#BUSK. imagine naming your show BUSK. what even was happening for that entire show

[starsofthestorm]

I think it's insane that even in a wonderful community like marching band I have witnessed people receive death threats for simply not liking the blue devils

[wanna-one-imagine]

PSA: on hating Wanna One

If you hate, dislike, or harbor any negative feeling whatsoever regarding Wanna One, I strongly encourage you to read this post. 

The way we learn is not through affirming our mentalities and ideas, but instead by questioning and listening to other opinions. 

As someone who is strongly multi-fandom, I’m going to keep this as unbiased as possible here. The group doesn’t have much time left, so I’d say give this a go. It won’t take long to read.

(@ wannables: please rt so we can spread the word! this is honestly the best time to be a multifandom wannable because we have so many interactions rn!! and if you’re a wannable that hates other groups, you better read this too)

Lately we’ve been seeing a lot of interactions between Wanna One and other (especially male) idol groups. 

So, a lot of us Wannables have become increasingly multi-fandom (more than we were already: nobody begins their run with kpop with a survival show) - but, alas, we have found that a LOT of people from international k-pop fandoms, for some unknown reason, hate Wanna One with a burning passion. 

For the relatively small international fandom, the amount of international hate towards Wanna One is overwhelming and hard to deal with.

So, without further ado, let me clear up some of the misconceptions you may have about the group!

Wanna One is friends with or looks up to the GROUPS YOU STAN.

tl;dr they friendly. Wannables know this, so a lot of us are multifandom - after all, not many people got into kpop BECAUSE of Produce 101. A lot of us have been around for a while and stan other groups.

Kang Daniel: Friends with Woozi (SEVENTEEN), Suga (BTS), Zico, Xiumin (EXO), Chanyeol (EXO), Mark (NCT) and many more - let’s be real Kang Daniel can be friends with whoever he wants, role model is Kai (EXO), TWICE Fanboy

Ha Sungwoon: Friends for years with Jimin (BTS), Taemin (SHINee), Kai (EXO) and also many more

Park Jihoon: Is literally in love with V (BTS), has said multiple times he looks up to V and pursued K-Pop because of him, in a gaming group with Jin (BTS), Eunkwang (BtoB), Youngjae (B.A.P), Ken (VIXX) - seen eating out together

Lee Daehwi: BFFs with Somi (Produce 101, JYP Sixteen - the show that formed Twice), remixed Got7 Hard Carry for produce 101 audition, Heize fangirls over him, friends with Bang Chan (Stray Kids), TWICE Fanboy

Ong Seongwoo: Friends with Mark (NCT), Kwangjin (N.Flying), Mina (gugudan), Namjoo (APink), role model is Kai (EXO), worked with Heize

Hwang Minhyun: caught fanboying over Red Velvet on insta, got acknowledged by NELL

Lai Guanlin: friends with Sehun (EXO), is in love with Wooseok (Pentagon), fanboyed over him in front of HyunA herself

Bae Jinyoung: EXO Fanboy, Sehun Fanboy

Park Woojin: Zico Fanboy, knows Zico irl now

Yoon Jisung: probably has friends but he won’t tell us, acknowledged by NELL

Kim Jaehwan: Embarrassed himself in front of Zico

Why do international fans hate Wanna One?

tl;dr Essentially, Wanna One is really popular in Korea - and not internationally - so the international fans hate them, pretty much because they’re successful. Large biased, sh*t reporting media sites like Allkpop and Netizenbuzz recognize this, and spew out bad articles on them with wrong translations and incorrect info because it gets them attention

Produce 101 season 2, the group that formed Wanna One, was hugely popular in Korea, not so much internationally. A large part of this may be because international fans couldn’t vote in the show

After produce 101 finished airing, it was obvious Wanna One would be popular in Korea. However, a lot of international fans didn’t know about this

So, when Wanna One debuted, their popularity was obviously very high. They began playing with the best, with groups that had been around for years

This resulted in the Wanna One members being called ungrateful, achieving fame “too fast”, even though it’s just a different means of getting there. 

All of these boys weren’t just lucky. They worked extremely hard in their own way to get to this point, and they are aware that the group isn’t permanent. They know that it’s not going to all be smooth sailing from here - they’ve written songs on the impermanence of this feeling (see: hourglass, forever+1, always, I promise you, hell they have an album called “nothing without you”)

Sungwoon, Minhyun - both in “unsuccessful” groups for years before (Hotshot, Nu’est), had to strip off their “idol” image and perform as “trainees”

Daniel, Jisung - trainees for years under an unknown entertainment label (MMO) that likely wouldn’t have debuted them but instead used them for backup dancers (Daniel was actually going to leave to live in Canada - pd101 was his last resort, Jisung would have had to go to the military)

Jihoon, Jinyoung - have you ever heard of maroo or c9 entertainment? Likely would have debuted into a no name group

Daehwi, Woojin - Daehwi has already gotten so much hate from the start of the show even though he’s already 16, yet remained positive. Woojin rose from the 70s rank up until 6 through hard work alone.

Guanlin - moved from Taiwan by himself at 16 without knowing Korean to pursue his dream, is always showing thanks to fans, trying to speak in both English and Taiwanese as well

Jaehwan - won an entire TV show but nobody paid attention to him. Busked on the streets.

Seongwoo - nobody can deny that he is always thinks of the fans. writes his own freaking poetry for us

All of them always express their thanks to the fans, and even the man of the year, Kang Daniel, is commonly reported by outside sources (producers, tv show directors, other idols, etc) as simple - friendly and humble. Even though he’s always tired and in the public’s eye, he is one of the most active members on fancafe, even tries to respond to foreign fans in English

Haven’t they been involved with a lot of controversies?

tl;dr They’ve all been refuted. This is an unusual situation that happens when a group is popular, and the international fandom isn’t big enough to fight it. 

