue guy, waves. “I'll go up third floor, what's the room?”

“Rooms, uh… 307, 315? I think?”

“Why are they so separated?” Grian’s eyes widened. “The rooms might've been taken between ‘em.” Cub immediately began his journey towards the stairs.

“Eight rooms between them?! Cub, there's seven people in this room!”

“Most people got drained after the second day and went to sleep. Haven't seen them since.” I added.

Grian paused. He looked at Gem, and they both seemed to come to an agreement. I heard Gem mutter, “Hypnos,” and she sat by me. Grian stood up.

“I thought that guy was fine by now! What's going on?” He grumbled. My head laid on the table like my neck had gotten exhausted from holding it. “Maybe he changed his mind.”

“Or maybe, this establishment is really old and he forgot to tear it down.” Grian sighed, then he took a step forward and looked at the ground.

“What's… this symbol doing here?”

“Aren't you supposed to be heading up to the third floor?” I said, for some reason my body felt like all the energy was getting sucked out of it. I don't know how, but everything in my field of vision was getting blurry. And Grian had sharp-ish ears, and an elven face. I swore he didn't look real.

Because he didn't.

I glanced at Gem, and she looked completely normal. Besides the fact that she was actively plotting something and had a sword in her belt. I don't know what I saw before, but I guess I just assumed she was in some sort of costume.

Everyone wears costumes around here. I've seen a giant guy with a hundred arms walk around here demanding for some cyclops guy, then he exited the building fine as that.

I felt nauseous, and everything went black.

—

I don't know. I don't know what today is. Everything is the same.

I wasn't out for long, fainting spells don't usually last longer than a minute. I woke up and everyone was staring at me with concern. “We found your friends.” Scott grimaced, “And we found you, doing the same thing as them.”

“I passed out, I don't know what happened.” I groaned, “Grian, since when were you an elf guy?”

Grian giggled, “I'm not an elf, idiot.”

“Why are your ears all sharp then?”

“Oh! That's just normal, I was born like that.” Grian shrugged, “But back to you. You passed out on our watch, which means this doesn't happen when you're on your own.”

“Possible.” Cub gazed at the floor, then he leaned and played around with the tiles like it was a puzzle. “What do you mean possible? We proved your hypothesis, thank you.” Grian tilted his head.

“What if we're not registered here?” Cub lifted himself, holding a brick that revealed a gaping hole underneath the building. “What if we're just simply wanderers with no true meaning to this place?”

“We'd still be people, hun.” Scott said flatly.

“Not in this place. I think this is an entirely different world compared to, well, Earth.” Cub grabbed a coin out of his pocket, and he dropped it into the abyss.

“Scar, do you perceive things differently than normal people?” He looked up at me. I couldn't help but think that this situation is way too serious for a random questionnaire I've had billions of times when I was younger.

The answer is yes.

It's always yes.

“When I was, like, six, my mom found me digging at the ground. It's ‘cause I heard some rattling, and I wanted to free the thing that was suffering. When I finally did, it was a skeleton monster! She grabbed me and pulled me away, told me never to do that again.” I started, “That those things are dangerous, that my father would be back and he would never want to see me playing with creatures I can't define.”

“I mean, a skeleton monster is pretty much accurate.” Grian laughed, “Wait, you don't know your dad?”

“Nope!” I smiled, “Always asked, was told he died.”

“...So how would he be back?” Scott squinted. “We had a ouija board in our house, although it's only for eight year olds and older, and I was barely able to simply sleep on my own.” I sighed.

But, the presence of the board didn't scare me knowing what it did. I quite like the idea of ghosts, and I know we had some in our house. They slept in the corners, watched me do my chores, and stared at me when my health declined.

Not much they could've done anyhow.

I felt my hands clenching on my legs, and I released them. “Uh… I never believed that. There was no grave we visited. Ever. She just said it like it was a fact from years ago.”

Cub nodded, then we heard the coin ding and slam itself into what sounded like concrete. I glanced at the floor. “What was that?!” I press my hands to the wheels of my chair. “Cub?!”

“I heard what I needed to hear.” He smiled, then simply disappeared.

We all stared where he left. “UGH! CUB!” Grian grabbed a knot of his own hair and tugged, but not pulling anything out. I gazed at the underground, and I swear I felt a calling.

Like I needed to be somewhere.

That's when the stupid butler grabbed all of us and dragged us out. “I do believe your time here is over, thank you for being so kind.” He shoved us out the door. I locked my chair and looked around, frozen.

“Where's Cub?! WHERE'S IMPULSE YOU–” Grian grabbed Gem and pulled her aside. She'd been yelling at the guy the whole time we were getting kicked out. I had no idea there was another person with them that had gone missing.

I had a theory, but it wasn't so friendly.

And I swear I could see that guy in a different form now that I had been placed outdoors.

He was tall, almost goopy, and I swear he had one giant eye in the middle of his face that stared deeply into your soul.

Normally I saw him as just this generic black-haired guy. He had this way about him that felt, well, casual yet business.

Like he was familiar with you but he didn't want to get fired.

I covered my face with my hands. Just thinking about my mother made me realize something.

“Guys, what year is it?” My tired eyes felt like they were dragging on the ground. I could just feel the hot pavement scraping my eyelids.

“...Scar, it's 2025.” Grian said.

“...Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

I stared at the outdoors, and felt like I'd been through multiple disasters at once.

“It was just a week…”

But now I realize how much time I truly spent there. And it doesn't make me too glad to know it.

[medusapelagia]

The restless sea calls back to you - Harringrove Mermaid AU [NSFW]

I'm super in love with this fic and I want to clarify that it's super self-indulgent! I love it because it all started with this beautiful picture, and I love it because that's how I became friend with @lemonhitsu and I had a great time plotting with them and I am very grateful to them for allowing me to use their art as inspiration and for trusting me even if the first story I was writing was not good enough and I had to start back from scratches.😅 I want to thank Lemon for the fun and the incredible support! Nothing of this could have been possible without you! Thank you so much for being so kind and supportive and holding my hand when I was feeling low! 💜 And a special thanks to @applewillowstone and @spaceofentropy for helping me doing some research about monster sex!

That said, I wish everyone a happy holiday season and I am sharing with you this fic which is the present I made for myself and I hope you will like it! Please mind the tags!

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Merpeople, Merperson Billy Hargrove, mermaid trainer Neil Hargrove, Aquariums, Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Sex Change, mermaid trainer Steve Harrington, Murder, Murder Mystery, mention of past Non con with original character, Anal Sex, Human/Monster Romance, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Blood and Injury, Sex, Slow Burn, They/them prononun, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, Angst and Feels, Enemies to Lovers, Monster sex, Switch Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, POV Steve Harrington, No Beta Read

And because AO3 is not working... get ready for 15k words under the cut!

Steve sighs as soon as his alarm goes off.

He has been working at the Birch Aquarium for a couple of weeks and all his enthusiasm has already died.

He was so happy when they called him back to take the place of the actual mermaid trainer, but two weeks of working with Billy were enough to make him regret his choice.

The blond merman is the biggest pain in the ass ever. He never does what the trainer requests of him and is always glaring and hissing at Steve like a feral cat. The boy has learned on his skin that there is a reason why everyone tells you to not go near an angry mermaid without wearing protection.

Mermaids are rare but not uncommon, the biggest aquariums in the world have at least one, and Steve’s aquarium was so lucky to have a baby mermaid that now became a beautiful merboy.

Steve remembers the day he decided he was going to become a trainer. It was the day his parents brought him to see the baby mermaid that was the main attraction of the aquarium. If he closes his eyes he can still see the little mermaid hiding behind some big black rocks, his little red tail barely visible between the rocks.

A kid punched the glass, trying to get the attention of the little mermaid and Steve saw for a moment a pair of ocean blue eyes big and terrified, and from that day on, every time his parents left him with a new babysitter he asked to go to the aquarium until finally, one day, when Steve and the babysitter were the only visitors of the aquarium, he caught a glimpse of the little merboy. They stared at each other through the glass for a long moment and then a man called a name and dragged the merboy away with a big fishnet. Steve turned toward his babysitter, Angela, and asked her who that man was and she told him that he was the mermaid's trainer.

“So he plays with mermaids all day?”

“It’s a job, Steve, I don’t think that he plays a lot, but yes, he spends his time with the mermaids.”

Now that he is changing in the locker room, Steve is regretting for the umpteenth time having been so adamant about wanting to become a trainer. He sighs. He can’t quit. His father told him really clearly that if he is not able to keep the job he will cut him out once and for all.

Fuck.

He wears the diving suit and gets into the swimming pool where Neil is already waiting for him.

“Go catch him.” He tells him, throwing him a spiked collar. Steve looks at the object with disgust.

“Still too naive, new boy? That monster could kill you in more ways than you think and he is not cooperative, you should know that by now.”

Steve nods, he has a red cut on his forearm that the merboy gave him on his first day, so now he wears the protection every time he has to get to Billy’s tank.

The merboy is brushing his blond curls with his long fingers while resting on a rock, half of his big red tail still in the water.

“Still here, pretty boy? Didn’t I scare you enough?”

“It’s just a scratch.”

Billy smirks “No, it is not, but I appreciate that you came here to bring me lunch. Be so kind and bring it to me.”

Steve knows better than to lean toward the water so close to the merboy so he throws him a couple of fish.

“So stupid. How do you think you can convince me to put on your collar if you already gave me the food?” Billy asks, reaching for the fish that is floating on the surface and tearing a big chunk.

“Asking you kindly?”

Billy bursts out in a laugh “You are funny, I’ll give you that.” The merboy replies, resting on a big rock “Not smart, but funny.”

“Come on, the pool is bigger than your tank and you need to swim more freely or your tail could atrophy.”

“Oh, so that’s it. You are worried for me. No other motives, right?”

Steve sighs “You know that the aquarium is not doing too well, they want to use you as an attraction to sell more tickets, is that a bad thing? I mean, they are still the ones that pay for your food, and your tank, and that make sure that you are healthy and…”

“How kind of them, isn't it? The owners of the aquarium care about my wellbeing so I should repay them by doing some stupid tricks in front of an audience? No, thanks.” The blond merboy replies disgusted.

“A lot of mermaids do stupid tricks in aquariums and they have fun! Maybe you will have fun too?”

“Have you ever been in a tank, Harrington?” The merboy asks, glaring at him.

The boy sighs “You know I have.”

“I’m not talking about giving a walk in the tanks to clean something or sedate some big fish, I’m talking about living in captivity. What do you call it… Oh yes! Living in prison! And be grateful to your captors because they feed you and make sure you are healthy.” Billy glares at him and Steve blushes.

“I know that is not the most perfect place to be but it’s not too bad, you should admit it.”

Some smugglers kidnap mermaids to sell them as expensive pets to rich assholes and only god knows what they do with those poor creatures.

“Have you ever spent a day with Neil? He is no fun either.” The sea creature retorts.

Steve shouldn’t talk badly about his supervisor, but everyone knows that Hargrove has a very impetuous nature and sometimes he gets violent even toward the animals, but especially toward Billy.

“You should try to do what he asks from you for once, maybe he will stop hurting you.” Steve tries to suggest.

Hargrove is no fool, he hits the merboy when no one can see him and he makes sure not to leave any bruises behind.

“Thank you for your kind advice, Harrington, I’m sure everything will be so much better now that you told me exactly how to act when I have to deal with a fucking psychopath!”

“He is not…” but Steve doesn’t have time to finish the sentence that Hargrove is back in the tank.

