#THE DUDE WHO PLAYED THE SHOP OWNER IN THE SHOW I WORKED ON IS GONNA BE JUDAS IN JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR

[milo-is-rambling]

Wish u were all local to me so I could talk about my local theater people by name and you would know who I’m talking about

[kiwibirdlafayette]

"what, or who exists in the darkness of the cave below the iron mine?"

little theory post/story behind this paintin i did! If ya haven't seen it yet feel free to look first and drop a cheeky rb i'd a appreciate it a ton <3

I'm convinced mumbo is doing a Lore (tm) with his magic mountain row and I'm also a really big fan of the planets/realms that make up the seasons having a pre-existing history to them (along the same lines as like Doc uncovering the prophecies in mural form in the Perimeter last season)

It kinda starts with Big Ron. I'm a really big enjoyer of the fan theory that Big Ron owns the predecessor/perhaps original Grumbot (that features in the promo for the merch store) The guy Mumbo plays in that ad spot to me isn't cMumbo himself, but is Ron, someone's who's lived on the mountain prior to the arrival of the hermits in-universe. I'm gonna come back to this

Then there's the lab. The poster Mumbo designed and showed at around 5:00 in this video was another sort of thing that spurred the idea around Jimmy, specifically the parts about human trials, preservation and the bit at the end about "soon we will be living forever." The emphasis he puts on the build about the lab spilling toxic waste onto the farmland below already tells me that these dudes are into some shady business practice, like vibes alone. I doubt they're following any sort of scientific moral code.

Then Jimmy. I'm still sort of waffling about on how he exists in the history of this universe but ultimately, him and Lizzie were both already here, maybe deities, maybe just well respected people (side note: I have a concept about Lizzie being goddess who raised Magic Mountain from the sea, hence why she's revered in the city where Joel lives but that's a whole nother post I'm not near knowledgeable enough to elaborate on just yet). Seablings? Seablings. Most important part is that Jimmy lived on Magic Mountain Row or somewhere on/in the mountain, canary already somewhat apart of him

Back to Big Ron. Like, for a guy who- focuses so much on outdated tech I find it super interesting that he has artificial intelligence, which. ok either he worked for the lab or invented proto-grumbot himself, and maybe shared that tech with the lab people. (next side note: I've seen the namemc spoilers from this morning I'm gonna assume that's lab guy Mumbo has made a skin for but for the sake of its not existent in videos yet I won't be commenting on it ok i digress back to Jimmy)

Let's say the these shady scientists are at a standstill in their process. They've got the archival tech down, but this immortality thing is hard to crack. So what do they turn to? Probably the magical being living in the town. Under the cover of night, the canary is captured. He's forced into some test tubes, feathers plucked, experimented on for who knows how long and they break him. But they get closer, and the end justifies the means. There could be others as well, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if others get looped into the mix

And then, at some point the authorities find out and these experiments are condemned. The Lab is condemned and the scientists are ordered to release the test subjects, and most of them are, but not Jimmy. He's too important. They need him kept somewhere safe to come back to. Working with Ron, and proto-Grumbot, they trap him inside a soul lantern, and in a "say anything and you're dead" kind of deal with the Boulder Bros (maybe the owners of the iron and gold mines) Jimmy's immortal soul is bound to be stuck forever in the iron mine, silenced from singing for his sister's help.

Years later, cMumbo arrives. I like playin around with the idea of it being like a Stardew-esque thing where Mumbo is either returning to a town and Ron is related to him somehow, and while living at that little house at the top, is working for Ron and running errands for the other shops, including stocking the iron shops at the mines that the shopping district developed around. But Ron gives him one clear instruction- stay in the light. Don't go past the stationary minecart at the edge of the darkness.

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

Mumbo for all that he is, heeds Ron's warning for the longest time. But like anyone curiosity starts to get the better of him. He can never tell if he's hearing things, but once in a while between the sounds of conveyor belts, and iron drills he starts to hear whispering. A faint whistle coming from the darkness beckoning him closer, to peek into what lies beyond. Talking to Jill and Bob at the oddities shop, he's able to sneak and convince a little story out of them, and after some hesitation sell him a magic soul torch, with the warning not to let anyone else see it.

On a restock run, he takes it with him secretly. And once his job is done, he makes his way deeper into the mine until he happens upon a soul lantern- a slight blue glow coming from within- sitting on a stone pedestal. Everything is telling him to turn back, that this is an awful idea. But, stupid ideas have always been his thing, and he opens the lantern, and lights it with the torch from Jill.

Pants.

The fire inside spurs to life in a roar, and he panics, dropping the soul torch at his feet, still burning a bright cyan. As he turns to run out, the canary song he hears bits of rings with a power he's never heard before and a flurry of yellow feathers fills the cavern. He makes it back into the light, frantically picking up the shulkers and stumbles into the mine elevator. He slams at the buttons as the bird calls reverb and howls through the mine, now more desperate than ever to get out. No amount of force on the carriage work, as every component of the mine machinery has hissed to a halt, acting as if possessed by something that doesn't want him to escape.

Something that needs him to understand what he's just released.

As he begins to falter dropping his head to his chest, the canary song fades into the already eerie silence, and soon all Mumbo can hear is the weight of his breathing, and the sound of his heart pounding through his ribcage. Biting at his thoughts, he shakily uses his free hand to shuffle himself back around to face the mine entrance.

The door of the lantern at the front creaks open, releasing a small bit of smoke out towards the minecart. From the darkness, a wisp of blue smoke pierces through the veil to meet the other trail of smoke. Mumbo sees a faint golden glow appear, only to realize its wings. As they come more into view, Mumbo's redstone stained eyes are met by deep brown ones that reflect the gold of their wings as a face appears in the shadows, followed by the rest of them, dressed in tattered and coal dust stained clothes. He holds out the soul lantern in his calloused right hand. The fear in the person's eyes look him down almost as if he recognizes him.

Mumbo doesn't dare speak.

And neither does the canary.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

[solarwonux]

24H || Seuncheol 

mechanic!seungcheol x reader

soulmate!au

w.c: 6.5k

warnings: talks of death, angst, self doubt

note: hello everyone I am not completely back yet, I am still on hiatus. I have been writing this one shot since the release of 24H. I have rewritten it many many many times and have a abandoned it many times as well. Anyway, this is the finished product and I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts. And thank you @sunlightwoo​ for literally witnessing it all lol.

Also maybe one day I’ll post the original draft of this one if anyone is interested. 

P.S. this is a part of a soulmate universe in which all the members are going to have a story, but that’s gonna take a little while lol, but I hope you all stick around until them

masterlist

Hour 1 - 17:00

Seungcheol threw the wrench on the pile of tools next to him before rolling himself out from underneath the car he was working on. “I don’t see the point in it, Shua.” He sat up, grabbing the towel he had next to him, and tried his best to wipe the black smudges of his fingers. “I’m already a disappointment to my parents, why not add one more to their list?” He shrugged, eyeing his best friend who had decided to come and visit him at the car shop he worked at. 

“I think Shua has a point; you can’t brush this off. You don’t want to end up forgotten in a ditch somewhere.” Jeonghan said, pointedly resting his forearms on top of the hood of the car he had been working on. 

“I’m not going to end up in a ditch and forgotten. The higher-ups--” Seungcheol stuck a pointer finger out and pointed at the cement ceiling, “are just going to set me up with someone.” He stood up and brushed off his whitewashed jeans, the only ones he seemed to wear as they had various oil stains etched into the creases of the fabric. In actuality, he had many of the same pair, and each of them had their own unique patterns of different oil stains. 

“But wouldn’t it be better if you married your soulmate, your other half, your partner in crime, the person the Stars destined you to be with,” Joshua spoke in rushed sentences as he ran a frustrated hand through his jet black hair. His wedding ring shining in the light of the sun, glowing in all its glory. A reminder that he had chosen the path that he and Jeonghan were trying to get Seungcheol to take. 

Sometimes curiosity would seep in s when he saw how happy his best friends were with their soulmates, or when the ticking of the clock scarred into the skin of his wrist, and got too loud to ignore. Seungcheol knew he didn’t belong on that path. He was never one to follow the crowd, and the proof was in his parent’s disappointment when he decided to study music instead of medicine. 

“Nope.” He stood up and closed the hood of the car. He could feel their glares burning holes into his scalp as he strode over and opened the driver’s door. “I’m a firm believer that soulmates are made not found.” Seungcheol grinned before getting behind the wheel and inserting the keys into the ignition. He had spent all morning working on a minor problem in the engine; he was hoping that after many failed attempts, he would finally be able to get the car to start again. 

With a deep sigh, he turned the key listening as the engine sputtered a few times. The hope and confidence he had gained diminishing with each hiccup until, finally, the car roared back to life. A sigh of relief leaving his chapped lips along with a light laugh. He rested his forearms against the old battered steering wheel, peering through the windshield, catching Joshua’s nod of disapproval. He turned on his heels and walked out of the large garage door of the shop.

Seungcheol knew his friend’s meant well, and he knew they didn’t want him to end up unhappy with someone that wasn’t his other half. But how was he supposed to be sure that happiness was a given? When at the end of the day, everyone’s given soulmate was chosen at birth by a group of old white dudes calling themselves Stars.

Hour 2 - 18:00

“What are you going to do then?” Jeonghan closed the hood of the car and dusted his hands. His blonde hair grasped the light of the afternoon sun. Seungcheol placed down the paper bag that contained his and Jeonghan’s lunch on top of the aluminum table they kept in the far corner of the shop.  “I don’t know...eat lunch.” He stated, shrugging and started taking the contents out of the paper bag. “Shua leave?” 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the hood of the car. He strode over to where Seungcheol was and took the burrito he had held out to him. “Said he doesn’t want to stay and watch you ruin his life.”

“I’m not ruining my life,” Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head and sat on top of the table, unwrapping his burrito. “I’m choosing the road not taken.” He finished before taking a decent bite out of his burrito. 

“That’s ruining your life in my book.” Jeonghan gave him a pointed look and unwrapped the foil of his burrito, cursing when he noticed some its contents start to fall out of its confinement. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious about how they look?” He dug inside the paper bag and took out a napkin to clean off the salsa stain of his grey graphic tee. Jeonghan rarely dressed down, unless he was working. Though, sometimes he’d show up in outfits Seungcheol always deemed to clean for the oil splatters he would obtain throughout the day. 

“If looks were the all end tell-all, you’d be an actor instead of the owner of your father’s car shop.” 

“Are you calling me sexy, Choi Seungcheol?” Jeonghan gasped, making the other boy scoff in annoyance. Seungcheol took another bite of his burrito, the salsa running down the stubble of his chin and sighed. “Cause may I remind you I am happily married.” Jeonghan jokes, raising his hand, wiggling his ring finger. 

Seungcheol squinted as the ring got caught in the crossfire between the heat and summer sun. The churning at the pit of his stomach started up again, along with the little voice annoying voice that lived in the back of his head. The red block of numbers on the inside of his wrist laughing at him as he tried his best to push the thought to the back of his head. Like he had done his entire life.

“Sure...but that would just be an excuse, and it wouldn’t be fair towards the other person.” He shrugged, finally cleaning his chin the rest of his mouth. He crumpled up the foil in his hands before throwing the ball he had formed into the paper bag. “It wouldn’t matter soon anyway; I don’t have much time left.” He jumped off the table and made his way to shelves where they kept most of the tools along with small spare car parts they might need some time in the future.

“How much time do you have left?” Jeonghan asked a little too exasperatedly than he would’ve liked, but Seungcheol had managed to catch his tone, and it was starting to make him feel uneasy. He closed a drawer he had mindlessly opened and dropped his head. Seungcheol hated looking at his timer because it never brought a good reaction out of him. He hated the way the anxiety would filter in through his veins as he let his mind wander to the what-ifs. 

For as long as he could remember, he only allowed himself to stare at the number scar before bed but never enough to dwell on it. Last night he had twenty-four hours left; now he was positive the timer had reached the single-digit zone, and to be frank, he was afraid. He didn’t want to feel the pressure against his chest and the shortness of his breath. He didn’t want to feel the shaking in his hands and sweat that formed against his brow bone. Seungcheol had already chosen, but he knew that the second he glanced over at the timer, his doubt would start to run free. And he hated that feeling more than anything, but he also hated Jeonghan’s burning gaze staring him down as if he were doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. So he caved. 

He turned his wrist and pushed the bracelets he used to hide his soulmate mark with his other hand. His breath caught itself in the back of his throat, his lungs closing in like two crushing walls as he saw the numbers ticking down. For a split second, he wondered if he had chosen the right path if his parent’s and his friends had been right all along. But he had been so sure just like he was confident that his name was Choi Seungcheol, that he had chosen right, so why was he letting his thoughts take over. 

Maybe it was the teachings of the Stars he grew up reading at home and at school, or the guilt has finally started to consume him. Whatever it was, he decided to push it aside, bury it deep inside the archives of his mind. He had chosen right, and he wasn’t going to let any false pretenses change his mind.

“Five hours.” 

Hour 3 - 19:00

Seungcheol moved the straw of his bubble, creating soft caramel tidal waves in the cup. He had already picked out all the tapioca pearls leaving him to deal with the unpleasant honeydew tea he had ordered. The soft melodies of an old pop song played in the background, drowning out the flirting going on between the lovers in front of him. He kept his eyes trained on his cup; it had started to accumulate the condensation that came with the humidity of the summertime. His index finger traced over the water droplets that had fallen onto the table, creating a small picture of nothing. 

Jeonghan had dragged him to their usual boba shop after closing up the shop for the night. He had given Joshua a frantic phone call, claiming it was a 911 type of emergency. Seungcheol wasn’t sure how they weren’t tired at having the same conversation, and why they couldn’t let him live with the consequences in peace? If he ended up unhappy, that was his problem, and he would eventually deal with it, but he couldn’t stand the way everyone around him always seemed to have an opinion on how he should live his life. 

It had started the day he was born, scarred with a mark against his own will. It carried out onto his childhood, his parents and teachers telling him how to sit, how to dress, how to speak, and how to breathe. When he left for college the same day his parents decided to disown him, he had finally felt free. He thought for himself, walked for himself and lived for himself. But now his best friend’s the ones he thought he could always count on and he felt knew him better than anyone in the world. Where the ones were trying to guilt-trip him into making a choice, he had made years ago, and frankly, he was getting really tired of it. 

“Are you even listening to us Seungcheol, this is your future you're putting at risk,” Joshua whispered angrily, his grip on his cup grew tight enough his knuckles had started turning white. 

“Why does it matter?” Seungcheol lightly flicked the straw of his drink before pushing it away and crossing his arms. Jeonghan and Joshua both looked at him as if he was growing a third head, annoying him even more. He wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal to them, it wasn’t their life getting ruined. 

“It matters because we don’t want to see you dead.” 

Hour 4 - 20:00

“Are you serious? Do you guys actually believe that kind of stuff?” Seungcheol shook his head and looked out the restaurant window. The sun had finished going down for it’s deep slumber and in return awakened the night life of the city. He took in the people smiling and laughing as they joked and clinged onto one another. He saw limbs start to give out as the alcohol they had previously consumed started to replace their blood. Seungcheol found himself wishing he was one of those people, where the one controlling his body wasn’t the one that gave up on their dreams but instead still held onto that small sliver of hope. It would at least be an escape for a little and most importantly it would be an escape from the painful talk his best friend’s were giving him. 

“Fuck you Seungcheol.” Joshua spat out, quickly he stood up grabbing his coat and shrugged it on. “I’m not going to stay with you and watch the clock count down until you die.” He stuffed his hands in his pocket and took out his wallet before throwing some money onto the table. “Are you coming with me?” He said before facing Jeonghan who was biting his bottom lip in contemplation. Seungcheol saw the gears turn in his head as he thought over his options, his eyes traveling between the furious looking Joshua and himself. 

“Joshua calm down, look there have been some cases in the news lately of mysterious deaths and the only thing they have in common is that their timers went out before they got to meet their soulmate. I don’t know if it's all connected but it can’t just be coincidence Seungcheol.” Jeonghan stated, he tapped his forefinger against the wooden table as Joshua eyed him down waiting impatiently. 

“And what if it is, what if I do find this person and then they turn out to be horrible? You guys got lucky but my life has never been a series of unfortunate events since the beginning of time so who's to say this is any different?” 

“If you keep sitting here and mopping and feeling sorry for yourself, you’ll never find out.” Jeonghan nodded before taking out his wallet and throwing money onto the table. He hated the pity he saw behind his eyes. It only frustrated him because to him it felt like they had given up on him already. That they were planning his funeral without him leaving the world yet. Seungcheol wasn’t entirely convinced that death was at the end of this unfortunate journey, he sadly hoped it was. That way his friend’s would actually have something to pity, but he was alive and healthy (for the most part) so their pity in Seungcheol’s eyes was uncalled for. 

“Then let me find out. Everyone is always telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, I didn’t need you guys to also be one of those people too. You’re supposed to be my friends but here you are nagging me like you’re my parents. If I’m not worthy of hanging with you guys anymore because I’m not married and I have no interest in ever getting married then just leave me alone. I’m better off by myself anyway.” 

Seungcheol knew that as soon as the words left his mouth they had been a mistake, but mistake or not he would never take them back. No matter how the luck of hurt flashing in their handsome features affected him more than it should’ve. These few hours could be the last of his life and instead of living it to his fullest with his closest friends he was pushing them away. Just like he always did whenever he felt too comfortable or afraid. 

“Jeonghan let’s just go, he’s already made up his mind. He’s not going to listen to us.” Joshua sighed, the exhaustion was evident on his face. It was clear he had given up long before the events of tonight. He knew how stubborn Seungcheol was, he knew that once he sets his mind to something there’s no way to turn it back. Seungcheol suspected that’s why he hadn’t tried as hard as Jeonghan to convince him to change his mind. 

“Cheol, just think about it okay. You don’t have to go out and actively look for that person but just keep an open mind and they might just appear right before you. I know you think that we’re trying to do this to change you or to get you to settle down, but we don’t want to turn on the news tomorrow and have your names be part of one of the victims. If you can’t do this for us or yourself at least do it for you mom.” Jeonghan nodded one last time before scooting himself out of the booth. He stood sending a glare to Joshua that wasn’t missed by Seungcheol and somehow it made him feel uneasy inside. He didn’t want to be the one to cause a rift between him and Joshua’s friendship, they had known each other longer than they had known Seungcheol. For half of their life’s Seungcheol was simply an outsider between the threesome. He didn’t know at what moment they became inseparable, but now he wished they hadn’t. 

At least they wouldn’t be involved in the webs of Seungcheol’s complicated life, and they certainly wouldn’t be here showing the utmost care for him when he himself felt like he was unworthy of it. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow” Jeonghan mumbled before dragging Joshua out of the restaurant, mumbling angrily underneath his breath. Seungcheol knew the small comment was Jeonghan’s way of holding onto the little amount of hope he had for his friend. The hope that he would walk into the car shop tomorrow morning and see Seungcheol passed out drunk, his drool stain embedded into the checkered pattern of the old battered couch in the office, because he couldn’t remember how to unlock his front door.

Though, it was a phrase full of hope, it wasn’t a promise, and it felt more like a goodbye to Seungcheol. It made him uneasy and Seungcheol hated feeling uneasy because it only made the ticking sound of the clock tattooed onto his skin louder. 

The front door bell to the restaurant sounded, signaling that someone had walked in or out. He turned to face out the window again and saw Jeonghan and Joshua in a heated argument before Jeonghan kept dragging him away by the ear this time. The scene could’ve been comical to him at some point, but now he just wondered if they were all going to be okay by the time the night ended and morning came again. 

Either way it was clear to him that they had walked out of his life, maybe not for good but they also wouldn’t be the first ones either. 

Hour 5 -21:00

Seungcheol paid the bill and exited the restaurant quietly, his best attempt to remain invisible. It would be a lie if didn’t admit how scared he was after Jeonghan and Joshua left him alone with his thoughts for the first time since he awoke that morning. 

Would his faith really be death?

Or where they using their evil tactics against him to convince him to do the right thing. Needless to say he was scared, more scared than he ever was whenever he thought about falling in love. 

He had once, a long time ago, back when he was still studying music production in college, before he dropped out and took up a job at Mr. Yoon’s carshop. During the three years he was there, all the songs he had composed resembled something about her. Whether it was a phrase she had said or the way the color blue seemed to make her honey doe eyes pop. He was in love, head over heels, ready to give it all up, his friends, his pride, his dream, his life, everything under the sun, for her. He had his bags packed long before she had agreed to run away with him. 

In fact, he almost did, but the morning as he stood underneath the winter sun, waiting at the bus stop with two overprized one way tickets, with his fingers threatening to fall off from the cool. Everything became clear to him, she had abandoned him and their plan. She had given up on him, just like his parents had when he first told him he was going to follow his dream, instead of theirs. 

Seungcheol was angry, it boiled inside of him like an overflowing calderon, and the closer he got to the university and his dorm, the more it spilled over. In a frenzy he had entered his home and destroyed everything he owned. His studio setup, his computer, his many notebooks that were filled with lyrics, because everything had been touched by her and he wanted nothing to do with her anymore. Not after she had lied boldly to his face the night before when they shared the most intimate moment with each other. 

And just like he promised to her underneath the moonlight, he gave it all up, but this time because she had broken him. 