Sites like Allkpop and Netizenbuzz just add fuel to the fire, releasing articles on untrue information, and then not releasing articles quickly or at all on clarifications

Also YMC/Swing sucks and doesn’t protect the boys (literally and figuratively) or the fandom. Instead of explaining situations or taking legal actions, they will either use the boys as a shield for their own mistakes, or force the boys to apologize for things they didn’t do.

Wannables in their natural habitat are fighting YMC (and now Swing entertainment) for something or the other. Right now the big deal is that Swing has banned fansites from taking pictures and Wannables are irate af lemme tell u

They’re not talented.

untrue

produce 101 was a show that if a mistake was made (all live btw), mnet would repeat the same clip 11 times with different angles and reactions

and wanna one is who we are left with. so make what you want of that

(lots of live performances to go around also)

I just don’t like their music.

Not a reason to hate a group.

Their music is pretty much generic K-pop. If you like K-pop, chances are you’ll like their music

Also, for their recent comeback they’ve worked with really incredible artists (Zico, Heize, NELL, Dynamic Duo). Try one of those

If you like kHipHop/kR&B

Kangaroo (prod. Zico)

Hourglass (prod. Heize)

11 (prod. Dynamic Duo)

If you like ballads/sad sh*t

Forever+1 (prod. NELL)

Always

I Promise You (confession version)

Beautiful

I wanna have (this is the GOAT)

If you like k-pop

Energetic (prod. Hui of Pentagon)

Light

Boomerang (okay we don’t really talk about this one tho)

Wannables are a toxic fandom.

This is something that gets thrown around a LOT. But in reality, most wannables are very multi-fandom. I will repeat it for a third time: nobody starts liking K-Pop because of a survival show, especially internationally. A lot of us are fans of other groups, so it sucks when our other home fandoms reject us.

The international Wannable community is extremely small (case in point: the company reducing the concert venue sizes by thousands in the US due to tickets not selling). This means our influence is also very small. It’s very unlikely that you have experienced such toxicity from a true Wannable.

On the topic of akgaes: look we don’t like them either, but even though the show was based on voting for your fave, most Wannables aren’t hating on the groupmates and literal friends of their biases. You could help us get rid of this image by promoting ot11!

KWannables are commonly seen supporting other groups, because they are very well aware of the fact that Wanna One is friends with/looks up to/likes other kpop groups.

They don’t want the group to disband. Of course, there’s a part of every Wannable that dreads that day. But, most of us understand that there’s more waiting for them, and we’ll continue to support in the future!

There’s more to say. But life and Wanna One’s run are both too short to spend hating a group of sweet, talented boys. There’s so much toxicity in K-pop. Imagine how your bias would feel if they knew you were attacking their friends or people that look up to them. 

Let’s spread positivity, not all this hate.

[ivadeshin]

Five Soda Maximum (High School AU) pt 15

(need to start from the beginning?)

“What do they do in Germany for dates?”

Caleb laughs and opens a bag of chips. “I would not know.”

“C’mon.” Molly’s tail flicks behind him, amused. Caleb shrugs and tries to think.

“Same thing as Americans, I guess. Kids go to movies. Adults go to restaurants with the lights at... hmm. Medium lights?”

“With the lights dimmed?”

Caleb nods. “With the lights dimmed.”

“And a single tea light in the middle of the table,” Molly adds in a serious hush, pretending to cup his hands around a tiny candle between them. “To roast... your tiny fancy restaurant marshmallows on.”

Caleb snorts. “On toothpicks?”

“Yeah,” Molly agrees. “You could use the ones that come in hot chocolate mix.”

“Nein, those are... too hard, they are like sugary American cereal pieces. What is that brand Jester tried to - oh, Lucky Charms. Those are not marshmallows!”

“They’re... marshmallow... inspired?” Molly pulls out something wrapped in foil, and it turns out to be half a meatball sub. Caleb makes an interested sound, tugging the bag toward him and rummaging for the other half. “Is your stomach thing getting better?”

Caleb feels a mild rush of embarrassment, but it’s more minor than it would have been several weeks ago. The entire group seems to have settled on offering to share what food they’ve got, happy when he eats full portions and not pressuring him when he can’t. It’s a lot less confrontational than what he gets at home, and he feels a little silly for expecting outsiders to treat him the same as his parents. “Yes,” he says honestly. “I think um, just unpacking... knowing my school schedule... understanding more English...”

“Being settled,” Molly finishes for him. Caleb nods.

“Yes, good word. Settled.”

“Is it that new things, um, stress you out, or was it specifically moving from Germany to here?”

“Much more the second thing.” Caleb tucks some hair behind his ear, taking a deep breath and looking around a little. He can smell faint tobacco smoke from the alley they went in - it seems like the employees take their breaks there instead of up here, and so it’s unsurprising that they haven’t seen anyone else come up. That’s probably why Molly picked it.

“Did you move for work?”

Caleb blinks, a little too lost in thought to make sense of the question.

Molly shrugs. “I mean, your dad, or your mom, did they have to move here for a job.”

“No.” Caleb laughs softly. “Their jobs here are... are not better, I think they are, they, they are much worse, actually.” He unwraps his sub and takes a few bites.

“I’m not making the best conversation to get you hungry, am I.” Molly rubs his horn and looks away.

Caleb wants little more in life than to keep Molly from being sad. “S’ok,” he says around a mouthful of meatball. “Did... you... mag...dese?”

Molly laughs. “Yeah, my own secret recipe. I wanted us to have some hot food but I can’t make much.”

Caleb shakes his head and makes a thumbs up sign, glowering at his thumb when he sees that it’s already got a streak of red sauce on it.