“What the hell are you doing? It’s not tea time! Get the stupid collar around his neck and come back to the pool. Where is the fish?”

Billy grins, licking his lips “It was delicious, Neil. Thanks.”

“You gave him the fish? Are you fucking stupid, Harrington?! How the fuck do you think to get him off that stupid rock?” The man asks, pinching his nose.

“With some persuasion?”

“This!” Hargrove yells, showing the collar “This is the kind of persuasion that Billy understands and now it’s too far from the shore so you get into the tank and drag him to the pool or I’ll make sure you get fired!” And to clarify the concept he grabs Steve and pushes him into the water without the scuba cylinders or the regulators.

Steve was co-captain of the swimming team but he knows too well that Billy could drag him down and drown him if he wanted to, that’s why every time he gets into the water he makes sure to have the scuba cylinders with him, but now it’s too late, he has his back turned and he knows that the merboy is going to attack him. He tries to regulate his breath and to feel the water break as the merboy reemerges.

As he was expecting the merboy tries to drag him down, but Steve has the lucidity to close the collar against Billy’s throat and yank it hard against the gills the merboy has hidden on his neck.

The sea creature shrieks and releases his grip, freeing Steve who resurfaces and gets back on shore coughing.

“Good job, Harrington. Next time try not to lose all this time.” Hargrove states “I’ll wait for you in the swimming pool.”

Steve takes some deep breaths while the merboy resurfaces glaring at him.

“Come on, Billy. Don’t make me activate it, I know that is already bad as it is.” Steve begs him, showing him the passage from the tank toward the swimming pool, and Billy gets in the pool, always hissing toward him.

Steve takes a look at his clock. Half past nine and he already barely escaped death. Not bad. It could be his new record.

***

When the training ends Steve brings Billy back to his tank. The merboy is tired and he has red bruises where Neil hurt him.

“You ok?” It’s a stupid question, Steve knows that, but he can’t avoid it.

“Are you worried about me, Harrington? How sweet.” The merboy replies, licking his sharp teeth “Maybe next time you’ll get into my tank I’ll keep you.”

“Fuck you, Billy!”

“Are you proposing, pretty boy?”

It’s just their usual bickering but Steve can feel that his cheeks are blushing.

“Oh, so you do have a crush on me. That makes so much sense: that’s why you are obsessed with me. Don’t worry, pretty boy, I’m not going to fuck you… at least not as you are thinking, but I’ll keep fucking with you because it’s the funniest thing that I can do in this stupid place.” Billy replies and then he gets underwater, while Steve stares at his big red tale covered in shimmering scales.

“He has an attitude, I’ll give him that.” Hargrove says appearing from nowhere “But stay away from him. He is still a mermaid and even if he hasn’t had the time to learn the songs from other mermaids he is still capable of convincing you to kill yourself in his tank. It would not be the first time.”

Steve stares at the old man “Did he… Did he kill someone? For real?”

The man nods, walking Steve toward the lockers “You are too young to remember, but there was another girl who trained with me years ago, pretty thing, red hair, sweet smile, the name was Susan. She was even more innocent than you are, she treated him like a kid, not like the monster he is, and one day when I got to the tank to feed him, he was underwater, holding Susan’s body into his arms.

Billy attacked me when I tried to take the dead body from his arms, and the authorities had him sedated and they were ready to put him down, but there was a petition against it and he was still the biggest attraction of the aquarium, so, in the end, they decided to keep him but they moved him to the tank where he is now, in a more secluded area and where no one else could get in a part from me and you, so pay attention if you don’t get killed during your first month of training.”

They are changing together for the first time and Steve sees many claws scars on Neil’s body “Did he…”

“Mermaids are like that. You have to pay attention every single second.” The man gets up “Listen, boy, I know that you don't like my way of training him, but you have to understand that he is not a pretty pet, he is a ferocious monster and our luck is that he was taken from his family too young so he doesn’t really know what he can do and how easy would be for him kill everyone.” Hargrove closes his bag “I don’t pretend that you agree with my method, but I want you to be conscious that he is a menace and you are the only person that stays between him and the visitors. Think about yourself like a sort of paladin. That’s what I do.” They are looking each other in the eyes when Neil asks him “Wouldn’t you do what you can to protect the people you care for?” And then he leaves Steve alone with even more questions.

***

The conversation he had with Neil opened his eyes: the old man is right, the mermaids are dangerous and he was a fool thinking that with some kindness and some fish he could have convinced Billy to do what he wanted.

“Raise and shine, Billy. Are you ready to jump throught some hoops today?” Steve enters the tank but Billy is not on his favorite rock. He looks around and he can’t see him. The merboy is too big to hide in the tank, but from the surface, Steve can’t see where he is hiding, so he takes his equipment and, with a sigh, he gets into the water.

The water is full of colorful fish that quickly swim away as soon as the boy gets closer, he swims toward the rocks when something shining attracts his attention, mermaids are famous for having a passion for shiny things. Steve gets closer to the big rock, the same where the little mermaid used to hide, and reaches out for the shiny thing when he sees it, the big red tail.

In a moment Billy is in front of him, yelling with a voice that has no words but that gets directly into Steve’s mind even if they are in the water.

Steve shakes his head, ripping off his mask and his scuba regulator, trying to free himself from Billy’s tight grip screaming in his head, then he opens his mouth to breathe. Underwater.

***

“Boy? Are you with me? Harrington?”

Steve coughs, holding for dear life to the person who is speaking to him.

“Harrington? Steve?” The voice calls him again, urging an answer.

Steve pukes some water “Fine. I’m fine.”

The man’s grip relaxes while Steve tries to take some deep breaths.

“What happened?”

“You told me! I saw in the security monitor that you got in the tank, next thing I know that monster was holding you underwater and you were drowning.”

“Billy… where is Billy?”

“Oh, he is lucky if they don’t decide to sell him even sooner.” Hargrove hisses.

“Se… Sell him?” Steve asks, still coughing.

“You must have seen that he is no good with little tricks and his care it’s expensive, the owners of the aquari will sell him sooner than later, but after he tried to kill another trainer I don’t think any other aquarium will be willing to buy him.”

“He didn’t try to drown me.” Steve tries to protest and Hargrove looks at him with pity.

“He messed with your head. Didn’t he?” The man looks at the pool “I knew it! They should have cut his vocal cords when I suggested it but no, animal rights activists said that it was too cruel. Cruel. Wasn’t it cruel to let him drown Susan? Or you?”

Steve shakes his head, trying to concentrate even if he is too confused at the moment. Did Billy try to kill him? He can’t remember what happened, just that he saw something shining on the floor of the tank, something that didn’t belong to the aquarium.

“Come with me, I’ll drive you to the hospital.” Neil says, helping the boy stand up.

“I’m ok… I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

The old man stares at Steve, then he helps him back to the lockers “Take a hot shower and change back, you and I are going to have a little chat.”

Steve nods, confused, it’s the first time that he sees Neil worried. Did Billy really try to kill him?

Steve knows that some mermaids have the ability to use their voice to manipulate fish, it’s how they hunt: some of them sing to the fish and the others capture them, but he never knew that they could do something to humans’ minds. And how does Neil know it? He has indeed been a trainer for years but if the mermaids were able to manipulate people someone would have said something, right?

The hot water helps him relax and when he gets back to Neil, all this terrible adventure seems just a bad dream.

"Sit down." Neil says, holding a cup of tea, and Steve sits in front of him.

"A few years ago there was a lovely girl who wanted to be a mermaid trainer like me. Her name was Susan. Susan was a dreamer, just like you, she didn't like to use the collar, just like you, and she was convinced that mermaids needed better care than the one we were providing.

Billy was just a baby fish at the time and I guessed she thought about him like a baby, but not like a baby monster. You see, all mermaids are dangerous, but some of them are more dangerous than others."

"What does it mean?"

Neil sighs, sipping some coffee "It means that some of them can emit some frequency that can drive you crazy, convincing you to do things you would never do in your right mind. And our boy, well he is one of those."

"How do you know it?"

Neil raises his elbow and replies "I always suspected it. Billy used to play with the fish and the water horses in his tank but he was clever, he only did it by night. Fish don't really sleep, you know? And so do mermaids. But one night I caught him playing with the fish. They were making shapes for him, not the classic shape of a school of fish, the kind he was asking them to do, and I swear to god that I heard him giggle."

Steve closes his eyes, concentrating on the hot cup between his hands. He knows exactly what Neil is talking about. He saw those shapes. Or even worse, he showed those shapes to Billy on one of those days when he and his babysitter were the only people in the aquarium and the girl was too busy chatting on his phone. And Billy made a square of fish for him.

How could he forget that?

"Well, making shapes with fish doesn't sound so dangerous."

"Yeah. Until he doesn't decide that he is tired of making squares and circles and he decides to attack you with some sharks." Neil lifts his eyes to meet Steve's "That's what happened to Susan. He convinced her to get into the tank and the shark attacked her. When we were able to recover the body the merboy was holding it so tight that there were little red punctures made from his claws in her skin."

Steve gulps, trying to keep his heart beating under control "What happened?"

"The coroner said that she fell into the tank and drowned before the sharks attacked her, but I think that he ordered her to jump into the tank and then he kept her there until she was out of breath, then he tried to cover his tracks by ordering the sharks to eat her."

"What about the security cameras?"

Neil smirks "There was a big storm that night. The security cameras were off." Neil gets up "Finish your tea and go home."

"But we still have training..."

"After what I saw I don't think they are going to keep him for long. If you really want to be a mermaid trainer, is it better if you apply to another aquarium." the man replies, leaving Steve alone in the relax area with the quiet hum of the refrigerator in the background.

***

Having the day suddenly free, Steve goes to the local library to do some research. He could go back home but he doesn't want to see her mother's disappointed look when she will ask him why he is at home so soon.

He was her perfect little boy until he started to attend high school and started to party every weekend.

It is not his fault if his parents were always away on some business trip and he hated being home alone! That's how he started drinking and smoking and his grades got worse and worse.

His mother decided to come back after the night he almost fall into an alcohol-induced coma and ended up on the first page of the local newspaper, fucking up his image as the perfect golden boy and definitely fucking up the future his parents were dreaming for him.

Steve hasn't drunk a single drop of alcohol since then, but that doesn't mean that his mother stopped to smell his breath every single time he doesn't respect the schedule so, no thanks, public library it is.

He gets to one of the old computers that has nothing to do with his Mac, he even searches for some link from his smartphone and then he copies the link on the computer to read it more easily.

The first information he looks for is about Neil Hargrove.

His Facebook page has very little information about him, on his profile picture Neil is holding a rifle, he is fifty-nine, if the birth date is correct, and ex-marine with a penchant for weapons.

The profile picture is an old one, as Steve sees as he enlarges the images, he is smiling, standing next to a bullseye, with a cigarette on the side of his mouth while holding a big rifle.

Steve searches for more information and finds a little blurb about his departed wife and how he left the marine and became a mermaid trainer to stay close to her when she got sick.

Perfect husband and perfect citizen, or so it seems. He even rescued his old neighbor from the fire.

A hero, practically.

Then Steve starts to look for Susan.

Even if he doesn't know her surname it's easy to find her given the information he has: Susan Mayfair, twenty-five, a degree in marine biology and a passion for mermaids, deceased after being attacked by sharks while cleaning their tank.

Not exactly what Neil said.

Steve looks for more information and finds an old Instagram page still open. All the pictures are old, and the latest are some selfies she took at the aquarium. There are some old penguin tanks that after the renovations have been moved to another section of the aquarium, and there are a lot of Billy's pictures.

