#i need to be in crowds of strangers regularly or i go insane. so you can imagine what ongoing pandemic with chronic illness has done to me

[crimeronan]

spent a few hours at the farmer's market yesterday where local places have small samples of different strains of fruit and veggies to try. anyway we got a little box of plums that are so damn good it's unbelievable. just inhaled three in the kitchen and they don't even make a mess bc they just fall off the pit & melt in ur mouth. also got some of the sweetest peaches i've ever tasted & huge pears & a bunch of veggies n potatoes n corn for cooking this week. spoke with different vendors about their handcrafted beer and their rare peonies, watched little kids run around, got hot stroopwafels made to order n fresh squeezed lemonade that was wildly overpriced but very tasty. and now i'm like. i think i'm not a bitch anymore actually.

[thefirsttree]

A personal update + my next game

OK, time to do this. I’ve been meaning to do a big DAVID WEHLE™ update for a while now and explain why I haven’t released a new game yet, but you know how life gets in the way. Especially when life is a quarantine hellscape, you have three beautiful, amazing, exhausting kids to raise, a spouse’s job you support, a viral YouTube channel that turns your brain to mush, a thousand emails waiting in your inbox since your game is free on the Epic Games Store (with an impressive number of redemptions too! … meaning lots of emails and customer support issues), etc., etc. What also contributes to my lack of updates is because… I just don’t really like posting online. Fascinating correlation, I know!

Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a venting/ranting blog post (well, maybe a bit), because my life is seriously AMAZING and INSANELY BLESSED and LUCKY. I can’t believe how many dreams keep coming true, so much so that I feel I don’t deserve it and I really pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes… but I did want to at least be honest, because I owe that to myself.

Wow, where do I even begin? Well, how about we start with the reason I’m even a full-time indie game dev now: The First Tree. This small hobby project I worked on at night morphed into this gargantuan beast (or fox) that took over my life the past 5 years. Which is great! I’m living the dream! And yet, I really didn’t expect it to do as well as it did. At its core, my game is a slow-paced, sad walking simulator (ahem, I prefer the term “exploration game,” but you know what I mean) that somehow seemed to launch at the right time to the right audience. It resonated deeply with some of you, and for that I’m eternally grateful. I still get emails almost daily how my game changed their lives in some formative way. I’m beyond honored.

However, with that spotlight came criticism and demands from the ever-present, insatiable internet. I would randomly be surfing the gamedev subreddit trying to decompress, and I would see a comment by some rando saying how much I didn’t deserve my success, and how it was all one huge lucky fluke. And I believed them!

And to add to it, some devs considered me an indie marketing “guru”, which I was uncomfortable with. I worked hard to market my game every week, and after my GDC talk, people assumed marketing was my passion; the reason I got up every morning. Just to clarify… NO, I don’t like marketing, and I hate being the center of attention. I don’t like asking people for money and wishlists. But I did what was necessary because I was passionate about telling stories, and I wanted to give my story a fighting chance to be seen on the crowded pages of Steam.

So now, you’re probably wondering “well then David, why did you make fancy YouTube videos showing off your success? Not very modest if you ask me.” This honestly could be a long blog post all on its own, because my experience of putting myself in the spotlight and becoming a “content creator” is… complicated. It was an unusual step for me, especially since I never even showed my face online (as a game developer) until my GDC talk.

First off, I always wanted to teach and start a YouTube channel. I love video editing, especially since I’ve been doing it longer than making games! It’s a huge passion of mine. And teaching people who didn’t know they could make and finish games was a huge motivator (and it’s been so rewarding already). But the second reason is, I was scared. I was self-employed, and I was riding the success of a “huge lucky fluke” that would probably not happen again. I wanted to make sure I could provide for my amazing family, and give them food and health insurance and security in these tumultuous times. I was turning my lifelong passions and hobbies into a business, and it wasn’t as simple of a mental transition as I thought.

So, I went all in on YouTube and the accompanying online course called Game Dev Unlocked. I spent years editing the scripts and videos, and polishing them to a shine. At first, no one watched my videos, no one was buying… and in the blink of an eye, the YouTube algorithm picked up my main autobiographical video (“How Making Indie Games Changed My Life”), and I started getting 5,000 subscribers a day. Right now, I’m at 150,000 subs, which is still hard for me to believe. I always had a dream of earning 100k subs on YouTube, so I was pretty happy with the whole thing. Sales were OK, but mostly people didn’t want to buy the course. Then the emails came in…

Something you should know about me: I am a textbook “people pleaser,” and if someone asks for my help, I take it very seriously. If someone is mad at me, even if I didn’t do anything wrong, it’s all I can think about, and it ruins my day. So, taking an onslaught of people begging for help and multiplying that by an impossible amount of people for my brain to truly comprehend thanks to the internet… and let’s just say it wasn’t a healthy mix.

I received thousands of emails from people who were begging me for some kind of reassurance that everything would be OK. That their dreams would come true too. And I wanted to help every single one of them. I went from a nobody working on a game for fun to becoming a spokesperson for the indie game dream. I couldn’t even get a shake from the Chick-Fil-A drive-thru without someone recognizing me and asking for game dev advice. And it didn’t stop there… I would get emails from suicidal kids asking for help, teenagers from Afghanistan asking me to get them out of their country, and on one occasion I received an email from a hopeful game developer in a war-torn country who had just experienced a bomb blowing up their neighboring village. His friends were dead, and he was hoping he could finish a game before he died too, and he needed my help. How do you say no to something like that? Didn’t I owe it to everyone because I was lucky with my hit game and I needed to “pay it forward”? (Something people constantly reminded me of)

And then to top it off, after you’ve given everything you’ve got to other people in need… you get hate mail in your inbox. You spend the whole day serving your children and strangers on the internet, then when the kids are finally asleep, you hit the bed to relax and take a look at your phone to decompress, and you randomly come across an angry gamer in your Twitter mentions telling you your game they got for free sucks, and that you took away a potentially great game from them and that your apology isn’t good enough.

Long story short, I went to a mental therapist for the first time in my life. I was broken trying to care for two toddlers and a new baby in a pandemic (which is very, very hard), taking care of my course students who gave me their hard-earned money and demanded results, and the countless people begging for help on the internet. I was this introverted, internet-lurker trying to take on the weight of the world. I was so tired and hurt that no one cared about me and my needs… only what I could do for them.

Quitting my day job and making this hobby my full-time job has stirred up… mixed emotions. This statement may disturb some of you, but I was definitely 100% happier when I had a full-time job and I was working on my game at night. I missed working with the amazing team at The VOID, working on Star Wars… back when the success of my game was this abstract thing I could only daydream about. Mostly, I was making my game for me with no outside expectations to pay the bills or satisfy the ever-demanding internet, and that brought me a lot of joy.

It’s not all doom and gloom though! I’m actually very happy now and in the best shape I’ve been since the pandemic started. I’ve had to confront my weaknesses and personality quirks, but I’m a better person for it (and I’m sure these issues would’ve come out eventually). I hired an awesome community manager for Game Dev Unlocked who is helping SO MUCH with the emails, I can’t even tell you the mental burden it alleviates. I even leased a co-working office to help separate work from my home, and that’s been a huge help too. I’ve decided to work with my old friends from The VOID on a cool, new VR experience. It will take me away from my projects a bit, but I’m ecstatic to work with a great team again (and not manage anything, whew).

These are all things I would’ve never guessed I needed, because I thought I knew myself pretty well… turns out I didn’t.

The reality is: running a business is HARD. Running it solo is even harder. You have to remember, I was burnt out on The First Tree well into the Steam release in 2017, but I kept working on it for 4 more years due to my fears of failing again and not earning enough money for my family.

So, I was wrestling with the age-old concept of commercialism and art. There was this dichotomy of doing whatever I wanted and being true to my vision (what most people assume the indie dev dream is like), and doing only what customers wanted to buy. This is something that has killed me with YouTube… in one specific instance, I was super excited to make the exact video I wanted to make. I loved every part of its creation, and I thought it had a message that would inspire everyone. I lovingly edited it over several weeks, posted it, and excitedly waited for the stats… and it was by far my worst performing video.

This is not a new problem. Even the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo was a commission forced upon him by the very violent Pope Julius II. My wife and I regularly talk about the fine balance between artistic integrity and commercialism, a problem she is very familiar with as an artist who constantly needs to balance what she wants to make with what the customer wants to hang up in their home.

For The First Tree, I was lucky. It was pretty much what I wanted to make (I had to compromise a lot of things of course), and it turned out millions of people wanted it too. Recently, I thought the safe business decision would be to do it all over again, so I started work on a spiritual successor to The First Tree (an idea that I may revisit one day since I do love the story idea). But that isn’t happening anytime soon. Trust me when I say I am now currently burnt out on animal exploration games.

So that realization left me with a question: what do I do next?

I’ve decided I need to make a game that I want to make, for me. It will be a bit different and I’m almost certain most fans of The First Tree will not love it… but it’s an idea that gets me super excited. It’s an idea that could help me fall in love with game development again.

A few more details: this game will be story-driven, first-person, and will use the Unreal Engine. That means development is gonna be slow going, because I have to learn a whole new tool. The “smart business” decision would be to make something quickly in Unity which I’m already familiar with… but I want to do this for me, and UE5 looks like a lot of fun. I’m also shooting for an early-ish release date so I avoid burn out and I keep the game short: I want to release it in Fall 2022, but knowing game development, it will probably take longer.

With the help of my therapist, I’ve also concluded that I’ve been too accessible on the internet and that my self-worth isn’t determined by the amount of people I try to help online. Of course, I love helping people and seeing them succeed, but I need to step back and focus on my family and myself. I will delete my social media apps on my phone (I will still post big updates occasionally) and stop responding to most emails, tweets, DMs, etc. It’s not that I’m ungrateful… in fact, if I don’t say thank you or at least acknowledge the incredibly nice people who share a sweet message about my game or want to tell me how I inspire them (still hard for me to believe, lol), I feel a ton of guilt… but I need to let that go. Please know I’m extremely grateful to all the fans who follow my work, so even if I don’t thank you directly, I truly mean it: thank you.