There was a letter she had left for him to find. It didn’t come into his possession after he had stopped attending classes and was living on Jeonghan and Joshua’s couch. The university had called him to pick up his belongings from his dorm after he dropped all his classes on whim one Saturday afternoon. When he did, when he opened the front door of the wretched dorm room, the room that once held so many beautiful memories turned sour. The toe of his shoe was met with a brown paper envelope, his name scribbled neatly on the back. Instantly he knew who it was from. 

Seungcheol had once prided himself in memorizing the way her letters curved with one another. A useless talent he now wished he could forget entirely. With a hesitant he opened it and skimmed through, not wanting to linger long enough on every single one of her words so it would hurt less. 

In the end it did.

It hurt more than her leaving him stranded on the bus stop that morning. It hurt more than finding out that the little things she had strategically left at his place had mysteriously disappeared when he came back home that morning. It hurt more than giving up entirely on a dream so pure that it ended up tainted. It hurt more than dying, or so he assumed because now he finally knew the truth. A truth he had been blinded to the entire three years they spent lost in each other’s thoughts and arms. 

She didn’t love, and she never did. She had a passion that consumed her to the point of greed and when she realized she wasn’t going to achieve her dream with Seungcheol at her side. 

She left and he had given up love for good. 

Which is why Seungcheol was so against the entire soulmate phenomenon. If death was the outcome then so be it, even though the thought of his mom finding him out he was dead scared him to the point it welcomed chills to his body. He was stubborn though, and his father always hated that about him because it reminded him of his younger self. But Seungcheol was never going to give in, no matter how loud the click on his wrist was ticking and how fast he found himself walking.

There was a little bit of hope. It was reserved for special occasions and those had been a rarity in Seungcheol’s life for longer than he liked to admit. But it was still there, buried deep inside, behind his walls and his pride. And it was threatening to burst out into the open, because as much as Seuncheol was scared of falling in love again, this time with a complete stranger, terrified him. The thought of not knowing if his life was really at stake was far scarier. He was gambling with his life line and that was a risk he found himself not willing to take. Though he would never admit to himself and especially not to Jeonghan or Joshua. 

He was in complete denial at least for a slight second. Yet, he had started to walk with fever and hastily. He was desperate, he didn’t know where to start or how to start or if he should even start. He just walked, until his body was running on autopilot. He didn’t know where he was going or where  he was going to end up, but the only thing on his mind was that the timer was blaring inside of his eardrums at an alarming rate, and the hope he kept at bay spilling out of his pores. 

He needed to find his soulmate before it was too late. 

Seungcheol didn’t want to die, he still had a dream to achieve. He will do it, he had promised himself that much. And he wasn’t going to let anyone take it away from again. 

Hour 6 - 22:00

Seungcheol was panting, bending over, with his sweaty palms against his jean clad legs as tried his best to put the air back in his lungs. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been walking, all he could remember was bumping into a few people along the way and mumbling sorry’s underneath his breath when they had sent him glares his way. But he had ended up at the park across the street from his studio apartment, the one he rarely lived in because more often than not. The old raggedy couch at the car shop had been his home for as long as he had worked there. He had bought it last year after saving up enough money, in hopes of it becoming his new beginning, his safe space, where he could jump right back into working on his one goal in life. 

Though, the first night he had spent there, he had hated it. Occasionally he would give it a second chance. He had given it many second chances, but the outcome was always the same. He would stay awake until four in the morning, get frustrated and then end up running laps at the park until sunrise. 

This park had been his sanctuary, the one his apartment couldn’t provide, so it was no surprise his body had carried him here. He felt at home here, the hollowing of the wind chiming and wrapping around him like a blanket of safety. Here, in this park, Seungcheol felt comfortable enough to let his mind race through the thoughts he would keep hidden behind a wall. 

He straightened himself out, running his fingers through his wet sweaty hair and made his way to the park bench by the basketball court, where he would occasionally lay down in the middle and look at the sky, counting the lack of stars in the sky. He knew they were there, but because of the city's light pollution they were invisible to his eye. Those were the only stars he trusted, not the ones that used the Universe’s gifts for their own selfish desires and to control everyone. 

The stars in the night sky, the one’s he used his imagination and intuition to connect with, trusted him. They were the only one’s in his life that believed in him, even when he couldn’t believe in himself, and it made him feel at ease knowing that at least someone out there was rooting for him to win this losing battle.

Seungcheol took a deep sigh and placed his palm over the watch on the inside of his wrist. He had only two hours left, and he would rather not witness the time ticking down. He could hear it, it was drumming loudly against his eardrums, loud enough to the point in which he couldn’t hear the wind and the tree’s surrounding him singing their natural melody. The last thing he needed was to see the visual representation of his last breath nearing him. 

He wanted to fight, but he was tired. If tonight was his last night living a life he had been so cruel to. He would at least take his last breath at the place he felt most at home. 

So, he sat back and closed his eyes tightly. He felt the wind against his cooling skin, the familiar shivers running up his spine. For the first time since he woke up that morning he felt at peace. 

Hour 7 - 23:00

The ringing of his phone startled him. He had only had his eyes closed for about five minutes. Only five minutes of peace before it was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He let out a frustrated sigh and fished out his phone from the pocket of his oil stained light washed jeans. His gaze and heart softened when he realized his mother was the one calling him. Without hesitation he unlocked his phone and placed his phone to his ear.

Silence. He was met with silence, until a choked sob broke it, his heart shattering in the process. “M-Mom, what’s wrong?” Seungcheol sat up. His eyes grew wide. The anxiety running through his body making his leg bounce. 

“Joshua called me. He was freaking out saying that you were making a mistake. What is talking about? You’re not thinking about leaving again?” His mom spoke. Seungcheol could visualize the almost heart attack Joshua had given his mother when he called. He could visualize the color draining from her face as her hands shook while she dialed his number. Seungcheol’s mother was an over thinker and she always thought about the worst possible scenarios. Especially when it came to Seungcheol and his brother. Joshua knew what he was doing when he had called his mother. He knew that his mother was his weakness. Despite the differences they argued about over the years, Seungcheol loved his mother and knowing she was in such distress because of him, scared him more than what he already was. 

“Nothing mom, he’s over exaggerating. Jeonghan, him and I had a small argument earlier but it’s nothing mom. I’m okay.” He spoke into the receiver lying through his teeth. He wasn’t fine, although he was in his sanctuary and at peace. His timer finally reached the fifty-nine minute mark and his heart was racing to the point he was scared it would literally squeeze through the spaces between his ribs and rip through the safety of his skin, onto the concrete pavement beneath his feet. 

“Are you sure? He sounded really scared and worried, what did you guys fight about?” The words came rushing out of her mouth at lighting speed. He knew that question was coming and although he tried scouring through the files in his mind to come up with a concrete answer that would make his mother worry less. He couldn’t. There was no answer he could give her. If she lied she would know, but if he told the truth, his mother would certainly never be able to recover. 

He knew he could prevent her heartbreak. All he had to do was get up and start walking again, let his feet carry him as his intuition and the Universe led him to where he needed to be, but he stayed seated. His hand closing into a fist taking the roughness of his jeans between them, the frustration, fear and anxiety coursing through his veins faster than before. Maybe if he wasn’t such a coward, maybe if he didn’t let his own selfishness consume him to the point it clouded his judgment, he could’ve let himself do what he needed to do. What he wanted to do. 

“It’s not a big deal, Jeonghan asked him to be his best man and I got a little upset. Tomorrow we’ll be fine and laugh about it.” He said letting out the breath he had been holding in. He knew he sounded like he had just ran a few miles rather than sitting down in complete silence and stillness. 

“I know you’re lying but I have been able to get the truth out of you, so I’ll drop it. At least I know you’re okay and you’re still here.” Seungcheol’s mother stopped speaking for a second, he could hear his father whispering something to her and his mother answering in agreement. “Visit us tomorrow, your brother is coming over tomorrow for dinner. Your dad wants to see you.” She half whispered the last part and it brought a slight smile to his face. For years Seungcheol and his father had not been on good terms, whenever they saw each other, his future always became the topic of conversation. His father always shared his disapproval and disappointment on how Seungcheol’s life had turned out. His father expected too much from both him and his brother, he had dreams in which he had tried to instill in them. It wasn’t enough that one of his sons had achieved his dream, his pride was attached to the two of them. And knowing that Seungcheol always refused, always followed the beat of his own drum, wounded his pride. 

His mother and brother always tried their best to bridge the gap between them that had only grown deeper over the years. 

Seungcheol admired their commitment, but just being in his father’s presence fully aware of how he felt towards him was only a simple reminder of what he did not want to become, and it only made him resent him even more. 

“I don’t know mom, I work until late tomorrow and I wouldn’t have enough time to go home shower and change. Maybe some other time.” Seungcheol whispered. The wind blew causing a single leaf to escape its perspective branch. Seungcheol watched it closely as it flew down, landing on his lap. He picked it up in between his forefinger and thumb, twirling the steam as he listened to his mother sigh out. 

“Just come after work...it’s important.” 

Seungcheol wanted to say yes. The simple three letter word was one of the hardest ones to say. With the urgency in his mother’s voice, he knew that she wasn’t lying and that whatever his father had to tell him. It was important. But Seungcheol didn’t want to make a promise he could not keep. For he didn’t know if his tomorrow would ever come. If the last thirty minutes (indicated by the timer on his wrist) would be the last thirty minutes of his life. 

He wondered if it was possible for time to run faster than before, and the quick ticking sound in his head proved that he was right. It was now drowning out the sound of his mother’s low and desperate pleas. 

“M-Mom I’ll see what I can do, maybe if Jeonghan is in a good mood I can convince him to let me off early, I’ll try to be there by dinner time.” The almost empty promise escaped his throat, running past his teeth and perfect lips faster than he could stop himself.

“Perfect. We’ll see you tomorrow.” His mother cheered. He could hear and sense her happiness through the receiver of his phone and it shattered his heart. When tomorrow came and what Jeonghan and Joshua both claimed to be true would happen. What would be his mother’s reaction?

“I’ll try mom, you know I’m not good at keeping promises.” He half joked, the tears had started to pool in the corner of his eyes. He looked up at the night sky, making eye contact with the moon. They had once been intimate, but over the last few months they had been disconnected, the stars surrounding her protecting her from his own selfish needs and acts. He missed her, he wished he could feel her light upon his skin, caressing him and holding him in ways he wanted to be held. Ways in which he needed to be held. Though, he could feel her reluctance as he took in her beauty. She was there with him, keeping him company as the last twenty minutes of his life counted down. 

“You always find a way to keep them Seungcheol. I’ll see you tomorrow night. I love you.” 

“I love you too mom.” He whispered before the line went dead. Seungcheol sighed, bringing down his phone from his ear. He stared at his mother’s contact name, trying to decide if he should call her back again. Tell her that he wasn’t fine that he was scared and that he wanted to be in her arms, singing the song she always sang to him whenever his imagination betrayed him, plaguing his dreams with nightmares. But he didn’t again, his own pride and reluctance, the one he gets from his father and the reason why they clash so much kept him calling her back. 

Instead he looked at his timer one last time, noted that there were ten minutes left and placed his phone down next to him on the bench. He took in his surroundings one last time before leaning his back and closing his tired soft eyes. 

Hour 8: 24:00

“Excuse me?”

Seungcheol opened his eyes upon hearing the sound of the soft voice behind him and the light tap on his shoulder. He sat up quickly looking around frantically. He only had five minutes left and his peace had been disturbed. He turned around his gaze falling upon someone he had only seen in his dreams. 

“You dropped your phone.” You said shakingly, handing him his phone. He assumed that it had fallen through the cracks of the bench; he had been so deep in his thoughts he didn’t hear the thud of it hitting the ground. 

“Oh um, thank you.” He spoke quickly, taking his phone. His fingers accidentally brushed over the soft skin of your wrist, the familiar digital clock appearing before him and the ticking sound became loud enough to the point he couldn’t hear the nagging voice that had stayed with him for the last twenty five years of his life. Quickly he glanced down to his wrist and then at yours, he could feel the fear radiating out of your pores as the seconds counted down faster than the speed of light. 

Seungcheol almost laughed. In fact he felt the laugh suppressing itself in the back of his throat. But as the timer finally reached the infamous zero’s, his last breath didn’t come, and neither did yours. He watched as you looked around frantically before your eyes found his. You let out the sob you had been suppressing for the entirety of the day. Your knees gave up on you and you leaned down hugging your calves, burying your face into your thighs, the sobs came quickly and Seungcheol sat there not knowing what to do. 

It was like his body was acting on his and he stood up, rounding the corner of the bench and crouched down. His shaking arms wrapped around you tightly, running a soothing hand down your back, smoothing out the wrinkles of your navy blue sweatshirt. 

The next words we muttered, were words he never thought he would say again. But again it felt like he wasn’t in control of his body. It felt like after the timer hit the long awaited double zero’s his body belonged to someone else, almost as if he had been reborn again after twenty five years. 

“It’s okay, I am here.” 

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LUNATIC PARADE ;; Ayato Route ー Chapter 4

ー The scene starts in front of Bernstein Castle

Yui: ( I just hope the Count will let us see him... )

*Knock knock*

Excuse me. Um...

ー The gate opens

Butler: ...We have been awaiting your arrival. Please, come in.

Ayato: Che, seems like the Count knows exactly what’s up after all.

Yui: Yeah...

( However, if he’s allowing us inside the castle, that means he’s willing to listen to what we have to say, right...? )

ー The two of them enter the castle

*Pssh*

*Thud*

Butler: Master will arrive shortly. May I please ask you to wait a few more minutes.

Yui: ...Thank you very much.

ー The door opens

Count Walter: Why hello, you two. Since you have chosen to return to this castle a second time, I assume you have set all of your misconducts straight?

Ayato: Che, this guy has no shame, does he? Look at him talk as if he doesn’t already know everything...

Yui: Well, actually...ーー

ー Yui explains everything

Yui: ーー And there you have it. Therefore, we are unable to fix the key...

Count Walter: Hm, I see. However, that means you fail to meet my conditions.

Unfortunately, I fear I won’t be able to return the heart to you...

No, however...A key, huh...? My apologies, could you perhaps show me said key for a second?

Ayato: ...? The key? Sure? It’s broken and can’t be used though.

*Cling*

Count Walter: ...This is...!

Ayato: ...What? Is there somethin’ fishy ‘bout it after all?

Count Walter: I want you to tell me everything you know about the individual who handed you this key.

Yui: The individual...? Well, he’s the owner of the cellar which connects to the underground waterway...

Ayato: From the looks of it, he’s plottin’ somethin’ with a bunch of other shady dudes. Their sneaky behavior really screamed trouble.

Count Walter: ...I see. Just as I thought...

Yui: Um...Does it ring a bell, perhaps?

Count Walter: ...I assume those people are the gang of young Wolves who have been causing trouble all around this area as of late.

This key most likely opens the door to my personal basement. ...They must be planning to invade this castle.

Yui: Eh...? Then...

Ayato: Then what should we do? We can’t get them to forgive us unless we get that key fixed.

But if we repair the key, we’ll pretty much help them commit a crime, no?

Count Walter: ...Well, that’s what it would come down to.

Yui: Then, this case...

Count Walter: ...Fufu. Do you perhaps think that this has solved everything, Miss?

Yui: ...I mean...

( To get the owner of that house to forgive us, we have to do something which would directly disadvantage the Count... )

 ( So wouldn’t it make sense if he lets this one slide to avoid having his own castle invaded...? )

Count Walter: Please do not panic. I will not deny that these are unforeseen circumstances.

Let me make you a new offer.

Ayato: Haah? What do you mean!?

Count Walter: For example, if you lend me a helping hand in seizing those Wolves...

I would not mind returning the heart in question as a reward. ...How does that sound?

Ayato: Aah!? Where does that suddenly come from!? Can’t we let the Police handle that gang!?

Count Walter: Haha. What a funny thing to say. Ayato...Seems like you’ve taken your Father’s orders to heart and have become rather adapted to your life in the human world.

A convenient organization such as the ‘police’ does not exist in this town. Have you forgotten that? Fufu...

Ayato: Che, oh fuck off! It just slipped my mind for a second!

Anyway, we don’t know how many opponents we’re dealin’ with, so how are we supposed to handle this all on our own?

Count Walter: Like I said, slow down. I never said you had to do it on your own, did I?

Oi, bring our guests in!

ー The doors open once more

Yui: ...!

( These people... )

Ayato: O-Oi, these guys...

Count Walter: I had them gathered here because I had a hunch this might happen. What do you say? They seem familiar, no?

Yui: ( The Pretzel and Crepe Vendors...As well as the Locksmith...Everyone... )

Count Walter: Every single one of them has decided to give you their forgiveness.

On top of that, they are willing to help us take care of this gang.

Pretzel Vendor: Those guys who tried to destroy my shop belong to that gang as well.

The Parade is when we make the most money, so I don’t appreciate them getting in the way of my business.

Locksmith: I can’t stand the thought of knowing that I nearly ended up helping a bunch of thugs commit a crime either.

My skills are to help others, not to aid someone in their thievery. 

Count Walter: ...As you can tell, the people of this town are more than fed up with this gang.

They have been playing with the idea of taking care of them soon. You could say that right now is the perfect opportunity.

Ayato: Heeh, so basically we’ll all work together to completely wipe out this gang, right?

Sure thing. Count me in. However, I do have one condition.

Count Walter: ...What would that be?

Ayato: Return her heart right here, right now.

Yui: ...!

Ayato: I’ve been on edge this whole time, worryin’ that perhaps she’ll collapse again.

I’d be way too distracted to efficiently take care of some gang when like this...

Besides...I don’t want to see her suffer one second longer.

If you return her heart, I’ll assure you that I’ll take care of those thugs down to the very last one...

Yui: Ayato-kun...

Ayato: Please! Save her...I’m beggin’ you...!

Count Walter: ...

Yui: ( Ayato-kun...Having to lower his head to someone should be the thing he hates most... )

Count Walter: ...Sakamaki Ayato. You were not lying just now, were you?

Ayato: Aah? Lyin’? As if!

Count Walter: ...I see.

But are you sure? By returning her heart, she will once again become the target of other Vampires.

Ayato: I figured that might be the case, so I had Mr. Four-Eyes Smarty-Pants arrange me some Vampire repellent. 

Besides, I’ll be there to protect her, so she has nothin’ to worry ‘bout!

Count Walter: ...Very well. I must say I am impressed by your words just now.

One could say that entrusting the two of you with said heart once more could be interesting in its own regard, I suppose...

Yui: ...!

Ayato: ...Then!

Count Walter: Very well. I shall return the heart to you for now.

Yui: ...Thank you very much!

Count Walter: ...However, it is too early to be relieved, you see? Depending on the actions you take, I could easily steal it once again.

If you fail to catch the gang, to give one example. Understood?

Ayato: Of course! We’ll make sure none of them get away!

Count Walter: Fufu. I am very much looking forward to that. Well then, let us get this strategy meeting started at once.

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Saint Nore Park’s venue

Ayato: He said that we’ll put the plan into action...Right as the Parade comes to an end, right?

Yui: Yeah...We still have some time.

Ayato: Right. Now what to do...Oh, hey, Chichinashi. Let’s ride that one. Over there.

Yui: The ferris wheel...?

Ayato: Yeah! In the end, the Parade’s gonna come to an end no matter what.

So don’t you think it’d be nice to get a nice overview of everythin’ before it does?

Yui: ...Good idea.

( The Parade will end tonight... )

( In the end, I wasn’t able to enjoy it together with Ayato-kun in peace... )

( However, I’m plenty happy just being able to spend time together like this. )

( Besides...Our true time to shine has yet to come... )

ー The scene shifts to inside the ferris wheel

Yui: ( Once we get off the ferris wheel, it’ll almost be time to get started with the plan... )

( It was decided we would serve as decoy, carrying a fake key with us... )

ー A flashback ensues

Count Walter: There is one thing I must warn you about.

They are experts at handling explosives. They might use them this time as well.

Therefore it is very important that you proceed with the plan without them realizing your true intentions.

...Including that part, the success or failure of this whole strategy depends on you two. Can I count on you?

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( Our opponent has explosives...We might find ourselves in danger... )

( Ayato-kun... )

Selection

→ Grab his hand (☾)

*Rustle*

Ayato: ...Why did you suddenly grab my hand...?

You love doin’ this, don’t you? ...Hehe.

Yui: ...I mean...Uu...

Ayato: Let’s get this over with quickly and make the best of the Parade, ‘kay?

Yui: ( ...He squeezed my hand back... )

→ Stare at him

Ayato: ...Why are you starin’ at me like that...?

Yui: ...I mean...

Ayato: ...Did you get scared after hearin’ ‘bout the explosives or somethin’? 

Yui: ...

Ayato: Haah...Don’t worry. It’s just a lil’ bomb.

Yui: ...But.

Ayato: Say, Yui? Once we get off the ferris wheel, you should head back to the hotel first. 

Yui: Eh...?

Ayato: I’ll head to their hideout by myself. Don’t worry. I can ensure you everythin’ will go as pla...

Yui: ...You can’t do that! I can’t possibly...let you go by yourself...

I’ll go with you...!

Ayato: ...But we might be dealin’ with some seriously dangerous guys, you know? The Count said there’s a lot of them as well...

Yui: ...Exactly...I can’t let you go to such a dangerous place all by yourself...