He looks like a human kid, he couldn't be older than ten, maximum twelve, they are playing in the water, Susan is winking behind her mask and Billy's red tail emerges from the water.

In another Susan's hand is holding what looks like an aluminum can tab, the caption says "My prince gave me an engagement ring".

Steve snorts, who the hell would give an aluminum can tab to a twenty-five-year-old girl as an engagement ring? He keeps looking at the pictures and the answer gets too easy: a kid would. Or, to be more precise, a merkid.

Steve keeps looking at the pictures, trying to find any evidence, any sign that Billy is the monster Neil talked about, but all he can see is a happy little fish, playing with the person who took care of him.

He is still looking through the picture when something gets his attention. Something shining in the background, something that he had seen before but didn't understand what it was.

A dog tag.

A military dog tag.

***

This is the worst idea Steve has ever had, even worse than the time he and Tommy decided to jump from Steve’s window into the pool and almost kill themselves in the making.

Steve has a badge that allows him entrance to the aquarium at any time and he knows the night guard, all he has to do is tell Jim that he forgot something in the lockers, and he will not ask any questions, maybe he will mumble something about how he should pay more attention, but he will not stop him, not until it will be too late.

Steve passes his badge and the backdoor of the aquarium opens with a slam that in the silence of the night reverberates like a gunshot.

“Who's there?” The chubby guard asks, walking toward the door with the hand ready over his gun and a frosted donut in the other hand.

“Jim. Hi. I’m Steve. Sorry to bother but I forgot my… my wallet in the locker.” He says, trying to remain calm under the sight of the armed guard.

“Your wallet uh?”

“Yeah. You know… I’m so messy sometimes.”

The man gets closer “So you forgot your wallet. Here.”

Steve shivers for a moment when he repeats “Yeah. My wallet.”

The man is so close that he can smell coffee in his breath.

“I see. Do you want me to get it for you?”

Shit! He didn’t think about that! What now?

“No. It’s fine, I can get it.”

“Are you sure? I know you had a hard day.”

“A hard day?” Steve asks, confused.

“Neil told me about the mermaid. It’s a little piece of shit that one: he keeps turning the camera in his tank so I can’t see shit! But if he thinks I’m going to get inside and let him fucking kill me he is fucking wrong! I’m not going to get close to that monster!”

“He is… he is not a monster.” Steve tries to protest but his voice sounds unsure even to his own ears.

“Are you sure you are ok? It’s not the… mermaid thing? Neil said that they can convince you to do what they want… Oh god. Are you under a spell?”

Steve quickly shakes his head “No, no spell, just a little bit shocked to be honest, but I need my home keys.”

Jim glares at him “I thought you were looking for your wallet.”

Shit!

“Yeah! I’m looking for my wallet because I have the electronic key that opens my house in my wallet, but I call it my home key, you know?”

The man raises an eyebrow “Fancy rich shit, uh?”

“Obviously.” Steve replies with a smile so fake that his cheeks hurt.

The man stares at him for a moment and then he tilts his head “Go, but be quick. I don’t want any problems.”

Steve nods and rushes toward the locker room, he knows that there are no cameras either in the locker room or in the passages behind the tank with access limited to the dedicated staff, when they have to move from one tank to the other, and if Billy’s camera is not working he has at least twenty minutes: not enough time to change and to take all his equipment but Steve was always the best one at free diving. He wears the wet suit and runs toward Billy’s tank, hoping that the mermaid is asleep somewhere.

Mermaids never really sleep, not like humans in any case, they just rest, so Steve really hopes that he is lucky enough that Billy is resting and not ready to attack him.

When he gets into the tank he looks toward the rocks where the merboy usually rests but doesn’t see him anywhere. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to expand his lungs to their maximum; he hasn’t weight around his waist but it’s not too deep, he should be able to get to the floor easily enough, and if he is lucky he will manage to get behind the little rock without disturbing Billy.

Steve dives in, his sight concentrated on the tank floor and on the little rock he saw that morning. He knows that Billy is there somewhere and that he probably felt the water vibration when he dived in but he really hopes that he will be quicker than him.

All Steve’s hope crashes when he sees the merboy swimming rapidly toward him screaming something in the water but Steve has come too far to stop now, he reaches out his hand and catches the shiny thing, military dog tag, and turns it to see the name of the owner, but Billy is screaming pushing Steve against the glass wall.

Steve screams something back, the stupidest idea ever, he realizes when he sees the bubble of air running toward the surface, fuck. He will drown. He has no time to get to the surface. He tries to swim toward the surface, his hands reaching up, but Billy is holding him and he can’t reach it. The boy lowers his eyes and Billy is in front of him, his blond curls waving in the water, so beautiful and so deadly.

But especially beautiful.

Steve is going to die so he finally does it: he slips his fingers in Billy’s golden locks, and now that they are so close he can see that Billy’s eyes aren’t blue. They have golden flakes near the pupil that he has never noticed before.

Billy’s eyes are the last thing that he will ever see and they are so fucking beautiful.

He is still lost in these thoughts when Billy pushes him against the glass wall so hard that he whimpers and in a moment Billy’s mouth is on his, kissing him. No. Not kissing him. Breathing into him!

Steve’s eyes widen, the mermaid is pushing air into his lungs, and then he takes him under his arm and drags him toward the surface.

“What the fuck Harrington! If you want to die go jump from a fucking bridge, don’t come to my tank!” The merboy complains, irritated.

Steve stares at him, touching his lips incredulously.

“You kissed me.”

“It’s not a kiss if you are almost dying. And I’m tired of saving your stupid life.” Billy replies looking at him with flaming eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“This morning? When you removed your regulator? Does it ring a bell?”

“I… I didn’t…”

“Oh, you fucking did. And you breathe water in, stupid moron, I had to push on your stupid chest and breathe air in your lungs. And you are back here, trying to kill yourself!” The merboy rebukes “Don’t you have a life? A girlfriend waiting for you somewhere?”

Steve shakes his head, then he asks “You gave me CPR? How do you…”

“Someone taught me.” The sea creature replies “She thought that I could have helped people one day. Be a lifeguard or something like that.”

“Susan?”

Billy turns his head for a moment, biting his lips as he was fighting with himself, before he hisses “Can you tell me what the fuck do you want from me? Do you want to prove that I am a monster? Is that it? I could have killed you!”

“I know.”

“So why the fuck are you here! And with no oxygen!”

“I didn’t have the time and I wanted to check on something.” Steve tries to explain.

“What?”

Steve opens his fist and shows him the metal tag in his hands.

“That’s mine! Give it back!”

“Can I read the name of the person who owned it?”

“What?”

“It’s a military dog tag.” Steve tells him “It’s a kind of microchip, like the one the dolphins have. They gave this to the people that were fighting in case… in case they die, so that someone could have brought it back to the family.”

“A name? This thing has a name on it?”

Steve nods and the mermaid uses his webbed hands to turn it but then looks at Steve ashamed “I can’t… I can’t read.”

Stupid Steve, Billy has spent all his life in a tank. How do you pretend he could read?!

“I could read it for you.”

“My mum gave it to me when I was a baby fish.” The blond merboy tells him, holding the tag so tight that his knuckles whiten “She said… she said it was my father’s…”

Steve stares at the merboy astonished “You mean… you mean that your father was human?”

Billy nods “That’s what mum said.”

“Where is she? Where is your mother?” Steve asks, getting closer.

“I don’t know. I was just a baby fish when they brought me away from her. That’s all I have.”

“You can hold it, I just need to turn it and read the name under the tag. Will you let me?”

Billy shivers, Steve has never seen him so nervous, he is usually sassy and sarcastic.

Steve gently pries Billy’s hand open and then turns the tag, gasping at the name.

***

The chestnut boy definitely doesn’t have the time to take a shower, so he changes back and runs toward the exit, hoping that Jim will be too busy looking at the last episode of his favorite series to check on him.

“Thanks, Jim! You saved me! Have a good night!” Steve says, while he keeps running toward the door.

“Hey, Steve, everything ok?” The guard asks him but Steve is almost at the door.

“Great! Have a nice night!” He tells him before closing the door behind him and taking a big breath of relief.

He can’t believe what happened: he got into the tank, Billy saved his life, apparently for the second time, and… they kissed. No, not kissed, he was just breathing air into his lungs, Steve repeats to himself trying to slow down his beating heart.

And that’s not even the most crazy thing.

The craziest thing is that Billy is half-human, like literary half-human, like… he has a human father. A father whose name is written on a metal tag that the merboy hid for years. A name that makes absolutely no sense, because if there is someone who seems to hate mermaids it is that man.

Steve gets home and gets in the shower, feeling the wet sensation of Billy’s plump lips on his. He shakes his head like a dog and a million tiny drops fly everywhere.

It wasn’t a kiss! It was a life-saving maneuver. And that’s not even the point! The point it’s that the name on that stupid tag is the one he suspected, but now that he knows that it’s Billy’s father's name he can’t believe that he was right.

He gets out of the shower and, still dripping water, gets to his computer, searching for every article about the aquarium, Billy, Susan, Neil, Jim, every person that he knows has worked at the aquarium, and he finally finds a very tiny article about Billy’s birth.

“Blue Ribbon at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Nerea, a young little mermaid with beautiful blond hair, has given birth to a very healthy baby merboy. His name, William, was chosen by the visitors of the aquarium, but the staff of the aquarium affectionately calls him Billy.”

Nerea, the young blond mermaid, is looking with terror at the man who is holding her child in the picture.

And that man, it’s Neil Hargrove.

Steve searches for other information about Neil and quickly finds out that his wife's death and Billy’s birth are suspiciously close to one another and that the men left the aquarium when the veterinarians decided that the merboy was old enough to be sold to another aquarium.

Nerea, the young mermaid, died of sorrow a few weeks later.

Steve keeps searching on every website but there is no info about Billy or Neil after that, only a few news about Susan and her premature death, which was labeled as an incident.

Steve goes back to Susan’s Instagram page, searching for every image with the dog tag; there are just a few, in one of them the caption says “My little prince brought me to see his sacred treasure.”

Could Susan have known about Neil?

But how could she? No one knew that Billy was the son of a human and a mermaid.

Unless.

Unless Billy told her like he told Steve.

Holy fucking shit!

Steve looks at the clock, it is far too early and he knows he will not sleep, but he tries his best to rest a little, tomorrow will be a very interesting day.

***

When he enters the locker room Neil is already dressed in a wetsuit “Are you ready to go? Yesterday was a difficult day, I get it if you don’t want to train with him, especially now that you know that he is going to be sold.”

“And why is that? He seems like a unique specimen.” Steve says, feeling disgust for himself but trying to hide it.

“Because he is a monster, maybe?” The man replies sarcastically “Or because he is too stupid and stubborn to be trained? He is good looking but he definitely has no brain.”

Steve nods, wearing his wetsuit.

“You know, I read some articles about Billy last night. He was born at the Monterey Bay Aquarium, did you know that?” 

“Yes.” Hargrove replies.

“His mother died of sorrow when they took away her kid.”

“She probably got some infections during childbirth, they are like animals, Steve, they have no feelings.” Neil insists and Steve does his best to hide his repugnance.

“You worked there too, didn’t you?” The boy tries to make it sound like a casual question but, from the way Neil stiffens, Steve knows that he got the point just right.

“Are you implying something, kid?”

“No. Why should I? I just wanted to ask you how she was. If you were able to train her, maybe you can train Billy too.”