“Oh! Here, hold on.” Molly sorts through the bag, pulling out a large plastic chip clip that’s holding on to a small stack of paper napkins. He pulls a couple out and then sets the clip on the table between them. Caleb’s just finished cleaning himself up when his phone chirps.

Nott (green fist emoji): sup

Caleb grins at his phone. “I am going to take a picture and send it to Nott,” he says, and stands up to take a top-down photo of the items spread out on the table. Molly starts to lean back, getting his folded arms out of the shot. “No, it is okay, you are part of the...” Caleb blushes and Molly laughs, leaning in further and crossing his eyes at the camera lens. Caleb takes the picture.

“We should take a selfie later,” Molly is saying, as Caleb clicks through the options to send the attachment to Nott. “My Facebook profile picture is super old.” He stops when Caleb freezes. “Friends take selfies together here, guy friends, it’s-”

“I cannot go on Facebook,” Caleb says too quickly. “I mean, I can. I can look at it but I cannot, no pictures.”

Molly blinks. “Even if I don’t tag you?”

Caleb shakes his head quickly. “I’m sorry, it’s, it’s complicated.”

“How would your parents even know? I’m not trying to be an asshole, I just...” Molly gestures with the remains of his sandwich. “You filled out that form to not be in the yearbook, and it’s like, there are parts of it I don’t get, I guess.”

“Those two things are not about my parents, exactly.” Caleb looks down at his sub, sitting up a little straighter and making himself finish it before he says anything else that’s going to send him into stomach cramps. He’s almost done when he realizes Molly hasn’t said anything, is waiting on him, aware that there’s more. “I cannot have my face show up on the internet. Neither can my parents. We came to America because we could not hide well in Germany.”

Molly’s voice gets quiet. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Caleb crumples up his tinfoil very carefully, turning the corners inward and then the corners made by that, over and over. “It is not, we are not terrorists or something. The German government is not mad at us.”

Molly doesn’t say anything.

“It is hard to explain and I have not told anyone yet. I do not want people to know. I had to... there is a queue you must wait in, they decide if you can m-move to the U.S. and we had to go quickly so, so I made up, I.” Caleb takes in a shuddering breath and realizes he’s trembling a little. He tries to complete the sentence, but his mouth opens and nothing comes out. The table shifts a little as Molly gets up, and Caleb looks up and sees Molly rushing around the side to scoot in next to him, grabbing his hand on the table and squeezing it.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

“I do not know,” Caleb says, and laughs a little desperately. “I am sorry... this... it is all very...”

Molly shakes his head several times, then tilts his head so his left horn is resting gently against Caleb’s right temple. “Um. I can’t remember anything from before I was fourteen.”

Caleb inhales slowly. “A... again, please?”

“I can’t remember anything from my life from before I was fourteen. I only remember things from age fourteen to now.” Molly’s face isn’t visible to Caleb right now, but he sounds like he’s smiling and also like he’s kind of hurt. “Does that help? I’m not trying to one-up you, I’m just. Trying to make sure you don’t feel weird.”

That certainly wasn’t what Caleb was expecting to hear. “You... hit your head? Something hit your head?”

“No.” Molly’s thumb strokes over his fingers in slow, gentle sweeps. “They did a bunch of scans because that’s what everyone figured, but there was no, you know, internal swelling, or skull damage, or any brain damage...”

“Are you sick?” Caleb sounds about as scared as he feels.

“No, there’s no reason to think so.” Molly pulls back and frowns at Caleb’s expression “I think I scared you worse. Shit.” He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I kind of panicked.”

“But that is real, what you said.”

“Yeah, it’s really real. I don’t remember anything. They think it might be psychological but that’s, like, impossible to rule out, so it’s always on the table? If that makes sense?”

Caleb tries to reach into his mind, searching for what he knows about memories and brains and... “Trauma, sometimes it gets locked up and you cannot ... think of it?”

“Yeah.” Molly shrugs. “Like, to be fair, I was in a city famous for runaways and gay homeless kids who got one-way tickets from their families, so if something awful happened to me, I was in good company.”

“I’m sorry, one-way tickets, I do not understand.”

“Like, if your shitty family finds out you’re gay, they give you a one-way ticket to a big city and tell you to never come back...” Molly nods at Caleb’s disgusted expression. “Yeah.”

“That is awful.” Caleb tries to imagine this. “My parents would never...”

“Yeah, mine maybe did.” Molly shrugs. “Or maybe they were great and died! Or, I don’t know.”

“What,” Caleb tries to digest this. “What is your first memory?”

“Like, a haze of a few days where I was lost and trying to find a familiar street, and then I gave up on that and begged, but that wasn’t getting me much money...” Molly peeks up, maybe gauging Caleb’s reaction so far. “Some, um, some working girls found me... wandering around lost, so they sort of adopted me.”

“--what?”

“They were like, ‘You’re a kid! It’s not safe out here!’ They yelled at me and told me I was a fucking idiot and I could get hurt and... and they took me to a Waffle House and bought me like all the food I could eat.” Molly sniffs. Caleb watches his face, the sad sort of calmness of it. “I stayed on one of their couches for a few weeks. I hung out with them a lot and one day they got busted and, um, and the cops thought I was, you know...”

“...also working?”

“Yeah.” Molly laughs. “I busked, sure. Other than that I was in their apartment. One of them had been making me watch educational tv to make up for the fact that I wasn’t going to school. Like... yeah.”

“Did you get arrested?”

“At first? Sort of? They couldn’t process me because I didn’t have any ID or anything, and the cops, um, were mostly human, it was one of the tiefling girls that finally convinced them I was a young kid, and they did some blood test and were like, ‘oh, shit, you’re a minor’, and then my case changed departments like seven times... finally most of the girls got out by giving up dealers’ names and I went into the foster system.”

Caleb frowns. “So your name is...”