I don’t want to...

Ayato: Yui...

Yui: ...Besides, they might grow suspicious if you show up by yourself, don’t you think?

If there’s a woman with you, they might let down their guard a little...

I got my heart back as well, so I promise I’ll carry my weight...

So please, take me with you...I’m begging you...!

Ayato: ...

Yui: ( Anyway, I don’t want him going by himself... )

*Rustle*

Ayato: ...Haah, you’re such a pain in the ass...

Fine. In return, don’t you dare leave my side, ‘kay? Can you promise that?

Yui: ...Yeah, I promise.

Ayato: Okay. Let’s go together then. I’ll protect you, no matter what happens.

...So stay with me.

Yui: Ayato-kun...

*Rustle*

Ayato: Oh, check it out! The view’s quite nice.

Yui: You’re right...How pretty...

Ayato: To be honest, I was really hopin’ we could get this all over with sooner so I could enjoy the Parade with you...

Yui: ...

Say, Ayato-kun?

Ayato: Hm? What?

Yui: You see, I...I’ve been having this dream lately.

Ayato: ...Dream?

Yui: Yeah...I don’t know for sure, but I think it might be the Count showing me this dream...

Ayato: ...The Count?

Yui: ...Inside that dream, you see. He told me. That you’re only trying to save me because of my heart...

And that you don’t actually care for me as a person...

Ayato: ...That’s not...!

Yui: But don’t worry. I’m well aware...You’re not that kind of guy.

I know that there’s not a single other individual in this world who cares for me as deeply as you do...

I also believe you...When you say you’ll protect me...

Ayato: ...Yui...

ー He embraces her

*Rustle*

Yui: ...

Ayato: Hmph. You really are a fool. Did that dream have you worried?

Geez, that darn Count. Just when will he stop messin’ with you...?

He pisses me off...!

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: Oi, listen carefully.

You are mine, understood? I won’t let anyone else have their way with you ever again.

Not some Count, nor a bunch of thugs...Nobody. Nn...

Yui: ...Nn...

Ayato: ...Nn...

Yui: ( ...Ayato-kun... )

( ...I love you... )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Aizen Alleyway

Vampire Child C: Mama, hurry! It’s timeー!

Vampire Mother A: Watch out! You’ll drop your lantern in a hurry!

Ayato: ...Okay, let’s get goin’. Ready?

Yui: Yeah.

( It’s finally time to get our plan started... )

Ayato: ...Are you nervous?

Yui: Eh...? Well, yeah...A little...

Ayato: Hmph. I’m here with you, remember?

Well, you can just think of this as one of the attractions and enjoy the show, ‘kay?

Yui: ( ...Ayato-kun... )

...Yeah.

ー The scene shifts to the underground passage

*Knock*

Ayato: ...Oi. We brought the key as promised.

Owner: ...Ooh, you’re finally here. Come on in.

ー They enter the cellar

Thug A: Hmph. We figured the two of you had run away since it took you so long.

Ayato: Aah? Think again!

Owner: ...Whatever. Anyway, give us the key.

Ayato: Of course. Here...

Yui: ...The key’s right here...

*Cling*

Owner: ...Hooh. It really is...

...That being said, I have to say I’m impressed you managed to fix it. I’m sure you realized that this key is special?

Ayato: Well, yeah. However, that’s no big deal to me.

...Anyway, we’re even now, right?

Owner: Yeah, we are. ...If this key was real, that is...!

*Thud*

Yui: ...Kyah!?

Ayato: ...Yui!?

Owner: Don’t move. If you value this woman’s life at least...

*Cling*

Yui: ( ...He pulled out a knife...! )

Ayato: The fuck you doin’, you bastard!? Let her go at once!

Owner: Fufu...Don’t get your panties in a knot. Once we determine whether this key is real or not, we’ll let her go right away.

It’s real, right? Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. ...Correct?

Ayato: Che...

Thug B: Well, if it turns out to be a fake, we’ll kill her on the spot, of course. Hehe.

Ayato: Say that again!? Fuck off! In your dreams!

Owner: Either way, we’ll know as soon as we put this key in the door in question.

So why don’t we go and try it out right away...?

*Thud*

Yui: ...!

( At this rate, they’ll find out it’s a fake...! )

ー They start walking away

Ayato: Ugh...Wait...! Be a lil’ more gentle with her!

ー The scene shifts to right in front of the door

Owner: Well then, go ahead and open the door...

*Cling*

Ayato: ...Fine...

Yui: ( Oh no...We have to find an opening somehow, or the two of us will... )

Ayato: ...

Yui: Ayato-kun...

Ayato: ...Don’t worry. Everything’s fine...

*Clunk*

*Ba-dump・ba-dump・ba-dump*

Yui: ( ...God, please...! )

*CLICK*

Ayato: ...The key...?

Yui ( ...It worked...? )

Owner: ...Hooh.

Ayato: ...See? Didn’t I tell you? There’s no way we’d bring you a fa...

*Creaaak*

Yui: ( ...The door opened by itself...? )

???: Now’s our chance! Seize them!!

???: Uooooh!!

ー The other people storm out of the door

Thug A: Wha...!?

Owner: ...What’s going on!?

Thug B: Pull back! We’re retreatin’ for now!!

ー They start running away

Crepe Vendor: Hah! You wish!

Yui: ( From behind as well, the others!! )

Ayato: Yui!! Now’s your chance! Come here!! 

Yui: Ayato-kun...!

Owner: Che, not on my watch!

*Rustle*

Yui: Kuh...!

Ayato: Yui...!

Owner: Everyone, back off! Or else, she’s a goner!

Locksmith: Che...How dare you resort to such filthy tactics...!

Owner: Hah! Run your mouth all you want! Come on, woman. This way!!

*Rustle*

Yui: Ayato-kun!

ー He runs off with Yui

Ayato: Fuck! You’re not gettin’ away!! ...Wait!!

ー The scene shifts back to the cellar

*Thud*

Yui: Kyah...

( This is...the cellar... )

Owner: Haah...Haah...God, we were so close too! You little pests...

...Now that it’s come to this, I just gotta blow up this whole cellar along with all evidence which could lead back to us!

Woman...That includes you, get it...? Hehe...

*Pang pang*

Yui: ( ...This is...! )

( There’s explosives hidden inside the wall...! )

*Thud thud*

Ayato: Yui!! Are you unharmed!! You bastard...! Open this door right now!!

*THUD THUD*

Yui: Uu...!

Ayato-kun! Don’t come in here!!

Gather everyone and run away together!!

Ayato: Aah!? You really think I can do that!?

Yui: Please! Listen to me! There’s a bomb in here...!

Ayato: Ugh...! Then I definitely can’t leave you behind and run!!

Fuck!! Yui! Yui...!!

*THUD THUD*

Owner: Hehe...If you have any final words, now’s your chance.

*Flash*

Yui: ( ...He lit the fuse...! )

Owner: Too bad, this is the end...

*THUD*

Ayato: ーー !!

Yui: Ayato-kun, no! Run...ーー!!

Ayato: Hell no!! Didn’t I tell you that you’re mine!?

I won’t abandon you, even if it kills meーー!!

*BANG BANG*

ー The screen fades to white

Ayato: Ugh...!!

Yui: Kyaaaah!!

( Ayato-kun...!! )

*BANG*

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 3

→ PROCEED TO NORMAL ENDING

→ PROCEED TO FINALE ENDING

[baya-ni]

SHADOW’s Queer Coding

I first started exploring this idea of Sk8′s implicit queer rep (as in stuff other than explicit same sex intimacy) in this post.

I know we like to joke that Hiromi is the Token Straight of the protag gang, but I argue that he’s as much an example of queer rep as any of our main characters, albeit in a less conventional and fanservicey way.

So that’s what this post is gonna be, an analysis of Hiromi/SHADOW as a queer figure, how his character fits the Jekyll/Hyde archetype as a metaphor for queerness and The Closet, the similarities between SHADOW as a skatesona and early drag, and how his character represents a larger problem of exclusion within queer fandom spaces.

The 1886 Gothic novella The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson is the origin of the phrase “Jekyll and Hyde”. What I’m calling the Jekyll/Hyde archetype, refers to the same thing; it refers to duality, to a character who is “outwardly good but sometimes shockingly evil” (as described from the novella’s wiki page).

And the Jekyll/Hyde dynamic has also long been associated with Queerness. The antagonism between Jekyll and Hyde as two sides of the same person resonates with many people as similar to the experience being in the closet, and many many scholars have written about this queer reading of Jekyll and Hyde. Do a quick google search if you don’t believe me.

Hiromi experiences his own Jekyll/Hyde duality through his SHADOW persona, which seems to entirely contradict with Hiromi’s day to day personality.

Whilst Hiromi is sweet, romantic, and generally very cutesy, SHADOW is mean-spirited, sadistic, described as “the anti-hero of the S community.”  And though these two personalities seem entirely at odds, SHADOW doesn’t exist in a vacuum, he’s very much a part of Hiromi. In the show, this manifests as SHADOW’s sabotage moves being all flower themed, as Hiromi works in a flower shop, and how he’ll “step out” of character when playing babysitter to the kids.

Below is passage from an essay titled, “The Homoerotic Architectures of Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” which reminds me a lot of Hiromi’s character, such that I think his character arc can be read as an allegory for coming out and self acceptance.

The closet, here, is a space not only for secrecy and repression, but also for becoming; it is the space in which queer identities build themselves up from “disused pieces” and attempt to discover the strength needed for presentation to the world. The closet is both a space of profound fear and profound courage—of potentiality and actualization. (Prologue)

Unlike the kid/teen characters, the show’s adult characters all lead double lives. When they aren’t skating, they have day jobs. Kaoru is a calligrapher, Kojiro is a restaurant owner, Ainosuke is a politician/businessman (but tbh his job is just being some rich dude), and Hiromi works in a flower shop.

But of the adult protagonists (so not Ainosuke), Hiromi compartmentalizes the most.

Kojiro leaves his face totally exposed such that he can be recognized both on and off the skate scene. Kaoru at least covers his face, but his trademark pink hair and constant use of Carla doesn’t make it very hard to connect the dots between him and CHERRY. He’s also always with Kojiro in the evenings, so if you don’t recognize him as CHERRY when he’s on his own, you certainly will when you see him interacting with Kojiro/JOE.

Next to these two, Hiromi seems the more adamant at separating his Work from Play.

Even when he’s been clearly found it, he still tries to deny that he and SHADOW are the same person. Miya even uses this to coerce Hiromi into helping him and the boys:

I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that the separation between Hiromi and SHADOW can be interpreted as a metaphor for being in The Closet. As SHADOW, he leads a secret life, one characterized by an tight-knit underground community with a vibrant night scene, where he behaves in ways typically frowned upon by larger society. He worries about being found out and judged by the people close to him.

But in Ep 4, the walls of his Closet begins to come down, or in this case is literally imposed upon by other members of his community, by its younger members, who don’t feel the same need to hide their passion for skateboarding or lead the same kind of double life.

We then see the line between Hiromi and SHADOW begin to blur.

He becomes less of an antagonist, and instead the audience sees him become a mentor and “mother hen” figure for the younger skaters. Later on in Ep 4, we see him casually interacting with the other protags in full SHADOW mode, not as an “anti-hero” but as a friend.  In Ep 6, he acts as a babysitter for the kids, and we see him totally comfortable appearing both in an out of his SHADOW persona throughout their vacation.

And I think that this gradual convergence of Hiromi and SHADOW will culminate in this tournament arc.

There’s something more personal that’s driving SHADOW to do well in this tournament. It’s not just for bragging rights or his pride as a skater, but the results of this tournament is going to have some kind of greater impact on Hiromi’s personal life. Personally, my theory is that Hiromi is using this tournament to prove to himself that he’s worthy enough to ask his manager out on a date.

Hiromi is no longer compartmentalizing, his two lives are overlapping and influencing each other. Recall the essay quote I cited earlier:

The closet... is the space in which queer identities build themselves up from “disused pieces” and attempt to discover the strength needed for presentation to the world... of potentiality and actualization.

This is exactly the case for Hiromi. Through skating, he is piecing together the disparate parts of him such that he can present himself to the world as a more unified and confident being.

And the show presents the very skating community that Hiromi has been working so hard to keep separated from his personal life- Reki, Langa, Miya, Kaoru, and Kojiro- as the catalyst for that becoming.

That, my dear readers, is queer coding if I ever saw it.

But there’s probably gonna be people claiming something along the lines of “But SHADOW can’t be queer rep because he’s Straight!” And I assume that’s because he shows romantic interest in his female manager.

First of all, Bisexuality. Also Ace/aro-spec people. And second of all, SHADOW is Hiromi’s drag persona.

And before anyone can say anything about how Hiromi can’t do drag because he’s straight (assumption) and cis (also an assumption) uhhhh no, fuck you.

Drag didn’t start with RuPaul’s Drag Race, that’s just how it got mainstream. And it’s also how it got so gentrified and transphobic. You heard me. But anyway.

Drag is, and has always been, first and foremost about exaggerated, and oftentimes satirical, gender presentation and performance. It’s about playing with gender norms through artistic dress and theater, not so much to do with sexuality or gender identity.

Literally, what’s the difference here?

SHADOW is a persona of exaggerated masculinity with a punk aesthetic. Regardless of his sexuality or gender identity, Hiromi’s gender performance as SHADOW is drag- that makes him queer representation, change my fucking mind.

Queerness is more than same-sex romance, and by extension, good queer representation is not limited to canonized gay ships. The very word Queer, in it’s ambiguity, is meant to encompass the richly unique experiences of everyone within the LGBTQ+ community.

In my opinion, Queer =/= Gay. I mean, they’re colloquially the same yes and even I use them interchangeably. But for the purpose of this post, they’re not the same, and that’s to argue that Hiromi/SHADOW’s lack of acknowledgement as queer rep illustrates a larger issue of exclusion within fandom.

I mean, this is something we all kinda been knew, but in the case of Sk8 specifically, there are a two main reasons why I think Hiromi is rarely acknowledged as queer rep.

1. He’s not shippable with another male character

Fandom favors mlm ships when it comes to what’s considered good queer rep. And the ultimate mark of good queer rep is explicit acts of romance or intimacy between two male characters. Unlike with any of the other characters in the show, we can’t point to Hiromi and automatically clock him as gay, especially because he expresses romantic interest in a woman.

So by default, he’s less popular, because “Ew Straight People” amirite /s.

2. He’s not attractive

This is really interesting, because like JOE, Hiromi is a beefcake.

But fans don’t thirst over him the same way they do over JOE. Granted, the show really plays up JOE’s muscles in a very strip-teasey way that literally encourages viewers to find him attractive. By contrast, Hiromi is pretty much covered head to toe and he paints his face in theatrical makeup- the point is to look scary, not attractive.

In essence, even though Hiromi engages in “queer behavior” through his SHADOW persona, his queerness isn’t palatable.

But I also think there’s some pretty insidious undercurrents of fetishization going on here, of both Asian people AND gay men. Which is... a whole other thing I really don’t have the capacity to unpack completely.

But basically, Hiromi doesn’t fit into any of the popular BL archetypes so he’s less likely to recognized as Queer. Relatedly, he’s also less often subjected to a fetishistic gaze as other characters. I mean...

So again, fans just don’t find him as appealing. Attractive characters are always more popular than ugly ones.

And I’m sure there are a lot of people who just don’t care for Hiromi’s personality, that’s fine, he does act like an asshole sometimes. But this post is meant to illustrate that queer rep takes multiple forms, and unfortunately I think a lot of media just tends to fall back on stereotypical portrayals of queer people for the sake of broader appeal. And by consequence, the fandom’s idea of what constitutes queer rep narrows to same-sex romance, usually between two cis gay men.

With the release of Ep 9, I know a lot of people queer people are going to find representation in the Kojiro’s whole “unrequited love” thing. But personally, I feel more represented by Hiromi, his journey of self-acceptance and subversive relationship with gender- that’s what resonates with me as a trans person.

And I think it’s important to see that kind of less palatable type of queer representation more acknowledged in fandom, and in Sk8′s fandom especially, because I know the demographics of this fandom lean heavily queer.

But that’s all for now, lemme know what you guys think :)

[lovelylunarwriting]

Jaemin Soulmate!AU

Jaemin has a reputation as a “cool” kind of guy, which is why he wears bracelets to hide the words permanently etched on his left wrist

“Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?”

Jisung and Haechan are notorious for giving him shit for having a ‘weird’ soulmate, but Jaemin thinks it’s kind of funny, honestly

Like great question dude but,,, why are you asking me this

Jaemin’s apartment is around the corner from a little family-owned grocery store that he’s frequented since his high school days.

He’s very much a regular, to the point of the owner being like “Jaemin…. Please just work here. You already know where everything is”

To which Jaemin has to respectfully decline, because he wants to focus on his dancing and singing, and working too much would get in the way of practicing.

That, however, does not stop the old man from sending customers with questions to Jaemin whenever he comes in.

Because Jaemin is too polite to be like “uhh I don’t work here, good luck”, he always ends up helping them

But secretly, he doesn’t mind. He thinks that maybe one day, his soulmate will be the next one to ask him a question.

Even after repeated questions about “how much does this cost?”, “when do you guys open tomorrow?”, “when will the next shipment of bok choy be in?”, he still isn’t terribly bothered.

The other employees chastise the boss for sending customers to Jaemin, but the old man is always like “he knows this store better than you all do. That’s why he gets a discount higher than yours”

Employee discount: 15 percent off all merchandise

Na Jaemin discount: 20 percent off all merchandise

It’s an unspoken rule amongst employees that Na Jaemin gets a discount, but they are NEVER to mention it to him! He knows that business has been rough recently and wouldn’t accept the generosity, but the boss thinks Jaemin is too skinny and wants him to be able to afford to eat well.

Now lovely reader, this is where you come in. You recently got a job at this grocery store but you work in the back, so you have never seen the famous “Na Jaemin” that all your fellow employees chat about so frequently.

Coworker #1: “Ugh, he’s like SO dreamy”

Coworker #2: “I know right? He’ll have no trouble becoming an idol at this rate”

Meanwhile you’re like “lol what who? Also where is the printer for printing clearance labels”

You specifically applied for the back of house position because you did not want to talk to people.

It’s not that you’re antisocial by any means- honestly it’s the opposite. It’s just that you have the tendency to say whatever you’re thinking with absolutely no filter.

So in the past when more…. challenging… customers have talked down to you, you gave back the same energy without thinking.

Management was not happy,,, so you were like “mmmm maybe I should just keep to myself and everyone would be happier”

One day though, it seems that you’re shit out of luck.

Your work bestie calls you at 3 in the morning on your day off saying that her kid has a fever and she’s gotta stay home and take care of him.

You have no plans other than generally being a lazy lump at home, and she’s always had your back at work, so you’re like “girl don’t worry about it, I got your shift. I’ll make some chicken noodle soup for him too”

To which she’s like “bitch if I hadn’t found my soulmate already I would’ve snatched you up T-T”

You giggle and tell her to try and get some rest- both her and her kid.

And then sleep another blissful 4 hours before rolling in for the 8am shift.

When you get there, boss man is like “ayeee so you’re covering for her shift which is stocking shelves, are you gonna be okay doing that?”

You: “Ahaha yeah it’ll be fine~ just please don’t send customers to me oh my gosh”

Boss Man: “Don’t worry, I just saw Jaemin walk in. I’ll send them to him”

You: “... who is Jaemin”

Boss Man: “He’s my FAVORITE!! Remember that!”

You: “Oh, okay!! Yes sir!”

You’re like fifteen minutes into your shift and you’re already on edge because all you’ve done so far is dodge all the old ladies who are shopping this early.

No actual products have been put on the shelves yet, or at least not by your hands.

Settling down in the dairy section, you relax a bit and start putting cold products in the cold shelves fixed to the wall.

And of course- things are in the wrong place. Why would anyone put anything back where it belongs?

Picking up a product, you glance at the label out of sheer boredom more than anything.

“Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?”, you say to yourself.

Or so you think.

“Yeah, that is like the one question I don’t know how to answer”, you hear a masculine voice say from behind.

You spin around and look up into the man’s face.

And oh boy is that a nice looking face.

“Oh I’m sorry, I- WAIT”, you start, before you realize what he said.

Grabbing his left wrist, you push up the bracelets to reveal what you’d just said. Then you drop his hand out of sudden shyness, and because it’s not cool just to grab people.

“Do… do you mind if I look at your wrist as well?”, he asks quietly.

You roll up your sleeve and present him with your arm. He delicately wraps his fingers around your wrist and flips it over to read the words written”

He drops your wrist and sinks into a squat, flopping his arms over his head and looking at the ground.

“Oh my gosh why did I say something so lame…”

“Umm,,, to be fair,,, I did ask you about butter so by comparison yours isn’t that bad,,,,”, you try to comfort him, and he lifts his head up to meet your gaze.

“You mean that? It wasn’t like the lamest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Oh I’ve heard much lamer things, don’t worry!”, you say with a cheery smile that contrasts your words entirely.

He stands up again and clasps your hands in his. With a look of determination he looks straight into your soul and asks:

“What time do you get off work?”

You tell him, but let him know that you’ll be busy after work making chicken noodle soup for your coworker and her son.