“Billy can’t be trained, I already told you. I tried everything. I tried to be kind, I tried to give him prizes, I tried to hurt him, he is indomitable.” The man growls.

Steve nods but he doesn’t think that it’s a bad thing because that’s exactly what Billy is: he is the biggest and scariest wave of the ocean, the one that can destroy an entire town, but that gives you so much adrenaline if you ride her.

Indomitable.

Sounds like a nice nickname, doesn’t it?

“That’s a pity. As we said, he is a beautiful specimen.”

Neil nods “There are places for creatures like him. Maybe they’ll find a way of making him more cooperative.”

Did Neil say the same to Susan?

Did they fight over Billy’s future?

Steve has no proof but he feels that Neil knows more about Susan's death than he is willing to tell him.

“Come on. No fish this time when you collar him. Show him who is the master.”

“Don't you think he will try to use his scary voice powers?”

“Only if you let him. That’s why we have the spiked collar. If he tries something you can activate it.”

“And what did Susan think about it?”

Neil glares at him “Why?”

“I don’t know. She seemed like a nice girl.”

“You have done an awful amount of research, Steve, I’m impressed. Are you studying for something in particular?” The man asks, glaring at him.

Steve keeps smiling innocently “I would like to find a new way to make the mermaids cooperate without hurting them.”

“That’s a nice idea but it’s not possible. How many times do I have to tell you that they are not like us? They are monsters. Free him somewhere and he will feed himself with human meat.”

Steve follows Neil toward the training pool, then he gets back in the tank where Billy is resting.

“No fish today, pretty boy? Are you offering yourself to be my lunch?”

“Nah, just wondering if you were in the mood for a little swim in the big pool.”

“I hate that fucking pool. And I hate that fucking man.” Billy’s eyes shine gold for a moment.

“Billy…”

“What?”

“Don’t do it.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“He has the collar. He will mute you and he will hit you.”

“Not if I hurt him first.”

“And then what? If you kill your trainer someone will put you down because you are too dangerous, do you understand that?!” Steve hisses, trying to resonate with the sea creature.

“Why the fuck do you care?” Billy growls.

Because I like you. Because I liked you since the first time I saw your little red tail waving in the water and your blue eyes pinned on me.

“Because you are a living creature and…”

“Go fuck your self Harrington!” Billy yells and then goes underwater.

Steve sighs, he shouldn’t have told Billy which name was written under the metal plate.

“Harrington! Where the fuck is my merboy?”

“He is tired. Can we try again tomorrow?”

“You are too soft, Harrington, you will never get him to do what you want!” The man yells and then he gets back to the tank where Billy is hiding “Get out of there! Stupid fish!” He yells again toward the water.

Steve understands what’s going to happen just a moment before it does.

Billy gets out of the water so fast that all that Steve sees is a blur of the red silhouette dragging the old trainer down with him.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Billy! Don’t!” He screams, before diving in the water too.

Neil is trying to escape from Billy’s tight grip but Steve knows how strong the marine creature is, there is no chance that he will free himself without the spiked collar.

Steve swims closer to them trying to free the man but Billy’s screams in his mind.

Back off.

And Steve does, unable to resist the command in that voice.

He sees Neil stopping to struggle and finally stiffens, while Billy releases his hold on the man and gets closer to the boy.

Did you like kissing me so much?

The voice sings and then Billy’s lips are on Steve’s, breathing into him and dragging him toward the surface.

It takes a moment for Steve to come back to himself this time.

“How… how did you do it?”

“I sang.” He simply states, keeping Steve lying on his body while he lazily swims in his tank.

“Neil. You killed him.”

“I did.”

“They are going to put you down. You know that, right?”

Billy nods “I know, but when you told me the name I couldn’t… I couldn't resist anymore.”

“Resist?”

Billy nods “My mum. She said she didn’t want it, but he kept abusing her during her training, tiring her out so much that she wasn’t able to fight back. She always wore the collar, speaking was hard for her, but she told me what I needed to know, that I didn’t have to trust humans, and that I should take revenge for her. And I did.”

“I don’t want you to die.” Steve whispers.

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

“You are the only kid that came every fucking day for weeks. You are the one who showed me shapes. You are the one that promised me freedom. You are the one that lied to me.” Billy glares at him.

“I didn’t lie. I was just six. How could I have freed you?”

“I guess, maybe you didn’t lie. Maybe you finally freed me. Today.”

No, no, no, that’s not how he wanted things to go.

“I don’t want you to die.” Steve repeats feeling tears in his eyes.

“I don’t think there are other options, pretty boy.”

Steve is still lying on Billy’s stomach when he sees it, the sewage canal. Not the cleanest way to escape but…

He points at the grate “I guess you are strong enough to pull it.”

Billy sighs “I’m strong enough, but I have webbed hands, did you forget that?”

“Use me. I mean, use my hands, I’ll grab it and you will pull.”

“I will hurt you.”

“I will not let you die, Billy, so help me or I’ll do it myself.”

They swim toward the sewage canal and Steve grabs the grate with all his strength before Billy grabs his arms and pulls so hard that the grate cedes.

They hear the sounds of steps.

“You can still say that I made you do it. That it was my plan all along and you did what you had to to survive.”

Steve shakes his head, here, in a big aquarium tank with a dead body floating just a few feet away, Steve feels finally useful.

“I will not leave you alone.”

In his mind he is still six years old, asking his babysitter if Billy will feel alone at night.

“No, honey, he will not, can’t you see how many fish are there with him?”

Only maybe he did. Maybe he was just a mermaid child, missing his mum.

***

The loud splash brings Steve back to the present time, he has no fucking idea where the water will bring them, and the flow is strong, Steve is a good swimmer but all the adrenaline of the last few days is getting to him so he is starting to feel tired.

“Let the water carry you.” Billy suggests from behind him. Even in the dirty water, Billy is still the most beautiful creature Steve has ever seen.

His tale is huge in the tight canal, but he seems completely at ease even in this unfamiliar environment.

“Are you not scared?”

Billy smirks “Oh, Steve, I have been scared all my life. This? This is nothing.”

He gets closer to Steve and hugs him “Hold on me.”

Hold on me.

Like… you can count on me.

Like… I’m here for you.

And somehow, while they are swimming in the semi-darkness toward an unknown future, Steve feels that he is exactly where he was supposed to be.

He starts to giggle in the dark.

“Are you definitely going crazy, Steve?” Billy asks, but his words are not harsh, just curious.

“I was thinking about my parents, how proud of me they will be when they find out I helped you murder Neil and escape.” The boy chuckles.

“Are you regretting it?”

Steve’s chest gets tight.

Is he scared out of his mind? Yes.

Does he have any idea of what they are going to do now? No.

Is he regretting freeing the merboy? Absolutely not.

They stay in silence for a long time, then Billy sighs "I wasn't trying to kill you, but you were putting your dirty hands in my den.” he explains, without looking at Steve.

“Your den? I thought your den was in the farther part of the tank.” And then the boy suddenly remembers the little red tail hiding behind that same rock “Oh… that was your hiding place.” The place where he collected and hid his treasure.

Billy sighs “I can't believe that I had the answer under my nose for all this time and I didn’t know it! I knew that the stupid necklace had something to do with my father but I never thought that Neil… He was kind, you know? At least at the beginning. He brought me sweet things and some shiny ones. Mum always said to not trust the human but he was the only person I had any contact with so it was hard not to become attached to the only person I saw every day. I could speak with the fish in the tank, but they would not answer me. Neil did. Neil always had some adventure to talk about. How could I not notice that it was him? My mum was fucking terrified of him! And still, I didn’t understand.”

Steve turns Billy’s face until they are watching each other “Don't get angry at yourself. You could have no idea that he was… that he did… who could have ever imagined all of that?”

“Susan.” It’s Billy’s cold answer “Susan did. She told me that she had a plan and that all I had to do was wait for her. Why didn’t she tell me what she discovered?”

Did Neil kill Susan? That’s what Steve has been thinking about since he saw the pictures on Instagram.

He has no proof but if Susan saw the dog tag and Billy trusted her enough to tell her about his father, Susan must have understood that Neil was Billy’s father and everyone knew what kind of trainer he was.

Steve tries to imagine for a moment the red-haired girl confronting the old man, maybe even threatening him.

“But why did she do that? Why didn't she talk to me?”

“I can't pretend I know why she did, Billy, but I'll tell you why I would have done it: to protect you. I would have faced Neil and told him to quit. There aren't… there aren't laws against the abuses of mermaids so the only thing she could do was pressure him into quitting. She probably tried to blackmail him and he… he killed her.”

Billy remains silent, flapping his fins, keeping Steve close to his body.

“She was kind. I think I liked her.” He whispers “She always made sure that there were a couple of shrimp in my food because she noticed I liked them the most. After she died I have never eaten another shrimp.”

Steve holds him even tighter “I'm so sorry, Billy.”

“She was so young. Maybe a couple of years older than you. I thought she fell into the water, I tried to help her, I really did but… but…”

It was too late.

There are no words that can erase such pain, so they stay embraced like that, following the water.

“Listen. Seagulls.”

***

When they emerge from the sewage canal the sun is setting.

For a moment Steve wonders if they will find the police waiting for them, but everything happened so fast that he doubts that anyone had the time to study the watery system and understand exactly where they would have ended up.

When Billy sees the ocean his eyes get wide and the gold in his irises shines even brighter, his gills open, breathing in the salted air, and in a moment he disappears under the water.

For a few moments, Steve sees the red tail, now almost violet, and then nothing more.

He stays on the shore, wet and shivering for the cold, looking at the blue expense of the ocean in front of him, wondering what he should do now. He definitely can’t follow Billy underwater, no matter what, and he has no equipment to swim with him even just for a few minutes.

The boy stares at the ocean, waiting to see a red tail or something but when nothing appears he lets himself fall on his knees.

It’s ok, they didn’t promise each other anything at all, and now Billy is finally free,

The air is crisp on his skin, he is wet and tired and all he wants to do is rest, just for a moment.

***

Steve lies on the shore, looking at the stars and wondering what he is going to do now.

His old life is gone, he is a fugitive and his parents will never get him back after what he did. He vaguely wonders if the police will inquire, if they will look through his computer if they will come to the same conclusion he did. If they will understand that Neil killed Susan.

A gasping fish falls into his lap and when he lifts his eyes, Billy is staring at him, eating another one.

“You should eat.”

“I can’t eat raw fish.”

“Why?”

“It’s bad for my stomach.” Steve tries to explain “And I have no fucking idea on how to make a fire, but thanks.”

Billy raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment when Steve puts the fish back in the water and the animal starts to swim faster than he could.

“What can you eat?"

"Raw? I really don't know, honestly, I never had the urgency of eating something raw directly from the ocean." Steve replies tilting his head.

Billy turns toward the ocean "Have you already been here?"

"In this place?"

"In the ocean." The merboy says, looking at the horizon "It's the first time for me." Billy whispers "My mum told me something about it but… it's so big. I could swim in every direction and tired myself before getting to the glass wall."

Steve chuckles "Billy. The ocean has no glass walls."

The merboy turns toward him, his eyes big with wonder "No?"

For the first time, Steve looks at him like he was a child, not the deadly creature everyone said he was.

"No. You can swim wherever you want, with no limits."

Billy stares at him, silently.

"Are you scared?" Steve asks, getting closer to the water.

"No." the merboy denies, and Steve sits on the shoreline.

"It's ok if you are. I will not judge you. I'm scared too, you know?"

"About what?"