“Made up.” Molly shrugs. “The girls called me ‘Empty Stomach’, and then just ‘Empty’, and that sort of sounded like ‘M.T.’, and so by the time the sting happened I was M.T. It’s sort of dumb.”

“It is not dumb.” Caleb turns his hand awkwardly under Molly’s, wrapping his fingers around Molly’s hand and squeezing it. “I like it a lot.”

Molly snorts and ducks his head a little further. Caleb doubles down, switching his left hand to hold Molly’s so he can reach out with his right hand, initiating a hug across the other boy’s shoulders.

“Do you ever remember more pieces? Or is it just... not there?”

“Just not there.” Molly pulls his hand free, standing up - but it’s only to pull his food to this side of the table, so he can resume eating without moving away. Caleb smiles. “My memory of things now is pretty normal. There’s just, you know, nothing before a certain time.”

Caleb ruminates over this for a while, taking a drink from his water bottle. “Do other people know?”

“Gustav knows. Yasha knows. Tova knows. Bosun and the twins don’t.”

Caleb nods. “I will not say.”

“It’s not bad, I’m not embarrassed, it’s just... weird.” Molly shrugs. “Like yours, I guess.” When Caleb laughs hollowly, Molly hesitates. “Yours... is bad?”

“Remember the ‘huge mistake?’”

Molly frowns. “That you texted about? It’s that? You did -  what the hell could you have done to make your family have to move?” He pales a little and goes quiet. “Did you kill somebody by accident?”

“What!? No.” Caleb slouches on the bench. “I... my friends, we liked computers, and... we thought we were, you know, big shots.” They were so stupid, Caleb thinks. They were kids. “We had, you know, a computer club at school, we would use proxies and do whatever we wanted... we got dark web browsers and decided we would take down one of the little empires on there. They sold, um, very awful videos. And we tricked them and got some information on some of ... of the people who made the videos, and leaked it to the police. They were busted. Nobody...”

“You were like internet super heroes?”

“No!” Caleb hits the table, making it reverberate. “We were idiots. We could have died. They were criminals and they did not care, and, and, and they, they did not all, they were not all there, they were all in different countries. So some were arrested, the rest were very mad... they traced us, they started calling our houses, watching us on security cameras, they wanted us to pay.”

“Holy shit.”

“We had to tell our parents what we did. Local police could not do anything, these men were in other countries, using spoof phone numbers, hiring...” Caleb buries his face in his arms and shakes.

“Caleb.” Molly’s hand is light between his shoulder blades. Caleb tries to take full breaths, but he can’t, so he just gasps for air as quietly as possible, over and over, until he feels an insistent swatting feeling on his thigh. When he moves his arms to see, it’s Molly’s tail, giving him the gentle little friendly smacks like during their lunches. In spite of himself, Caleb chokes out a brief laugh, and Molly tilts into him and covers his body with his.

“I do, I do not think I make much sense,” Caleb mumbles into Molly’s shirt.

“You tried to stop some shitty people and they tried to get back at you?”

“Yes.”

“And they wouldn’t stop and the cops wouldn’t help?”

“Yes.” Caleb hiccups. “They said they would poison my friend’s family. And burn my house down. They had plans for all three of us.”

Molly holds him tighter.

“I am sorry I am a big mess.” Caleb can feel the perspiration covering his skin getting Molly’s shirt damp. “I think maybe I am not good for dating.”

Molly is still for a moment, then tucks his head in carefully, pressing his lips to a spot on Caleb’s neck. “We’ll just have to keep trying until we’ve both run out of crazy fucking stories.”

[bryanjfc-blog]

bars and burgers || bryan & adonai (pt. 1)

the one where bryan asks addy out for drinks and has a burger before crashing on addy’s couch

when: 30th august 2017

where: bar, diner

warnings: mentions of boys

Bryan chewed at his lip and watched his watch, waiting for the hour to pass by. He was looking forward to spending some time with Addy, even though he had no clue where the night would end up. By the time the hour was done, Bryan had already had three cups of rum and coke. "Hey, hot stuff. Let's go." Bryan didn't say much on the walk to the next bar, which he did prefer compared to where Addy worked. "You're right. That bar you work at is a shithole." He chuckled and took a seat at the bar and ordered two drinks. "So -- how'd you end up working at that bar anyway?"

Addy was already exhausted by this night and was subtly wishing he could just fly back to New York already. He knew this wasn't a good idea and, quite frankly, wished to pull it off like a bandaid. While it was true that he didn't actively hate Bryan anymore, it was also true that he still didn't have the highest opinion of the man, and rather would've like to just avoid the situation entirely. Another case of his classic can't-see-you-can't-see-me tactic. "It's a mess without me," he said, scoffing at the question, "It's down the street from a very busy corner. Busk in the morning, work at noon until nine, busk in the evening, sleep, repeat."

Bryan "No, I mean -- how did you ... end up bartending? I mean, that wasn't your major. What gave you a change of heart?" Bryan put his chin in his hand, resting his elbow on the bar as he watched Addy. "It's just .... surprising, I guess. Didn't seem like something you'd do." Bryan wondered what other surprises Addy had up his sleeve. Getting older really did change some people.

Addy blinked at him. "Mostly get to pick your own hours, at the bar I work at back home, I practically run the joint, and bars are usually near or are the busy place on any given street." He tucked his hair behind his ear and shrugged. "Simple, really, just a matter of where I'm the most likely to be heard." He thanked the woman for the drinks and took a sip, licking his lips after and rubbing a hand over his jaw. "What about you?"

