"'Cause
Crush culture makes me wanna spill my guts out
I know what you're doin', trying to get me to pursue you
Crush culture makes me wanna spill my guts out
Spill my guts out, spill my guts out"
[SEASON ONE-FOUR]
sarah cameron x fem!oc
cover by @h...
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PLEASE DONT BE A GHOST READER! COMMENT AND VOTE! IT HELPS US WRITERS STAY MOTIVATED:)
the reason i always say "please don't be a ghost reader" this isnt just because i want votes, i mean i do, but ive been writing on this app for 3 almost 4 years and it helps me stay motivated because that means people are reading my stuff. and unlike other people, they have so many views on their books and i know my writing isnt the best but i love to write and it just helps me stay motivated. and i know i unpublish and republish my chapters and i get thats really annoying
【 SEASON EPISODE 2PART 2 】
As they approached the locked door, John B's voice filled the quiet air with a nervous energy. "We used to laugh at him like he was gonna find it. But now that he's gone, I've just kinda... I just left it as he kept it." His words came out quickly, as if he needed to explain the mess of memories and secrets left behind by their father. Kie, walking beside Clara, elbowed her gently, giving her a knowing look. Clara, a blonde with sharp features and a quick wit, groaned softly but nodded in agreement. "Yeah, for when he gets back," Clara muttered, echoing John B's sentiment. She couldn't help but feel a strange attachment to the way things were left, as if touching them would make everything real again.
John B nodded and unlocked the door. As it creaked open, Pope's voice broke the silence with a hushed awe. "I've slept over here like 600 times, and I've never seen this door opened." His eyes scanned the room like a treasure hunter stepping into an ancient tomb. Clara and John B exchanged a knowing glance. Their father had always been secretive about his office, never letting anyone inside. As they filed in behind John B, the air felt thick with a mixture of anticipation and old memories.
John B wasted no time. He grabbed the bulletin board from the table and laid it down for everyone to see. "Here, look. This is the original owner, right here. Robert Q. Routledge, 1880 to 1920." He pointed at the faded picture of a stern man with a compass. Clara stepped forward, pointing at the same photo. "There's the lucky compass, right there," she added, her finger tracing the outline of the object.
"Actually, um... he was shot after he bought it," John B added, his voice grim. Clara blinked, startled by the revelation. She had heard most of the family stories, but this part was new.
"He was shot?" Clara's voice was quiet, a little shaken.
"Yeah, then the compass was shipped back to Henry. He was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass. After he died, the compass was given to Stephen. Stephen had the compass with him when he died in Vietnam," John B explained, laying out the unsettling history. Clara felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She slowly looked up, locking eyes with JJ, who had been listening in silence, his brows furrowed.