"Everything? I mean, I think I technically lost my job, I'm pretty much a fugitive and I can't go back home. All I have right now are the clothes I'm wearing and they are soaked." He confesses with a wry smile.

"Why don't you strip?" Billy suggests.

Steve startles "What?!"

"Why don't you strip? Your clothes will get dry faster."

"I'm not going to stay naked in front of you!" 

"Why not? I'm always naked and it makes no difference to you."

Steve blushes "It's different!"

"How?"

Steve can't point out if Billy is being sassy or naive, so he turns his face to avoid Billy and he sees a Lifeguard Towers a few feet away with a white little boat resting at his feet, the word lifeguard written in big bold red letters, and goes toward it: if he is lucky enough he will find some spare clothes.

The boy is not worried about adding breaking and entering to all the crimes he probably committed in the last few hours, so he breaks the lock with a rock and gets into the lifeguard's tower. He finds an old backpack with a pair of bright pink swim trunks, and a long faded tank top, then he takes his wet clothes and throws them inside the little boat and he pushes the boat toward the sea.

"What's this?" Billy asks, swimming around the little boat.

"It's a boat. It's a floating thing that humans use to move in the water without swimming." He never understood how little was Billy's knowledge of the world until now and for a moment he regrets his actions, the merboy is used to living in captivity, how could he survive in the wild?

Steve starts to row but Billy complains loudly about it "Stop it!" He yells, barely avoiding one of the rows.

"If I don't row in some direction I'll go adrift!" Steve complains "I have no map and I'm no good at reading stars, if the water flow will drag me far from the shore I'll be lost." And probably die.

"I can push you."

"Sorry?"

"I can push this thing.” Billy repeats “I'll stay close to the shore, I promise."

"We need to find a cove or something like that, a place where we can both rest but where we can hide." Steve says, looking around.

"Like a den."

"Like a den." Steve agrees, getting the rows inside the boat.

Steve wonders if it is crazy to entrust his life to a killer merboy who could literally eat him, and the answer is probably yes, but he is too tired, and the gentle rocking of the waves is so soothing that he falls asleep.

***

An unusual weight on the chest is what wakes up Steve, who yells when he sees a big seagull resting on his chest.

"You ok?" A familiar voice asks.

Steve turns and sees the merboy resting on some rocks nearby while the boat is resting on the shoreline.

"Where are we?"

"In a den, like you said."

Steve looks around him, they are in a little cove, the water is bright green where the boat rests, but it gets darker and darker a few feet away.

"A sea cave." He whispers astonished.

"Do you like it?" The merboy asks him, jumping into the water and reemerging just in front of Steve "We could live here."

Steve's stomach grumbles.

"I can get you some fish." Billy proposes and Steve starts to look in the old backpack to see if there is something useful and finds a crumbled packet of crackers and half a bottle of water.

"Thank you but I'm good." The boy replies.

That is a limited-time solution, he will have to get back and Billy will swim away soon, but all he can do right now is let himself enjoy the moment.

His feet hit something, and when he looks down he sees many colorful little rocks, some of them are bottle glasses that the waves transformed in little gems, but there are also some shimmering shells.

"What are those?" Steve asks, confused.

"Presents. For your treasure."

"I don't have a treasure, Billy." Steve tries to explain to him.

"I know. But you need one. A big one. I know you are not strong enough but I'll help you guard it." The sea creature replies, smiling with his sharp teeth.

"Billy… I don't need it."

"You do. My mate needs to have the biggest treasure ever!" The merboy declares proudly.

"Your what? Billy, are you ok?"

Now that Steve notices it Billy's tail is even brighter and he is almost dancing around the boat, like the sea lions do before mating.

"Billy?" He calls again, but Billy's eyes are golden than ever, with no blu in his irises "Billy I don't know what you are thinking but you are not in your right mind, ok? I understand that everything that happened was overwhelming, but please, look at me. I'm Steve. I'm your trainer."

"We kissed."

"We… sort of kissed but it wasn't a real kiss, ok? You were giving me air to breathe, do you remember that?"

"I want to give you more air." Billy's voice is so musical, and even if he is not singing to Steve, he definitely could.

Steve shakes his head, he must remain lucid, they are still in danger… Billy's lips look so nice and all Steve wants to do is feel them on his own.

"Steve…" that’s music. Not the kind he experimented when Billy gave him the order to say back, but is still a song, a song about a kid who preferred to stay at the aquarium all day instead of going to play at the park, a song about a boy who was lost, a song about a mermaid child that was scared and alone, a song about a powerful creature willing to kneel for one person alone: Steve.

The boy is leaning toward the merboy, their faces so close that he can feel Billy's breath on his skin.

It's wrong and it's perfect.

The water opens for him when he falls from the boat, but his beautiful merboy is there to cushion the fall and to share air and spit with him; his webbed hands at the side of Steve's neck are drawing swirls that make Steve shiver and for the first time Steve's hand touch Billy's skin.

It's a strange feeling, Billy's skin is cold and a little bit slimy, but his lips are warm and welcoming.

Steve.

Steve.

Steve.

He knows that it's his name but somehow is not his anymore.

Billy reemerges, holding him tight.

"Steve." He calls again, and Steve's decision shatters under the merboy touch.

The sea creature swims toward the shore, letting the boy lie on the sand.

"I want you." The merboy whispers on his lips, licking the salt from Steve's skin and Steve can’t suffocate a moan when Billy’s lips stop just behind his right ear and start to kiss and bite playfully his ear.

“Sing for me…” Billy murmurs, grinding against him with his entire body and it feels like an electric shock.

Billy’s hands are cold and Steve’s skin is far too hot, he struggles with the tank top, and finally Billy tears it, freeing Steve from the offensive piece of tissue, while hovering over him.

The merboy could crush him, but he doesn’t, he is gentle and handles Steve with such care that he thinks that no one has ever treated him as such.

They kiss again, still hungry for each other's taste, Billy pushes Steve against the sand but Steve is not going to stay there and take what the merboy is going to give him, so he turns them, leaving the merboy lying on the sand and straddles him.

Billy’s eyes are wide, his entire body is driven by the oldest force in the universe: lust.

His scales open a little and Steve sees it: a huge red dick pouring a clear liquid.

“What…?”

“I wanna mate you.” Billy whispers, like a plea on Steve’s skin, and there is no doubt about what the merboy is more than willing to do.

“Billy…”

“I’ll be gentle.” He promises, but Steve knows that he can’t trust him, at this moment Billy is just an animal driven from the primal force of reproduction and Steve’s body is not made to take something so huge.

“I can’t. Billy, I can’t. It’s too big!” Steve protests.

“Gentle.” Billy repeats, while he darts his tail and makes Steve slip closer to his chest, his huge dick between them “Touch it.” He asks him and Steve moves his hands to touch it. It’s different from Steve’s dick, bigger but softer, wet and so flexible, and it seems to move almost like a hand.

“How…?”

“It will not hurt. I promise you. I would never hurt you, you know that.”

Does Steve know that?

“How… how do you want me?”

“Close.”

Steve moves Billy’s dick out of the way, the merboy's dick just behind his back.

“What now?”

“Relax.” Billy whispers while he takes Steve’s wrists and pushes him against his chest.

“No, no, I’m not ready!” Steve tries to protest, but Billy’s dick is grinding against him leaving a wet trail that tingles.

“You’ll be ready in no time. And my dick is softer than what you are used to.”

“How do you know?”

How do you know that I have been fucked?

“I scented him on you. Didn’t like it. You smell so much better now. Sea, salt, sex.”

Steve can’t deny that his dick is leaking on Billy’s chest.

“Will you stop if… if I ask you to?”

“You will not ask.” 

“But if I do?”

“I will.” the merboy promises, and then, with a sudden movement, he starts to push inside Steve’s rim.

The pressure is gentle but relentless, Steve feels so full as he has never been before, but Billy is right. It doesn’t hurt. Not at all.

“Oh god… I fill you in my throat…” he moans.

“Would you like that? Would you like to feel my dick into your throat?”

Steve can’t answer because Billy is dragging him down on his monstrous dick while kissing him, licking with his tick tongue every corner of Steve’s mouth, eating every moan, every sigh directly from the source.

Then he starts to move inside him.

“Harder! I want you harder!” Steve asks and he will cry if Billy denies him, but he doesn’t, the merboy is ready to satisfy him and he keeps moving inside him harder and harder, making Steve bounce on his slippery tail, his legs spread around his muscled boy.

“Will you show me the most beautiful of your expressions?” The sea creature asks him and Steve nods, he doesn't even know what Billy means but whatever he wants he will give it to him.

“Come. Come for me, my treasure.” He whispers in his singing tone of voice, and Steve clenches so hard around his huge dick that it almost hurts, but it’s just a moment, and then he is falling from the biggest height ever.

When he opens his eyes the mermaid is still deeply inside him, jolting just a little inside him.

“You ok?” Billy asks him, his eyes back to blue.

“What happened?”

“You came for me.” Billy explains to him easily and Steve nods.

“Yeah but… after?”

“You passed out.”

Steve has read in some porno magazine that it could happen, but he thought that it was just an exaggeration, instead, he came so hard on Billy’s dick that he blacked out.

“What about you?”

“I need more.” The merboy tells him.

“More like what?”

“Will you let me come inside you? Paint your inside with my cum? Make you drip?”

The answer is so obvious that Steve doesn’t waste time answering and just nods.

“Give me your hand.” Billy asks him, taking three of Steve’s fingers and sucking hard on them while he keeps thrusting harder and harder. Billy’s teeth are very sharp and he could easily chop off Steve’s fingers, but they are looking at each other, Steve’s body still covered in sweat, and when he feels Billy going rigid Steve pushes his fingers even deeper, not caring for his own safety, and it’s the right thing to do because Billy opens his mouth, moaning something that sounds like a song and comes into Steve. One time, two times, three times, he comes so much that Steve feels his stomach bulge and the merboy’s cum dripping from him.

“So beautiful.” He whispers, lying on Billy’s body and the merboy holds him even tighter.

“Rest.”

“You need to rest too.”

“Mermaids don’t rest.” that’s incorrect, but it’s true that they don’t sleep like humans so Steve doesn’t complain “I’ll protect you.” Billy assures him, and for a moment, before falling asleep, Steve thinks about how quickly their role reversed. He was the kid that promised to free him, he was the one that helped him escape, but now, in their den, it’s Billy who is taking care of him.

Their den.

It sounds nice.

Doesn’t it?

***

Steve hears them before he sees them: angry songs rise from the boiling water. Steve is still on the shore and Billy is in the water, moving back and forth protectively in front of him, hissing.

“Who are you?!” One of the mermaids asks him, and Steve notices that they are all old and female.

“Who are you?!” Billy growls, hissing again.

“If the guppy wants to play, let him play, Muriel.”

Steve can understand what they are saying even if they are not really using words but a strange kind of subtle melody, and the mermaid with the black hair that just spoke doesn’t seem too friendly.

“Go away from my den!” Billy hisses again.

“How sweet is that, the guppy is trying to defend his territory!” Another laughs, and Billy keeps hissing, trying to shield Steve from their view.

“Oh… I see… the mating season made him crazy. He thinks that the stupid human is his mate.”

“Go away!” Billy sings to them but the order has no effect.

“Your mum didn’t teach you how to sing, little guppy?” The one called Muriel asked again.

“Don’t talk about her!” Billy growls, but then he freezes, seeing a mermaid with blond hair getting closer “Mum?” He asks confused and astonished “Mum… I thought you were still at the aquarium!” Billy says with a wet voice.

“She is not your mum Billy!” Steve tries to tell him, running toward him.