I will still post and stream occasionally on YouTube when I want to (and I still do live Q&A’s for my GDU students). The online course sales will help support my family as I work on a potentially risky game idea (and my new job will help alleviate the risk too). I’m gonna try one more marketing experiment and sell a mini-course soon (and add an Unreal section), and after that I’m done working on it. A gigantic thank you to the people who bought my course and are part of the amazing community, it has helped me and my family tremendously, and it’s inspiring seeing the games you make!

I’m a bit worried about the whole thing since this new game idea could flop, which could definitely affect my family. But a sappy, high-school yearbook quote is coming to mind…  I think it applies here: “A ship in harbor is safe—but that is not what ships are built for.”

Thanks for reading,

David

[sprnklersplashes]

jdronica+I kissed you in front of my ex (also on ao3)

The 7-Eleven is hardly much warmer than it is outside, but at least it’s drier. Veronica shakes the rain out of her hair as she steps in, shaking her head like a dog and sprinkling tiny droplets over the tiles. September announced its arrival in Sherwood with grey skies and bucket loads of rain, and three days in, the downpour shows no sign of stopping. It put a little bit of a damper to show up on the first day of her senior year soaking wet (pun intended because puns should always be intended), and there’s a growing sense of anxiety among students about whether or not the rain will let up in time for football practice to start.

But, where the rain might mess with first-day plans and be a pain for football fanatics, it’s the ideal weather for movie nights. The kind that involves piles of blankets, hot cocoa, and a combination of new releases and old favourites. The kind that, funnily enough, Veronica and Martha had planned for the weekend and scheduled when the sun was still out.

Maybe the weather was on their side.

“Okay, you grab the JiffyPop and drinks; I’ll raid the candy aisle,” Veronica instructs. “I’ll meet you at the counter.”

“Don’t go crazy on the candy,” Martha warns her. “Orange soda or blue?”

“Orange, and I will go completely crazy on the candy.” Martha raises her eyebrow, a fond shake of her head, but there’s little she can do when there’s a five-dollar bill burning in Veronica’s pocket. Veronica shoots little finger guns at Martha before bouncing down the candy aisle, taking stock of all the treats on offer.

She grabs a packet of Milk Duds because they go great with popcorn and a sharing bag of red vines too. She grabs a packet of the little watermelons (Martha’s personal favourite) and chuckles as she picks up a sharing bar of Hershey’s (private joke). She drops her candy stash into her basket and is in the middle of a debate between the packets of Sour Patch Kids and the packets of chips on sale when something, or rather someone, appears behind her.

“Want a Slurpee with that?”

She only jumps a tiny bit, and she’s glad because it doesn’t show how the stranger scared the pants off her. Mostly because she was lost in her head, but still, what was the asshole expecting, coming behind her like that? She turns around, her basket still on her arm, and she has an entire rant about convenience store etiquette ready, but it dies when she sees who it is.

Jason Dean, or as he prefers to be known, JD. New kids are something of a rarity in Sherwood, Ohio, which means he’s front-page news at school. Branded The New Kid, and he’ll probably still be that at graduation. People have done their best to Make Him Feel Welcome, as Ms. Fleming brightly suggested (demanded) they do, and despite some pleasantries, no one’s quite managed to get him to their lunch table. Most of the time, he’s alone, always with a different book. He’s gone from Baudelaire to Dickens to Orwell.

Not that she’s paying attention.

“Well, hello, Jason Dean.” She leans up against the counter and gestures to the cup in his hand. “Not my thing, but if you play your cards right, you can buy me a Big Gulp.”

“Blasphemy, little miss. Slurpee is the signature dish of the house. Did you say cherry or lime?”

“I said Big Gulp.” She lets the smile linger on her lips, feels it grow wider as he turns around. He laughs it off, and she takes note of the dimples in his cheeks, the way his hair falls forward into his eyes in a way that may or may not make her heart pick up.

“You’re Veronica, right?” he asks. “Veronica Sawyer.” He holds his free hand up. “Not stalking. I just sit two rows behind you in English.”

“I remember,” she replies. “Yes, it’s Veronica Sawyer.” She crosses her arms over her chest and chews thoughtfully on her lower lip. “So… may I ask what brings you to Sherwood, Ohio?”

His smile falters then, the spark dimming in his eyes, and his free hand slides into his pocket. She kicks herself immediately, her with her stupid attempts at flirting and her stupid nose poking into other people’s business. This is why she only sticks to Martha and occasionally Heather Mac, and if the universe wanted to remind her, it could have done it less painfully.

“Uh, new foster placement,” he tells her after a minute. “My old group home got too crowded, and it turns out the only other place that would take a teenager with insane daddy issues was all the way across the state.”

“Oh,” is all she can find to say, for all her teachers praising her for her brains. One word, one syllable. “Well, that’s….” Cool? Nice? Fun? Interesting? Nothing is appropriate here, no matter what direction she turns in.

But then Jason Dean taps her arm, wearing a smile that’s equal parts charming and apologetic, and the smoke in her brain begins to clear.

“Sorry, I probably should’ve been a bit more tactful there,” he says. “I know it’s a bit of a wild thing to drop on someone. My tragic hero backstory and all that.”

“Well, if it means you end up leading a life of crime-fighting and protecting our town, it all works out.”

“Maybe. Not sure if I can pull off the tights and leotard.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve got the legs for it,” she replies, and when he bursts out laughing, so does she. It feels weird, almost familiar. Like she’s known him for far longer than three days. She shuffles closer to him, pulled forward by her curiosity.

He eyes her basket and opens his mouth to say something else, but then the little bell rings at the shop door, and Veronica lets out a soft curse when she sees who it is.

What exactly her ex-girlfriend is doing at the 7-Eleven, she can’t fathom. This was on her list of places she could most definitely keep going to regularly after they broke up, and that list is depressingly small. This is meant to be the part of town Heather Duke, or any of the Heathers don’t grace with their presence, not even Macnamara. If they divided up the assets after breaking up last month, the 7-Eleven was definitely in her pile.

Or maybe not, she thinks as she watches Heather cross the floor in her heels, loose change in her hand.

The universe just will not let her be.

Duke notices her after she does, dark eyes widening at the sight of her. Veronica’s at a loss for what to do, whether to wave at her, flip her off, or just ignore her completely. She needs to think of something soon because Heather is moving closer towards her, and the last thing she needs is a not-so-subtle reminder of how she’s doing so much better than she is.

Her brain turns off, her body going into autopilot.

Instinct says to grab the closest thing to her, and the closest thing happens to be JD.

She whispers, “I’m sorry,” just loud enough so he can hear a second before her lips touch his, and by that point, she can’t exactly back out.

She doesn’t know what’s crazier; her kissing JD or the fact he kisses her back.

His hand is flat against her back, his other one cupping her cheek. She doesn’t know how experienced he is in these matters, but damn, he’s not bad. She’d even call him good. Maybe great. He tilts his head slightly but still lets her keep control, and his lips are soft and slightly cold from the Slurpee. It’s just slow enough to make it interesting, and he doesn’t pull away when she kisses him again.

When she does pull away, Heather is far past them, her pace too quick to be calm, and Veronica smugly counts it as a victory.

That is until she realises her hands are still balled up in JD’s shirt.

“I am… so sorry,” she begins. “I just… I know I shouldn’t have, but I just needed to do something to-”

“Woah, woah, woah, Ronnie,” he says. She only blushes slightly at the nickname. “Just answer me one question.” She nods, words catching in her throat, and he points up to where Heather is. “Ex?”

“Yup,” is her meek response, and to her shock, he laughs.

“Okay, Veronica Sawyer,” he tells her. “No hard feelings.” She untangles herself from him and retrieves her basket from where she dropped it on the floor. She looks behind and finds his Slurpee sitting on the shelf, standing out amongst the candies.

She’s tempted by the Slurpee offer, after all. She needs something to stop her cheeks from burning.

“I should go,” she says. “My friend, she’ll be wondering where I am.” She backs up, her eyes unable to leave his grinning face. “Um, thank you very much. For being so understanding about… that. All of that. Uh, see you around maybe. Yeah.”

She manages to turn herself around and takes the opportunity to stop hiding and let out a silent scream. She moves to go, to run and pay for her candy, and start plan to avoid him as much as humanly possible-or change her name and flee the state, that could work-but then he calls after her, and she stops in her tracks,

“Hey!” he says. She turns to face him again, and while he keeps a respectable distance, she can still see the smile on his face, all soft angles and laugh lines, and the telltale butterflies begin in her stomach.

“You’re busy this weekend,” he says. ��What about next?”

That’s the story of Veronica Sawyer and Jason Dean’s first kiss.

For those who want to know, their second involves her pinning up against the wall of a McDonald’s bathroom and him breathlessly whispering her name against her lips.

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Chapter 6

>> Pairing: Taehyung x Y/N, Taehyung x reader

>> Words: 1785

>> Notes: I’m going to upload a new chapter whenever possible until I feel like I have built up enough thrill to leave my readers curious and desperately wanting more 😉 You may leave asks and let me know what you think of my writing (:

Synopsis: You run into a rather strange man one night. He seems terrified, as if fighting battles only he can see. He seems detached from the world, talking only to a voice inside his head. Oh, another strange fact: he keeps talking about angels. You discover later that you were the angel he was praying to.

>> Previous / Next

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Sunlight seeped in through the thin sheets hanging over the windows. I stirred, contemplating whether money was really worth my sleep, and just as I was about to sleep after deciding that sleep was obviously more worth it, my best friend jumped on me.

“Good morning baby!” she shouted cheerfully. I was in no mood to return the energy. I rolled onto my side and continued to sleep.

“Wake up!!!” she screamed in my ear.

“Ugh!” I threw her off me and she fell to the floor with a thud. “Why why why why just why!” I whined, looking at her grinning at me from the floor despite the redness in her knee from the fall that I know must have hurt.

“It’s my last day!” she exclaimed happily.

I just then remembered why today meant so much for her. She was going home on her longest vacation from the university. Unlike my family, her family was very warm and welcoming, so she always looked forward to going back.