Bryan "I'm a firefighter." That was nowhere close to Bryan's major either. But he couldn't possibly mix singing and wanting to be an artist with a little girl. So he chose her. A normal childhood for her. He didn't regret it one bit. Sure, he didn't really have much time for himself, but Diana was happy and that was all that mattered. "Have been for the last four years. It's ... tiring, but I love it. More than I thought I would, actually." Bryan watched the way Addy licked his lips and glanced away, downing his entire glass before he asked for another. "And Diana boasts me about all the time, so it's a win-win.”

Addy nodded slowly. "Heroic," he noted, a little startled, but nowhere near shocked. It wasn't a shock that Bryan had become basically the poster guy for nobility and valor. Addy had always thought a life of honor and truth suited who he was on the inside. The deep-down Bryan, the real Bryan, the one that Addy had loved all those years ago? He was a hero. He was the firefighter, even back then. So while the risky-business side of that job was startling, the deeper psychology behind it wasn't. He hummed slightly. There was a metaphor hidden inside of that; something that screamed that the Bryan everyone thought he was--a dick, rogue-ish, a playboy, unbothered and entirely too invested--was the fire. Addy could sit here and analyze the meaning behind it all, but he didn't need to. He watched Bryan down his drink and he raised an eyebrow. "Diana. How old is she now?"

Bryan "She's eight." She was in the third grade, a tiny little genius. She was at the top of her class, along side children who were older than she was. Bryan was completely head over heels for her. Bryan took out his wallet and showed Addy a photo of her. "There's my little princess. She's starting to look like Savannah each day but she has my eyes though. Savannah's her mom, though. In case you didn't know that. S'not really involved with Diana, though. I mean, a few years back she was convinced she wanted custody and took me to court but -- it's obvious how that turned out." Bryan closed the wallet and pushed it back into his pockets. He finished his drink again and ordered another.

Addy smiled slightly at the picture of the little girl. He listened to everything Bryan had to say about her, glad she was still the sole love of his life. If anyone deserved that, it was her. "I can't imagine someone trying to take you to court over her. You've been the one raising her, that's a bit ridiculous, no?" He sipped his drink again, resting his elbows on the table. "I don't have much to share, if I'm honest. I don't have any interesting children."

Bryan "Mm, I know, right? Judge probably thought that too. Doesn't really matter though. That's all in the past." Bryan chuckled at what Addy said and took a sip of his drink. "Yeah. Not yet though, anyway. Right? I mean -- do you think you'd want to have children sometime in the near future?" Bryan took a second sip of his drink, a tad bit longer than the first. He didn't want to get too plastered. As much as he would have liked to, considering his week. "Or no?"

Addy shrugged. "Probably, but I don't know." He ran his finger around the rim of his glass. "What the fuck happened to your face, dude?" he asked, looking at Bryan's eye, "I meant to ask earlier, but now it's more pronounced in this light." He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, by the way, I met a friend of yours. Asher, I think he said his name was. Really awesome guy, honestly."

Bryan frowned. When the hell did Addy get this straightforward. Or was he always this straightforward? Bryan didn't want to talk about anyone besides the man who was sitting across from him. He pouted his lips then said, "Someone punched me in the face. I said something, he took it to heart and took a swing at me. And no, I didn't hit him back. Not worth it." Bryan shrugged, finished what was left in his glass and sighed. "Yeah .... he's pretty awesome .." Bryan trailed off, waving the bartender over. "More rum, less coke, yeah?" Bryan shifted in his seat and brought his gaze back to Addy. "What'd he say?"

Addy realized it as it soon as he said it. The second guy in the story. "Mm, his husband, right?" he nodded sagely and shrugged, "He just said you weren't a dick anymore." He smirked at him slightly and took another sip. "Drowning yourself in alcohol, hm? Your liver is screeching at you." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Guess some things never change, huh? That's okay--you're endearing when drunk, if I know you at all. Anyway, yeah, he is awesome. Gave me a contact and everything, it was chill."

Bryan looked at Addy curiously. Didn't he and Asher just meet? They were sharing their life story already? Geez. "Um, yeah. His husband... " Well, that probably meant that Addy know Asher wasn't just Bryan's friend. He wondered just how much he did know now. Bryan let out a loud sigh, hating the way their conversation had been going. "I'm not ... drowning myself in alcohol ... " He rolled his eyes at how easy Addy seemed to read him. Ugh. Damn him. "I'm not ... drunk." Bryan frowned, "And .. what? Gave him your number for what reason?"

Addy almost laughed at how in just a few minutes, he'd put Bryan on the defensive, but he didn't. He hummed softly. "How stupid was whatever you said? I don't care about what it was, but it's almost funny that you got punched. Almost. I'd be an asshole to say it is, but it's almost." He smiled, and for a second, there was a flash of Addy in college hiding in his eyes. Addy had changed. "Sure seems you're working on getting there," he said, "But you do you, dude." He cocked his head to the side at the question. "He apparently knows some people at a studio, so he was nice enough to offer a way in. Nice guy, honestly. I gave him my number because he needs someone to rant to, or something. Which, you know, I enjoy listening to people."

Bryan "I told him .. well I asked him how he felt sleeping in bed alone when his husband was out with his ex boyfriend." Bryan took a sip of his drink. "I'd punch me if I said that to me." Another sip. "I'm not. .... " Pouting, Bryan watched Addy as he brought the cup to his lips and took a longer third sip. "Oh? He needs someone to rant to?" Was this before or after Bryan told him he needed a day away from him. Maybe. But why would Asher need someone to rant to if he had Bryan. Hell, he had Brad. "Oh. Well .... that's good, and yeah. That was your major. Well, Psychology, anyway. Still interested in doing that?"

Addy couldn't hold back the laugh anymore. "Oh my God, you what?" He was incredulous, holding his hand over his mouth to keep it all contained. "I know that's really not funny because you got punched, but, like, from my outside perspective? It's fucking hilarious. I'm so sorry." He said, shaking his head. "Yeah, I think he just needed someone who wasn't involved in his life, you know? Um, you know, I'm more interested in music, but I have certification to do therapy if that bombs horribly." He shrugged again.