“Maybe she escaped like I did!” He replies, still looking at the beautiful mermaid, but Steve gets into the water, trying to shake him.

“It’s not her, Billy. It’s not your mum. Nerea… she died. She died after they brought you away from her.” The last words are almost a whisper and for a moment everything stills, then, something drags Steve underwater and he feels a sharp pain at his waist. He looks down and a red-haired mermaid is biting him.

He screams, trying to free himself, but it is only Billy’s intervention that makes the other mermaid release her grip and then he drags Steve safely toward the shore.

“You ok?” He asks, looking at the red blood that is pouring from his pierced skin.

“I’m good… I’m good.”

“Did you know Nerea?” The blond mermaid asks, getting closer.

Billy grits his teeth, so Steve answers for him “She was his mum.”

“Nerea… Nerea was your mum?” She asks again, and now that she is so close she has something familiar, long blond hair, blue eyes…

“She was… she was my sister.” The mermaid says “Are you really her son? She was too young when they captured her! How… How did that happen?!”

“My mate is injured!” Billy growls “I don’t have time to chat!”

The blond mermaid turns toward the other mermaids “Go get some seaweed to cover the wound.”

“But Onda…”

“Do it!” She sings and the order is so fierce that Steve would have been ready to go too if Billy wasn’t holding him so tight.

“Can I look at your wound?” The blond mermaid asks and is not an order, Steve could refuse, but it hurts a lot, and if she can do something to help him with the pain he will gladly accept the help she could give.

“It’s not too deep and Shui didn’t use any venom. You’ll be fine in no time, little human.”

Steve is not used to feeling little, but between these two creatures, he really feels just a kid.

“Are you really my mum's sister?” Billy asks without looking at her and the mermaid nods.

“Can you tell me what you remember of her?” She asks, and Billy is ready to tell her but she shakes his head “Not like that. Sing it to me.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Close your eyes, concentrate on her image, and let the music flow.”

It’s a sweet and sad song and even if Steve can’t understand a single word, at the end of the song his eyes are full of tears.

The blond mermaid addresses his wound and looks around the sea cave.

“You find a nice spot Billy, but you can’t stay here forever. Would you like to come back home with us?”

Billy’s fins shivers and Steve knows that he has never had a home, but then he looks at him.

“You have to go, Billy. They are your people.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be ok.”

Onda nods “I will personally erase his memory and make sure that he gets back to his home safely.”

“You want to take him away from me?!” Billy snarls and Onda seems to scent Steve.

“I see. You already mated him, didn’t you, little guppy?”

“I’m not a guppy! And he is my mate! I will not leave him!”

She laughs “And what are you going to do, uh? He has no tail that I can see, and no gills either.”

Steve smiles, playing with Billy’s hair “It’s ok. You have to go with them and I have to go home. It’s ok.” He tries to comfort him but Billy is crying into his arms.

”I don’t want to leave you. You are my mate.” The merboy whispers.

“I am not, baby. You just imprinted on me. It happens. And I think I did it too. But you’ll be ok. I’m sure that there are a lot of pretty merboys waiting for you.”

“Steve…”

“It’s ok. Do what you have to.” He tells the blond mermaid and the mermaid nods.

“Thank you for keeping my prince safe.” She whispers, but before Steve can ask any questions a sweet song is already making him sleepy.

***

When Steve opens his eyes he is at a hospital and a policeman is asking him questions about what happened at the aquarium, but Steve can’t remember anything at all. A month of his life has gone completely lost.

He doesn’t know who Neil Hargrove is and he has no idea how he died, in his mind he is still waiting to know something after the interview that he made for the position of mermaid trainer, but the aquarium hasn’t a mermaid anymore so it seems that he is out of a job.

Steve joins many TV shows where they interview him trying to make him talk about his experience. He attends every single one with his mother, always eager to parade him around and ready to play the part of the worried mother. They take the money but the interviews are all the same, an infinite series of “I don’t know.”

Did the merboy threaten you?

Did he try to kill you?

Did he bite you?

Steve doesn’t know.

Public opinion is divided into a group that thinks that mermaids should be protected and left free, while another part thinks that what happened is proof that they are far too dangerous and that they should be exterminated once and for all.

Both of them ask Steve if he wants to be their ambassador and it doesn't matter how much money they offer him, he always refuses.

Every morning he runs three miles and ends his run on the beach, looking longingly at the sea, feeling that he misses something that was really dear to him, but he keeps running and goes back home, takes a shower, and sees the red sign of the bite on his skin, tangible proof that mermaids are, indeed, dangerous.

A mermaid killed Neil Hargrove and maybe even Susan Mayfield.

A mermaid bit Steve.

Still, his heart is mourning.

He dreams of oceans, colorful fishes, and shiny shells, and he dreams of songs with no words but that fills him with emotions and when he wakes up, in the morning, he feels rested, loved, and cherished without any real reason.

After a couple of months, all the interest in Steve has diminished and one more time he is the failure his parents can’t accept.

They tell him to find himself a job and he changes from one minimum wage job to another, trying to find his place in the world, telling himself that when he will find the right job, the right house, the right girl, everything will be ok. He just has to wait, the universe will give him what his heart longs for, he knows it, and he is not wrong.

***

Steve always loved diving, so when the longing for the sea becomes unbearable he takes his equipment and goes to the beach.

He shouldn’t go diving alone, it’s dangerous and he knows it, but he can’t wait anymore.

The boy changes into his wetsuit, which feels like a second skin to him, he wears his diving mask, takes the oxygen and his fins, and gets into the water.

The deeper he goes the colder it gets but he keeps diving, searching for a thermocline where he knows he will find some fish.

He has the impression to have seen something violet in the distance, but when he turns to look with more attention there is nothing.

When Steve reemerges, ready to go back home, he sees a little white boat rocks near the shore, inside it there are many shiny things: pieces of glass, shells, and little jewels.

It’s a present for him, a proposition, and there, when the sun is setting like it was months ago, Steve makes a decision. He grabs all the little trinkets and puts them in his backpack, then he goes back to his sad one-room apartment, grabs some food and some clothes, and goes back to the beach as fast as he can, wishing so hard that the boat is still there waiting for him, as it is.

He gets on the boat and starts to row toward the open sea.

A little voice inside his mind tells him that he will get lost and he will die a horrible death in the middle of the ocean, but another part of him urges him to keep rowing so he does, until he hits a rock. Or maybe not.

“Going somewhere, pretty boy?”

Listening to Billy’s voice is enough to dissolve the enchantment that the blond mermaid did on him.

“Billy!” The boy calls, diving into the water, and the merboy catches him with no effort.

“Hey there, pretty boy. I knew you would have come.”

“Did you sing for me?” He asks, putting together all the little things that happened to him: the dreams, the pull toward the sea, the shiny treasure.

“I sang for you every single day.” He replies, peppering his face with kisses “Onda told me that if you really were my mate you would have felt the pull even if you didn’t have your memory. And you did, didn’t you, sweet thing?”

Steve smiles, but they are still in the middle of the ocean.

“What now?”

“Now I’ll bring you home.”

***

Home, Steve discovers, is a little island uninhabited, or at least with no humans. There are a few animals and a big underwater cave that leads to an entire submerged town. Even if Billy did his best to share oxygen with him, Steve wasn’t unable to visit it, he just saw a big palace nestled between the rocks.

“I hate that you can’t see it.” The merboy says while they are resting on the beach.

“I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

“I could sing it to you.”

“Do you want to?”

“I want to share everything with you.” Billy replies, and then he starts to sing while playing with Steve’s hair, but in his song, there is more than just a castle between the rocks: there is pain and sadness, there is hope and fear, there is a hole that has Steve’s shape, and there is love. So much love.

“I’m sorry.” Steve says, turning away to hide his tears “I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby.” The merboy replies holding his chin and making him turn toward him “Nothing.”

“I left you.”

“You did not. You were hurt and you needed help. And you came back to me. You came back for me.”

Steve nods, while silent tears fall from his eyes and the merboy licks them.

“No more tears, I want to see you wiggle.” He tells him and then he kisses him and Billy’s foreign mouth is the closest thing to home that he has ever tasted.

The blond merboy keeps kissing him, biting the side of his jaw, and then he goes down, and down, until he is breathing just above the tent in Steve’s swim trunk.

“Can I taste you?” Billy asks him, and when Steve nods he lowers his swim trunks and takes him into his velvety hot mouth. His clever tongue insists just under the head of his dick and Steve grabs Billy’s hair, trying to resist the impossible pleasure that is filling him.

“I’m going… I’m going to come…” he mumbles, and Billy sucks even harder, ready to swallow Steve’s release.

With a few hard thrusts, Steve comes with a moan into Billy’s mouth.

Billy smiles like a shark before kissing Steve and sharing his own cum with him and even Steve’s cum tastes like the sea.

Steve’s body is so lax after the orgasm that Billy’s dick finds no resistance when he gets inside him.

The boy whimpers a little when Billy’s big dick brushes against his prostate so soon after his first orgasm, but he doesn’t complain when the merboy keeps moving inside him, boxing him and kissing him until he is a whimpering mess under him.

“So good for me… So perfect…” he praises him and Steve comes again, painting both their stomachs white.

He gets ready to relax and feel the merboy filling him until he is dripping cum, but after the first shot, Billy pulls out and comes on Steve’s body, mixing their cums on his skin.

“Mine… My mate…” he whispers and Steve nods, unable to speak.

***

“You know how important you are to him, right?” Shui, the red mermaid that bit Steve months ago asks the boy.

“I love him.” He replies.

“I know you do but I don’t think you get what it takes to fall in love with a mermaid. And with a special one like Billy.” She tells him looking at him with condescension.

“He has always been special to me, even before you found us in that stupid cave.” Steve retorts angrily.

“Don’t be offended and listen to me, stupid human. He is a Prince. Do you get that?”

“Onda is the Queen, his title means nothing.”

“It means nothing now. It will mean a lot when he changes.”

Steve turns toward the red-haired mermaid.

“He what?”

“Have you seen him today? Are you wondering why I am here babysitting you and not eating shrimp with my sisters?” She points out, annoyed.

“Where is he? What is happening? Can you bring me to him?” Steve asks anxiously.

“Calm down, little human. He is fine. He is just going through a transition.”

“I don’t understand. Is he ok?”

The mermaid nods “He is. It’s a natural process. Some fish do that, didn’t you know?”

“Some fish do what?”

“They change sex when they get older.”

They do. Groupers do it. Clownfish and other fish do it too.

“He is changing sex?”

“Didn’t you notice that all the old mermaids are females?”

He has seen a few other merboys… but no merman.

“Will he be ok?”

“They. And of course they will. They are with their sister, they will take care of them and I promised to take care of you. I just wanted to warn you because I don’t want you to be mean to them when they come back. They have human blood and we don’t know how they will change.”

“It doesn’t matter. I love Billy and I will love them whatever it happens, but are you sure they’ll be ok?”

The mermaid stares at him and then she silently nods.

***

One week.

The entire transformation lasted one week, and in all that time Steve's only company was Shui and his own fears, so when he finally sees a mane of blond hair he runs toward the water.

Billy doesn’t look too different, the only difference that he can spot is “Your tail!”

It’s not bright red anymore, it’s more lavender.

“Did Shui…”

“She did.”

“And you are ok with that?”

“Me?” Steve asks, confused.

“I’m not… I mean I am still me but… different…”

This time Steve is holding them tight “I don’t know what happened and I don’t want to know. I’m just glad that you are ok.”