“Oh yea... I’m taking you to the station before you leave me by myself for over a month” I pouted before I broke out into a huge smile and hugged her from where I was. I got off the bed, grabbed my towel off the chair and headed to the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and having a shower, I put on a pair of denims with my black tank top and wore my hair in a pony tail.

“I’ll help you with that” I say reaching for her hang luggage. My arm nearly pulled out of its socket because of the weight. “Yah! What did you pack in this?” I ask in horror. Kim Leah grins at me sheepishly. “You do know you are coming back in a month, right? Why would you pack so much?” I ask exasperated.

“Because! I don’t want to take photos in the same clothes so I packed 2 changes of clothes for everyday” she says matter-of-factly. Kim Leah indeed has an obsession with taking pictures everywhere she goes. She states her Instagram profile is her biggest pride. It drives her insane if she had two pictures of her in the same outfit.

I sigh at her and we make our way out. We get into a parked taxi and ask the driver to take us to the station. As we round the corner, I see the space between the two buildings where I ran into that man 3 nights ago. I unconsciously search for him, but he isn’t there.

“Is something wrong?” Kim Leah asks. “You look worried”

I shake my head and smile at her endearingly. How can I tell her I’ve been worried about some stranger I don’t even know the name of? It was those eyes. His big eyes were pleading, desperate for help. I feel an ache in my heart as I remember the way they looked at the burger bag and at me. I have the sudden need to know whether he ate well for the past few days but there was no way I could know. I continue to stare out the window as I my thoughts drift off to his eyes every now and then.

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“Okay then, this is it” Kim Leah says holding onto her luggage.

“Yah! Don’t say it like it’s the last time we are going to see each other!” I shout at her.

She laughs and hugs me tight. I hug her back just as tightly. I watch her get onto the train and wait till it starts to move and vanished out of my sight. I smile sadly knowing I was going to be alone. I didn’t mind being alone, but I worry too much so it’s nice to have someone who would distract me from my worries or listen to them. Especially if that someone was as lovely as Kim Leah.

As I walk out the station, I see a big crowd of people gathered in one place, making a big commotion. I intend to walk away quietly like I normally do, but something tells me I should check it out. Maybe someone is hurt?

I walk over to the crowd of big people and try to peek through to get a glimpse. My short height does not help me so I get down on all fours and look from under everyone’s legs. My eyes widen and a loud gasp escapes my mouth as I stare at him.

It’s him!

His body lay limp on the ground, his hood pulled down revealing unevenly outgrown dark brown hair falling over his face. I push past everybody and get to the body. A man nearly shoves me away with his big arm. “Hey, move! Don’t crowd him! We don’t know who he is!”

“I do!” I blurt.

There was a hushed whisper from the crowd and the big man stared at me questioningly. I ignore their doubts and try to throw the lifeless man’s body over mine. He was heavy. “Help me get him to a taxi please” I plead. Instantly, the big man and two other men standing in the crowd come over and lift him up. A woman stops a taxi for us and the men put him inside. The driver looks at me worriedly and I smile. “We have to get home. This is my address” I show him the location on my phone screen which he quickly types into his GPS. I turn around to the men who helped me, bowing to them in gratitude.

“He was walking around aimlessly for the past 3 hours. I was suspicious of him so I kept tabs on his behaviour. He suddenly fainted and when I rushed over, his body had already gone cold” the big man tells me.

“Thank you for the information. I will keep it in mind when I’m treating him” I smile gently. I get into the taxi and we drive away. Not going to lie, but he stinks. He smells foul and sweaty, like he hasn’t washed in weeks and there was dirt all over his face. The wounds I noticed that night by the McDonald’s were still there, almost infected and looking very itchy.

When we arrived at my apartment, I pay the driver and get out. As I struggle to move the man out of the taxi, the driver offers to help. “Ma’am let me help you with your friend over there”

He’s no friend. My actual friend will kill me if she knew I brought a random man home the moment she left, I thought to myself.

The driver and I attempt to not breathe as the man’s stench envelope us both. I thank the driver and open the door to my room as swiftly as I can and drop him to the floor. He hits the floor with a thud. I lock the door and bend over him. I keep two fingers to his neck. Okay he’s breathing.

That’s one worry out of the way.

I stare at his face, now being able to get a proper glimpse of it. He looks young, maybe only a few years older than I. His lips were cracked and blue. I reach over to touch his face. I immediately retract my hand as I feel his cold skin. This is not good.

I take off his black jacket and throw it in the empty laundry basket. And yes, it is empty because I now do my laundry regularly. So proud of myself for the progress.

I move to his feet and take off his shoes and socks. His socks were so old and torn at so many places, I doubt it could even keep a rat warm. It reeked terribly so I immediately threw it into a bucket of water in the bathroom. It is with the greatest difficulty I take off his thick sweater. How the hell did he survive wearing this in this heat? I thought to myself shockingly.

As I unbutton his green shirt, he suddenly grabs my hands. I bolt backwards, but I cannot remove my hands from his hold. He slowly opens his eyes and looks at me.

“I-... I...” I stammer. He continues to stare at me through hooded eyes.

“I found you fallen on the ground” I begin, “Actually no. Some people found you and I recognized you so I brought you to my place” I correct myself. He still stares at me without blinking. “You smelt really bad so I figured...”

That’s when it hits me. What was I trying to do?! Take off his clothes?? Wash him??

I regain my composure and continue, “I figured you might need a shower so I was going to set the water and take off most of your clothes”

He still continues to stare at me, his grip strong. I squirm under his lifeless stare. His hands loosen their grip on mine so I quickly pull away and waste no time in hooking my arm under his head and gently lift him up. Thankfully he doesn’t put up a fight.

“You can go shower. The water heater is on and you can use the shampoo and soap already on the counter” I say. He doesn’t look at me as he staggers to his feet. He takes in the room as I go to fetch him a towel and toothbrush. His eyes settle on the box of colour pens and pencils on my study table.

“Kim Leah, my best friend, is very talented at art. She lives here with me so her belongings are here too” I say, noticing the objects that seemed to catch his attention.

“Do you draw?” the man asks, without taking his eyes off the box of colour. It’s the first time I’m hearing his voice, but that’s not the reason I am shocked. His voice was deep, the words booming from somewhere inside his throat. It did not match his innocent face. His voice was, to simply put it, very attractive.

I quickly shake my head, embarrassed with myself for thinking such incredulous thoughts. I stretch my arm out at him, holding the towel to him. He takes it slowly and heads to the bathroom. I stop him in his tracks. “How did you know the bathroom was there?” I ask suspiciously. He shrugs and continues to stare at me. I tilt my head to the side, pouting in suspicion. I then step aside and let him pass by.

What a strange man. Does he have a sixth sense? I wonder.

I make my way to the kitchen to prepare something for him to eat when I hear the shower turn on.

[offical-dystopiantale]

*Chapter 3: There’s something I need to tell you!*

Ink: Age 17

Error: Age 18

Part 1

“Three more months!!”

Error looked up from his novel and at his friend. They were in Ink’s bedroom, Ink on the bed and Error on the floor with his legs crossed. After the… ‘incident’ about a year ago, Error practically lived with Ink and his mother, both of whom seemed fine with the arrangement. And Error definitely preferred this to being at his own home, Ink had certainly helped him get the right help as well. He hadn’t cut himself in over a year, and, for once, was feeling happy and safe.

“What are you talking about?”

“We only have three more months until we’re out of high school for good!” Error snorted, rolling his eyes at his friend. “Proms coming up soon too.”

“I don’t know if I’d say two months is soon.”

Ink shrugged, rolling into his stomach. “A lot of people are already finding their outfits and stuff. Do you think you’ll go with anybody?”

Now, the thing is, Error did want to take someone with him, but that someone just happened to be Ink.

A few days after the incident at the hill, Error had realized something that… terrified him.

He had a crush on his best friend.

It wasn’t even just a small crush; it was big, huge.

Some would even say Error loved Ink.

And that scared Error. The way he cared about Ink, the things he wanted to do with him… they were so new, and foreign to the teenage monster. He’d known Ink for years, he was the person he was closest to, the person he trusted the most; so he supposed it made sense that he’d be the one Error fell for.

But Ink on the other hand…

He was… incredible. He was the kindest and most caring monster Error knew, and god, was he adorable. With the way his smile lit up his entire face, the subtle way his left eye would change depending on his mood. The way the simplest things made his face light up with that rainbow blush Error had come to adore.

Someone like that… there was no way he’d like Error the same way, and the ebony skeleton wasn’t sure he was ready to risk their entire friendship by telling him how he really felt..

“No, I was thinking of just not going to it in general.”

“Aw, what? You have to come!”

Error hummed, setting his book to the side. “I don’t know Ink. There’s gonna be a lot of people there.”

Even though Error was doing better with his own problems, large crowds were still quite the problem for him. He found out that any touch from a stranger - or anyone he didn’t trust, he guessed - whether it be a simple shoulder bump or a pat on the back, made him recoil away from the person violently, his mind flooding with thoughts of his father, and the things he’d done to him during his childhood.

So, Error opted to avoid crowds as much as possible.

Ink, on the other hand, wanted Error to go out, be more adventurous. He figured it’d get easier for him to deal with the more he did it.

“If you don’t go, then I won’t either.” Guilt welled up in Error’s soul, Ink had been looking forward to their senior prom since they were in grade nine. He can’t just back out on going now just because his friend didn’t want to go!

“Ink, you’ve been looking forward to this dance for years, you have to go!”

Ink shook his head, crossing his arms and pouting, and Error resisted urge to point how absolutely adorable he looked.

“I only want to go if it’s with you!” Both boys froze, thinking over what the small skeleton had just said. Both of their faces erupted into a blush, Error quickly looked down, cursing himself for being so easily flustered. “N-not like, as a date or anything… we’re just friends..”

That caused an ache in Error’s chest. Of course he enjoyed being friends with the small monster, but he wanted to be so much more than friends.

He sighed, scratching his cheek, his face still bright blue. “Fine, you win. I’ll go, but don’t expect me to be outgoing or any shit like that.”

Ink clapped happily, giggling. The ebony monster felt his cheeks heat up more, if that were possible. There was a knock on the bedroom door, and Winter peaked in, smiling softly. “Hey boys, it’s getting pretty late, I think it’s about time you two hit the hay.”