Bryan frowned at hearing Addy laugh. It was a pleasant sound though, but still -- he was laughing at Bryan's pain. "Shut up." Bryan stuck his tongue out at the man, emptied his glass and left it on the bar counter. "Well, that makes sense. I mean, it's nice to have an outside ear and an outside voice. It's good for you." Sighing, Bryan wet his lips before he continued, "You could talk to Naomi, she's into the music thing. She works with a record label, I think."

Addy grinned at him. "C'mon. It's a little funny." He smirked at the placement of the glass and nodded. "Means I don't have to talk about shit," he said, pulling his hair back into a low ponytail. "No idea who the hell that is, but I'm sure she's real nice." It was deep sarcasm.

Bryan watched Addy pull his hair back and he had no idea that something as simple and as subconscious as that could seem so enticing. It was the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol. "I mean, maybe funny to you but .... whatever. It's happened. I'm over it. Completely over it." Bryan shook his head and avoided any further drinks for the rest of the time he and Addy spoke at the bar. He wasn't sure for how long though, and Bryan suddenly didn't know what to say or what to do. "So um," Bryan stood up from the bar stool, a bit wobbly as he tried to stand up still, "shit -- that fucking rum really knows how to swing your head... " Bryan rubbed at the back of his neck. "Where to, Lillis?"

Addy shook his head. "Doesn't seem like you're over it," he said, scratching his neck. He snorted when Bryan stood. "I told you," he said, "We can go to the park--it's nice at this time." He shrugged, pulling on a stray piece of his hair before tucking it back into the ponytail. "You good, mate? Also, why do you keep calling me by my last name? It's kinda weird, dude."

Bryan "I'm over it." Bryan practically growled the words. Was Addy going to fucking drop it or not? He just wouldn't shut the hell up about it. "You know, you're a .. little .... bitchy tonight, aren't you? Like, you grew two more balls the past five years or something. I've no complaints though. I wouldn't mind seeing 'em either." Bryan rubbed at his neck again, paid the bartender and made his way to the bar's exit. "Sorry, Adonai, my bad. I'll call you whatever you want me to call you. Addy, Adonai .. baby, sweetie ... just tell me. What? The park?" Bryan's eyes narrowed momentarily, "Fine."

Addy nodded slowly and walked out with him. "Mm, sounds like drunk Bryan has joined the party. You wanna get a burger?" he asked, already heading in the direction of such. He scratched his eyebrow and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I actually have twelve balls now, as a matter of fact, and I'm sure you would, I'm a scientific miracle." He chuckled softly at his own words and kept nodding as Bryan rambled. "Yep, you can technically do what you want." He was smiling to himself, trying very hard not to laugh at this clear display of intoxication.

Bryan scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Fuck me, Addy. Come on, make up your mind. Are we getting a burger or are we going to the park? Don't toy with me, mister." Bryan pointed his fingers at the man and scoffed. "I want a burger though, so we should go get that." Bryan wasn't sure how long they walked for, but he was grateful to be sitting in the booth when he got there. The waitress came over and they made their orders, and Bryan groaned as he rested his forehead on his arm on the table. "Geez, good thing I didn't have anymore to drink. Ugh ---"

Addy shook his head. "Now is a good time for I told you so, I think," he said, patting Bryan's head lightly. "Poor Bryan, gonna have a hangover tomorrow probably." He laughed softly, watching eagerly as his chicken salad was brought to him. He started eating immediately, forgetting about how hungry was. "This is damn good, though," he noticed, nodding in appreciation.

Bryan "Fuck off, Addy." Bryan pouted, grateful when the food finally came to their table. He ate in happy silence, save for when he stuck his tongue out at Addy and asked him when he'd pulled his hair up. Bryan washed his burger down with water and groaned when he stood up again. "Fuck, I can't go back to the apartment like this." Bryan rubbed at his eyes. "Can I crash on your couch tonight? Please, please. I'll be out of there before you wake up in the morning."

Addy raised an eyebrow and kept ignoring, mostly ignoring the other man. He paid, thanking the waitress as he started for the door. "Sure," he said, shrugging slightly, "Although, it might be the shittiest couch you'll ever experience." He smirked as he walked out of the little diner, heading down the street towards his apartment complex, fishing his keys out of his back pocket. "Also, the air is broken, so I've got fans going, if that shit bothers you."

[lostandfoundstories]

Loss

I wake up and begin groggily sitting my body up. Nothing is as it seems. I was supposed to be dead. All of the online forums I had read said an entire bottle of oxy should kill you. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to die. I know there’s life out there. Hell, I lived a good ten years before everything went to shit. I just knew that I couldn’t keep living like this. I even mixed the oxy with liquor to help me feel more relaxed. Why does God hate me? Maybe it’s not my time to go. Regardless, I sit up and begin analyzing my surroundings, or at least as best as I can. Everything seems too perfect. Everything is perfectly neat and tidy: my bed is made, my desk is organized, the oxy I took are nowhere in sight, the walls are painted white, and all of my clothes are hung up. What the fuck is this? Am I in a dream? Not even a second after thinking that, my door opens, and a man I’ve seen from somewhere before enters. It seems like deja-vu until it finally comes to me. He’s my biological dad.

...

I was incredibly close with my biological dad. He was before the drugs and thoughts of suicide. He was the dad every mom wanted, and what every dad aspired to be. He tucked me into bed every night, asked me how my day was, dropped me off and picked me up from school every day, packed my school lunch, and took care of me in ways I would never know again. He made sure I was never alone. I would’ve done anything for him, and he would’ve done anything for me. He was both a single and working dad with a kid, yet he never showed it. He was my rock and all that I needed in life. I never knew my mom, nor had I felt a need to know her. My dad did everything. If he was stressed, looking for another wife, or felt bad about anything, he never told me nor showed it. He wanted me to be my best and never surround me in negativity.