“I am not ok.” Billy replies, avoiding Steve’s eyes.

“What do you need? Can I do something for you? I can ask Shui…”

“I’m not… complete.” Billy replies with humiliation.

“You are not… what?”

“I don’t have any fucking tits, Harrington! Didn’t you notice?”

Steve blinks a few times, his mouth open in disbelief. He did not notice.

“And is it a problem? Is it hurting?”

“I’m good at nothing!” Billy yells, punching the water and splashing salt water everywhere “All I had to do was transform like every fucking mermaid and I did it wrong.”

Steve gets deeper in the water, holding Billy’s face in his hands “You are fucking perfect. You got it? You are all I ever wanted and all I care about is if you are ok.”

When Billy turns toward him Steve stares at them unashamed: it’s not true that they have no tits, it’s just that they are smaller than the other mermaids. Steve gently cups one of them, weighing it in his hand.

“Can I… Can I kiss them?”

He has never thought about a female version of Billy but now that they are in front of him he wants to discover every part of this new body.

“Aren’t you horrified?” Billy asks.

“I think that the word you are looking for is mesmerized, and I am.”

Billy’s tail winds around Steve and drags him toward their chest “I’m still going to fuck you. You know that, right?”

***

They are on their honeymoon, that’s what Onda called the period they gave them before dragging Billy back to work at the palace now that they are officially the second in line.

Billy’s body is softer and their tail has a different color, but for the rest, they are still sassy as they used to be.

They haven’t had sex since Billy transformed and Steve is determined to put an end to their period of chastity.

“You know, humans have sex during their honeymoon.” He says, caressing Billy’s shoulder while they are resting under a swaying palm tree.

“Oh, do they?”

"Definitely."

“And what’s your plan? Convincing me to have sex with you talking about human customs?”

Not the brightest plan ever, but at least they are addressing the matter once and for all.

“Are you in pain? That’s why you don’t want to have sex with me?” he asks and Billy shakes their head “Are you worried you will not like it?” another nod of refusal “So what?”

“I’m worried I’ll get pregnant.”

Steve almost chokes on his own spit.

“You what?”

“Oh, Steve, do I really have to be the one who tells you? When two people love each other very deeply, sometimes they have a baby.”

“No, I get that, I mean I didn’t think that…”

“That you could get me pregnant?” Steve’s mouth feels too dry so he just nods “You could. Just like Neil did with my mum, and the younger the mermaid is, the easiest is to get pregnant.”

Steve nods “Oh, I get that, you don’t want a child from me. I mean, it’s ok, it wasn’t really in the cards when we met so…”

“Would you like that? A child? Our child?”

It’s a tricky question.

Short answer? Yes.

But he is respectful of Billy and their choice so he says “All I ever wanted was a family, and you are my family.”

“That means that you hate the idea of having kids?”

“No! I… I… I’d like to have them. With you. But if you don’t want them I get it. I mean, our life is pretty complicated as it is, right?”

He is not wrong: Billy has many responsibilities and Steve can’t exactly follow him underwater.

“I want them. But I’m scared. What if they are damaged, like me?”

No, Steve is not going to have any of that.

He pushes Billy until they are lying with their back on the sand and their arms over their head.

“You are not damaged Billy, and our hypothetical kids will not be damaged either. And if you will never want them I will never ask, but I can't stand listening to you talking like that about yourself.”

“You are really in love with me…” the mermaid grins.

“I really am.”

“Maybe I should fuck you, just to know if you are still a good partner.”

“You are such a brat!” Steve complains, but after a moment it is he who is trapped with his shoulders on the warm sand.

“Do you think that your human dick is good enough to fuck someone? It seems so tiny, doesn’t it?”

Steve’s dick is far smaller than the one Billy had “Do you think it is too small?” The boy asks, blushing at the humiliation.

“Oh, I think that with such a tiny dick I will barely feel it, and I really don’t think it will catch.”

“There is just a way to find it out, what do you say? Are you ready to let me try to knock you up?”

Billy’s dick is smaller than it was but is still there, so Steve takes it in his hands and finds it even more flexible now that it’s smaller.

He rubs his dick on Billy’s and when the tip of Billy’s cock gets into the slit of Steve’s dick he whimpers.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Steve shakes his head “It’s just… intense. And strange. But mostly intense.”

“Does it mean that I could still fuck you, pretty boy?”

“Oh, I think you could even if I was inside of you but this… this feels…”

“Good?”

“So fucking good.”

Billy’s dick keeps thrusting inside the tip of Steve’s cock and when it withdraws with a quick movement Steve comes copiously on the mermaid.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he moans, trying to stabilise his breath.

“Harrington, I thought that all of that was supposed to get inside me, not on me.” Billy teases him.

Steve rests at Billy’s side “Give me a moment and then I’ll fill you until you beg me to stop.”

“Do you really think you could?” The mermaid keep teasing the boy, but Billy let Steve rest a little while they go back in the water to keep themself hydrated; when they get back from their swim Steve is more than eager to show them that he can be a good lover.

Billy tries to play with Steve’s dick again, but the boy grabs Billy’s sex with his hand and starts to jerk them off while he slowly penetrates inside his partner for the first time.

Billy’s body is wet and warm and when they whisper on Steve’s lips that they want it harder, Steve doesn’t hesitate, thrusting harder and harder, listening to the watery slaps sound and to their moans.

“You are so warm, baby. So velvety and warm. I wanna bury myself inside of you and stay like that forever.” Steve whispers while Billy keeps repeating that they want it harder. “If I keep going like this I’m going to come in no time.” 

“I’ll fucking kill you if you stop now!” Billy almost yells while they keep moaning under Steve and when the boy feels that he is close it takes Billy’s dick in his hand once more and starts to jerk them off quicker and quicker, doing his best to get them off before coming inside of them.

“Let go. I’m here. I’ll get you.” Steve reassures them and finally, Billy comes with a moan that reverberates inside Steve’s soul, clenching so hard on Steve’s dick that he comes too, filling Billy’s inside.

They hug each other, Steve still inside Billy “I want to keep you inside me a little more.” They tell him and Steve couldn’t deny them if he wanted to.

“You ok?”

“It was… intense.” They reply and Steve smirks.

“Was it?”

“I think I’d like to do it again.”

“I’m your humble servant.” Steve replies with a smile, brushing away the blond locks “You are so fucking beautiful.” He whispers, kissing their cheeks, and somehow it feels more intimate than the fact that Steve is still buried deep inside Billy.

Steve sighs, content, if Billy want he will try to breed him again, and again, and again, but for the moment holding them in his arms is more than enough.

[justagalwhowrites]

Thoughts, for some reason?

*CW Mental health, suicide (I'm fine!!), general existentialism

I'm not entirely sure WHY I'm writing this but it feels like something I wanted to do so... I'm doing it? I guess? I dunno. This will probably be pretty boring so don't feel like you need to read this at all!

For some reason, I always spend this time of year being oddly introspective. Maybe it's the seasonal depression! Maybe it's the end of the year! Maybe it's the fact that I'm another year older! Who knows. Regardless, I feel like I usually spend this day in particular wishing I weren't here anymore. Just thinking about how incredibly little I've done with my life, how I know I'm just a bit too much of a person to be anything but at least a mild annoyance to everyone around me, how foolish it is to feel like these are major concerns when there are so many people who are actually suffering.

But one thing I learned this year was that I found a lot of identity in who I was to other people and to the world. I lost a huge part of my identity when I changed careers, I had the worst PTSD trigger of my life so far earlier this year that sent me into such a spiral that - for a bit - I wasn't sure I'd still have my identity as a wife, either (turns out, when your fight or flight makes you take off and cut contact with almost everyone for days it scares the shit out of your spouse and that makes it so you have some stuff to work through - who knew?)

Another thing I learned? This whole writing thing makes it better. I've always been a writer but I've never put it out there. I wrote novels that have done nothing but sit in notebooks or Word documents, just so they'd exist somewhere outside my head. In some ways, the fact that those characters didn't exist anywhere else was good motivation to keep living, even when it felt like I didn't want to. I may not have felt like real people would particularly miss me but if I died then the people in my head would die, too, and isn't that sad for them?

And then I started writing fic this spring. Until I shared my first fic on AO3, I could count on one hand who had ever read my fiction writing (besides a short story here and there that got put in a school literary magazine or something.) It was never something I really counted as a serious part of myself, it was just on the same level as other things I do for fun. I never really felt like a writer. Turns out, sharing the writing helps me feel like a writer! I think it would still help if no one read it but you lovely people have made it even better. And it's nice to have an identity that feels like it belongs to just me. No one can take it away from me. I'm in control of it and I think that's been part of what's making stuff feel better than it usually does right now.

Anyway, this isn't to try to just throw my mental health stuff out there - which feels very weird to do even though I don't feel like I've tried to hide it or anything like that? I don't know. I think I'm just doing this to say sharing these stories means a lot to me? That identity means more to me than I really understood before now? That it's been nice to find this part of myself?

Regardless, I'm happy that things are feeling better this year. I'm happy I have stories to tell. And, even if no one ever reads another word I write, I'm happy you're here, too.

Love you!! ❤️

[mylittleredgirl]

20 questions for fic writers

thanks @annerbhp for the tag! i really enjoyed reading her answers too!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

215

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

646,705 (average of 3k per fic, which sounds about right)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

stargate atlantis most often, followed by sg-1, various star treks, and the x-files (with other miscellaneous fandoms on demand for exchanges and gifts).

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

No Sooner Met (voyager, janeway/chakotay)

Career Day (sg-1, mini!otp)

Next Chapter (the good place, chidi/eleanor)

First Date (voyager, janeway/chakotay) editor's note: man my title game was weak in my voyager era

Occupational Hazards (the good place, chidi/eleanor)

it's so funny to spend my online time in small or inactive fandoms and look at statistics because i'm like yeah... i'm kind of a big deal... people know me... i have many leather-bound volumes... and not a single one of my fics crack 300 kudos (& very few over 100). the person i reblogged from topped out over 9,000! what's it like to write long fics for popular fandoms? is it cool?

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

i do now! and it's awesome! for a long time i was intimidated by praise and had a hard time responding, but my brain works now and i really enjoy exchanging comments that turn into long threads of headcanon back-and-forth and sometimes new friends.

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

oh god PLEASE let me unburden my soul about Twilight (sga, john/elizabeth). it's so uncharacteristically hopeless for me -- far future fic, complicated family dynamics, elizabeth has dementia and john is estranged from their son... really no one is having a good time. i think it's interesting and a cool departure from my usual writing style, but it's also a big sad mess.

i still feel sooooo guilty about these two thousand words of misery that i REGULARLY think about writing a sequel where john and his son fix it with time travel and mend fences. like i lie awake at night worrying about these characters because one time in 2007 i didn't give them a happy ending and suggested john might not break the bad father generational cycle. normal fic writer behavior.

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

Weaving Loose Ends (sg-1, sam/jack)! i love happy and hopeful endings but i think of all of them, this one is the most resolved and least complicated.

8. Do you get hate on fic?

nope. oh!!!! there was the one time when i caused Big Drama in a corner of the Dancing With The Stars fandom by turning people's headcanons into rpf, which everyone liked until one included porn. people got so heated with each other over this one smut fic (doxing! splinter factions! a fandom schism!) but somehow no one was ever actually mean to me. i didn't even get blocked or banned for my rpf transgressions, i was just standing there at the eye of the storm. so... i guess the answer is still no??

9. Do you write smut?

yes! i should probably write more, though. it has been all slow and gauzy the past few years, somebody should really get railed pretty soon.