“Ok mom!” Ink practically sang, still beaming brightly, his left eye taking the shape of a star.

Winter left, keeping the door ajar, and Ink helped Error pull out the blankets and pillows he used to sleep. Winter had offered to set up the guest room for him; so he could have a bit more privacy, but he had politely declined with the explaination that he preferred to sleep in the same room as Ink, and didn’t really like to be alone in the dark. After they finished laying out the insane amount of blankets Ink had lent the other boy, the small monster clicked off the light and hopped into his own bed. “You good down there, Glitchy?”

Error could just barely make out Ink’s silhouette in the dark, dim moonlight filtering in through the half closed blinds. The small skeleton on the bed was wrapped up tight in his mass of sheets that were pulled up to his nose. “Yeah… I’m good. ‘Night Inky.”

Ink giggled, making the monster on the floor’s soul to do a flip. “Good night Glitchy.”

*****

Ink whimpered softly to himself, burrowing more into his blankets. He’d never been good at dealing with nightmares - it took very little to scare the skeleton, and his mind always found sick and twisted ways to torment him while he was asleep. He had only been twelve when he started to regularly get the night terrors, usually once or twice a week, and his mother had ended up mentioning it to his doctors during one of his regular check ups. They had been told that the dreams may be a side effect of the medicine Ink used, and that there was not much they could do about it.

Ink eventually got used to the horrid dreams, but this particular nightmare had been worse than usual, and had left him shaken and close to tears.

He eyed his sleeping friend on the ground. Error always looked so peaceful when he slept, with the way his whole body relaxed, his mouth open slightly as he breathed long and even breaths. Sometimes, his ‘nose’ would seem to twitch, as he turned in his sleep, sometimes to curl up on his side like a big baby.

Anxiously, Ink slid out of his bed, and onto his knees in front of the sleeping monster. He reached out, poking his cheek with a finger. Error pushed it away, eye’s fluttering open. He stared at Ink as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, visibly confused. “Hi.”

“Ink? What the fuck, it’s the middle of the night.” His voice was gruffer than usual because of left over sleep, and the way it seemed to roll through Ink made his soul flutter.

“I… I had a nightmare.”

Error sat up, yawning. “What..?”

The white skeleton rubbed his bare arm, blushing from embarrassment. “I, um, I had a nightmare. And I was… kinda hoping you could sleep with me tonight? On my bed, n-not the floor.”

Error’s cheeks turned blue as he looked between Ink and the bed, before finally nodding his head. “Um, Yeah, yeah Ok. You had a nightmare.”

He still seemed a bit confused, or even possibly flustered, and they crawled under Ink’s sheets together, keeping a modest distance between them.

… This won’t do. He wanted to feel Error’s warmth, to be curled up next to him. “Error? Can I… um.”

The ebony skeleton opened one eye, his cheeks still glowing blue in the dark. “Hm?”

Slowly, the small monster inched closer to his friend, wiggling his way under his arms and resting his head on his ribcage. Error went stiff, then relaxed slightly, letting his arm rest over top of Ink’s waist. “Is this ok?”

The ebony monster didn’t answer at first, shifting the way he was laying, almost as if he was scared to touch Ink. “Yeah.. this is good.” Ink shivered, nuzzling in closer to his larger friend. He’d wanted to do this for years and yet… it was a bit disappointing that they were just friends, that this cuddling meant nothing romantic, at least to Error.

Unknown to Ink, however, was that Error felt like he was practically soaring. The way the monster’s small frame was pressed against him, his face burrowed under his chin, the way his warm breaths felt against his collarbone. Ink’s small hands were holding onto Error’s nightshirt, and his breathing became slow and steady as he fell back asleep. The taller of the two boys rested his hand on top of Ink’s hip bone, and the other arm rested under Ink’s skull, like a pillow. He seemed small and frail, and Error had an almost instinctual urge to protect him, to wrap his larger arms around him and block out the crazy world, for it to be just them...

Together.

… How would Ink react if he knew how his friend really felt? Error doubted the opportunity to be so close to the small skeleton would ever happen again, but who’s to say Ink wouldn’t still want to be friends after highschool?

Like his friend said, their high school days were numbered. Error had been saving up the money he’d made while working and he planned to get himself a small apartment once they graduated. Surely, he and Ink wouldn’t be seeing each other as much once they both moved on from highschool- that thought made his pounding soul ache. Maybe…telling Ink about his feelings wouldn’t be such a bad idea? It’d be nice to be able to leave school with no secrets, everything out in the open so he’d never have sleepless nights wondering what would have happened if he’d confessed.

Error took a deep breath, nuzzling the top of his friends skull as his eyelids slowly shut.

He’d tell Ink, he decided. Tomorrow, at sunset.

Might as well make it romantic.

*****

Ink yawned, curling himself up to the warm, and large, figure next to him.

Wait…

The monster opened his eyes, gasping softly when he saw who he was pressed up against. His soul beat hard in his ribcage as his face heated up. His view was filled with Error’s chest and he could feel Error’s arms around him, holding him close. If he looked up, he could just barely make out the ebony monster’s relaxed face.

Like this… it was almost like they were a couple.

A gidding smile formed on his lips, and he suppressed giggles, burying his face in the crook of Error’s neck. He told himself it was dumb to think like this: he was Error’s friend, not his boyfriend. His friend didn’t really see him like that, the only reason he was cuddling with Ink was because he had a nightmare; and the tall monster was kind, and cared about him.

But he couldn’t help but fantasize about it.

Error shifted onto his back, pulling Ink’s upper half on top of him. Ink squeaked, his face becoming even hotter. The tall monster mumbled something, his eyes opening. He stared as Ink for a minute, the gears in his head slowly turning to comprehend their situation. Ink pushed away, his friend’s skull becoming bright blue. He couldn’t help but start giggling, the taller monster’s expression changed from confusion to something that looked almost like… adoration. “Hey.”

“‘Morning.”

Ink rubbed his bare arms, his soul singing in his chest. He wanted to kiss Error. He wanted Error to lean over and kiss him, and pull him back done to his chest. “I, um.. Sorry about last night. I just.. didn’t want to be alone, ya know?”

Error waved his apology away, sitting up and stretching. “Don’t worry about it.” He paused, then smirked and winked at Ink. “It’s not like I didn’t like it.”

The small monster’s soul pounded. What did that mean?! “I-I…” He swallowed hard, looking down, unable to meet Error’s gaze after that. “Anyways, I… appreciate it.”

Error swung his feet off the side of the bed, standing up to his full height. Ink watched his back, biting the tip of his thumb. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. What do you work today?”

“Oh, um, 2 to 5:30. What about you?”

“2 to 6.”

Error was pulling off his shirt, his back still towards Ink, as he reached into the drawer that he kept his clothes in. It wasn’t the first time they’ve changed in the same room - usually if one of them was changing anything other than a shirt, the other boy would either leave or look away - and they’d been doing it since they were kids. That being said, seeing Error’s bare spine and the back of his ribcage sent a burst of heat out through Ink’s soul to the rest of his body, and he quickly looked away, covering his face with a sheet. “We haven’t gone out to the hill in a while.”

… Why was he bringing that up now? A part of Ink had assumed Error didn’t really like going out there anymore, since they usually just stayed in his room now. He wouldn’t blame the ebony monster if he didn’t want to go out there anymore, considering what had happened there last year.

The tall skeleton sat back down, a new shirt on, though he still had a pair of gray sweatpants on. “I mean like, do you wanna drive out there tonight? Watch the sunset, then just sit out and look at the stars?” He scratched at his cheek, then added: “We could even go out for dinner, there’s that sushi place downtown that you like, right?”

Ink stared at Error, eyebrow raised. They’d gone out for lunch or supper together before (only as friends, of course) but this time… it felt different. Almost as if they were going to be on a date.

“Uh… yeah, yeah that sounds nice. We haven’t done that in a while.” Error gave him a small smile, his cheeks blue. He looked so adorable…

“Wanna go get some breakfast? Mom’s probably at work already, but we could make some pancakes.”

Error chuckled, most likely remembering the last time they tried cooking together (which ended in a huge mess) “Yeah, let’s do it.”

*****

Ink looked up from his phone, scanning the parking lot again. He and Error had decided they’d just meet at their car after work and then drive over to the sushi restaurant. Ink had finished half an hour before Error and had been waiting at the car ever since. He sunk down into the passenger seat and glanced at the time. 6:03. He should be here soon, right? The small skeleton turned back to his phone, scrolling through social media to distract himself from his growing worries and pounding soul. He couldn’t help but feel like this was a date. Getting supper at a fancy restaurant, watching the sunset together and then stargazing? That sounded much more like something a couple with do, not two friends. But what does that mean? Was Error doing this on purpose because he wants it to be a date? Or was he just oblivious to the romantic undertones?

Someone wrapped their knuckles against the car window, and Ink jolted, turning his head to see who it was. Error stood outside, giving him a small wave; the white skeleton unlocked the doors, sitting up in his seat as Error slipped into the car. “Hey, sorry ‘bout the wait.”

“No worries. I don’t mind.”

“Well, you good to go?” He put the car into reverse once Ink had nodded, backing out of the parking spot.

“I was wondering… what made you want to go out tonight anyways? It was really out of the blue.”

The ebony skeleton shrugged. “Guess you could say I was feeling impulsive. I also just kinda wanted to do something nice for you.”

Ink pursed his lips, looking out the window, at the moving scenery. “You don’t have to do anything special for me ya know…” Error shrugged again, but didn’t answer. There was a blush blooming on his cheeks.

The small monster huffed in confusion. What was this about? He’s never done something like this before. Sure, there’s been certain comments that made Ink flustered and question if the other skeleton felt the same way, but those had all been small, and brief. Easy to dismiss as just friendly compliments. But this… it was different. There almost seemed to be a type of electricity in the air, sparking something inside of Ink.