He’s like “oh you can cook?” and you’re like “lol no but I’m gonna die trying”

He writes his phone number on your arm (next to your soulmate tattoo) and is like “text me when you’re done with work and I’ll swing by and walk you home and maybe I can help you cook”

And quickly clarifies “ONLY IF YOU’RE COMFORTABLE WITH ME IN YOUR HOME, I UNDERSTAND IF BECAUSE WE JUST MET YOU-”

You’re like “dude,,,, it’s fine, we are literally destined to be together. Also if you try anything I’ll just beat you up so it’s chill”

Looking at his watch, he sprints makes a beeline for the checkout counter, going on about he’s gonna be so later and Haechan’s never gonna let it go if he’s late twice in a row, and something else but by that point he’s so far away from the dairy aisle you can only hear muffled sounds where words should be.

The next several hours could not go by ANY SLOWER.

Starting off today, you figured the day would go by quickly because you’d be preoccupied figuring out how to do something new, but now all you can think about is pretty soulmate boy.

And how he never mentioned his name, but to be fair, it was a rather quick exchange.

What feels like centuries later, your shift is coming to a close so you grab the ingredients you the internet tells you you need for the soup and head to your favorite cashier.

Somehow the front of the store is both quiet and abnormally loud for this time of night.

“Jaemin’s been waiting there for fifteen minutes? Do you think he’s waiting for someone?”

“Maybe he needs to talk to the boss? Usually he’d just ask one of us to grab him but he’s just standing outside”

“Ugh it’s so cold, should we tell him to come inside?”

You glance over to the crowd of coworkers towards the entrance and break out into a smile.

“Just keep ringing me up, I’ll be right back!”, you tell the cashier and fast walk past the small crowd.

Peeping your head out the door, you greet him.

“Are you cold? Come inside, I’m almost done”

“Oh okay, should I wait by the door though?”

“No, come with me. I wanna show you off~”, you instruct and he raises an eyebrow, but plays along.

Holding open the door for him, he scuffles his way in and shyly offers his hand.

Gladly, and with a pounding heart, you lock your fingers between his.

“Your hands are freezing, dude”

“Shhh it’s fine. I was trying to be cool, okay”, he jokes with you as you walk back to the register

Ringing up your items, the cashier is looking at you and him with raised eyebrows, and you’re just like “shut up jessica I’ll explain tomorrow”

The two of you walk back to your apartment and spend the rest of the night cooking and talking about everything and nothing.

The more you learn about Jaemin, the more confident you are that the universe got this one right.

Even when most things feel unclear, you know this person is someone you can always rely on.

(also when you bring your sick work bestie the soup, Jaemin insists on tagging along and she’s like “omg Y/N that’s JAEMIN” and you’re like “I KNOW” and he’s like “hi here’s some soup, also why do you know my name”

[blooeyedtroll]

Home on the Range

Rated PG-13ish Lolz. For occasional cussing and maybe innuendos(?). Lolz. This can also be read on Ao3. Feel free to read it there if you prefer.

More art scattered though out this fic, hope you like it!

Hello friend! Welcome!  

This is a One shot fic that takes place in mine & @messybitch802 ​‘s : 

Efflorescence AU. 

This is the beginning of our tale, I hope you enjoy.

This is in Hickory’s POV. I thought this would be a fun way to introduce Bloo and Messy. It also seemed fitting since Hickory will play a larger part as our tale unfolds.

However, I’d like to think this could be enjoyed as a fun one-shot Hickory & Dickory fic as well. This fandom needs more Yodel Brothers content!

Big thanks to @jade-green-butterfly ​ and her random ask that kicked my butt in gear, giving me the inspiration to finally start writing:

Anyway, let’s get to it. Enjoy!:

HOME ON THE RANGE

"Rock Trolls... no doubt about that.”

The rugged, orange haired Troll put down his hammer and stepped away from the task at hand. Fence work could wait. This needed his immediate attention.  Around this time of day he'd expect to see, at most, a tumbleweed passing by the entrance to the Ranch. Maybe. Nobody ever came out this way. Not since he'd been here anyway. At a good clip, it was about an hour trek away from Lonesome Flats. Which suited his needs perfectly.

The perfect place to lay low and still blend in.

"Bist du sicher?" whispered a muffled voice behind him.

"Of course I am. Now hush, I'm gonna check it out. Stay in character. An’ be ready, just in case."

The orange haired Troll patted the front of his jeans, freeing them of a satisfying amount of dust from the day’s hard work and checked his reflection in a nearby trough. Grinning as he placed a straw of wheat that was kept in the brim of his hat; between his teeth.

Perfection.

Who would guess otherwise, that the reflection in that water, was anything but a genuine Country Troll?

It took a lot of work shopping, trial and error, but he did it.

Well, they did it. The four legged, rugged, handsome, Country Troll was in actuality...two Trolls.

Two brothers to be precise.

Yodel Trolls by the names of Hickory and Dickory. 

The last Yodel Trolls by their accounts, and they happened to be the best damn team of Bounty Hunters and Mercenaries in all of Trolldom.

For good reason.

The best tool to their disposal was their ability to blend in. So much so, it was only until it was “too late” for their marks, by the time their true colors were revealed. And this disguise has been their best yet.

Hickory, though the youngest brother, was the much taller of the two. So he was the face to this particular get-up. Making Dickory to be left with the tail end. Literally. Understandably, this was not ideal for him. 

And he definitely made it well known on many occasions how he felt about having to play a literal “horse’s ass”.

But by gum, was he the best ass you could ask for.

At this point, Dickory had mastered the art of synchronizing with Hickory's movements, in such a way, it was now practically impossible to spot anything amiss. It was as if they shared one mind while under the guise of this centaur-esk being.

And while Dickory was fairly sour about the whole situation, Hickory found himself more and more, fond of living day to day as a Country Troll. Very much so to his brother’s shagrin. The look, the music, the lifestyle...everything.

It had been two months now since the brothers found themselves here, in Country Music territory. However, last anyone on the outside had heard about them, was that they had "yodelled so hard, an avalanche fell on them"...or something? Which was just what they wanted. For the time being anyway.

The brothers had struck a deal with their last mark. 

For his freedom, he was to spread said rumor, so the Yodelers could lay low for a while.

Queen Barb, of the Hard Rock Trolls, was no stranger to the two brothers. As a matter of fact, she was one of their most frequent clients for the past few years. Which suited them just fine. Well, almost. The last few jobs they did for the young Queen, left a bitter taste in Hickory's mouth. Not so much for the tasks she asked of them, but because of something she said and what he saw on their last few visits to Volcano Rock City. Maps. Marked up. Plans of some sort. Hanging everywhere. The young ruler, looking the most tired he'd ever seen her, yet looking as if ready to burst from being too tightly wound, at any moment.

"Hopefully next time I see you dudes, one way or another, we'll all be singing to a different tune. It's gonna be so Rad."

Whatever was going on, both Yodelers agreed that it was definitely not worth getting caught up in. They could just feel it. Deep down. They were hired to track Trolls down and do what needed to do, to get by.

Both of them could be shady characters at times, but they had decent moral compasses to live by. So they told themselves.

That's why the presence of Rock Trolls at this moment made Hickory's blood run cold. Could it be possible somehow, some way, they had been found out? That whatever Queen Barb was up to, she was looking for them? What is it that she’d need them for anyway?

No. Their plan worked perfectly. Blend in as a Country Troll, lay low for a while, only do the occasional "job" when the opportunity presented itself, just until the Queen of Rock cooled her head or went through with... whatever she is planning.

Not a soul knew about Hickory and Dickory being here.

Well.

Unless you counted, July.

Miss July, the owner of the Ranch. A rather interesting Troll.

A Pop-Country Troll. The only mixed genre Troll around these parts. Unlike her four legged, centaur, Country loving neighbors; she walked on two legs... well, hooves. Her appearance could be compared to a more "Satyr" like build, with a perfect blend of both genres in her appearance. The bright colors of a Pop Troll, but the sturdy build of that of a Country Troll.

A Tough, stern older lady-Troll, with a heart of gold.

Running this place all on her own, while tending to her extremely elderly parents.

That's one of the reasons he never expected any visitors here. Nobody in town wanted anything to do with Miss July or her family. Didn't much like associating with “their kind” if they could help it. Though you'd never hear them say it in polite conversation. But that suited Miss July just fine. That's how she liked it. Ever since Miss July and her folks suffered a terrible loss to their family, decades ago, she rarely went into town if she could help it.

Which on one such occasion, is when she stumbled upon the Yodelers, in their first attempts at putting together their  “Country Persona”.

They had been camping not too far from her Ranch and the Town, when she found them both, struggling to even walk in time together, in a pair of poorly made four legged pants.

July took their word as Gospel. That they were just fulfilling a lifelong dream of wanting to, in some way, be a Country Troll. So she offered them a place to stay and to show them the ropes on what it meant to be a Country Troll. If they agreed to work for her at her family’s Ranch.

"Until you feel you can stand on yer own four hooves!' She teased.

It could be easily wagered that July being an outcast in her own community, could be a factor of sympathy she felt towards them, making her wanting to help any way she could, and possibly what made her not judgmental in the least. That, and as tough as she put herself on as, she was sweet as apple pie, through and through.

Which did make Hickory especially, feel guilty about not being more upfront with her. As much as he could be anyhow.

Especially so, when the occasional “job opportunity" presented itself around Lonesome Flats during the Yodelers free time. Turns out, there were plenty of Trolls who had a bone to pick with others, or needed matters settled around these parts. Not to mention, crooks-a-plenty to turn in.

But both brothers always repented.  By being very diligent working for Miss July on the Ranch. Anything she needed done, got done. It was the least they could do for what she had done for them for these last two months. So the last thing needed was for anything to get ugly around here.

As Hickory approached closer and closer, he could feel his brother tensing up.

"Easy.” He whispered under his breath, smirking, patting behind him in attempts to calm his hotheaded companion. While still maintaining a nonchalant and calm demeanor.

Having spent a fair amount of time in Volcano Rock City for past jobs, and even on several occasions for other clients; needing to spend time incognito as Rock Trolls, it was fairly easy to recognize them from afar.

Upon closer inspection, it did come across as rather curious to see them wearing Country attire. They couldn't be trying to blend in, could they?

No. Not by the way these two held themselves.  

One Troll in various shades of blue in appearance, the other in peculiar shades of green from toe to tip. Both faces, still covered by wide brimmed hats. The blue Troll's demeanor was nervous right from the jump. Their green companion, holding them by the hand, grounding them. As if to keep them from sprinting away at a moment's notice. Both looking tired from the trek they must have taken from town to get to the Ranch property and from the sun's unforgiving afternoon rays.

Nothing but what seemed to be electric guitars and simple backpacks on their backs. However, these were definitely the most impressive guitars Hickory had seen in all his life.

The blue Troll’s, from what he could make out, was sage in color and looked as if it was made of some large critter's battered wing. Almost bat or reptilian in nature. The green Troll’s guitar, an imposing, venomous violet, crafted by what could only could be guessed as being once the claw and stinger of some scorpion-type critter. One he certainly wouldn't want to tango with. 

Lackeys of Queen Barb’s? No... couldn't be.

"Nobody knows we're here"

"We've been so careful."

He repeated over and over to himself. Almost mantra-like. He really had no reason to be this paranoid he kept reminding himself.

“Who are the most feared Bounty Hunters and Mercenaries in all Trolldom?”

“The Yodel brothers. That's who.” He smirked at that last thought. Puffing his broad chest a bit more, in response to his inner pep-talk.

And no Troll, no matter now--

"H--Howdy!" The blue Troll, clearing their voice, shakily called out.

"Right fine day, isn't it?"

The traveler seemed to ease into the drawl like putting on an old pair of comfy shoes, and with each word, their confidence seemed to boost. Stepping forward from their green companion, they removed their wide brim hat and gandered up at Hickory, with a small smile that damn near made his heart leap through his throat. In a good way?

That was...unexpected.

His usual quick witted mind and tongue, on the spot turned into a train that just left the station.

Those eyes. Absolutely pierced him right through. Large, inquisitive, pale, cerulean eyes. Staring right at him under dark lashes, and surrounded by a cascade of cobalt freckles.

The closest shade of color he could compare those eyes to were a color he hadn't thought of in ages. Snow. Snow that as a Trolling he played in. Usually when you found yourself making forts or laying in heeps that came up so high, you would look, and you'd catch the glimmering sunlight, shining through it. A shade of blue that just melted you to the core and drew out a smile, without you being the wiser.

"Right fine.”  he responded. Recovering from his wandering mind.

No time to be side tracked by an adorable, freckled, blue-eyed Troll. With sweet, curvy features, who has solid looking muscles that look they could easily crush--

"How can I help you? You folks seem a bit far away from home. Don't get a lot of Rock Trolls around these parts.”

Thank goodness his voice seemed to be the one on track; at the task at hand.

“Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?”

The green Troll stepped forward, hotly, removing their own hat, as to glare directly at him. Sizing him up. Only a tad taller, but much more lithe in figure to their companion. Definitely much more fierce. Not just in attitude, but in appearance. Their eyes, deep as sapphires. Teeth, the bottom row protruding two large tusk-like lower canines. Ears, pointed back and just as sharp as their claws, which he found himself one the other end of, being pointed at. Just as he felt his hair prickle, preparing himself for what was bound to happen next, the tension was immediately neutralized.

"It's okay Mess” The blue Troll cooed, calming the green one.

"Sorry to just come on over uninvited, but uh, does a Troll named July still live here?"

"You mean Miss July? Sure does. Why, if You don't mind my askin’?"

"Well you see, she's my... can--can I please talk to her? If she's around here today?”

A good long pause washed over the three.

Hickory could feel the trepidation radiating from Dickory behind him as he swished "their tail' in annoyance. Normally, if this was any other situation, it'd be too bad for these two. He'd send them right on their way, or worse if it came to it. They seemed capable. They had guitars, they were Rock Trolls. Random Rock Trolls, showing up, asking for not himself or his brother, but Miss July. Out of all the Country Trolls in Lonesome Flats.

But the waves of anxiety radiating from this freckled Troll were massive; and when their friend wasn't staring daggers at his direction, they were gazing so tenderly and sympathetically at them. These weren't agents of Queen Barbs. These seemed like folks on a sad mission of delivering news, or something of the like. They looked as though this was the last place they would ever want to be.

Dickory always insisted that Hickory was too quick to let his heart think first before his head when it came to their line of work. He didn't see it that way though. Hickory thought himself a good judge of character. Hell, that's why they found themselves in this situation now. Tipping his hat in a friendly manner, he smiled at the two.

"Well, why dontcha follow me then. I'm sure Miss July is making lunch right about now. You folks are just in time. Name's Hickory"

"Messy." replied the green.

The blue Troll remained silent.

"Adorabull got yer tongue cutie?" he teased

Those freckled cheeks lit up in seconds, a flushed lavender. Too cute.

"Somethin' like that' They smiled sheepishly.

All the while, as Hickory walked with the two up to the main building on the property, they stuck to idle chit-chat. About the weather or the nearby town. They passed by many of the fences that housed just some of Miss July's critters. As well as a few stables, paddocks, a decent sized workshed, and the small house the Yodelers had been staying in since they arrived here. It was once they passed that particular building, the blue Rocker stopped in their tracks momentarily. Just staring. Almost trance-like. They only moved again once Messy had firmly grabbed their hand and they followed.

Finally, they reached the main building's porch. The family home. Without any prompting, the two travelers waited at the bottom steps of the porch. Hickory nodded, thinking that might be best. He walked up to the open door. The wafting aroma of today's lunch filling his nostrils. Chili with sweet rolls? If he wasn't mistaken, he could smell fresh squeezed lemonade too. Knowing better to barge in while she was in the Kitchen...

"Pardon me, Miss July?" he called out.

"Dammit Hic, I told ya once, I'll tell ya again. Lunch is on when I ring the damn bell, that's when it’s good and ready!"

Hickory couldn't help but chuckle. That July was a firecracker.

"It's got nothin' to do with that Miss. You see, You've got yourself some visitors."

"For the last time Hic, just call me Jul--"

July emerged from the doorway, holding in each hand a glass of lemonade with mint garnish. No doubt as something to appease the Yodelers until lunch was done. As soon as her eyes met the two travelers, she stopped dead in her tracks. Glaring at them something fierce.

"These two are the visitors I was talkin' about."

"Rock Trolls, huh? Here? Whaddya want?"

The blue traveler, clearing their throat, voice cracking; they smiled, eyes glazed and sparkling with unshed tears. Staring at July as if a secret wish had been granted.

"Aunty Ju-Ju? It's m-me. It's Bloo. I'm home."

Bloo? That Bloo? Could it really be? Hickory didn't need to dwell on that too long though. July suddenly yelped out loud, in such a way that it startled absolutely everyone. Including herself apparently because those glasses in her hands dropped and shattered to bits.

"You couldn't be-- w-what kind of game are ya playin’ at?!"

July at a loss for words. This was serious. There she stood, knees buckling, lip quivering, tail thrashing. Unable to look away from the Troll in front of them at the end of her porch. A look of torment across their face.

Slowly, the freckled Troll smiled sadly, and reached behind their back for their instrument. Hickory acted quickly, putting himself between the two. Staring intently at the Rocker. They stared back, as they slowly brought the instrument forward.

"Please. Let me play?"

Hickory's nostrils flared, biting down hard on the straw in his mouth. How was he so stupid? Well, he wouldn't be fooled this time.

*~strum~*

Though the guitar was imposing and electric, with a stroke of their hand, it played a long, twangy, unmistakable, Country cord.

Silence.

Laying a hand on Hickory's shower, July gently moved him aside, her attention almost trance-like on the player. Waiting.

As if they understood, they shifted and picked up their guitar in earnest. Strumming again, but to a much more upbeat melody. Much more upbeat than most Country music Hickory had heard around town that he grew to enjoy. This sounded more... Pop? Much more like something he'd hear July singing on a day she was in a particularly good mood. Or something July’s elderly mother, the Pop Troll of the family might hum.

That's when they began to sing along, starting off slowly and gaining strength with each note. A large smile on their face as tears cascaded down their round cheeks. As if putting on the show of their lives. It was raw, and beautiful.

"She loves rock ‘n’ roll,

they said it's demons’ tongue,

She thinks they're too old.

They think she's too young,

And the battle lines are clearly drawn.”

“She's a wild one,

with an angel's face,

She's a lovely Troll in a state of grace,

When she was three years old on her daddy's knee,

He said you can be anythin’ you wanna be.

She's a wild one.

Runnin' free."

“She has future plans,

and dreams at night,

they tell her life is hard,

she smiles, sayin’ “that’s alright”, yeah!”

“She’s a wild one,

With an angel’s face,

She’s a lovely Troll in a state of grace,

When she was three years old on her daddy’s knee,

He said you can be anythin’ you wanna be.

She’s a wild one.

Runnin’ free.”

"She's a wild one”~~

"~~Runnin' free.”  July finished and sobbed the last line.

"That was the song I wrote for your Mama... all them years ago..My Bloo. My little ‘Bloo-Jay’ came home!"

Hickory stood fully aside now, allowing the two to embrace, for what he now had realized had been the first time in more than two decades. An embrace that both warmed and broke your heart, all at the same time. This was July's pride and joy. Her niece. Bloo, the only child of July's older sister June.

June and July were extremely close sisters. Best friends even.

June was a very free spirited Troll who fancied herself a part-time singer at one of the local bars in town. On one of these trips to town, she met a traveling Rock Troll by the name of Ziggy. Busking for food and drink. Let's just say, it didn't take long at all until wedding bells were ringing and Ziggy was part of the happy family here on the Ranch. The couple waited a while before having a Trolling. The two were busy enjoying married life, Ziggy took June traveling, fulfilling her dreams of seeing life outside Lonesome Flats. And wherever they went, they were singing up a storm. When they returned home to settle down, at any bar or club, or bingo hall that would have them, they continued singing their hearts out. Occasionally even dragging July along. The three of them became inseparable. Especially after Bloo was born. The townsfolk even seemed to warm up to the entire, oddball family. It was all turning up roses for the family finally, after what felt like ages of trying to live in harmony. But it all came to a crushing end. 

Shortly after Bloo turned five years old, a serious, contagious illness spread throughout Lonesome Flats. Most folks who caught it, eventually recovered, but there were eight fatalities in the end. June was one of them. The family was torn to pieces by June’s passing. Ziggy just wasn't the same Troll after. A year passed and just as they thought things might slowly start looking up, Ziggy and Bloo were gone.

Apparently he had packed himself and Bloo up one night, and just left without a word. July knew he had family back home in Volcano Rock City, and figured that is where he would take Bloo to raise them. But July dared not go there. For good reason. A Pop-Country Troll, travel to Volcano Rock City?  Demand her niece back from a heartbroken father? While leaving her extremely elderly parents to fend for themselves? No. July would be turned away or torn to pieces. King Thrash at the time was feared for good reason in those days and most Trolls feared Rock Trolls the most out of all the other Tribes.

July and her folks basically moved on by learning to mourn the loss of June, Bloo, and Ziggy. They never expected to ever see Bloo or Ziggy again. Yet here Bloo was. Embracing their aunt, while Hickory and Messy looked on fondly. His smile grew wider as he realized how overjoyed July's folks: Clay and May, would be to see their grand-baby again. Something they thought they'd never live to see.