10. Do you write crossovers?

nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don't think so. happily toiling in obscurity.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

back in the x-files days i think someone translated some of my doggett/reyes fics for a spanish archive, so those might still be out there.

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

no i haven't!! i am really not doing well collecting my fic writer girl scout badges here!!

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

john sheppard/elizabeth weir my beloved.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

i have 10k of an sg-1 episode-by-episode soulmate fic that started really strong and i would love to share someday, but i lack staying power so it will surely just go to seed in my dropbox forever!!

16. What are your writing strengths?

hopefully character complexity and dialogue. dialogue is interesting in fanfic, because the dialogue on many TV shows is really different than how real humans speak (it's scripted to be clearer, more concise and direct, uninterrupted, etc), so it's a fun challenge to balance that and get something that sounds both in-character and realistic.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

long fics!

the big related weakness is that i find it incredibly difficult to keep writing on a fic after i show it to anyone (as a sneak peek, or because i want feedback / encouragement / brainstorming help). i lose steam on my own, but posting or inviting other people into the process is like pouring sugar in the gas tank. why is that!! how do i fix this!!!

and i don't know if this is a "writing weakness" or an "egregious personal character flaw" but i sure did finish an exchange fic this year literally forty seconds before reveals, so that's... pretty bad.

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

SO SCARY aughhhh my fear of Being Wrong really nukes me here. it doesn't even have to be a real language. it's like the ghost of JRR Tolkein himself is standing over my shoulder telling me that if i don't backwards engineer an entire proto-latinate space language instead of just chucking words into google translate and calling it Ancient i'm committing unpardonable sins.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

star trek! first internet-published fics were x-files, but first limited-print-edition fics were xeroxed hand-bound voyager stories my sister and i would give as "gifts" to family friends (and then stand there staring at them while they read the first few pages and told us how clever and creative we were and promised to "read the rest later").

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

new answer! i have always answered this before with ain't no sunshine (sga, john/elizabeth) or career day (sg-1, mini!otp), but i think i really stuck the landing this year on pieces (sga, john/elizabeth). which, incidentally, is the one i finished forty seconds before reveals so i'm definitely not going to learn anything from that narrow escape.

tagging @ussjellyfish if you haven't already done this one, @coraclavia, @havocthecat, @lonesomehighways, and anyone else who made it through this long post and would like to do it!

[jilyarchive]

APRIL AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: ARIANATWYCROSS

Q: Where can we find you and your stories?

A: @arianatwycross​, AO3

Q: How would you describe your writing style?

A: I really couldn’t tell you! It really depends on how I’m feeling. I suppose you could say I love dialogue and you can definitely find a lot of sexual tension or flirting in my fics. 

Q: How do you come up with ideas for your writing?

A: A lot of the time it's through songs e.g. Teenage Kicks, but I also read quite a lot, so I get inspiration from books. For example, sometimes when I’m reading, I find a certain line I love and then that prompts an entire storyline in my head. Sometimes it’s just a feeling or a moment. With you are the sun, I was pining for hot summer Australian days (it was depressingly winter) and I had just finished reading Conversations with Friends. There’s this one scene where he uses a beer bottle to cool her down and I couldn’t help but write that scene with Jily. The prompt then rolled into a three-part story with a lot of sweaty, humid, hot synonyms. 

Q: When and why did you begin writing fanfiction?

A: I think I started in 2021 during COVID. COVID got me back to a lot of my hobbies that I dropped for a while. I started listening to music again, reading a lot more, and going for a lot of walks (in which I ended up just making up stories in my head). My friend sent me some fanfic to read (I think it was a Fred Wesley fic haha) and then I got back onto Tumblr and stumbled onto the love of our lives, Jily ❤️‍

Q: What’s one thing you’d tell someone who is considering reading one of your fics?

A: Prepare for a lot of flirty fluff and smut ;) 

Q: What are some of your favorite Jily tropes?

A: Friends to lovers, secret relationships, idiots in love - anything that makes them look like idiots that love each other to be honest! 

Q: What do you like most about the Jily fandom?

A: How diverse it is! You can literally have a thirst for any type of trope and find it, and the quality of writing is chef’s kiss! Most importantly, everyone I’ve talked to has also been really sweet and supportive, which is the backbone of this fandom.

Q: Pick a favourite Marauders era character.

A: Apart from James and Lily, I love Sirius Black - he’s such a complex character. I suppose as a fandom, he’s one of the only Marauders that we know enough about to establish his personality but I still feel like there’s so many complexities behind how he treated Harry and his time in azkaban. I would LOVE to really know his relationship with Lily as well. 

Q: Self-promo time! List the fics that you are most proud of writing.

A:

Teenage Kicks – It all starts with Lily being hired to be the bands tour photographer, then she actually meets the band and she quickly becomes absorbed by their fast lifestyle, their pranks and the hot lead singer. But its not exactly simple to be crushing on a famous Rockstar, is it?

Strawberry Lipstick – After spending her 6th year in a state of depression after her mothers death and her sister’s rejection, Lily finds herself changing into the person she thought she wanted to be over the summer before her last year at Hogwarts. Coming back to Hogwarts as Head girl, Lily shocks James as she walks onto the train with a sense of confidence she hadn't had in years. Her head held high, and a devilish smirk that makes James shiver. (Probably needs a desperate edit as this was my first foray into writing my own fanfiction but it’s my first so there’s a deep love for it!)

you are the sun – She feels someone brush a piece of her hair behind her ear, a flyaway from her messy ponytail. She turns to her side to find Daniel smiling sweetly at her, he leans over to grab his beer from the table before lounging back in his chair. She stares dumbly for a few seconds, before her eyes hesitantly reach the man opposite her. James is staring openly at her, one eyebrow raised in question. She tries her best to stop a smile gracing her lips but she loses miserably. 

Q: Fic rec time! Could you recommend a few of your favourite Jily fics?

A:

Everlong by @emeralddoeadeer​ – The intricacies of this story really suck you in and oh my, I fell in love straight away.

The Reckless Now by @mppmaraudergirl​ – A love square that had me on my toes! 

Choose Your Own (sexy) Adventure by @ghostofbambifanfiction​​ – The dialogue in this is unmatched and it’s all through email/texting - unparalleled humour. 

Thank you @arianatwycross​ for letting us pick your brain and for sharing your fics with the fandom! ❤️

[subdee]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @hxhhasmysoul, thanks munen for always thinking of me even though I haven't written anything for like... a year.

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

27

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

153,197

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Hunter x Hunter and Final Fantasy VII (original 1997 game) are the main ones, and then there are a few others that are either old or that time I wrote historical RPF for yuletide.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

(All five are T-rated  Hunter x Hunter fics.)

1)Freecs Adventure Travel Co.- I think this is because it’s tagged ‘slowburn’ and recced on a list with other slowburn fics…  I have this drafted out to the end, it has one more chapter left (and it’s not really a slowburn, aha).  A post canon Killugon reunion fic + Alluka. 

2) Paper Ties – This is a short oneshot about Killua/Alluka/Kalluto originally written for a secret santa exchange.  The writing’s just okay, but a lot of people have this bookmarked and I think it’s probably because they like my explanation for why Kalluto knows nen at the start of HxH, but Killua doesn’t.

3) On a Cold and Snowy Night- A Killugon There Was Only One Bed oneshot originally written for a valentine’s day exchange.  I think people just really like this trope. 

4) There's a Light That Never Goes Out  - It’s another post canon Killugon reunion fic, this time without Alluka (or she’s mentioned, but offscreen).  Listen, HxH fans love reunion fics! 

5) Dungeon x Hunter – a finished multichapter AU where Killua, Gon, Leorio and Kurapika are college friends who play Dungeons and Dragons together.  Inspired by something a friend said forever ago about how Kurapika is like the ultimate DnD rules lawyer min-maxing all his stats. 

...Actually except for On a Cold and Snowy Night, what these all have in common is that they’re among the first things I wrote after I rejoined the fandom.  So I think there’s just a network effect here where people are finding them via bookmarks. 

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

I always reply right away, I spend the day after I post anything refreshing my inbox basically. 

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

Either my FFVI Barret backstory fic Corel Days or the one I wrote for FFVII Halloween with prompt: Annihilation.  Those both had the Major Character Death tag on them and like… no one clicks on them.  Haha.  They’re sad because of the character death but also sad because they’re about climate change and fans just aren’t generally here for that level of downer.      

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

Most of my fics end either happily or ambiguously besides those two, but I’d call Dungeon x Hunter my most “nothing bad happened” story where there’s not really much conflict, and when there is conflict it’s resolved quickly. 

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Never, and I don’t really get spam comments either… maybe once or twice I’ve gotten requests to write a particular pairing but like 99% of the comments I get are really lovely positive ones from other writers. 

9. Do you write smut?

 I haven’t because I’m lazy and smut is hard to write….There’s a fade to black sex scene in my Frederick the Great Space AU and actually, an implied sex scene in my forever ago Libertines AU where Carl Barat turns into a cat, but that’s the closest I’ve ever come.  Most of what I write is rated T. 

10. Do you write crossovers?

I have written crossovers!   It was a long time ago, and they were mostly short what-ifs, like, what if Arthur Dent met Light Yagami?   I think it’s more fun to imagine the crossovers in your head than to actually write them, they don’t usually have plots but it’s fun to imagine how the characters would interact.    

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so?  I’m not really that popular. 

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Actually yes, I think?   Someone translated a Death Note fic a long time ago.  It’s not on Ao3 though. 

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

Yes, actually!  My Libertines AU where Carl Barat turns into a cat was co-written by the lovely 0_clay_0 who was my favorite writer in the fandom at the time.   So that was pretty great.  She lives in Germany and I went to visit her once, any of you guys out there wondering what the appeal of writing RPF is, it’s that you can meet amazing people who live all around the world if you’re both really passionate about the same thing. 

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

Probably Killugon, but I’m getting nostalgic for the Pete/Carl fic as I write this post, haha.  I think the writing in that fandom (Libertiens RPF) was the best of any fandom I’ve ever been in, by a long shot…  Ranma/Akane (Ranma ½) also has a strong nostalgic pull for me. 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

I’m gonna finish Freecs Adventure Travel Co, I swear!!!!!   That’s my only posted (to AO3) WIP… most of what I post are oneshots because I know my own limits. 

16. What are your writing strengths?

Varying my sentence lengths.   Also filling in backstory and gaps in the canon, and writing 'densely' so there's multiple ideas per paragraph.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Anything that requires effort: plotting, dialog, action scenes, sex scenes… Most of what I write doesn’t require me to think that hard about what I’m doing.   

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

If it was in-character I would do it.  There’s a certain kind of reader that would enjoy the challenge of having to look up the translation, some people like it when you make them make an effort.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It was Naruto... now THAT is a WIP I’m never going to finish LOL.  

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I’ve said this before, but it’s my Pariging Coffee Shop AU.   I like how Ging’s character came out, he’s not really the same Ging from canon but it works.  And it’s kinda funny?  I’m always writing close to canon but I like reading AUs more, so I'm happy I finally wrote one that's fun for me to re-read.

I'm supposed to tag 20 people for this... here goes! @fury-brand @rosemochi @cateringisalie @nautilusopus @voidcat-senket @recents @ladycrescentvenus @mysterypond @dimensionten @clood @cafeaulater @storybookprincess @dodici12 @cocoa-bop @rabbitprint @kiwizoom @autumnxsunflower @ishouldgetatumbler @fireolin @minimoonstar