The drive to the restaurant took about twenty minutes, but the two boys found it easy to make conversation by talking about how their days went, and funny work stories. They were joking and laughing with each other as Error parked the car, and that attitude easily lasted throughout their dinner. Ink’s worries had practically vanished as he and his friend ate their sushi, poking fun at each other and snorting at their dumb jokes. Once they’d finished eating, their waiter brought them the bill. Ink, of course, reached out to grab it, but Error was quick to snatch it before him.

“WHat are you doing?”

He looked over the receipt, humming. “I’ll pay.”

Ink pouted, crossing his arms. “No way. We always split the bill”

“Not this time shorty” Error gave him a wink, and Ink’s stomach did a somersault, his questions from earlier crashing over him again. Seeing Ink’s very confused expression, the other monster’s smile softened, and he reached out and squeezed his hand. “If it really bothers you, you can just buy me lunch sometime or something. Just let me pay this time, ok?”

Ink huffed, his face blooming bright with his multi-coloured blush. “Fiiine. But this means I’m buying next time.”

His friend’s answering chuckle was low and deep. “Sure, sure. Wanna go wait in the car?”

“Eh, sure. Better than standing awkwardly behind you. you always make me look like a little kid!” The ebony skeleton laughed. Standing up, they walked to the front together. The smaller of the two felt the urge to reach out for his friend’s hand -or to grab onto his arm- but restrained himself in hopes of keeping things not awkward.

Everyone here probably already thought they were dating.

Once at the front desk, Ink left to go outside, Error watching him as he shivered in the evening air. It still wasn’t quite summer yet and the nights were still pretty chilly; and, if Error was remembering correctly, Ink didn’t bring a sweater or a jacket with him. The tall monster shook his head and grinned to himself, stepping up to the front counter, to place the receipt onto the counter top. The waiter grinned up at him, their eyes twinkling. “Is it your guys’ anniversary?”

The question caught Error off guard, his eyebrows jumping upwards. “What? Oh gods no, we’re not- “

The monster gave him a confused look. “Oh, you’re not? That’s a shame, you’d make a cute couple.” They told him the total, handing over the machine for his debit card.

“That’s why I brought him here, actually. We’re gonna drive out of town to watch the sunset after this. I… just wanna tell him how I feel, ya know?”

The waiter nodded, taking back the machine as Error finished paying. “That's sweet, dude. Good luck!” The ebony skeleton thanked the monster, left the building and slipped into the driver’s seat.

“You know, I’m really looking forward to this. It’s been a while since we hung out like this.”

Error snorted, pulling out of the parking lot, starting on the route to the hill outside of Blightview. “What do you mean? We’re basically with each other 24/7 nowadays.“

Ink shook his skull, looking out the window at all the monsters going about their day. Blightview had a predominant monster population, and it was rather rare that you came across any humans, and Ink had only seen a few throughout his seventeen years of being in the city. “I meant more like… hung out outside of town. At the hill and such. We always seem to just stick to my room now. Not that that bothers me! I enjoy being with you, no matter where!” He bit his lip, stopping himself from continuing his ramble; he hadn’t meant to go on like that! God, he probably sounded like a love sick fool…

Error chuckled, glancing over quickly at his blushing friend. “Yeah, it has been a while, hasn’t it?” He grew silent for a minute, watching the road, then continued. ���I don’t know. I’m still working through all my shit and… it’s just easier for me to just stay inside most of the time, you know?” Ink did know. Error was much more open with his feelings now, and he’d talked about his borderline fear of strangers and large crowds because of his father. “But I’m getting better. So… don’t worry about it, ok?” The smaller monster was taken a bit off guard by his friend’s soft and reassuring tone. Ink turned to him, but the ebony monster wasn’t looking, instead he was watching the road - which, in retrospect, is what Ink should have expected considering he was driving. Ink smiled to himself, still blushing.

He really did love Error.

“I know you are.” After some thought, he decided to add: “And I’m proud of you for it. I know… I know it wasn’t easy.” Error didn’t answer, only nodded a bit. The rest of the drive was filled with songs and chatter from the radio, and the two boys taking secret glances at each other.

Error pulled the car into park, then turned off the engine. Ink was the first to take off his seatbelt, while Error stayed still in his seat, taking deep breaths, still gripping the steering wheel. “Hey…” he placed a hand on the other boy’s knee, causing him to jump. “You ok?”

The fact that his dear friend could be uncomfortable out here was loud in Ink’s mind; would being out here cause him to relapse? Could being in the spot where you almost ended your life cause someone to relapse? Error was smiling at him now, though his cheeks were flushed. “I’m fine Ink. I’m just… thinking.”

“About what?”

He hesitated, then took Ink’s hand off his knee, and held it between his own, larger hands. “Well… I first thought of talking to here tonight because…” He paused, taking another breath to steady himself, his hands shaking ever so slightly. “I need to tell you something.”

Ink’s soul was beating hard in his chest, his face bright with his rainbow blush. What… was he trying to say here..?

“I, um…” A nervous chuckle, his eyes dropping away from his friend’s. “Guess it would easier if I just… said it as it is, right? Just, spit it out…”

“Error, what are you…?”

“I… I love you.”

Ink’s eyes widened, his soul feeling like it was about to burst. Did he hear that right? Error… felt the same? He was smiling awkwardly at him now, and the white skeleton attempted to form a sentence, only to fail. His smile was falling- no no no wait! I like you too! Say something dummy! He let go of the other monsters hand. “I get that you don’t feel the same I just… needed to get it off my chest.”

“I love you too!” Ink blurted out, his voice cracking as happy tears welled up in his eyes. He reached for his friend’s hand again, this time holding Error’s hand in between his own.

The ebony skeleton was staring at him, eyes wide, a large smile slowly spreading over his face. “Really?” He sounded like a small child, so hopefully and happy.

Ink loved it.

He giggled, squeezing the other monster’s hand. “Of course really! Gosh, I’ve had a crush on you since, like, grade nine! I figured it was ridiculously obvious.”

Error was staring at him like he was the only thing in the world, like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. “I… had no idea.”

“Well, obviously. ...I didn’t think you’d like me back either.”

The ebony monster chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “How could I not?” His eyes dropped down briefly to Ink’s lips, making the small skeleton to squirm a bit. “Can… Is it ok if I kiss you?”

“Please do.” He didn’t think before speaking, and his sudden confidence took him off guard. But Error was grinning widely at him, easing his worries away. They both leaned forward, meeting each other in the middle. Despite the fact that both monsters were skeleton’s, and technically didn’t have lips, it felt as if they did, and Error’s were soft, and warm:. Ink wrapped his arms around his neck, trying to pull the larger boy closer to him, to press their bodies together, but that proved to be difficult since they were still seated in the car.

Error pulled away first, one hand on the base of Ink’s spine, and the other was gently cupping his cheek; he was smiling gently at him, pressing their foreheads. “We should probably head out there so we don’t miss… “ He trailed off, his eyes widening a bit and a chuckle leaving his lips.

“What’s so funny?”

“Not funny just…. Your eye!” Ink’s brow furrowed. “It’s a heart!”

Ink pushed away, covering his face - which was completely covered in a blush at this point - while the other monster burst out laughing. The small skeleton let out a muffled scream, and Error reached over, pulling his hands away from his face, fighting back the rest of his laughter. “Aw, come on, it was cute!”

He stuck his tongue out, doing his best to pretend to be mad, but quickly dropped the charade when Error started peppering his face with kisses. “Ok, ok, stooop!” He was a giggling mess, his hands holding on tightly to Error’s sweater, and the other monster had practically crawled over the centerpiece of the car. “I wanna see the sunset!”

Both boys were giggling now, with wide smiles. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop… for now~”

“Oh my god, Error!!”

He leaned back, laughing and Ink shook his head, and they both finally left the car. Ink shivered as a breeze blew by him; Error was at his side again, sliding an arm around his shoulders. “You cold?”

Ink shrugged, the two of them began to walk up the small hill. The tall skeleton hummed, pulling his arm away to take off his hoodie, wrapping it around the smaller boy’s shoulders. It was way too big for him, obviously, and once he slipped his arms into it, his hands were completely hidden in the fabric, and it went down to the middle of his thighs. “Won’t you get cold now?”

The reached the top, and Error pulled Ink down to the grass with him. “Nah. I’ll be fine.” Ink curled up between Error’s legs, and the larger boy wrapped his arms around him before resting his chin on top of Ink’s skull.

They sat there in silence, enjoying each others warmth and watching as the sun sank lower and lower under the horizon, painting the sky in reds, pinks and yellows. Eventually, Ink took one of Error’s hands in his own. “Hey Error?” He hummed in acknowledgement. “Does this mean we’re dating…?”

“Well, yeah? Unless you don’t want that?”

“Of course I want that! You silly glitch..” His boyfriend chuckled, leaning down to nuzzle his cheek. The sun was completely gone now, and Ink burrowed his face into the top of the overly large sweater; it was soft, and smelled distinctly like Error.

There was a big possibility that Ink would be keeping this one for himself.

“I honestly didn’t think you’d feel the same.” The larger boy’s voice was quiet now, in the tone he used when he was going to open up about something, or talk about his feelings.

“How couldn’t I?” Ink responded with a smile, quoting what Error had said earlier; when he didn’t laugh, the boy frowned, shifting a bit to try and look at him. “Error?”

“I… I could make a list of why you wouldn’t love me. I’m sure I have, subconsciously.” He grew silent, then continued. “My dad really fucked with my head, Ink. You know this and… dating me isn’t going to be easy.”

Now the white skeleton turned fully, sitting on his knees and facing his partner, cupping his skull with his hands. “My mom used to tell me that nothing good comes easy.” He pressed a kiss to Error’s forehead. “I really, really, really care about you, and just because we might have some rough days isn’t going to change that or scare me away. I’m here for you. And I always will be.”

The skeleton’s eyes seemed to be sparkling, and Ink would have guessed he was about to cry if it weren’t for the chuckle that left his lips, his arms wrapping around Ink and pulling him into a warm hug.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’d say that.” Another nuzzle, making the small boy giggle and squirm, shifting his body so he could kiss his new boyfriend properly. “You’re just so… caring, like that.”

Ink playfully rolled his eyes, his cheeks blossoming once again. “So are you, Erry.”

“Erry? That one’s new.”