He could see it now that he got a better look at Bloo, as they were bombarded with kisses and hugs, that they did share a little resemblance to their Pop-Country Aunt. Though without a doubt, they took after their father Ziggy the most. No wonder Bloo wasn't easily recognizable at first glance, they looked so different in comparison to how they looked back then as a Trolling.

Who would have thought that he'd meet the Troll who's childhood pictures adorned the home he and his brother were staying in? Which happened to be Bloo's Old family home on the Ranch. The same house they had stopped to stare at on their way to the main house.

"Small world we live in!” He barked with laughter.

"Welcome home Miss Bloo, glad to meetcha." And he meant it, whole heartedly.

"Glad to be home again.”

END.

(Song used was Faith Hill’s ‘Wild One’. Tweaked for this story)

[big-wet-cas-eyes]

AUs: day 2 of @starrynightdeancas 's 2k followers celebration ✨ (ao3)

I didn't know what I wanted to do for this AU prompt so I had @vaxilddan send me a random job and @pixelhanzo send me a random trope and thus the monstrosity "dog groomer + enemies to friends to lovers" was born 

(wc: ~1700)

The little bell above the door dings right as Castiel hangs up the phone. Mrs. Tran is running a little late picking up her golden retriever, Alfie, but she assures Castiel that she'll be there soon. He doesn't mind much; Alfie is a polite dog, and he's been napping quietly in the corner while Castiel tidies up his grooming salon for the last twenty minutes. The front door closes loudly, causing the bell to ding again, and he looks up to see a tall man walking through the door with a scruffy ball of fluff tucked under his arm.

The man might be handsome if he didn't look so exhausted. Strong, stubbled jaw, sandy hair, green eyes… exactly Castiel's type. But the deep purple circles under his eyes make it look like the man hasn't slept in a week. He doesn't get a good vibe from the guy.

Castiel frowns slightly. Alfie was supposed to be his last appointment of the day. He glances down at his schedule, seeing nothing after Alfie. They do take walk-ins, but he was hoping to close up early. Business is business, though, so he pastes his customer service smile on his face.

"Hello, sir. How can I help you?" Castiel greets as the man reaches the desk.

"Hey, uh, you guys do nail trims right?" the man asks as the fur under his arm wiggles.

Castiel eyes the dog warily. It's filthy and matted. He can't even see its eyes. "Just a nail trim?" he asks, unable to stop the skepticism from dripping into his voice. He's trying not to judge, but if he just does a nail trim, this dog is going to leave his salon looking like it's never had a bath in its life.

"What?" The man looks up, surprise in his now wide eyes. He glances down at the dog and grimaces. "I guess she is pretty dirty. Do you have time for a bath? Or I could make an appointment for another day if you're busy?" He sounds unsure, looking around Castiel and probably noticing Alfie, who is awake now and watching the new arrivals.

"No, Alfie there was my last appointment for the day and he's just waiting to go home. I have time to do a bath." He watches the little dog wiggle even more, desperately trying to free itself from under the man's arm. "Who is this?" Castiel asks as he comes around the counter to get a better look at it.

"This is Baby. She's a, uh, pomchi," he replies, moving the dog to grip her under the arms, holding her out in Castiel's direction like she's a bomb. Castiel raises an eyebrow. The combination of dog breed and name don't exactly match this guy's rugged appearance, but he's heard weirder so he shrugs it off.

"Hello, Baby," Castiel says, reaching forward to pat her on the head. His hand snaps back immediately when the dog starts snarling.

"She's a little nervous around new people," the man says sheepishly.

Castiel frowns. He's seen a lot of nervous dogs, and they don't normally react quite this angrily. "I'll just go grab a leash for her." He grabs a clipboard from the desk and hands it at Dean. "Please fill this out."

He sends the man — Dean, according to his paperwork — on his way five minutes later with a promise that he'll call as soon as Baby is ready.

And that's how Castiel meets his least favorite dog grooming client.

Dean brings Baby into Castiel's grooming shop about once a month. She is absolutely, without a doubt, the meanest dog he's ever met. He's taken to muzzling her the moment Dean is out the door because he nearly had his hand ripped off one too many times during her first visit. She snarls and snaps and honestly just looks pissed the entire time she's there. And while she seems slightly more comfortable with Dean, he's caught the dog snarling at her owner a few times too. The dog is tiny, barely six pound soaking wet, but she's pure, concentrated evil.

This dog clearly got no training or proper socialization. He blames her Dean for that. He has no patience for irresponsible owners.

After six months of grooming the literal devil, Castiel finally decides to confront the guy. He doesn't care that it's unprofessional. He doesn't even care if he loses a client or gets a bad review. He's sick of this entitled dick bringing his asshole dog in. Baby has been snarling at him under her muzzle for a full hour, even now that he's completely done with her grooming and she's sitting in the bed in the corner. She sits and glares at Castiel, murder in her eyes. Castiel glares right back at her, and when the bell above the door dings, Castiel shifts his glare to the man walking in.

"Hi, I'm here to pick up B— woah, are you okay, dude?" Dean clearly takes in his glare and stops dead in his tracks, only making it halfway to the front desk.

"Your dog," Cas grits out through clenched teeth, "is the devil incarnate." He knows the anger is clear in his voice. He waits, eyes still fixed on Dean.

"I, uh," Dean stammers, hand rubbing the back of his neck, "I know she's a pain in the ass, but look man, I'm doing my best." He's looking at the floor now.

"I have to muzzle her. She's been snarling at me nonstop for an hour," he almost yells. He points behind him at the dog, not taking his eyes off Dean. "She's still snarling at me! I haven't touched her in fifteen minutes!" The dog growls slightly louder in the background, as if to prove Castiel's point.

Dean looks up, eyes wide. He looks horrified, and Castiel is actually starting to feel a little guilty. "Look, Cas, I'm really sorry, I had no idea. I can start taking her somewhere else. I'm not really a dog person—"

Castiel cuts him off. "Why the hell do you have a dog then?" He can tell that he's being too harsh, but he's just so angry.

The look on Dean's face shifts from embarrassed to sad. "She belonged to my neighbor. She passed away about six months ago, right before I started bringing Baby in to see you. She was always a little uneasy around people, but she seemed okay with me when I visited. That's why Mildred made me promise to take care of her when she was gone, but without Mildred around, Baby completely hates me." He looks Castiel in the eye, finally, eyes pleading. "I'm trying so hard to train her, but she's already eight years old and so, so stubborn. I have no idea what I'm doing."

And all of a sudden Castiel feels like a piece of shit.

He learns a lot about Dean in the next few months, and it turns out the guy isn't so bad now that Castiel doesn't feel obligated to hate him. He brings Baby in more frequently now that winter has come; apparently Baby makes a habit of walking through muddy, slushy piles of snow. Baby still hasn't warmed up to him, but he's more willing to work with her now that he feels guilty for yelling at a guy who was just trying to do the right thing.

Castiel and Dean start chatting more and more whenever Dean drops her off and picks her up, lingering a little longer with each visit. The conversation usually centers around Baby, but Castiel has learned a little bit about Dean's life as well. Dean clearly cares about Baby, even though the dog looks at him like she might kill him at any moment.

Castiel is starting to consider him a friend when Dean asks if he can help train Baby.

"I'm not a dog trainer, Dean," Castiel says, feeling sorry for the words when he sees the look in Dean's eyes. Disappointment.

"I know, but, and you're not gonna believe this, she likes you better than she likes almost anyone else," Dean says, holding up his hand when Castiel opens his mouth to protest. "I swear, it's true. And you're actually a dog person, so I thought maybe…" He sighs loudly. "You don't have to."

Cas takes in a deep breath. He ignores Baby growling behind him and says, "I'll do it."

The bright smile that breaks across Dean's face makes it instantly worth it.

That's how Castiel finds himself at Dean's house every Friday night after work. Baby actually is a little more bearable to be around when she's at home. The disdain she shows in the grooming salon shifts to mostly disinterest as long as Castiel keeps his distance. Dean's not sure that they'll ever get any training accomplished until she trusts Castiel, so they mostly just sit on the floor in the same room as her, scooting closer to her occasionally to get her more comfortable with his presence. Castiel figures that she doesn't need training as much as she needs to get used to human contact, so he's fine with the approach. Luckily, it gives them a lot of time to talk and get to know each other beyond the short conversations they've been having for months.

Things with Baby are slow-going, but after a few weeks she lets them sit within arms reach without snarling, at least until they try to pet her. It's not much, but it's progress. And he feels the progress in his relationship with Dean, as well. The first few times Castiel comes over are a little awkward, but eventually it feels as if he's known Dean forever. Maybe they had a rocky start, a slow progression toward friendship, but Cas doesn't regret how things played out. He doesn't mind that it took some time and effort to understand Dean (and Baby, for that matter). He doesn't mind that it wasn't easy.

And if sometimes Dean reaches across the floor and holds his hand, or kisses him on the cheek on his way out the door… Cas doesn’t mind that either.

[itsclydebitches]

Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first: 

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense. 

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go. 

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3 

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. 

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it. 

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit. 

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world. 

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

****************************************************************************

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.  

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

[theriverpersonshadow]

Lamia Drama Part 7

As always, the species depicted in this belong to @vex-bittys 

FINALLY TROUSLE IS HERE! >:D The only ACTUAL bitty of the bunch XD

It ends with friendship, but warning, this chapter’s kinda sad at the middle. Poor boy...

< PREV | BEGINNING | NEXT >  

         Trousle was doing circles in the Papython enclosure up from, making sure his scales were extra shiny for everyone who came to look! His armor was polished, his posing practiced, and bones an excellent shade of white! Admittedly he’d cheated a little bit and stolen some whitening toothpaste to roll around in (plus it made him smell minty!), but he had to show off the best he could with his looks!

           Because he didn’t have a voice.

           No, that wasn’t fair to say. The nice people at the shop had gotten him a little phone and speaker so people could hear him, and he had gotten positively great at the art of typing! But he couldn’t quite live up to the chirps and “Nyeh”s of his breatheren…

No, that’s silly! They’d just gotten chosen first! He’d get his time! Eventually! Sure, not many went for Papythons when they wanted a nice, quiet companion, but that just meant he had to work a little extra! Even if he had been here seventeen years already, that surely meant his time was soon! Right? Any day would be the day! It’d never be the day.

           A little girl walked up, eyes wide as she bounced on her feet. The other Papython greeted her with a chorus of “Nyehs” and curious chirps. Well, those that weren’t too busy chasing a little ball around the enclosure or “hunting” a teddy bear. Trousle himself slithered to the front as well, typing on his little keyboard until an electronic “Hello small human!”

           But it was drowned out by a chorus of the rest:

           “Nyeh!”

           “Oh! They small! I small!”

           “We’re all small!”

           “I didn’t know hair could be red!”

           “You match my tail!”

           “So so cute!”

           “Cute cute friend!”

           “Hello human!”

           That said, the little one’s eyes – big, brown eyes – were locked on him and his little keyboard. Trousle’s soul flipped in his chest and he tried again, typing into his phone. “Hello small human!”

           “Oh! She likes you?”

           “Great!”

           “Congratulations!”

           “Nyeheheh!”

           His friends, the other Papython, backed off enough to give him a little space to show off. They knew he’d been here a while, and all but the youngest (who hadn’t gotten the hint and had to be dragged away) backed off a little so he could show off. Trousle pressed to the glass, waving hello and letting out a breathy attempt at a chirp.

           “Hehehe! Mommy look! This one’s got a little computer!” The kid said. She put a hand to the glass and Trousle eagerly pressed his head and hands on the other side. “Can I say hi?” The child said, looking at her mom.

           Chris, one of the up-front workers, came over and smiled, “You’re interested in Trousle? I’m sure he’s happy to hear that, aren’t you?”

           Trousle nodded enthusiastically, trying his best to reach up out of the tank, but of course it was made specifically so they couldn’t just get out and run everywhere during the day time – briefly they had tried that model, but the Mambas complained it was unfair that some bitties could roam free and not others, and when that happened they had to give several shots of antivenom over the next month while they tracked down all the more poorly-behaved bitties; the person who decided that letting all the Mambas and Corals roam free was a good idea was chewed out by Nikolai and promptly fired, but everyone had to stay in tanks while the shop was open after that.

           The child’s mother came over and looked at Trousle. Trousle, hoping to please, puffed himself up and waved hello before rolling onto his back all cute-like, wiggling his tail. A bit infantile perhaps, but there is no harm in a bit of silliness! The little girl giggled and stuck her tongue out. Trousle flicked his out too and she giggled. So cute!

           “Which one is that?” The mom asked.

           “That’s Trousle. Would you like to hold him? He’s very friendly.”

           The mother nodded and Chris lowered his hand for Trousle to wrap around, lifting him so that the mom could hold him. Trousle wrapped around her arm – not too tight of course – in a big hug, nuzzling her hand. “Well aren’t you sweet?”

           “Oh oh oh! You’re sooooo cute! I’m Mia!” The kid, Mia, said, hopping up and down on her little feet and making grabby hands for him.

           “Can you say Mia?” The mother said in that little baby-voice.

           Trousle’s soul sank and he glanced over at his abandoned phone. He couldn’t just say no, but he literally couldn’t say anything.

           Chris came to his “rescue” by saying, “Ah… Trousle’s mute I’m afraid.”

           “Ah. Shame… Poor thing,” the mother said, something cold and disappointed in her voice. She gave that all-too familiar sigh that made his soul run cold. He tried hugging more, but she was already scanning the other Papython.            “Can we keep him?” Mia said, little curls of ginger hair bouncing.

           Trousle uncoiled, trying to reach for her, but the mother was already moving, putting him back with the rest.

           “You don’t want that one sweetie. He wouldn’t make much of a companion, being all quiet and always on that phone. Why don’t you say hi to one of the others? Or maybe the Pygmys, I’ve heard they’re playful!” There was a bit of fuss from Mia, but her mother brought her to the Pygmys, not sparing a glance back.

           “Are you alright?” Chris asked. “Sorry, but…”

           “It’s okay.” Trousle typed, even though it very much wasn’t. But it’s not like it was the first time, just the first in a while for him. He’d been so close. But no one looking for a Papython wants a quiet companion or one that’s on the phone a lot. If they want something more quiet, there are Honey-Bos, Cornies, Chains, and some of the Kings even, but not Papython. But, of course, those looking for a quiet bitty to just play games with probably couldn’t handle his levels of excitement and activity.

           But oh well. There were worse things. The shop was mostly good, and he’d been here so long it’d be absolutely weird to leave at this point.

           The other Papython gathered around him to try to cheer him up, but he just wanted to be alone after that, maybe nap for a little bit. Before he could settle in though, one of the other workers came to scoop him and his little system up, Gracie.

           “Nikolai wants you lil dude,” Gracie said. “I think they’re doing some DnD stuff? A bit of a weird time for it, but the boss man was insistent, and I ain’t gonna tell him no.”

           Nikolai belonged to the owner, but she was getting older. In her absence, Nikolai… Well, he wasn’t officially in charge, but he’d been there longest, knew how it ran, and had venomous fangs and a long, powerful tail, two traits most people wouldn’t argue against even if he’s a caring person at heart. He didn’t quite wear his heart on his sleeve, but it usually didn’t take too long for it to show through. It was more like he wore his heart on his undershirt or something – you had to go through a layer or two, but it wasn’t the best hidden.

           Trousle hid partly in her sleeve as he was brought to the back. While he was used to humans and their general size, something about being surrounded by big lamia he didn’t know was a bit nerve wracking. Nothing was sized for him back here, but his friends would never leave him behind! He just has to get to them first.

           Nikolai was sitting in the break room, sipping a hot cup of extra-spicy chai tea while Keith had a Mountain Dew next to him. Gracie sat Trousle on the table, and Keith slid a shotglass of hot chocolate with marshmallows his way.

           “Where’s Hux and Liam?” Trousle typed, head quirked to the side. If Nikolai had coffee, Keith had Mountain Dew, and he was getting hot chocolate, it was clearly a DnD day, even if it was wildly off schedule – they usually didn’t play during work hours, given that there was, well… work. Also, Keith had some player manuals on the table and his DM screen among them.

           Speak of the devil…

           “Where’s the broad?” Hux huffed as he slithered in, arms crossed.

           “Just listen a second,” Keith said… and then said nothing else.

           Trousle was, naturally, confused, and Hux visibly was too, but then he heard an unfamiliar woman’s voice: “Warlocks are one of my favorites – patrons are basically built in lore – but Druids are a mood and Martials can be fun too. Sometimes you just wanna smash stuff with a big hammer, y’know?”

           “Her voice carries,” Nikolai said.

           Keith chuckled, “She’s just excited I bet. I’m pretty sure you, Mister works with literal babies all the time, are the last person who can’t handle someone being a little loud.”

           Nikolai chuckled, rolling his eyes, “I wasn’t complaining. Just a statement.”

           “Anyways, Glitterass wants to meet her at his enclosure first. Y’know, like a drama queen,” Hux said. “He’s pretending he can’t get out still.”

           Almost in unison, Keith and Nikolai said, “We’re coming.”

           “Me too?” Trousle typed, then made “pick me up” hands.

           Nikolai lowered his arm for Trousle, “You too.”

           “I’m getting my freaking coffee,” Hux said. No doubt he’d get it with half a scoop of sugar, make a quarter of it milk, add two servings of cinnamon, and then a tablespoon of chocolate. It was his favorite.

           “C’mon then,” Keith said, leading the way with his hands tucked in his pockets like he always did when he was either nervous or excited. Trousle wasn’t sure which, but agreed with him either way.

[osakaso5]

IDOLiSH7 5th Anniversary Special Story: Opening Doors...

Chapter 5: A Burning Passion

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

Tsumugi's Thoughts: Several days later...

Tsumugi's Thoughts: They began filming for Shining Rainbow Kitchen!

- - - -

Whoosh...

Tenn Kujo: Ah... I can see Manami Bay.

Iori Izumi: That must be their famous morning market.

Haruka Isumi: There's so many people, even though it's early morning.

Yamato Nikaido: .........

Iori Izumi: Hey, Nikaido-san.

Yamato Nikaido: ...Hmm?

Iori Izumi: Stop looking like you're about to fall asleep. You're the one who wanted to come here.

Yamato Nikaido: Yeah...

Haruka Isumi: You look like a zombie... Are you bad with mornings or something?

Iori Izumi: He's never been much of an early riser, but it seems he also stayed up late last night...

Tenn Kujo: For work?

Iori Izumi: No. He was gaming with Yotsuba-san.

Tenn Kujo: Pathetic.

Tenn Kujo: Wake up, Yamato Nikaido. You're supposed to be a professional.

Yamato Nikaido: It'll be fine. My eyes will pop right open once the cameras start rolling...

Tenn Kujo: That work ethic is exactly why Gaku took the Crescent Wolves role from you.

Yamato Nikaido: ........

Haruka Isumi: Ah, he's finally awake.

Haruka Isumi: Did you wanna be in Crescent Wolves? I guess you do kinda look like Shizuo Chiba.

Iori Izumi: I didn't expect you to care about it so much.

Yamato Nikaido: Yeah... Ugh... I dunno why, but I just broke out in a cold sweat for some reason.

Tenn Kujo: Hehe. Not feeling sleepy anymore?

Yamato Nikaido: Don't get me wrong here. I'm not gonna pretend like we could ever be rivals. I mean, this is Yaotome we're talking about.

Iori Izumi: What do you mean? You could beat him just fine, Leader.

Tenn Kujo: Gaku won't lose that easily.

Haruka Isumi: ...Are you guys competing for the role now?

Iori Izumi: Not now, but we will eventually.

Tenn Kujo: I'm sure we'll have our showdown someday.

Yamato Nikaido: No, we won't. Let's go eat some lobster already. 

- - - - 

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Toma Inumaru: Cock-a-doodly-doo!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Cluck cluck!

Mitsuki Izumi: That's a lot of chickens! What's up, chickens!?

Tamaki Yotsuba: Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Toma Inumaru: Cock-a-doodly-doo!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Cluck cluck!

Mitsuki Izumi: This is Dearest Poultry Farm, the home of Dearest Eggs!

Mitsuki Izumi: They play their chickens music to make them lay good eggs!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Toma Inumaru: Cock-a-doodly-doo!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Cluck cluck!

Mitsuki Izumi: We're gonna sing them idol songs so they can lay good eggs!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Co... Huh!? Like chickens?

Mitsuki Izumi: Yep.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Right now!?

Mitsuki Izumi: You're the one who started clucking! Sing a MEZZO" song. Sogo's watching.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Okay. So-chan, I'm gonna do my best so these chickens lay good eggs!

Toma Inumaru: Uh, do I gotta sing too?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: What about me?

Mitsuki Izumi: Of course! Ah, or will TRIGGER's manager get mad?

Mitsuki Izumi: This might get cut, but you might as well do a medley! Tamaki, you're first..!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Cock-a-doodle-doo ♪ Cock-a-doodle-doo ♪ Cock-a-doodle-doo ♪

Toma Inumaru: Cock-a-doodly-doo ♪ Cock-a-doodly-doo ♪

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Cluck cluck ♪ Cluck cluck ♪ Cluck cluck ♪ 

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Mitsuki Izumi: There! Thanks a lot!

- - - -

Momo: Wow! This is really stylish, for a rice shop! Says here the name is Iketeru Rice Mill!

Nagi Rokuya: OH! Japanese modernity! I makes me want to cosplay!