I was ten years old, and it was the last day of 5th grade, June 10th, when a police officer showed up to my school and began approaching me. He assured me that I wasn’t in trouble, and he told me to get into his car. Being an unassuming ten-year-old, I obliged. He even let me sit in front. After we were privately in his car, he told me that my father had been on his way to surprise me and pick me up from school early. To celebrate the last day of elementary school, he wanted to take me to the arcade and the Mexican sit-down restaurant that was my favorite. They found this out from reviewing texts he sent to his colleagues and friends. However, when he was on the highway, a car sped incredibly too fast from an entrance ramp. My dad had no time to yield or speed up. The speeding car, before anyone knew what was happening, smashed into his door which sent him skidding across the 4-lane highway where multiple cars hit him. He finally skidded to a smashing halt at the guard rail. When passing cars could safely stop and get out, they immediately went to his car and reported he wasn’t moving or breathing. He had no pulse. 

“He looked like a zombie,” I would later hear from a passerby in an interview on the news. Police and paramedics were called, and he was officially pronounced dead on-scene. The initial driver that hit him was also dead on-scene. Police never determined why he was speeding. 

“I know this is hard to take in,” the police officer assured me. Initially, I don’t even remember crying; I was just in shock. I had no emotion. The police officer put his arm on my shoulder like he’s a brother who just said he’d take me out for ice cream. I shoved it away, and that was when the crying began. I wailed and wailed while the police officer just sat there awkwardly. After around 10 minutes of crying, I began to lighten up; just small tears were slowly falling now. I had nothing left. 

“Now what?” I asked.

“I can take you to his body to say goodbye if you want,” The officer said. There was a small pause. “Only if you want,” he added.

“Please.” 

The officer took me to the morgue, and as soon as told me the room where my father is being kept, I broke free from his loose grip and bolted there. When I first saw him, I didn’t believe it. The police officer caught up with me and entered the room. The room was very sterile and bleak. The light was dim, everything was white, and I felt out of place with my bright red sweatshirt and backpack. The coroner uncovered more of his body. He showed his feet and arms. Ignoring the coroner’s warnings about contamination, I held his hand and laid my head on his chest, breathing in my last smell of him---the smell of the shampoo he always bought at the dollar store mixed with gravel and my tears. What felt like hours pass, and I finally sat my head up. 

I told the officer, “I’m ready.” He nodded, and we left while the coroner in the background talked about never doing what I did again.

Back in the car, he began explaining and thinking out loud about where I’ll stay: “Family services and my fellow officers have been wondering where you’ll stay until you’re 18. I know your mother didn’t live with you, but do you know if she’s alive?” 

“My dad never said otherwise. However, I’ve never talked to her in my life.” I respond.

“We’ll start there. How about I get you ice cream and take you to the station where you can meet her.” 

“That’s fine.”

...

My dad just began crying. Fifteen years had passed. I was now twenty-five, and he would have been fifty. However, he didn’t look any different than when I had last seen him. I couldn’t believe it. “Who the fuck are you?” I asked.

He replied in the tone as if it were obvious: “I’m your dad?” 

“Like hell you are! My dad died 15 years ago. What kind of sick joke is this,” I said. “I must be hallucinating.”

“I know Ollie,” he responded. 

“What? How do you know my name?” My name is Oliver, but my dad and only him called me Ollie. 

“I told you.”

“The oxy and liquor must be mixing in weird ways. I must just be imagining you. Get me out of this.”

...

I would spend the night at the police station. They left an officer to chat with me if I wanted, and they made it clear I wasn’t in trouble and could leave my cell if I wanted to. The following morning was when my mom and her husband arrived. I saw from the paperwork that their names were Juno and Jacob. They surprisingly lived pretty close; they lived just 5 hours east of Eugene. The only odd thing was the fact that they weren’t happy, surprised, or have any emotion towards seeing me. It was as if I was a stranger on the street, and they were only fulfilling their lawful duty to take me in. They took me to their home, dropped me off, and then immediately left without telling me where. I was ravenously hungry and went looking for something to eat. To my surprise, there was nothing to eat. Literally nothing. The cupboards only had a small bit of flour leftover from God-knows-when. Something I would grow accustomed to. 

The house was maybe 800 square ft. at most. It was in a trailer park full of drab brown dusty trailers and cars in the middle of nowhere. Dishes were scattered; stains were everywhere; clothes and books were opened on the floor; the overhead lights were burnt out; and the windows were partly cracked so when a strong wind blew, there would be a high-pitched whistling. It was worst at night. Being a ten-year-old used to a neat and warm room every night, I thought ghosts were haunting my room. I later learned I should fear the known more than the unknown. 

My mom and Jacob, I refuse to call him step-dad, were never home except when smoking, drinking, having sex, or doing drugs. I would rely on school food to eat. I wouldn’t graduate because of the $2,000 in my lunch account that racked up over the remaining eight years of school---I think the lunch workers only fed me because they assumed it was my only meal. They saw how I scarfed down what they gave me, and they listened as I asked for seconds.

A few days after the accident, someone knocked on the door. It was the same police officer who showed up to my elementary school. He had all of my minor possessions including my violin, books, and journals. He said that there would be a moving truck later today with my bed, desk, shelves, and armoire. I thanked him and he left. Just like he said, a few hours later arrived the small moving truck. The man driving the truck knocked on the door. I answered and he asked, “Where are your parents?”

“Out,” I responded.

“Well then, I just need you to sign here.” I signed his digital pad he held out for me.