He shrugged, settling back now, his back pressed to the other boy’s chest, his arms still holding him. “You don’t like it?”

“No, no, I do.”

The small monster grinned to himself, snuggling closer to his boyfriend, watching the sky as the stars began to peak through.

They decided to head back after about an hour, since the temperature had dropped a bit more, making Ink cold (even with Error’s large hoodie) and, even if he wouldn’t admit it, Ink knew that Error was getting cold too.

“How do you think your mom will react?” The monster asked once they were about ten minutes away from the house. Ink let out a small snort at the question. His mother had known about his crush for years, and had been encouraging her son to tell him ever since the beginning; though, she did seem to back off a bit after Error started living with them.

“Oh, mom will be super happy. I think she’s wanted us to get together since, I don’t know, grade ten?”

He looked a bit shocked. “Really?”

“Mhm. She’s known for a while that I liked you, and she thinks you’re a really good guy.”

The boy hummed, turning right. “I…”

“Don’t say it.”

“Huh?”

Ink crossed his small arms, looking down. “You’re gonna apologise, aren’t you? Or say something about how you wish I could meet your kind parents, but I can’t because they’re assholes?” When his boyfriend remained quiet, he huffed. “You need to stop saying sorry for them. You can’t change how they are, even if you want to. Remember what Mrs. Flo said: You can't blame yourself, or apologise, for stuff you can’t control.”

Error took a deep breath. “Right, yeah. Sor- uh, I’ll work on that?”

The short boy smiled at him. “There you go.”

The taller monster was pulling up to the curb now, putting the car into park. They both took off their seatbelts and stepped out of the car; Ink noticed movement from Error’s old home - his mom was standing in the window, watching them with a look of almost… remorse on her face. The white skeleton couldn’t find it in his soul to feel bad for her; she didn’t help Error at all! He gave her a short glare, then took his partner’s hand in his own. “What are you looking at?” The small boy pulled him away before he could look back, leading them to his front door.

“Eh, nothing. I thought I saw something.”

He opened the door, and they both went inside, basking in the warmth of the home. Winter was seated on the couch in the living room, a book in her hands. She didn’t look up at them when they entered, only called out a greeting: “Hey you two.”

Error was pulling off his sneakers, and Ink haphazardly kicked his off, rushing to his mother like an excited child. “Mom, guess what?” He stood proudly in front of her, stretching his arms, making the too-big-sweater look even bigger on his small frame; he was practically swimming in it.

The older monster looked up from her novel, her eyebrows coming together in confusion. “What are you wearing…?”

Error came over now, wrapping an arm around Ink’s slim shoulders, grinning nervously. He was a bit self-conscious of his arms - he usually kept them covered around anyone other than his new boyfriend. That wasn’t what Winter was focused on, however; her eyes were wide, a slow grin stretching over her lips. “Really?”

The small monster next to him nodded happily, giving a little hop that made Error chuckle. “Yes!!”

His mom almost lept out of her seat, immediately cooing over them, teasing and congratulationing. It took awhile for them to get away from the happy monster, claiming that they were tired, and wanted to get some sleep.

After both of them were ready for bed, Error crawled into Ink’s bed next to him without thinking, instantly regretting it when the boy gave him a confused look. “Fuck, do you still want me to sleep on the floor?” He was already easing himself off the plush mattress, and Ink reached out and grabbed his forearm.

“What? No, of course not! I just thought you’d want to.” He ended his sentence with a giggle that warmed his soul. He smiled softly and slid back under the sheets.

Ink curled up to his chest, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck, and Error felt his breath catch in his throat. He was so warm, and surprising soft, and this time he wrapped his larger arms around him fully, keeping him pressed against his larger body. It was different than this morning: this time they were cuddling as a couple. It meant more, in a strange way.

Ink sighed contently, and Error could feel his lips pull up in a small smile. “Does this mean we’ll go to prom as dates?”

“Of course it does.” The white skeleton giggled, making Error coo, kissing the top of his skull. “You’re so adorable.”

Ink giggled again, grabbing onto his boyfriend's shirt gently. “Good Night, Erry”

“Good night, Inky.”

[artificialqueens]

Until the Flavor’s Gone (17/?) (Biadore) - Kitschy Pixel

A/N: Oh wow, what’s this? An update so soon? So, THIS! This is the original chapter that I wanted to bring you but couldn’t because it just got too long. You’ve got your set up – here’s where the dominos fall. Huge special thanks to @veronicasanders for keeping me from going positively insane and helping me go through several edits of this monster and as always, feel free to hit me up on my sideblog @kitschypixel. If you’re lucky, sometimes I even take prompts.

In this chapter, time has passed and people move forward, but when you hit a roadblock, sometimes the person you want is the least qualified to help you. And then they show up anyway.

Warnings for language, implied drug use, broken hearts, nosy strangers, and a whole bunch of bullshit.

Chapter 17

They were in Boston.

Well, Courtney was fairly certain they were circling the gates of her own personal hell, but she supposed naming that ‘Boston’ would be good enough. She clutched her phone tightly, thumbs poised over the screen. She checked it regularly, trying not to seem frantic. She pressed her teeth to her bottom lip, her mind so far away she didn’t realize she was being spoken to.

She jerked her attention back to the conversation when her knee was lightly tapped. “We just met and you’re already holding out on me?” The Russian accent broke apart half way through the question and Courtney blinked a few times as she tried to translate until she realized it was already in English.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Your phone! You have like… a death grip. Do you have a… gentleman caller… lined up and ready to pound that pussy into oblivion?” The purr towards the end caused Courtney to laugh before she blew out a breath she forgot she was holding.

“God, I wish. No… I’m actually just waiting for a friend – an actual friend, that’s not a euphemism – anyway. I’m waiting for him to show up so he can take Adore to the hotel…”

“Ahhhh – is this about the – “ there was a couple of snorts and a vague gesture that Courtney felt wasn’t quite as universal as the queen across from her assumed, “you know. Whatever.”

Well, Courtney got the gist regardless and she nodded in response.

“Yes… I kind of wish I knew what it was…”

“Well,” Finger tips tapped across bright red lips as the dishevelled blonde queen squinted in thought. “Do you remember what the guy looked like? You know, the one who did the offering?”

“Mmm… brunette. Square jaw… kind of that few days without shaving look… a bit over six foot with broad shoulders wearing very tight pants…” She watched as the queen nodded and hummed, “Does he sound familiar to you at all?”

“Hmmm?” She blinked the distant look from her eyes before shaking her head, “No. Honestly, I’m just really horny and he sounded like he could be hot.” She bit her lip in a very poor attempt to look at least a little chagrined before she burst with a hiss of snickers she couldn’t be bothered to hold back.

Courtney mentally noted that she should be far more irritated by the fruitless conversation, but she found herself laughing along with the hysteric giggles instead. It helped loosen her grip a little on her phone and get her mind to drift from the rather stressful week and a half of playing mom on tour (not including the numerous weeks prior that had since blurred together). “I’m sorry… I can’t remember your name…”

“Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova,” she rattled off and punctuated with a snap. Courtney’s eyes crossed a little at the mouthful and tentatively started to repeat it back.

“Ye… yekata.. keta?”

“Katya,” she interjected with wide grin.

“Thank God.”

“That works too!”

Both of their heads spun towards the door when it opened, and Katya groaned dramatically in disappointment. “False alarm, it’s just… that one,” she gestured towards the short goth queen that tried to slink in stealthily, only to nearly shut her own foot in the door.

“Hey!” The queen sniffed indignantly and Courtney greeted her with a soft and hesitant hello before she re-introduced herself. “Laila.”

“Right. Sorry.” Courtney was answered with a shrug as Laila wandered over to where they were sitting and perched herself nearby. “How’s she doing out there?”

“Who? Our little drag star?” Laila batted her eyes with a dreamy sigh before cackling a bit and shrugged. “Jumped into the crowd to make out with some guy in the middle of a song and then when she tried to climb back up, she tripped and totally ate shit. It was kinda great.”

“Great…”

“As graceful as you are, I can see,” Katya jabbed lightly before Laila let out an exaggerated ‘hah!’ in response.

“I don’t have 100K followers so I can trip all I want and no one sees it.”

“It explains your tips.”

“You know what? Fuck you,” She wrinkled her nose and looked between the two queens before pointing to the phone Courtney still kept clutched in both hands. “What’s with the death grip?”

“Oh! We’re waiting for ~a man~” Katya dropped her voice into another husky growl before Courtney cleared her throat to interject.

“It’s…” She lifted one finger, taking a moment to pause before continuing her thought, “… not as suggestive as Katya makes it sound…”

“Is he hot?” Laila swung her legs a little, while Katya snapped a few times.

“Oh! Yes! Asking the real questions here!”

“No.” Courtney scoffed, almost like a reflex. She wrinkled her nose as she started to quickly backpedal with a sound akin to a deflating balloon, “eeee-weeeell… okay. I mean… he’s not ugly. He looks fine… so… yeah, okay he is kind of hot… like I wouldn’t say no if I didn’t know him… but… yeah, no. Okay… ummm….” She pressed her lips together tightly, “It’s complicated.”

“How is that compli–” the question got cut off when Courtney’s phone buzzed and she checked it with a sigh of relief before jumping up and spinning around to face the other two.

“Okay. He’s here. Behave! Especially you!” She pointed a finger at Katya who snapped at it with her teeth while making snarling noises. With another spin she darted towards the door, keeping it propped open with her back as she caught sight of Roy being let in through a nearby exit.

Courtney waved him over and wrapped him into a tight hug the second he was close enough with a soft ‘thank God’ punctuated by a deep inhale.

“Not God, but close… did you just sniff me?”

Courtney pressed her nails into his back, “No.”

“I think you did.”

“You know what? I’m not going to argue with you. I’m just glad you’re here. Come on.”

She pulled him into the dressing room, watching as Laila and Katya both perked up at his arrival. She didn’t have a chance to get another word out before Katya raised her hand.

“Excuse me, but how is this yes/no complicated hot?”

Roy’s eyebrows shot up and Courtney rolled her eyes before she gestured with her best Vanna White hands, “This is Roy,” she cut off the coy ‘hi Roy’s with a quick follow up. “And Bianca del Rio.”