Sogo Osaka: Apparently the owner of this place is popular with women because he's really handsome.

Torao Mido: I bet I'm hotter, though.

Rice Mill Owner: Welcome.

Nagi Rokuya: .......!

Torao Mido: Wha..!?

Sogo Osaka: Huh..!?

Momo: Whoa!!! What a hunk..! I didn't think it was gonna be a foreign guy!

Rice Mill Owner: Haha. I love Japanese food, so I moved here. Do take a look around.

Momo: Not to mention he's a real gentleman~! Hmm...!? What's wrong, you guys!?

Nagi Rokuya: ...Oh my god...

Sogo Osaka: He looks exactly like Nagi-kun's brother...

Torao Mido: Are you sure you're not related to this dude..?

Rice Mill Owner: Haha. I don't think there's that many guys with a face as good as mine.

Momo: Whoa..! Even his vibes are kinda handsome!

Rice Mill Owner: You're here for the Radiant 16-Grain, right? You gonna cook it right away?

Torao Mido: It took him like a second to get casual with us...

Sogo Osaka: He must not be one for customer service...

Nagi Rokuya: OH... My brother is more lovely. He lacks confidence yet acts haughty, which is a part of his charm.

Momo: But I'm weak to hot guys...

Nagi Rokuya: No, no, no! Think of how sad Mister Yuki will be!

Rice Mill Owner: I don't like seeing people frown. Let's all be happy, instead.

Rice Mill Owner: With my shop's grains ☆

Torao Mido: He winked at us.

Sogo Osaka: He seems like a good businessman.

Nagi Rokuya: In any case... Please, let me take a picture of you.

Rice Mill Owner: OK. Do you wanna be in it too, or is it just gonna be me?

Momo: He's super good at handling customers...

Sogo Osaka: Mido-san, you said you were more handsome than him. Go on, defeat him.

Torao Mido: No, to tell you the truth, I'm not really all that assertive...

Rice Mill Owner: Well, what'll it be? Should I start polishing the rice? 

- - - -

Gaku Yaotome: This is the General's Farm, where they grow the General's Edamame!

Riku Nanase: We're already here! The trip felt so short!

Minami Natsume: The video collection Yuki-san showed us of Momo-san was quite impressive.

Riku Nanase: The pictures you showed us of Mido-san doing cool poses were impressive too, Natsume-san!

Gaku Yaotome: Your collection of Izumi Junior morning pics was really something too, Nanase!

Yuki: You had a nice collection of dinner pictures featuring Ryunosuke-kun yourself, Gaku-kun.

Riku Nanase: It was so much fun! I'm glad we had no trouble along the way!

Gaku Yaotome: Right. Our lunch boxes were delicious, too.

Minami Natsume: Not to mention the climate is nice here.

Yuki: Yeah. It's so warm.

Gaku Yaotome: And we've got someone repping every one of our nations.

Yuki: I didn't know we were nations.

Gaku Yaotome: Why don't we have a competition to see who can defend their group's honor the best?

Riku Nanase: A competition?

Minami Natsume: Oh dear... I thought we were supposed to be Team Peace.

Yuki: TRIGGER's a warrior nation.

Gaku Yaotome: Why don't we see who can find the biggest edamame?

Riku Nanase: Fine by me! What does the winner get?

Gaku Yaotome: You want a prize? Well... Any ideas?

Yuki: Let's all wager whatever we can find inside our pockets.

Gaku Yaotome: Pockets?

Riku Nanase: I've got, um... Some chocolate!

Gaku Yaotome: I've got my phone.

Minami Natsume: I have a handkerchief.

Yuki: I've got a piece of gum. Alright, so whoever wins gets all of these things.

Gaku Yaotome: Wait a minute!

Riku Nanase: Yay! I'll get a new phone and a handkerchief!

Yuki: You could've mentioned the gum, too.

Minami Natsume: If I win, I'll show you those pictures of Tsunashi-san again on our way back.

Yuki & Riku: Yay!

Gaku Yaotome: Yay! ...Wait, I'm not letting you have my phone! It's got a bunch of my personal info!

Minami Natsume: Oh my. I just so happen to love personal information.

Yuki: So do I.

Gaku Yaotome: Hey!

Riku Nanase: Ready, get set, go!

Gaku Yaotome: Nanase..!

To be continued...

[davidmann95]

So... Crossover #1: any thoughts?

Anonymous said: You seemed not to think much of Crossover #1 on Twitter. Your full thoughts?

wcwit said: So Cates' Crossover #1, best bad comic of the year or just regular pretentious trash?

An incidental note upfront: What you’re seeing there is the apparently SUPER-RARE SECRET VARIANT COVER I unwittingly picked up at the store - at first glance indistinguishable from the standard cover, the kid getting four-color-fucked by mysterious comic book rays is in fact themselves reading a variant cover of the book, rather than the main cover again in an infinite painting-within-a-painting sort of deal that’s the standard.

So I wasn’t gonna get this: my initial post on the comic and what an obviously awful idea it was back when we only knew half the premise and it was known as Pray The Capes Away actually got some out-of-nowhere traction recently, and I’ve grown rapidly tired of Cates’ Marvel work. Even learning that it was going to be Image’s biggest debut in decades - Jesus fuck, how and why - mostly just made me wish it was Commanders in Crisis getting those kinds of numbers. But Sean Dillon/@deathchrist2000 and Ritesh Babu both got early looks at it and assured me that I, specifically, needed to see the last page, so in I dove. I’ll be posting my reaction to the last page below because I recorded it for their amusement, and below that I’ll talk about said last page. It may surprise you, however, that that wasn’t my main takeaway from the issue.

Let’s accentuate the positive first! This book is gorgeous. Geoff Shaw was terrific back with Thanos Wins, but this is an incredible stylistic level-up aided and abetted by Dee Cunniffe’s colors: it’s rote as hell to say “They mix the elevated and the mundane so well!”, but even beyond the obvious ben-day dots stuff there’s such a tangible sense that the comic book beings don’t belong here, that they’re of higher, misty, platonic stuff and we squishy non-paper-people inevitably crumble and break and bleed in their wake, communicating that big idea so much more powerfully than the actual loads of text on the subject. And if we’re talking good things, I’ll concede it’s possible that there could be subtleties that play out in more interesting ways as it goes on, and that not everything is meant to be taken at face value: a smart friend who actually did like it mentioned being interested in it as clumsy but potentially effective exploration of ‘what if the fun hobby you had inadvertently became contaminated and stigmatized by forces beyond your control?’ In a post-Comicsgate world where we recently ended up inches away from the Superman logo almost certainly becoming a fascist propaganda symbol ala the Punisher skull for at least a generation, that’s a defensible lens to view this book through.

For all Donny Cates’ legitimate talents however, I don’t think an expectation of subtlety is gonna work out with this one.

Okay first off getting into the rest of it the main characters’ name is Ellipsis because “Those three little dots...they can become anything”, so there’s that. More importantly, in the world of this story where comic fans face social oppression after superpeople materialize and fuck up Colorado, they face EVERY KIND OF OPPRESSION: there are clear parallels drawn in here to the violence and harassment faced by people persecuted for their religion, people seeking abortions, queer people, and people of color; this motherfucker even drops a “hates and fears” to let us know comic collecting basically makes you one of the goddamn X-Men. Which in theory could be a purely misjudged allegory rather than stemming from actual, obscenely inflated to the point of disgusting fears of ‘nerd oppression’, except that the book literally opens with a quote from Wertham. If Cates didn’t want to make the message “Hating comics? That’s bad. Like, racism bad”, he utterly, grotesquely failed by inextricably intermingling imagery of real-world bigotry with systemic, deluded fanboy paranoia, at least as of this first issue that’s supposed to meaningfully convey the premise. As a queer dude I think I’m somewhat in my lane to say it’s too blunt and broad and dopey to be particularly offensive, but the co-opting of oppression is what this is rooted in.

The idea of ‘comics good no matter what people think, ain’t it?’ extends to the last traditional local comic store standing in this world: much as superheroes are the primary cause of suffering in this world but the point of the story is still supposed to reveal the beauty in them, part of this is that the comics community isn’t perfect but it sure is great. Which is expressed here via Ellie’s boss Otto, a loveable asshole who yells at people coming in trying to sell the wrong kind of comics to fuck off, but at heart is we’re supposed to understand a good enough dude that the shop he runs is “the only home a lot of (the benighted nerds) have left” (because I guess in this alternate universe the physical stores are still the main hub through which comics fans talk with one another?).

So here’s a story of my very own! That’s me in 2013, it must’ve been some kind of special day because I’m wearing a shirt with a button. I’d at that point only frequented one of what would be my thus far four regular comic shops. The first was a great place, and while to say I had a sense of community there would be overstating it a bit, I was on really good terms with the owner and we regularly chatted when we had the time. When I left for college my store there wasn’t as well-stocked, and for some damn reason all variant covers were double-price, but I got along really well with the owner there too. The third I wasn’t so lucky; the guy regularly behind the desk was never overtly hostile, but clearly wanted to wring my neck every time I asked when a missing comic might get in or if I could update my pull list, and given I’m in the ‘ideal’ demographic for being a comic book store regular and was dropping a solid lump of money there every week, I wonder how others were treated there (the store nearly went under, was saved on the last day of operation by another store that wanted to incorporate it as part of its franchise, then shortly afterwards DID go under and is now I believe a beef jerky place). My current store is fine, I didn’t chat much with the folks behind the counter even before we all had medical incentive to get in and out of places fairly quickly but it almost always has what I’m looking for.

Just because those were my regular stores of course doesn’t mean those are the only ones I’ve ever gone to. About a year before that picture was taken - it’s the closest I could find - when I was 17 my store didn’t have something or another I was looking for, so I head across town to see if another place I had looked up had it. This other place didn’t have what I was looking for either, though I distinctly remember picking up a few issues of Hickman’s FF while I was there since I had foolishly fallen off, hence my remembering the year. I bought a couple issues, but hung around for a bit looking to see if I might grab something else out of a dollar box, setting my comics down. Without realizing it, I’d set my books down on top of another issue, and when I decided I wasn’t getting anything else, I just picked that up along with the rest of the pile and was about to walk out before the owner stopped me. He explained what I had done though assumed it had been deliberate, and because I was a good-hearted little geek I even recall thinking “Well, he’s gonna chew me out, but I guess I deserve it. I’ll try and take this to heart as a learning experience.”

Then he pulled up his shirt a little to show me the gun on his belt. He pointed at the security camera monitors at his desk, and explained to me that if I ever did something like that again, he would have it on tape, and he would pull that gun on me and hold me there while he called the cops.

As it turned out, the comic was free.

The whole thing was so sudden and bizarre and unexpected I didn’t actually freak out until the drive home. It wasn’t until weeks or maybe months later that I managed to tell my dad about the experience, because I *had* nearly stolen a (free) comic and my guilt was mixed in with my nerves and I guess I was somehow too close to register just how disproportionate his response was. It wasn’t until now, nearly a decade later and thinking about it for the first time in a long time as I write this, that I wondered if that might have gone differently - especially living in the midwest - if I hadn’t been a white, squeaky-voiced 17-year-old.

So, minor spoiler, when our cantankerous but well-meaning LCS owner yells to call the cops and grabs and yells at a small kid for pocketing a comic (and later displays fantasy racism towards said kid), I am not filled with nostalgic love for the brotherly safe space that is comic book stores, where this guy while not meant to be seen as perfect is still framed in part as a charming, witty representation of Why We Love These Places, And This Community, And This Genre, And This Medium. Cates is clearly drawing on real time at his local stores, but he equally clearly has a very different takeaway from those experiences than me. And I am, again, in a demographic - white, cis-male, abled, bi but more interested in women, disposable income, a lifelong collector - that the industry and a lot of the guys who sell it to us contort themselves around catering to, even if I had a single very negative experience and later an ongoing low-key uncomfortable one to help disabuse me of any notions of the purity of the dork community. In the world of Crossover as of #1, toxicity is intertwined, deliberately or not on the part of the creators, with what we love on the cosmic and small business scales alike, but at least in the latter case it’s the whole picture that’s beautiful, not any single kernel that needs to be worked on to be dug up.

So underneath is my video reaction to the last page of Crossover #1. Very minor spoilers because I mutter the last two words of the comic to myself, but under the video I discuss said final page and some other scattered thoughts. Whether you read that or not, my takeaway is this: I’m fascinated with wherever the hell this thing is going, I’m glad my dad liked it well enough to want to keep getting it because now I’ll get to see where it heads, but my first impression is that this is at heart meant as cheapass Oscar-bait for people who only read Batman. It’s big and high-concept but also small and intimate! It’s meta and about how great you, the reader are for your consumption, especially the consumption of this! It’s going to be in large part about a forbidden love between a couple divided across impermeable social lines (a couple where they’re a seemingly straight white man and woman, but one likes comics)! Maybe it’ll become Not That, and I’m sure it’ll do at least something interesting along the way because Cates has done good stuff before and there are some inherently interesting big ideas for him to play with here, but for the love of god if you’re thinking about getting this buy Commanders in Crisis too or instead, it’s another new book out of Image about superheroes dealing with the collapse of the multiverse but that one is really fucking good.

So the final page splash reveal is that when the comic book child discovered in here got out of Colorado, which has had an impenetrable energy shield erected around it by one of the heroes for years, she and others were ferried out of there...by Superman, as the narration declares that “This is a story...about hope.” They don’t say the word, but she sketches her savior, Ellie and Otto freak out and go “Is that---” when they see it, and on that last page we see that while a crude drawing it isn’t a rough analogue character, it’s a guy with a cape and trunks with an S on his chest. Surprisingly, I don’t have much to say: it’s just another blunt signifier that superheroes rule and are the best, paired with the most utterly devalued notion as of late of what makes Superman special in ‘hope’. I mean, I’m perversely excited to see whether this is building the entire series on a hook it can never deliver on, or if Cates actually has talked DC into an intercompany crossover; believable given they’ve done a bunch of those over the last several years, and why else would Mark Waid be supervising as ‘story editor’ on this? I guess it’ll shake out one way or another with #6 given Cates has said it “has one of the more epic and — I would argue historic — sequences in comic book history in it.” But I’m far less convinced this is gonna truly go into the meaty question of “What does Superman mean and what makes him unique in this world where superheroes in general are indisputably either failures or monstrous bastards given the scale of destruction their presence has brought about, and he himself failed to stop that?” than as some kind of holy grail of how great superheroes are despite how dang violent they’ve gotten these days for the crew to chase after, whatever additional twist will surely be placed upon it. At least he’s kinda helping an immigrant kid get over a wall, if that’s deliberate?

Random final thoughts:

* If I wrote the opening essay and turned it in in a college course, I would be expelled for plagiarizing Grant Morrison. This is not a joke.

* If mainstream American superhero comics ended January 2017 in this universe, its own last ‘crossover’ was Civil War II, which is hilarious.

* God, please tell me if it takes the dive after all that this isn’t somehow tied into whatever Waid’s Superman project is.

* I wouldn’t normally crap on issues with the finer details of worldbuilding, but A. This is rooted in a nominally ‘real’ world playing by recognizable rules, B. I’m ragging on this anyway so what’s the harm, and C. It’s really obvious. So: Why is one of the racists against the superheroes the guy who loves superheroes so much he’s the last holdout in the entire world still selling comic books about them? How does this modestly-sized shop exist long-term with apparently a significant regular customer base if there are no new comics or even reprints to restock with, ever? Who’s buying the serialized cop/cowboy comics that the U.S. government apparently created pretty much overnight (nobody, it’s just another Wertham dig)?

* The solicit for issue #3 proclaims “Don't miss this one, folks. If you do, it just might drive you...mad.”, so now I fear some kind of Ultra Comics riff.

* “Kids love chains” is the most metal-ass quote of all time and I hate that it’s being wasted as an arc title on this book.

[minniepetals]

flowers & tattoos

— summary: you own a flower shop right next to the tattoo parlor your boyfriends own.

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, poly!au

— word count: 2.3k

— warnings: none

"Wake up, sunshine. I can't wake up until the sun's awake."

Hoseok grunted at the call of your voice but he held onto a smile waiting to reveal that softness he had behind that bad boy demeanor.

"Baby, sunshine, my sweet hope and angel," you cooed, poking at his face at the place where his dimples were located. Finally, he cracked a smile at your sweet nicknames and you giggled at the sight, quick to call him out on it. "I know you're awake," you said, getting up to move yourself on top of him.

"Five more minutes baby," he groaned at the weight but made no effort to get you off, instead rearranged his body so that you were lying in a more comfortable way. 

As much as you loved staying in that spot with him and any of the boys, you knew that couldn't happen. Wiggling yourself, you moved yourself a bit forward so that your face came directly face to face with him, peppering little kisses on them. "Wake up, wake up, wake up."

"Baby-"

"I won't stop until you wake up," you said through the kisses.

Hoseok grinned. "I won't complain."

"Hobi!" Your whines reminded him of how Jimin would get when things didn’t go his way and he laughed aloud. "Come on baby, the others are waiting."

"They can wait a little longer," he shrugged nonetheless, not caring one bit as his hands touched your back, pulling your body down so that you were resting on his chest once again.

"Maybe they can for you but I've gotta open up the flower shop. I work alone, remember?"

"Why does it matter if we close up business for the day?"

"Nuh-uh, that's not happening." Both your heads turned to the source of the voice, smiling at Jungkook who walked through the door. "Hyung come on, let's get going," the maknae urged.

You grunted at Hoseok's strength on holding you back from trying to get up. "He's not letting me go," you huffed to Jungkook.

He rolled his eyes at your words before walking towards you both and landed his lips right onto Hoseok.

"Morning hyung," he greeted and Hoseok laughed.

"Alright, alright, I'm awake."

"Hey, I want my morning kisses!" You pouted, making grabbing hands at both the men. They let out knowing chuckles before each giving you a kiss.

"Morning baby girl." You giggled at Jungkook's nickname for you. "Now go brush your teeth and get dressed. We can't open up late," he ordered, leaving the two of you to stumble into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

It was always fascinating to see these "bad boys" whom the locals have came to see as, being so soft around each other and you. Sometimes you'd forget that they could be dark and dangerous because of how they were behind other's eyes, but seeing the tattoos painted almost all over their skin, you were always reminded of how they looked in your eyes before you fell in love.

You didn't know how long time passed as you and Hoseok brushed your teeth while he plopped you onto the marble countertop of the sink and the two of you played along, laughing at the lame jokes he'd throw at you. But you guessed it was probably a bad idea to lose track of time early in the morning because you found yourselves rushing away to get dressed a moment later, leaving quickly while missing breakfast.

"What were you two doing?" Yoongi asked grimly and you silently gave Hoseok a knowing glance, subtly — not so subtly — hiding your desires to laugh. The male rolled his eyes but draped his arm around you as the van began departing. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"Love you too, Yoon."

Owning shops that were right next to each other was a great convenience. You got to open up the shops together and leave at the same hours, and whenever one of them was less busy and without a client, they got to visit you just next door.

You owned the flower shop and they owned the tattoo parlor. Sometimes you'd find yourself envying the local girls that would always go into the shop just because of them and not about getting a tattoo. And sometimes they'd envy the guys walking into your flower shop just to see you and not for buying some flowers. Unlike you, however, they had no problem showing the world about who you belonged to.

Like that same morning when Seokjin came to visit you and found a guy talking to you.

He snuck up behind your back to wrap his arms around your waist, causing you to jump, and proceeded to kiss you on your cheek.

"J-Jin!" You gasped, suddenly a blushing mess because he was acting that way in front of your customer.

But Seokjin paid no mind. "You skipped breakfast so I brought you some. Let's have it now, hm?" You couldn't see it but he was giving the man in front of you the silent death glare, inwardly tell him to screw off and that you were his.

"Jin, there's a customer here-"

"Actually, I'm okay now," the man said, suddenly afraid of Seokjin.

"Are you sure? I can-"

"Come on babe, let's go," Seokjin whined, leaving your back to drag you away before you had time to say any more to your customer. As he dragged you away, he looked back at the man still standing at his spot and smirked. Mine, he silently told him before turning back to you.

"You really gotta control that, Jin," you sighed, rolling your eyes as the two of you walked into the back. "Yesterday Taehyung almost started a fight because some dude looked at me a little too long and now there's you, displaying pda in front of my customer."

He grabbed your arm before you could walk any further, forcing you to face him as he held you close. "They should know by now that you're ours and only ours. We're just looking out for you, love," he smirked then met your lips in a searing kiss that left you almost breathless when he finally pulled away.

"Sorry for being late by the way," he said, paying no mind to your short breaths as he took his spot on the stool. "Hoseok had his breakfast but none of us could find the time to bring you yours."

"That's alright," you assured, smiling while taking your own seat. "Thanks for this." Seokjin watched you open the bento he made and picked up your chopsticks to feed you. You rolled your eyes. "I can feed myself."

"Just let me take care of you," he said. You hesitated for a moment before obliging, knowing the stubborn man wouldn't take no as an answer. A look on the clock was fast to have him cringe. "Damn, it's almost your lunchtime."

"That's fine," you shrugged. "I was planning on skipping lunch anyways so this can be both my breakfast and lunch."

His hand paused in midair, scowling at you. "What do you mean skip? Are you trying to die?"

You laughed aloud, the sound he always loved. "I won't die if I skip just one meal, you're dramatic."