“Thanks, and could you give me a hand?”

I’m sure he had other stops to get to and things to do. He’d probably be reprimanded later, but I think he saw the pity in my eyes.

“Sure.” While we were moving my things inside, my parents showed up. Jacob came out of the car first and yelled over the racket of heavy things being moved: 

“What the fuck is going on?!”

“We’re moving my things!” I yelled back. Jacob eyed the moving guy, realizing he couldn’t slap me in front of him.

“Fine,” he simply responded. I realized that was how life would be for the next 8 years. No one giving a shit about me unless I got in their way by existing. 

At eighteen, they kicked me out, and I left with what little I had and nowhere to go. For the last seven years since then, I’ve been couch-surfing and homeless. 

The last stranger to let me in had some oxy for an injury she sustained while skiing. She also had liquor for a reading group she’d host once a week. I definitely knew of liquor, but oxy was new to me. I’m not into drugs. The thing that got me through everything was busking with my violin, a pair of headphones, and an Ipod full of music I bought for $20 at a thrift store. However, when drugs were offered or sitting out, who was I to refuse? The last thing I searched was a Reddit thread on the effects of different drugs and pharmaceuticals.

...

My dad, or whoever the fuck this is, seemed to understand this without me saying it. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I never told you about your mother because I was trying to protect you from that,” he said.

“Yeah, I understand that now.” In my anger, I couldn’t contain myself. “Why did you have to die! Why did you have to go onto that fucking highway and leave me! Why are you here now!”

“I understand-” he responded, but I cut him off:

“No, you don’t fucking understand! I had to live in hell for the last 15 years of my life! God, why is this happening? Why am I dreaming this.” I begin smashing my head on anything to wake myself up. For some reason, I feel no pain. “Please wake up, please wake up, please wake up, please wake up!” I begin muttering to myself like a crazy person. My dad just flinches and watches in agony.

Eventually, he just says it as if it makes total sense: “Ollie, you did die! You are dead! This is the afterlife!” This just makes me angrier. I lunge to go and punch him. However, when I punch him, the part of his body that’s hit just evaporates for a second and reforms. He doesn’t feel it either. 

“What- what is this?” I stutter. 

“I’m telling the truth.” He responds. He’s stopped crying finally and sounds clear like he always did when I grew up with him in my first ten years.

“No- it can’t be. God isn’t real. He wouldn’t have taken you away from me” I say.

“Well, he is. He’s not what you think though. He isn’t a single person or being. He’s everything. He’s the cycle of the universe. He IS the universe. I thought just like you when I arrived here after the crash. I just screamed and screamed: Where is my son! Why am I here! Wake me up! Please!” He says. “I was alone in the arcade where I always took you to the movies. The only thing that kept me from going insane during those hours was the thought that I would get to see you again. My dad---your grandpa---finally showed up as a form of ‘God’. He gave me a choice because everything in life is a choice. When stars dissipate they can either become floating gasses that contribute nothing more, or they can form new stars. All of life has the choice to reproduce or not reproduce. The two choices were: I wake up and survive from the crash, but I wouldn’t have any memory of you or anything besides basic functions like language, movement, and math. Or I stay here and I see you from afar. I chose to stay because you were my only purpose in life. If I couldn’t remember you, why would I want to be alive?”

“Bull fucking shit.”

“Believe me or don’t. But I need to tell you why I’m here. ‘God’ has a similar proposition for you. He told me to deliver the news to you because I was the only one who you would believe and if he chose my form for themself, you’d see right through it. As we both see, you’re still suspicious. Doesn’t matter. The proposition is that you can wake up and survive from this drug overdose. Paramedics are currently trying to revive you. If you choose to survive, you won’t have any memory of this encounter with me or the afterlife. You will continue with the life you are living. The second choice is that you will die and reincarnate. You don’t come to the afterlife or see me. Instead, you are reborn into another life as a baby with no memories of the life you’ve led with me or your mom and step-dad. I’m only here because ‘God’ said I’ve fulfilled my purpose. That’s the only way you enter the afterlife and become a part of everything. ”

“I- I don’t know what to say or decide. This is all too much. God I’m never taking oxy again.”

“Choose the second option. Please. It’s time for you to put these last fifteen years behind you. Maybe your purpose will be done after the next life. I’ll forever have the ten years we had together. The ten years that made my previous twenty-five years worth it. You were the reason I stayed living. I’m so glad I continued.  You deserve to live those ten years again and more with someone else. I’ll still watch over you. Consider me your guardian angel.”

We’re both crying at this point. This is when I notice something. I look out of my window, and it’s a bird’s point of view of events in real-time. The bird is on the dead tree that stands outside of the stranger’s house. She seems to have come home from her job and called paramedics. I’m looking at paramedics still trying to revive me. They’re losing hope though as time goes on. My dad notices too and reminds me: “You don’t have much time left. If you don’t make a choice, you’re returned as energy with nothing. You simply become an infinitesimally small part of the meaningless energy of the universe. You may become a star or a moon or a planet if you’re lucky.”

I close my eyes, say goodbye to my dad, and silently think of my choice. The next time I open my eyes, I’m in a hospital room. I feel slimy, and the fluorescent overhead lights strain my newborn eyes. I have no reason to cry, but I find myself instinctively crying. There are about 3 nurses surrounding me. I hear one yell out: “It’s a boy!”

“That’s what we wanted!” I hear another unknown man to the side of the room say. He looks a lot like my dad. As I begin thinking of my dad, his image fades. This is what I deserve. In a few seconds, I don’t even remember what he looks like. This makes me cry even harder. Slowly I begin understanding less and less. The nurses wrap me up, and as they’re wrapping me up, I can’t remember what they’re called. Was it doctors? No. Maybe sisters? Once my new mother holds me, I’ve lost all words.