“Oh? Oh. Oooooooh! Okay. Yes/no complicated it stays.”

Courtney pulled Roy off to the side as he still mused on the ‘yes/no complicated’. “Roy. Please. Focus.”

“I would but this doesn’t seem like the same kind of emergency you described over the phone. Where is she?”

“Adore?” Courtney waved in the general direction of the floor before she started to text rather rapidly, “She’s still on stage.”

Roy frowned at Courtney’s rather frantic texting, clutching the carry on bag slung over his shoulder close, trying to match up what Courtney’s ominous message meant to him with what was actually going on. “So, she’s on stage? Then she’s okay. You made it sound like she was dying.”

“Not dead yet, but she’s trying,” Courtney held up a finger at Roy’s inquisitive ‘what the fuck does that mean?’ and closed her eyes to try to keep her thoughts from spiralling off into different directions. “She’s high.”

“Good for her. Think she’ll share?”

“Roy,” Courtney snapped and gave him a stern look, “I need you to be serious right now.”

“I am being serious! What the fuck is with you? Since when are you a prude?”

Courtney sucked in a breath and stared at Roy for a long moment, just to level out her increasing annoyance at his ignorance of the situation. He had re-routed his flight and delayed his trip to New Orleans (that he was taking with his boyfriend, she mentally noted) in order to come to Boston at her request out of the concern she’d raised about Adore’s current state. He wasn’t the type to fully understand this level of heartbreak, so she pressed her lips together tightly as she tried to find words he could comprehend.

Gathering up her last bit of patience, Courtney gripped Roy by the shoulders, looked him in the eye, and began to explain – slowly. “I’m not worried about the drugs. I’m worried about the motive,” the way his eyes shot up with a sigh was enough to register that he understood what she was implying, so she moved on. “She’s got one more song and an encore, but she’s so fucking out of it, who’s to really say… I’ve alerted our driver to be on standby to take you guys back to the hotel. I just need you to keep an eye on her.”

“Why me?”

“Because she really wants to see you… and if I try to handle it anymore, I might lose my entire mind.”

“Courtney needs a strong drink and a good dick?”

“Fuck you, but yes.”

She reached out and clamped his lips shut with the tips of her fingers as she heard Adore stumble through the door, palms clamping down on her shoulders as Adore struggled to keep upright. A hoarse laugh erupted with a quiet ‘sorry’ and Courtney forced a smile and a quiet ‘it’s fine’ as Adore breezed past them both. She wagered Adore wouldn’t even have been aware of either of them if she hadn’t tripped into them. So, she cleared her throat and raised her voice a little to catch her attention.

“Adore? Look who’s here!”

Courtney lightly slapped Roy’s shoulder when he winced at the shrill pitch of her voice and shot him a really good death glare when he grimaced as Adore came closer.

“Holy fuck… are you supposed to be here?” Roy still hadn’t turned around instead craning his neck a little far when Adore wrapped her arms around him from behind and pressed her nose in the crook of his neck. “I thought you were supposed to be… to be… somewhere not here! What are you doing?”

“I… uh…” Roy looked to Courtney who shook her head and he faked a cough. Neither of them really had enough time to come up with a plausible story as to why Roy would be here and at this point, at least Roy assumed, that the truth wouldn’t be swallowed very well. So without a convincing lie, he was left floundering a little. He stopped just short of using his boyfriend as an excuse when he felt another stern look before he finally settled, rather lamely with, “I could swing it… so I’m here– wait, are you bleeding?”

Adore looked down and laughed, pointing at her knee, “Oh yeah! I need to get something for that…” She wandered over to Laila who was holding up a box of Band Aids, “Oh! They sparkle! Gimme!”

Roy got cut off from whatever smart remark he had loaded and ready by Courtney grabbing his elbows in a vice grip and a firm ‘don’t you dare’ with a growl in her voice and fire in her eyes.

“Careful, or people will know you’re a man,” Roy shot off, wrenching himself from her when she squeezed. “Owowowow!”

“I’m dead serious right now, Roy and I am begging – absolutely begging – for you to do your best to scrounge up a little self awareness and some empathy. Please.”

“Are you sure she’s not dead? She smells like she’s rotting…”

“Roy!”

���What?”

Courtney shot a look to Adore, who was still fussing with… something… she couldn’t tell what before she grabbed Roy and steered him closer to the door, dropping her voice again. “Please. Just… do this.”

“Okay, fine… but she needs to like… bathe.”

“Well, if she drowns, that’s your responsibility.”

“Really?” Roy’s jaw dropped as he shot his own appalled look at Courtney, “Are you saying you wouldn’t help me hide the body? What kind of friend are you?”

“The kind that wouldn’t let a friend accidentally drown–”

“– who said it would be an accident?”

“Roy!” Another hiss. “Empathy! Please!”

“Fine! I’ll drown her in empathy, how’s that? Now go get fucked before you become an even bigger bitch and I have two bodies I need to deal wiiiii – hi!” He slapped Courtney’s shoulder with the back of his hand when she snorted at the way his voice cracked and they both turned to face a blinking Adore. They all stood awkwardly before Courtney finally spoke up.

“So… um… Adore… Roy’s going to take you back to the hotel, okay?”

“Why?”

Roy quirked an eyebrow to see just how Courtney was going to spin this without sounding like she was trying to be Adore’s mother. It took a few long seconds before she finally managed, “Well… I mean… I figured you two might want some time to yourselves? Catch up? I mean.. It’s been… how long?”

Roy didn’t get to answer because Adore seemed to fold rather quickly, nodding quietly before offering a smile that failed to reach her eyes. “Yeah… you’re right. It has been awhile, hasn’t it?” She bit her bottom lip, eyes rolling back in thought before she shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll just get my stuff.”

Not much else was said, there was an “I told you” dancing across Courtney’s tongue but she managed to keep it bitten back. Roy and Adore left in silence but everyone in the room noticed the firm hand pressed in the small of Adore’s back as they did. Courtney sighed from relief, trying to shake off the lingering guilt for getting a little bit more involved than she probably should have – but in her defense, she hadn’t betrayed Adore’s trust outright. Roy still didn’t know the details as Courtney knew them, she’d kept the exact circumstances of her call close to her chest.

She was doing the right thing.

“That hug seemed to linger quite a long time…”

Courtney jumped with Katya at her shoulder and she closed her eyes. “It’d been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

“And did he smell good?”

“He smelled fantastic.”

Katya nodded sagely as she spun Courtney around, took her hands and patted at them gingerly, “Don’t worry, you’re in my hands now and I will take very good care of you. Do you like go-go boys with great asses and even better dicks?”

“Please.”

“Perfect.”

–––––––––––––––––––––

Adore hit the bed hard with a groan, twisting up into a ball and just staring up at the ceiling. She waited for Roy to say something first and when he didn’t, just sighed. She held onto the silence until it started to become painful, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “So what’d Courtney tell you to get you here?”

She heard the hotel bed creak as he sat down near her at the foot of the bed, her eyes sliding to his back as she waited for him to answer. She watched as he rubbed his face before tilting his head slightly to the side. “She made it sound like it was pretty serious… so I said I’d meet you guys in Boston.”

“Okay but like… what’d she tell you?” Adore pushed herself up onto her side, staring down at the bedspread and tracing the pattern with her two index fingers, squinting a little at how the cheap, thin comforter rippled under her touch and the light scratching noise of her nails against the fabric. “Your… what’s his name… know you’re here?”

“She didn’t really tell me much, Dan–” he cut himself off with the way Adore’s lips twisted a little. The ‘sorry’ so quiet on the exhale, she was almost sure he didn’t say it.

“It’s fine, you know,” she replied anyway, pulling at her wig, “It doesn’t matter. Still me no matter what, right? Just a wig and make-up.”

The scoff was harsh and the way the pins pulled at the hair underneath as she tried to rip the wig off her head made her whine. She batted at his hands as he tried to help before he tried to soothe her with a very gentle “You’re making it worse, asshole. Hold still.”

She fidgeted as he finally finished unpinning the wig and pulled it off with a very soft ‘Christ’. Her eyes stayed on his face as he grimaced, running his hand over the tangled wig that reeked of sweat and stale perfume before he looked it over and asked, “You have a brush for this thing?”

Adore shook her head, “Too punk rock for that shit.”

“Right… and what about your own hair?”

Another shrug and Roy rolled his eyes before taking the empty ice bucket and flipping it upside down, using it as a temporary wig stand before he pointed to the bathroom. “Get up. Go. You’re disgusting. Go!” He waved her to the door until she finally stepped into the bathroom and she got a good look of herself in the mirror. Her hair was greasy and her scalp felt raw, and there were signs where she’d simply just sweated off her make-up and then reapplied for the past couple of nights. “Take your clothes off and get in.”

Standing in the harsh white light of a hotel bathroom, she suddenly didn’t have the energy to really argue. She struggled out of most of her clothes before she turned to the bathtub. “It’s empty.”

“Good job, genius. It’s for the best. Get in.”

Rolling her eyes felt gritty, so she rubbed them instead and did as asked, knees bent, hands on the cold porcelain as she stared at the tile. She scratched a little at the grout before following it with the pad of her finger, pursing her lips and looking pensive as she followed the maze of lines.

The ice water hit her scalp first, ran down the back of her neck and down the center of her spine, making her suck in the myriad of curse words before expelling them in a string of very loud insults, “What the fuck, you rotted cunt? Shit!”

“Keep your voice down. It’s three in the morning.”

Adore sputtered as a damp washcloth was dropped on her head. She took it and wrung it tightly in her hands, staring at it. “What the fuck am I doing?”

“Whore bath for a whore,” Roy spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as he sat down on the floor, with his back against the tub, setting aside the water glass with the sample sized shampoo and conditioner that had been displayed on the counter. He handed her the make-up wipes he’d found with them, giving her a place to start. She took the hint and removed her lashes, pressing them against the edge of the tub.

It took a moment for him to speak again, as she pouted and scrubbed at the layers of make-up on her face, and when he did – it made her pause.

“So what’d you take tonight?”