"I'm looking out for you," he corrected right before his phone went off and an annoyed huff left his lips. "Work's calling, gotta get back."

Part of you didn't wanted him to leave just yet but you nodded anyways, knowing he couldn't leave a client hanging. "See you later."

"Eat all of this, okay?" Seokjin ordered as he handed you the chopsticks. "I'll see you later." With one last kiss, you watched his back as he left to his side of the shop.

~~

You lost track of time.

Even with your last customer leaving, you found yourself working away with the flower arrangements into the night, not even hearing the chime of the door opening as your seven boyfriends walked in, wondering what was keeping you up.

They found you sat behind your counter, softly humming a song while your hands stayed busy picking out flowers for each bouquet. You looked so beautiful amongst the flowers but the way your eyes dropped a bit told them you must have been tired.

A flower fell from your hand, dropping onto the floor and they heard you grunt. "Clumsy idiot, gotta work faster, not slower. Are you trying to get behind work? You've only made like one or two bouquets, you can't slow down already," you mumbled, speaking to yourself as you groaned, getting off your stool to pick up the flower but finding someone else picking it up for you instead.

"Actually, I think you can take a break now," Jungkook said, putting the daffodil on the counter.

"There's like fifty bouquets already, love, pay attention to your hard work," Namjoon said.

"Holy heck," you marveled, mouth opened a bit at the sight of your hard work before looking up at them with sleepy eyes. "Home?"

Jungkook chuckled. "Time to go home, love," he said as you let out a yawn, letting you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. "We'll close up for you, you've worked so hard today."

"Sleepy," you mumbled, nuzzling against the crook of his neck.

"I bet you are."

~~

You woke up sick the next day.

It was at 5:30 when your alarm went off since it took a long time for all of you to get up and ready by the time it was time to open the shops up by seven.

Namjoon got up to hit the snooze button and you were second to follow, though it was due to the pain that had you waking up. You stood up, shrugging off the signs because it wouldn't be right to be sick. You were the owner of a flower shop after all, you couldn't not open up business for even a day.

You were usually the one to wake the rest of them up but you didn't feel too good so you got up to head to the bathroom, only going so far before things got too overwhelming with a severe headache that had you collapsing onto the floor.

"Y/N!"

Hearing the thud, they were all quick to get up and run to your side.

"Now that's one way to wake them all up," Namjoon commented before giving you those worried eyes as he held you up while the rest of them crowded around, some still half asleep. "What's wrong baby?"

"I'm fine," you tried to convince, waving off their worries to get up yet failing to do so.

"You're not fine," Taehyung stated while Seokjin held his palm against your forehead to check your temperature.

You pushed his hand away stubbornly, a little pout forming at your lips. "No, I have to be fine. I have to open up the shop."

"Not in this state you won't."

"I have to!" You argued, getting a little annoyed even though you know you shouldn't be. But you loved your job and you couldn't afford taking a day off no matter how sick you were.

They sighed at your stubbornness, brows furrowed because as much as they loved how hardworking and sincere you were, it hurt them to see you pushing yourself each day and risking your health.

"We're not going to say this again, Y/N." They hated using that tone on you especially when your eyes began to brim with tears. It must've been the sickness making you weaker than you usually were, but Namjoon knew he couldn't help it. "You're not going to that shop today or even tomorrow if you're still not too well."

"No, I-"

"Give it up, love," Yoongi sighed, "you're not even strong enough to walk right."

"We'll stay too," Seokjin said and you quickly shook your head.

"You can't do that. Business has to open up, working is more important than me."

"Oh, love," Jimin called as they all gave you that same face of a gentle painful expression. "You are more important to us than anything in this world."

"And if we want to take care of you then we'll take care of you," Hoseok said.

Jungkook nodded. "You're our precious girl, Y/N. Ours to love and to take care of."

"Plus what's the harm in closing up shop for a day?" Taehyung shrugged. "Our customers can wait and so can yours. Your health is more important."

Namjoon picked you up before you could protest, walking you back to the bed while Seokjin announced that he'd make you soup and Jungkook followed the man to help him.

"I don't like being sick," you pouted as Namjoon placed you under the covers.

"We know, love. We don't like seeing you like this either." Jimin went to lay beside you, wiping away the two tears that fell from your eyes. "You'll be alright. We'll take care of you."

You hated the sickness that overtook your body but perhaps it wasn't all that bad to see seven usually calm and collected males fussing over you. Especially when you were the only one who got to see that side to them. The local girls were probably wondering why both your shops were closed that day, possibly envying you even more.

You smiled widely knowing it was you the guys chose to love.

"Hey."

"Yes baby girl? Anything you need or want?" Yoongi asked, waiting to go fetch whatever you asked of him.

"You."

"Which one?" He smirked.

You grinned. "All of you."

A hand slid along your waist, another caressed your head, while two pairs of lips peppered kisses on your face and neck. You tried to push them away but someone else held your hand back. "Stop, I'm still sick."

"You wanted us, baby girl, and you'll get us."

[baegarrick]

idk if you've read/seen the book/movie but just... love, simon zukka au ?? sokka as simon and zuko as bram because blue spirit ( though if we r going for it personality-wise maybe switch their roles? idk ! ) — also in this one the friends are exponentially better

ok im so sorry I haven’t actually seen love, simon or read the book but.... I HAVE ACCESS TO WIKIPEDIA SO LETS GO

ok so I was considering Zuko as Simon bc of the musical thing/the loving parent (Iroh), the girl he sees Sokka (Bram) kiss is Suki.... but also bc I just love writing Zuko (maybe I’ll parse that out at the end)

BUT lets go with Sokka as Simon bc I also love writing the Gaang

Sokka is Simon

Katara is both Nora and Abby

Jet is Martin

Aang is Nick (but slightly also Abby)

Zuko is blue/Bram

Suki is Leah (but slightly also Nick)

Toph is Ethan (sorta)

Haru is Lyle

Ok so, obv this follows the plot of the movie/book. Sokka is a gay + closeted junior, not that his dad isn’t loving, but he’s in the military, and occasionally makes homophobic jokes, and Sokka feels like he has to be tough for him, esp. since his mom died. But he really likes making people laugh and so he joins the school musical, which is a comedy this year.

His best friend is Suki, who he’s known since he was a kid, but he’s kinda been withdrawing from her since he got to high school. He loves her, he really does, but everyone always thinks they’re dating, and it kinda makes him uncomfortable. He tried to like her, when they were younger, but he just... isn’t into girls. His friend group is Suki, Katara (his sister, and it was the two of them against the world since their mom died, but he’s pulled away from her too), Aang (a transfer freshman from out of state), and Toph (who spent up till 8th grade at a private school).

Also in the musical is Zuko, a hot senior who’s like.... super lofty. He gets really into theater, but he rarely interacts with people outside his friend group, like he’s better than them or something. (Mai and Ty Lee are also there, they’re Zuko’s friends.) Not in the musical, but in one of the other clubs Sokka is in, is Jet. He got kicked off the football team for being too rough with the other team last year, so he mostly just hangs out behind the bleachers smoking.

Sokka’s on the school’s tumblr one day (shut up, Katara, I don’t have a tumblr!!) when he sees someone posted an anonymous confession saying they’re gay but they really don’t have anyone they can talk to because of their family situation. Sokka gets their email (BlueSpirit) and start emailing (BoomerangDude) them for a couple of months. He learns that Blue’s family has really high expectations of him, and since he’s only a year away from college he can’t mess them up because if he does he’ll be cut off, and he can’t afford college if that happens. He’s got a sadistic little sister (who isn’t actually terrible, she’s just got her own shit going on, and if shoving Zuko in the warpath of their father takes the spotlight off of her, all the better) who would absolutely out him if she knew, a girl he’s pretty sure wants to date him (Mai), and an after-school job (the tea shop) thats cutting into his extra-curricular activities.

This is.... really similar to Sokka, actually, and he likes making Blue laugh (they switch to chatting online sometimes, like discord or some chat app), and Blue has a lot of insights on things Sokka likes (some of the same music,

Meanwhile, Sokka ends up going to this tea shop he heard about from Blue (it had been a slip, Zuko had NOT meant to say too many personal details, but he’d mentioned getting some kind of boba drink) and studying there with his friends. While he’s there, he’s surprised to see Zuko, who he’s never spoken to outside of the musical they’re working on!! (At some point, Zuko checks his phone and laughs, and Sokka’s like, oh no, I’m crushing on.... TWO DUDES???? BAD SOKKA). He starts to wonder if maybe.... Zuko is Blue?? it generally sorta fits, he knows Zuko is also a senior, and the tea shop Blue mentioned.... (to be fair, though, they see like three other kids from school there, so it’s not really a niche place)

Before Sokka can test out this theory, though, there’s a Halloween party which Sokka goes to with his friends. (They go as the Power Rangers.) He sees Zuko there (he’s in some some Kabuki costume), but with him is.... Mai from the play. They’re making out, and Sokka feels his stomach drop-- he’s not gay and Sokka’s crushing on a straight guy. He gets drunk. He throws up in the bushes outside, and Katara finds him, chews him out, and then sneaks him back home.

He emails Blue again, drunk, and says some stupid stuff like he wishes things were easier, and that he thought he knew who Blue was, but he didn’t. (Blue doesn’t reply.)

He’s checking his email on a school computer in the library when the bell rings, and he doesn’t log out properly, and Jet, who is skipping class, finds Sokka’s emails. He confronts Sokka about them, and says he won’t reveal Sokka’s secret... if Sokka helps Jet get with Sokka’s hot sister. Sokka hates the idea, but also, the idea of being outed is really terrifying. So he says yes, and tries to talk up Jet to Katara, who’s a little surprised bc while she thinks Jet is hot, Sokka was super against Jet whenever she mentioned it. Katara is involved in school politics, and convinces Jet to pretend to be interested to spend time with her. (he ends up running against her...)

Around Thanksgiving, with all their extended family there, ribbing him about getting a girlfriend (asking about Suki), Sokka leaves and goes to sit on the roof. Katara finds him there, and demands he spill whats up and why he’s acting so weird, especially about Suki. (she looks freaked out for a moment, and is like.... oh my god, sokka, is suki pregnant?????? sokka blanches at that) He admits he’s gay, and she hugs him, and they stay out there until their dad sticks his head out the window and calls them inside.

Feeling guilty about Jet, Sokka admits to Blue their emails might have been compromised. Blue starts to back away, taking longer and longer to answer emails.

At a football game, Sokka runs into Haru, who starts asking him stuff, and Sokka wonders if he’s Blue, but it turns out Haru is interested in Katara. Upset, again, that he doesn’t know who Blue is, he encourages Jet to “go big or go home”-- and so Jet asks Katara out by bribing the kid who does the scoreboard to switch out his campaign ad for asking Katara out. Katara is shocked, as she thought Jet was really interested in her campaign. She slaps him.

Mad that Katara wasn’t interested after all, and from the slap, Jet outs Sokka anyway, posting the emails on the school’s gossip site. Katara, who was mad at Sokka, instantly forgives him and is on a WARPATH against Jet, but Sokka just wants it left alone. Suki shows up a few hours later, and finds him on the roof. She admits that she had a crush on him, which was why she never said anything when people asked if they were a couple, but she knew Sokka wasn’t interested in her, so she never pushed it. She’s sorry she made it difficult for him to come out to her.

Blue is upset their emails have leaked, and deletes his account.

He comes out to his dad later, in the car, on the way to school on the last couple of days before winter break. His dad takes it well, and apologizes for all of the jokes he used to make-- it doesn’t make it right, but it was the kind of things he and the other soldiers used to say to each other. He ends up taking them to this tea shop he heard about (it’s Zuko’s/Iroh’s shop), and while there, he comes out to the owner of the shop, Iroh, as sort of..... practice. It’s liberating and also terrifying. Iroh is super cool about it, and tells them about his own son, who passed away a few years ago in an accident, was gay. It’s way later than Sokka thought, and when he looks up from the conversation with Iroh, Zuko’s standing in the doorway. not wanting to deal with people from school, Sokka leaves the tea shop without waiting for his dad to follow him.

The next couple of days at school are rough. His friends stick by his side, but Jet’s friends are obnoxious and loud, and Katara punches one of them. She goes to the school, but they’re eternally unhelpful bc.... what can tey do... its not a school website..... Later, Toph tells Sokka she’s a lesbian, and it’s not that she’s hiding it, but... it’s already tough enough when people treat her like she’s glass because she’s blind. They all go home for winter break, and when they come back, Sokka is refreshed and determined not to be put down by a couple of assholes.

He’s wildly surprised when Blue posts on the school’s tumblr that he wants to meet Sokka at the school’s carnival. This draws a crowd, which makes Sokka worried he’s gonna be pranked, but when he sits down on the Ferris wheel, he’s surprised that Zuko from the tea shop/musical sits down next to him.

Zuko says he’s sorry for ignoring Sokka’s emails, and he’s sorry that Sokka got outed to the school, and it wasn’t his fault that Sokka was blackmailed, and he should have reacted better to it. Sokka apologizes too, because Zuko shouldn’t have to be outed either, which... is why they’re here? Zuko blushes, and says he came out to his uncle, who’s letting him stay with him, since he’s tired of going home to his shitty dad, and that he might go live with his mom while he’s in college. He admits the Mai thing at the party was a drunken misunderstanding, and that he likes Sokka. He thinks he’s funny, and they like the same things (theater, music, strange taste in food...), and he’s hoping after this... Sokka might like him too? (they kiss on the Ferris wheel, and Katara takes like, 30 pictures.)

....

alternatively////

Zuko as Simon au-- bc I just wanted to write it out. he lives with his uncle, who’s the loving parent here, not Ozai!! (or his Mom/stepdad but I kinda forgot they existed for like 5 minutes)

Zuko is Simon

Katara is Abby (she’s his lab partner, and they have the same temperment)

Azula is Nora, but she doesn’t really play a big role (she’s an asshole, but also she’s 14 and is Going Through Things. she’s also in the closet and in love with Mai, but she doesn’t know it yet. it takes her a couple of years to figure that out.)

Mai is Leah

Aang is Martin (but less of an asshole. just the embarrassing + frustrated bits.)

Sokka is blue/Bram

Suki is the girl at the party Sokka kisses

Ty Lee is Ethan

---

I HOPE THIS WAS OK, like I said I haven’t actually seen the thing, but now I actually know what the plot is about!! <3333

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 5) John Deacon x Reader Series

GIF: @johndeac​

Apologies for the delay! Work has been an absolute shit fest. The big show I’m on got canceled, but we still have to finish the season at some point so oof. Also, my boss is moving to Italy? Pray for my sanity, folks.

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety. Angst (oooo!)

Chapter Notes: I've rewritten this chapter so many times that I don't even know what it is anymore. Angst is hard, my dudes! Why can't it all be flirty glances and quick banter?!

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Moonlight in Vermont - Frank Sinatra

Blues Run The Game - Jackson C. Frank

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady @theresalexis @uglipotata72829

- - - - - - -

September 1982 - The Music Inn, New York City

“Bri, get a load of all these fucking maracas!”

Brian makes his way over to where Roger is gazing at a massive wall adorned with shaker-filled shelves, dipping his head low to avoid the sea of guitars hanging from the ceiling above his long frame. 

Queen was back in New York for their first-ever appearance on Saturday Night Live. Finding time in between the intensive rehearsals during the week had been hard, but Freddie insisted they would make the time for his favorite New Yorkers. When the time was finally found, he, of course, was unavailable, off antiquing at some of Manhattan’s luxury spots but promised to meet up with the group later on. 

The Limbs managed to snag the other three men for a trip to the historic Music Inn. Nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, the dingy treasure trove was located a stone’s throw away from the city’s most prominent folk clubs that boasted discovering the talents of Bob Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel. 

You were quite confident that your newfound English friends would love it. Every visible space was stuffed or covered with an abundance of musical paraphernalia. So much so that you had been in the store dozens of times without ever finding out what color the walls were. Its layout was always changing to fit the ever-growing amount of items displayed, the familiar specks of dust that sparkled in the sunlight being the only constants.

“Hey, Jeff!” Steve calls out to the eccentric owner. “Where are these from?” 

The aging hippie shuffles over. “Mostly South America,” he explains in his usual gravelly drawl. “A customer brought back some new shekeres from West Africa last week that have a nice sound to them.” Jeff motions up the sprawling wall. Roger immediately grabs a few, testing the sounds out against the ones Steve is already playing with - the two of them like kids in a candy store.

Jeff had been a good friend to The Limbs since their early teen years, having let the group spend hours on end attempting to learn every exotic instrument they could get their hands on. Anyone who entered the shop could count on him as a spirit guide of sorts to a wealth of worldly music. And while The Limbs had kept their first album fairly plain in context, they were already itching, particularly Steve, to experiment on the next album. Whenever that would be.

Now that a few more of their singles were moderately successful hits, Columbia Records was focused on milking it for all that it was worth. The execs were currently setting up an extensive American tour of the Mid - West Coast part of the country, all the major cities they hadn’t hit on their first tour. 

“Y/N,” Jeff gestures for you to follow him, probably excited to show you a new find seeing as you were always eager and willing to give them a test run. You make your way down the staircase lined with large balalaikas to the musty lower level filled with various sound equipment and electronic instruments. 

“What on god’s green earth would you use that for?” you hear Rich’s deep voice implore. He rolls his eyes as Eddie moons over an ornately engraved mandolin.

“It worked for Rod Stewart, didn’t it? That mandolin solo in Maggie May shredded,” he retorts. “Plus, look how pretty she is!”

You watch your feet as you carefully maneuver around the amps and pedals haphazardly strewn around the floor, following Jeff to the back of the room - taking special care to step around John, who is crouched low looking over the wiring of a particularly grody-looking amp.

Upon entering the store, he had taken off on his own right away, immediately entranced by the sprawling selection all about him. But you had caught the worn, far-off look in his eyes when he greeted you with a short wave earlier. You try not to let the lack of attention bother you as you pass him without so much as a glance up. The heartfelt conversation you had the last time they were in town had rooted itself in your memory. Spilling your guts like you did that night wasn't a common occurrence for you- figuring you were already easy enough to read due to the panicked expression often etched onto your face. 

Why him? Even your bandmates weren’t privy to the babblings of your intimate thoughts. It couldn’t just be his boyish tooth-gap or the pleasing line of his straight nose. Maybe it was the confusing mix of nerves and comfort you felt whenever in his presence. It was unlike the persistent butterflies you were used to when around attractive humans. Feeling instead like a gentle humming that you somehow sensed everywhere at once.

You’re brought out of your swimming thoughts as Jeff clears his throat loudly to get your attention. You must’ve been staring blankly at the floor for quite a while. He gestures to a bulky item draped in a tarp, as you give him a small apologetic smile.

“Oh yes, very pretty,” you smirk at him.

He rolls his eyes as he attempts to sweep the tarp off in a dramatic reveal, but in reality, it gets stuck. The man scrambles to uncover it, and as soon as it peeks out, you gasp.

“A theremin!”

You gaze at the ordinary-looking wooden cabinet in awe. It must be old, seeing as they were mostly compact now.

“You haven’t had one in ages,” you marvel, locking eyes with Jeff.

“Which means it’s been a while since I’ve heard your ambient screeches plaguing these walls.”

Your finger points to him in protest. “Hey, I was getting better until you sold the last one on me!”

“Well, I didn’t see you making a bid for it,” he playfully shrugs.

“Let’s hear those screeches!” Eddie yells out. Rich claps his hands excitedly beside him. You poke your tongue out at them, but your eyes catch John’s, and you quickly close your mouth. Still crouched, he looks on with mild curiosity wrinkled on his brow. He lightly raises them at you in silent encouragement.

You slowly make your way behind the instrument as Jeff plugs it into the wall. Turning one of the knobs, it hums to life as you check the metal attachments protruding from the wood frame. It really is old. You have no idea how to even begin to calibrate it. Taking a deep breath, you timidly bring your hands up in position.

It lets out a high pitched wail that burns your ears from being so close, and you yank your hands away from the field of current. Eddie and Rich erupt into cheers while John slowly stands, moving a bit closer to see the mechanism properly.

Jeff lightly pushes you back towards it in a gentle coax. This time you slowly bring your curled hand a reasonable distance away from the pitch antenna, keeping your other low on the one for volume. Squeezing your eyes shut to focus on the tone, you slowly move until you find your starting note. It was all about sense memory and your ears to fill the gaps with nothing to physically touch. 

Uncurling your fingers, you begin the opening notes of Moonlight in Vermont - the one song you had somewhat taught yourself through hours of painstaking practice. You fumble a bit, eliciting a squeak or two while trying to remember the hand placements that produce the proper notes. While you might “play” many instruments, you were middling at many, master of none. You make it through the first verse before your head starts to pound from your jaw-clenched concentration.

“Fuck the mandolin, let’s get that for the next album!” you hear Rich tell Eddie.

“Ah, yes, you’ve heard Pet Sounds. Now prepare your ears for The Limb’s sophomore attempt, Ghost Sounds,” 

Their banter is drowned out as John chimes in. “How on earth did you learn that?” You meet his struck expression and shrug lightly.

“Don’t downplay it, Bun. It’s pretty fucking cool,” Rich assures you. “And her knowing ASL also helps,” he explains to John.

“Sign language?”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s mom is deaf,” Eddie reveals bluntly. You shoot him a look.

“Sorry, hard of hearing,” he holds his hands out in defense.

John is silent for a moment as he mulls the information over, causing a speck of tension in the room.

“Your mother’s never heard you sing?” he asks incredulously as if he can’t possibly imagine it.

You give a small smile. “No, I guess she hasn’t. But I was in the car with her the first time I heard us on the radio. I turned the treble down and the bass all the way up and she bopped along to the beat pretty well.”

Rich chuckles lightly at the story. “She’s always been hoot, hasn’t she?”

You nod gently. “Aptly put. That’s how she describes herself as a matter of fact.”

John shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he takes a look around the room, his cheeks a light pink. You're unsure of why.

“I’m gonna head out for a quick smoke,” you decide, patting Jeff on the shoulder. “I know how you hate it.”

He gives your hand a light squeeze before you make your way upstairs, hoping to catch John’s eyes, but he avoids yours yet again. 

A pleasing blend of harmonies can be heard as you hit the landing. You peek your head around a large assortment of bongos to find Brian strumming a small acoustic on the other side of the store. Roger, Steve, and Lawrence all crammed around, the four of them singing a rendition of Blues Run the Game. 

Your heart warms at the sight, remembering the times when you and the boys would sit around a campfire and croon out the same sad tune. Eddie and Rich will be pissed they missed this. Steve notices your presence and silently ticks his head for you to come join. You hold up your pack of Marlborough’s in response to him before finally slipping out the front, trying your best to not jingle the adorned bells too much.

A cool breeze promptly passes through the knit of your sweater. It’s late September, and New York has begun to really cool off. You pull down the sleeves to cover your hands as you light your cigarette, wincing a bit on the first inhale. It was a leftover habit from your college days- scarcely used, only in social situations, or to get out of awkward ones.

Taking in the familiar street, you can’t help but giggle at the day you were having. To be showing Queen around your old hangout still felt absurd. No matter how genuinely they seemed to like the company of your band, you couldn’t fathom them wanting to spend the day with you all. Weren’t there bigger and better musicians in this city to be hanging out with? 

The sound of a lighter flicking to life comes from your left, and you turn. John leans against the faded wall as he takes a drag, his eyes trained on the dirty sidewalk. 

“I’m sorry, i- if I offended you with my comment about your mother,” he professes quietly. 

Your brows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“We have a friend whose father is deaf. A lovely man. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.” He sighs, finally turning to face you. “It’s just that the memory of hearing your voice for the first time isn’t something one can easily shake. I mean that in a way that- it’s just a shame really. For her to not be able to share in it when it’s something so...” he looks as if he’s racking his brain for an appropriate word. “Well, singular.”

You suck in a breath at his words. In all your years, you had never gotten that as a response to your mother’s disability. It was mostly a polite, “Oh, really? I’m so sorry to hear that.” His honesty and consideration for your feelings knock the present hum of your body up to 100. 

You flinch as gentle burning hits your fingers, and you look down at your forgotten cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground before crushing it under your heel. John shifts his weight from side to side, never taking his eyes off of you while he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I write out my lyrics for her so she can read them as poems,” you state simply, smiling up at him. “Sometimes she makes up her own melodies and sings them around the house. It’s not the easiest on the ears, but she’s pretty inventive.” His eyes crinkle as he returns your grin - his first genuine one of the day.

“So she’s heard music before?”

“Oh yeah. She has nerve deafness, which didn’t start till her late twenties. She actually spent a lot of time around here when she was younger. Bitter End and The Gaslight are just a few blocks away.”

He hums lightly as he stares at you- like you’re a puzzle whose pieces are just beginning to fit together.

“Can you teach me something in sign language?”

Once again, your brows shoot up, shocked by his response. You blink a few times, trying to think of what to say. Going with the only thing that pops to mind, you sign out a phrase as he watches your hands intently.

“And what does that mean?”

You smirk, “You are a cheesy cow.”

“I’m sorry?” he laughs out.

You repeat it back slowly while signing along. “You. Are. A. Cheesy. Cow. It’s the first thing my mother taught me how to sign.”

He runs his hand over his jaw as he chuckles. “Rich was right. A hoot she must be.”

“I’m pretty shit, to be honest, and she read lips, so it’s mostly used for snide comments during extended family gatherings.”

You watch as he puts out his cigarette and carefully takes a step closer to you. “I’m assuming your colourful vocabulary extends to those instances as well.”

“Right you are.”

“Freddie will love that,” he snickers. “He always seems to collect vulgarities in other languages wherever we go.”

Your attention is torn away as a sleek black car rolls up to a stop at the curb. It’s out of place in the middle of the street filled with old and worn buildings, which can similarly describe the people who mill about.

“Speak of the Queen herself,” you laugh as a sunglass-clad Freddie steps onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, isn’t this quaint!” he exclaims, peering into the shop window. He straightens as he turns to you, hands-on-hips.

“Deacy. Thumper. Are we fans of freezing our tits off, or shall we go inside?”

You give John a small smile and push yourself off the wall, making your way over to Freddie, who immediately pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. The bells against the door ring out as you all enter the shop.

“Ah, Deacy,” Brian pokes his head out from one of the narrow aisles, still in a constant crouch to avoid the instruments above his head. “I was looking for you. Found these adorable teeny guitars I thought might be good to bring back for the kids. What do you think?”

“Kids?” you mumble to yourself as John makes his way over to inspect them.

“Brian has two, and John’s already up to 3. Maybe we should’ve nicknamed him Bunny.” Freddie laughs, nudging your arm. “You know… fucking like rabbits,” he expands due to your lack of chuckling.

He leans into your field of vision as he studies your statue-like expression, eyebrows knit in confusion. His eyes take in your ashen face and your lifeless expression. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing. When you lock your eyes with his, you know he understands from the sheer size of how big they become. He straightens up, glancing around quickly as if looking for something to put out a fire.

“Freddie!” Steven dances over, clicking a pair of castanets in his hands. “I wanted to show you thi-”

“So sorry, love, we can’t. Y/N promised to come to a fitting with me, and we’re already late," he announces loudly, pulling you by the arm and out the door before anyone can react.

- - - - - - -

You blankly stare at your reflection in the long mirror. Freddie had instructed his stylist to pull some outfits for you to parade around in as he tried on a bevy of metallic coats.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell the girl staring back at you.

Freddie sashays over, a shag jacket swaying with him as he places his hands on your shoulders, surveying the strappy dress you were currently squeezed into.

“Oh yes, this will do for the after-party,” he instructs.

“I’m not going.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “Darling, you already refused the ticket I got you for the show. You’re coming to the party,” he declares, turning away to look at more options.

“This isn’t really me…” you mumble, gesturing to the dress.

He regards you with a small smile. “Exactly. I say this with love, but you need a look, Y/N. Something that makes you feel unstoppable,” he gestures to his body as he twirls towards you. “Don’t you want to shock them?”

You chew your lip as you ponder that sentiment. Dawn usually just shoved you into whatever ensemble she had picked for you - leather jackets, monochromatic sets, tight jumpsuits. She kept hoping you’d find a style you fancied, but you had yet to find anything remotely likable under the lights of the stage.

“To be honest, I just want to be able to feel comfortable out there," you sigh. "But I can’t strut around in flashy outfits or conduct a whole crowd like you do." Huffing as you collapse onto one of the white couches around you. He perches beside you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa.

“Then don’t,” he says simply.

You snort a response as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but have you tried showing them a bit more of yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

He turns to you now, grabbing your attention with his eyes.

“And why not?” he questions.

You gaze down at your hands, which you’re now wringing together in your lap. “What if it’s nothing spectacular?” you whisper out the criticism that you'd drilled into your mind for the past year.

Freddie laughs lightly as he stands. “Let’s not start lying to ourselves, shall we?” He moves in front of you and kneels, now at eye level, making so you can’t look away.

“Sometimes people go to a concert for an escape. A big bloody show with dazzling lights and petite men galavanting around a stage in spandex tights,” he smiles. 

“But most of the time they just want to find a piece of themselves in it, don’t they? Commonality. They want to hear you, see you, and feel just a little less alone than we all know we are. I saw just a slice of it at your concert, and it was indeed something spectacular. So take that as you will.”

You’re not one to cry much, but your eyes soften as you take in the icon of a man in front of you. A man loved by millions, who was currently filling in as your personal rock n’ roll fairy godmother.

“You’re a fantastic person, you know that?” you tell him genuinely.

“Yes,” he quips as he gets to his feet. “Now, are we done scurrying around the real problem at hand?”

You sigh as you look away, firmly willing yourself not to break the dam of bottled emotions threatening to spill out. Why couldn't you just feel numb? It would be better than the wave of childish self-pity you found yourself in.

Freddie huffs at your reaction. “Oh, you brat. Sorry to tell you, but you’re an open book, my dear. And not one of those big pompous things Brian reads. A bloody children’s book. One filled with pictures.”

You're sure you’ve now bitten through the entire top layer of your lip as you contemplate how to even begin.

“I’m an idiot,” you shrug to yourself yet again.

“No,” he points a finger at you. “You’re decidedly not. Though I am curious as to how someone who’s as big of a fan as your friends say you are, missed out on that detail.”

“I’m not sure either. I mean, I listen to your albums and go to your show, but I guess I didn’t pour over the tabloids or press interviews or anything like that.”

Freddie nods along as he sifts through another rack of jackets, choosing an incredibly tight white leather number.

“I assumed you knew,” he answers while glancing at his reflection. “And I would say Deacy should know better, but he’s not quite himself at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” you press, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

He turns to you, palms up in explanation. “It’s not that he wouldn’t normally be charmed by your shy presence and occasionally crass mouth… But I’m a bit worried he’s finding comfort in your smiles for the wrong reasons.”

“Huh?”

Sighing heavily as if debating if he should keep skirting around his words, he holds your gaze. “An impending divorce is crippling lonely, even if it is somewhat amicable.”

His mouth is brought into a pout as you suck in a sharp breath. 

Divorce. All your previous interactions play through your head from a different angle. Pity sneaks up on you as you remember John’s advice he’d given you. The concept of home is a funny thing. You scoff out loud at how your childlike crush had skewed your interpretation of your relationship with the man.

“I’m usually the one singing his praises,” Freddie muses, breaking you out of your inner monologue of resentment towards yourself. “But he seems more lost than usual at the moment.” 

He gently lifts your chin. “I don’t normally meddle in- well, actually I do. Just don’t want to see you get hurt, Bunny. Not when the world is soon to be at your feet.”

"I'm fine," you lie, gently brush away his gesture. "I barely even know the guy. I was just shocked to have my silly fascination with him interrupted. Stupid, really."

"Don't do that," he exhales. "Don't put it on yourself. You'd have to be blind to ignore the fact that he's quite taken with you."

"I'm fine," you repeat, making your way into the back to change out of the ridiculous dress that suddenly felt even tighter now.

Shutting the door slowly, you let out a deep breath. It's all good, you tell yourself. Of course you got caught up in the attention of a world-renown musician. Who wouldn't? It's nothing special. As Freddie said, he's not even acting like himself. Although you were indeed in true form- getting caught up by the slightest of interactions. Unconsciously playing them as a loop in your head. You can't help but cringe at your own escalation of the situation.

Squaring your shoulders, you take in the image of yourself in the dress again. Perhaps it was time for you to shock them all.

- - - - - - -

“And so my grandfather goes out to the alley and sees her just wailing on this scrawny man. I mean, really going to town. So he pulls her off him, and the dude’s got a black eye and a bloody nose. And he’s like, “Thanks mate, thought she was gonna kill me there.”

Roger ruffles your hair in response to your poor attempt at a British accent. The group of cast and crew around you chuckle at the gesture. 

You had decided that if you were going to be forcibly dragged to this after-party by your bandmates, you would at least aim to make it worthwhile. A debut of your new mentality.  One where you weren't just acting the part of a rising rock star, but living it. 

Which is why at the moment, you found yourself the center of attention, surrounded by the cast and crew of SNL laughing along to your amusing story. But this was all hinged on you carefully, avoiding the presence of John Deacon at all costs. Which, in reality, wasn't very hard to do- you had yet to see him since arriving an hour ago.

“Oh my god, who was it?!” the young cast member beside you presses. You think her name is Julia, but the sheer amount of people you'd been introduced to was dizzying.

"That's exactly what we asked him when he told us. All he said was that it was some man with big lips who was in a fur coat and looked like he hadn't eaten in a month..."

The cam op across from you gasps, "It was MICK JAGGER? God bless your grandfather, I would've wept if she murdered him."

"So would my mom AND grandmother," you laugh. "Give us each a glass of wine, and it's basically a Mick fan club."

"Who else?" Brian taps your leg, surprisingly urging you to divulge more gossip.

You can't help but smirk as the group leans forward intently.

"Robin Williams?" you tease as their eyebrows all raise.

"Horrible tipper, but he makes up for it by performing dirty puppet shows with the napkins."

"Sounds about right," funnyman Brad Hall confirms, offering you another drink.

You politely decline, determined to keep your wits about you this evening. "I'm gonna go grab some water. Anyone want anything?"

The group shakes their heads, but Lawrence jumps up to join you on your trek to the crowded bar.

"Wouldn't it be insane if this was us one day?" he exclaims as you weave your way through the mass of bodies littering the Capitol Grill. 

You smile up at him, "Dream big, buddy."

"Oh, I intend to," he confirms you as you spot Eddie and Rich waving you over from a spot at the bar. 

Rich promptly wraps his arm around your shoulders as you join them. He always had a stoic way of letting you know he saw through the cracks in your poorly constructed armor. Taking the role of a caring older brother, more so than your own.

"Have we lost Steve again?" Lawrence asks the group.

Eddie nods across the room. "He's exactly where you think he'd be," he scoffs as you catch a glimpse of Steve, trailing Freddie like a lost puppy.

"Um, excuse me?" a short girl mumbles from behind Eddies' denim-clad shoulder. He turns, glancing down.

"Hiya," he regards her casually, causing her a deep blush to creep across her cheeks. She shoves a napkin and pen at him.

"C-could I get an autograph? Please?"

Eddie smirks at her flustered appearance, making sure to brush her fingers as he grabs the items out of her trembling hand.

"And what beautiful name should I be making this out to?"

She lets out a jarring high pitched giggle as she stumbles over her words. "Oh, uh, Shelley."

"Well, here ya go, Shelley," he hands the napkin back to her, now adorned with his messy scrawl. "Maybe I'll see you later."

She squeaks as she hurries back to her shrieking friends who are huddled conspicuously off to the side.

"Gross," you state. "She's a child. Probably one of the executive's kids." 

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Gotta keep em' interested, Bun. As the heartthrob of the group, it's my sworn duty."

"Slow your roll there, Rob Lowe," Rich interjects. "I think Y/N's giving you a run for your money in this dress."

You glance down at the Freddie approved ensemble. It was eye-catching for sure, precisely what you were going for. It's black suede straps crisscrossed strategically against your body, giving peaks of the skin underneath.

"It looks good, Bun," Rich assures you.

“Guys,” you all turn your attention to Steve, who has just joined the circle clumsily. His pupils are blown wide from his current blood alcohol content, and he sways slightly on his heels.

"I- I have something to say," he announces to the group, getting your attention. You all wait patiently as he hesitates, clearing his throat twice before lowering his voice. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m gay.”

You glance around to the other boys whose expressions mirror your own warm smile. You’d all known Steve was gay since high school, not that any of you had talked about it. You had just assumed it was something unspoken. That he’d tell you whenever he was ready or met someone good enough to introduce to you all.

Steve gapes at your expressions. "Where is the shock? I was expecting shock and awe, people!"

"Steve, please don’t take this the wrong way. But I’m assuming we’ve all known for a while," Rich says gently. You all nod lightly in agreement.

"How?"

"Do you remember the types of girls who used to throw themselves at you? Like Becky Whale? Man, I would’ve killed for Becky Whale to throw something at me. But you never took them up on it," Lawrence elaborates.

Steve smiles around at all of you, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I had a crush on Eddie in high school,” he confesses.

Eddie pumps his fist lightly. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lawrence exclaims. “You just had to boost that ego, didn’t ya? I know pretty boys are great and all, but I’m the one with the big soft cuddles. People love big soft cuddles!”

Rich expands his arms as he brings you all in for a hug. 

You kiss Steve gently on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, bud,” you whisper.

"Thank you guys, I just felt like it was time. And now that that's out of the way," Steve grunts as you all untangle yourselves. “I’m gonna go find Freddie. He said he’s taking me out to a club after this!”

He skips away with a grin, back towards Freddie, who catches your eye with a knowing smile and winks. It seems you weren’t the only band member who had found a fairy godmother in Mr. Mercury.

You all lightly laugh affectionately at your friend until Eddie and Lawrence wander off to scope out the food situation. You lean against the bar next to Rich, glancing around at the loud laughter erupting from the outgoing crowd. One person noticeably sticks out. A sullen John Deacon sits at the end of the bar, hunched over what looks like a glass of whiskey.

"Looks like he's in need of a friend," Rich surmises.

You tear your eyes away from the sorry sight to look at him. "They're around here somewhere," you shrug.

He rubs your arms up and down lightly before slinking into the crowd, knowingly leaving you alone. 

You sneak a peek over at John. He runs one hand through his curls as the other absentmindedly stirs the straw of his sweating drink. You watch him sigh, bringing the glass to his lips and gulping down the spirit without so much as a wince. 

Hesitantly making your way over to him, you rub your clammy hands over the expensive material of your dress. This is the opposite of avoidance, you scold yourself, silently willing your feet to change direction. But your willpower has seemingly left the building.

You carefully perch yourself on the stool next to his, as not to disturb his brooding. He glances over quickly, doing a double-take when he realizes who it is.

"Oh, hello there," he greets you with a small smile. "I didn't know you had arrived."

You nod your head lightly. "How could you? It seems you set up camp over here."

"Ah, yes," he breathes, straightening his posture. "Wasn't our best tonight, I'm afraid. Not much to celebrate."

You take a sip of your water as you continue to nod silently.

"Actually," he begins, angling his body towards yours, almost slipping off his stool as you notice his apparent intoxication. "I was thinking about that conversation we had. When I met your spritely grandfather."

"Oh?" you question. Keeping your face neutral even though your heart was already buzzing at the fact.

"Yes. Mostly about how naive I was—all that bloody nonsense about finding a home. Do me a favor and never take my advice, will you? You'll end up completely wrecking yours."

This was a bad idea.

"It's just- you draw these lines for yourself in the sand," he drawls, waving his hands about in front of him. "A stupid phrase, really. Where did it even come from?"

"The Bible," you tell him quietly.

He lets out a big sigh, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Well, it's gotten it wrong before, hasn't it?"

You simply hum an acknowledgment, too scared to probe for fear of where this was going.

"Anyway, you draw these lines. Moral, physical, promises you make to yourself, things you swear you’d never do, dreams to accomplish," he lists out. "But sand moves about, dunnit? It blows all over the place. Makes a mess. Gets in your sandwich. And those lines blur. Or fade away. And all of a sudden, you've crossed them without even knowing! Broken those promises. Skipped right over those dreams."

He's too far gone in his rant to register the growing panic sweeping across your features.

"You were right. Sometimes you look in the mirror, and it's just a complete stranger staring back at you, isn't it?"

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you stare at the crumbling man before you. He runs his large hands along his face before ducking back into his former position, signaling for the bartender to bring him another drink.

This is precisely why you should've stuck to your original plan. What were you supposed to say to the man who was so obviously hurting from his failed marriage? So much so that it was pouring out of him. You know that if it weren't for the alcohol, he wouldn't be confiding any of this to you.

But there was a reason the boys called you the mom of the group, and it wasn't because you were the only female. You feel a pang of need to comfort him. You gaze at him, not with pity, but an overwhelming sense of empathy for the man and make up your mind.

You clear your throat to answer, brushing away your own warnings about how it would only sink you deeper into your fascination with him.

"I was wrong, actually," you start as he brings his head up to look at you. "And you know what phrase I hate? That people don't change."

He furrows his brow but remains silent as you continue.

"Maybe we're not made up of lines in the sand. Maybe we're the wind?" You try not to cringe at yourself and your poor use of metaphor. "And winds sometimes blow in different directions... but that's okay because it's where life is supposed to take them." Falling silent, you decide to quit while you’re ahead. 

You're not ahead. You're not even out of the gate. What the fuck was that?

A slow smile inches onto his face as he holds your stare. "How did you get so wise for someone your age," he teases.

"And what age would that be?"

His mouth opens and closes as he studies your face. "Twenty?"

"Mm, close. Twenty-four."

"Really?" he ponders. "Freddie mentioned you dropped out of university."

"Ah, yes. The university I could only go to after working to afford it," you explain. 

He continues to stare, the look in his eyes shifting slightly as he takes you in. A look that matches the color and intensity of uncharted, open water. You need to get out of here.

"Well, that explains your extraordinary use of analogy then."

Dragging your eyes off of his, you glance around at the party you were missing. Gladly missing, unfortunately. 

"I should go check on Steve. He's having a bit of a night," you tell him as you stand. "Try not to drown yourself in those," gesturing to the new glass of whiskey in front of him.

"How can I drown myself? I thought I was the wind," he points out with a grin.

Before any more banter can ensue, you simply smile and make your way back to your friends. Thinking to yourself that maybe lines in the sand weren't so bad. And that perhaps it was time for you to start drawing some of your own.