There was a twinge of curiosity that cancelled out the usual judgemental tone a question like that usually carried. But she acted as if it was still accusatory, just because she wanted to.

“What’s it matter? Sure it’s nothing compared to the shit you’ve done, right?”

She couldn’t see the way he pressed his lips together, but heard the way he clicked his tongue. “Yeah…” he remarked, slouching a bit and tilting his head back a bit. “Probably right…” Another click and he tilted his head to the side again. “I’m gonna offer you some advice, though…”

“I’m fine.”

“Fact that you smell like a stale bag of Fritos says different, now shut up…” he held up a finger before he sighed. “I’m not gonna tell you what to do, because this is your load of bullshit to deal with… but know what the fuck someone is giving you. Just… in case.”

Adore stared at the foundation streaked make-up wipe before she started to rub furiously at her eyes. “So Courm told you about Cleveland…” she squinted in thought before muttering, “Or was it Philly?”

“No.” Roy raised an eyebrow as he pulled the make-up wipe from her hands when she couldn’t seem to stop staring at it as she twisted it tightly one way and then another. Adore grasped at thin air a few times and then turned to face Roy, resting her chin on the edge of the tub and looked towards his face with wide, puppy-like eyes.

“Can you help me wet my hair?”

They both shuddered at that hollow, rubbery ‘flomp’ sound of skin sliding against the barely damp tub surface. Roy was still wincing as Adore got herself situated, followed by a sheepish ‘sorry’. “It’s fine,” Roy remarked before he turned on the facet to a slow trickle, palm pressing against Adore’s forehead to keep her from knocking it against the metal when she reared upwards when it made contact. “Careful! You don’t need a head injury, Jesus…”

“Are you trying to burn my scalp off now?” Adore seethed and Roy helped her sit up so he could check the water temperature.

“You’re lucky I’m not scrubbing you with Lysol, now quit complaining!” He got the temperature down to just below scalding before he helped Adore lean back again. Her eyes rolled upwards and she closed them for a moment, just letting his fingers press against her scalp before she started sniffling.

“You okay?”

The question sounded stiff and rehearsed with genuine concern bleeding through just enough to soften it.

“Yeah… yeah I’m just…” She sat back up slowly, pressing her fingers into her forehead before a sob burst forward. She sucked it back quickly, palms to her eyes as she forced out a laugh. A hand to her shoulder made her lift her head, and she took the small shampoo bottle that was offered. Clutching it in her fingers, she just stared at it as reality seemed to snap back with harsh lines and sharpened edges before blurring out with the tears that pooled in her eyes.

“You wanna pick an emotion, there?”

“Pathetic and embarrassed,” Adore blinked slowly, letting the tears fall before hiding her face with her knees.

“So normal. Good. I was almost worried.”

A soft giggle shuddered forward, weak and breathless. It made her chest hurt and her heart felt raw but that smile still managed to reach her eyes as she shook her head and hoarsely whispered, “You’re such a fucking dick.”

She lathered up her hair making it stand up straight before looking over at him again. “This would have been so much easier if you’d just let me take a normal shower.”

“Maybe,” he let her lean back, a hand shielding her eyes as he helped her rinse the shampoo from her hair, “But Courtney said she wouldn’t help me hide your body if you drowned, so I couldn’t take that risk.”

She dropped her jaw and looked appalled as she sat back up and sputtered, “You would hide my body? Why not call 911?”

“I’m not going to risk potentially going to jail just because your ex is an asshole… now tip your head back, you’re not done.”

Roy pressed the side of his hand to her forehead as he finished rinsing out her hair. She blinked upwards a few times before closing her eyes. “How do you know he was the asshole? Do you even know what happened or why we broke up? I could have been the one who like… cheated on him or whatever.”

“I know I’ve been busy, but I’m not completely oblivious and I know how social media works. I got the gist of what happened… please don’t start crying again, Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry! I’m sorry… I just…” Roy let her sit up and wipe at her eyes, still sniffling. He looked downward to the floor, letting her compose herself. She swiped her hands across her eyes before sniffling and offering a very weak smile, “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“Yes. But not for what’s…” he made a vague gesture in her direction, “…going on right now…” He tossed a fluffy white towel at her and sighed. “Get out, dry off… find some clean clothes and I’ve got something to show you…” He paused a beat as he caught a very familiar spark in her eyes, “Before you say anything, let me ask you… do you really think it’s a good idea to crack a joke about my dick right now?”

“Well, not when you take the fun out of it like that.”

“Just get dressed.”

–––––––––––––––––––––

Drying off, and feeling kind of clean for the first time in probably four days, he looked in the mirror and saw… Danny. And with Danny came the ugly realization that he was a complete wreck of raw emotion and tangled up heartbreak that he’d been trying to ignore for all of these weeks and was doing a really piss poor job of doing so.

And he started crying again, before he even had a chance to stop it. He was sitting, doubled over, on the lid of the toilet with the towel balled up against his face when Roy came back to check what was taking him so long. His eyes were puffy, his face felt tight, and he was trying to wipe the snot from his nose as he caught sight of Roy loitering in the doorway, fingers tapping rapidly on either side, looking down at the floor.

“Think you’re going to make it or are you living in the bathroom now?”

Danny’s lips twitched and he leaned forward, reaching for Roy and wrapping the fabric of the man’s shirt in his fist before pulling him towards him. Roy complied, letting Danny close the gap between them to wrap his arms tightly around his middle.

“You smell good.”

“It’s called showering regularly. You should try it.”

“Be nice to me or I’ll cry.”

“Hah! Like that’s stopped you so far…” Danny closed his eyes and smiled as Roy lightly played with his hair, ruffling it as he took a step back. “Okay, seriously. This bathroom is making me depressed, can we go now?”

Danny nodded and used Roy to hoist himself back up onto his feet. He shuffled out of the bathroom to his suitcase, dug through it for some underwear and a clean t-shirt, and got dressed as Roy sat on the bed, back against the headboard. He crawled into bed, sliding across the comforter and curling up at Roy’s hip, arm across his lap.

“Sobering up a little?”

There was a non-committal grunt in reply before Danny rolled onto his back, pressed his fingers to his eye sockets for a moment and just stared up at the ceiling. “Fuck…” her muttered before closing his eyes tight. They burned a little from crying. He sniffled again before he finally managed to slide his focus back to Roy. “You said something about a present?”

“Yup,” Roy reached over and grabbed the small carry on bag he had with him and dug around it before producing a Ziploc bag that he tossed onto Danny’s chest. Danny pushed himself up on his elbows and squinted a little as he slowly sat up and opened the bag, removing the stack of papers – no. wait. photos – from inside.

“Oh my God…” He gasped and grinned as he recognized a few of them from Roy’s Facebook. “No way…” he started to rifle through them before his grin broke and softened into a genuine smile. “You brought me baby Bianca pictures?”

“I thought you might get a kick out of them.”

“Holy. Shit…” He couldn’t control the elated giggles, soft and raspy in pure delight as he flipped the photo in his hand over to look at the back. “They’re even dated, you fucking nerd!”

“I can take them back.”

“Noooo!” Danny whined and curved over them to shield the small pile he’d made with his body. “I’m looking!”

He righted himself up and gathered his pile, flipping through each photo, pausing at the ones he hadn’t already seen. He let out a low whistle at one from Bianca’s Cher impersonating days, “Damn, you use to be fucking hot,” he lightly smacked Roy’s thigh at the answering scoff. “Shut up, you know you were hot…” He grinned at the way Roy’s lips twitched to one side and pointed, “See? You know.” He laughed when Roy fell silent and didn’t offer any argument.

Danny thumbed through the pile rather quickly, pausing at some of the photos. There was one he’d set aside to come back to once he got through the rest of the pile, leaving it out as he slid the rest of them back into the Ziploc bag and then handed it to Roy. “Tell me the story on that one…”

Roy raised an eyebrow as he took the photo in hand and tilted his head. Danny wrapped an arm around his middle again, chin on his shoulder and he smiled a little. “Not much to tell…” he mused. “It was… 2001, so I was still in New Orleans. It was a photoshoot that had two other queens… both of them were late as fuck…”

Danny hummed and smiled, “Let me guess… you were on time?” Roy offered him a side glance and a confirming nod, but nothing else before he cleared his throat and shrugged.

“But yeah. That’s really it. This was taken while we were waiting for them. Why do you ask?”

Danny shrugged one shoulder as Roy handed the photo back to him – Bianca looking off into the distance, dressed in white with black hair, the lighting soft and surreal. He took it back and cradled it in his hands. There was something ethereal and warm and very different from the heavy handed camp clown that Bianca had aged into. It made Danny’s heart skip a couple of beats and he held his breath for a second or two before he shrugged again and replied with a fresh smile. “You just look really beautiful, that’s all.”

“Then keep it.”

“Really?”

“What am I going to do with it? If you like it, just have it.”

Danny felt a weird flutter somewhere in his chest, a sense of relief that jumped around a couple times before settling back down and making him feel a little lighter. His smile got wider and sweeter before he leaned in, hugged him and kissed his cheek, before nuzzling his shoulder and sighing from content. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

“Mmhm.”

“I’m serious. Really. Thank you.”

“It’s just a photo, Danny.”

“No. It’s more than that and you know it.”

They sat in silence for a minute or two before Danny got up to put the photo under his phone so he wouldn’t forget it. He settled down, head on the pillow and looked up at Roy before asking, meekly, “Are you happy?”

Roy cocked his head to the side to consider the question, “Do you really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

There was a long sigh before he gave up a nod and a very weak smile that didn’t quite tell everything. “It’s… not really easy right now, but overall? Yeah.”

“Are you in trouble for coming to visit me?”

“No. That’d be the last thing on the list of things I could be in trouble for…” his voice trailed and he shook his head at Danny’s perplexed expression, “I don’t want to get into it tonight.”

“Okay…”

“I’m serious, Danny.”

“Okay! I’m serious too. Subject dropped…” He couldn’t tell if he was being extra touchy just because of whatever leftover effects of… whatever it was that had been offered to him… or if it was just natural for him when he was this close to someone as familiar as Roy, but he found himself fiddling with the belt loop on Roy’s jeans, just picking at it and hooking his finger on it before little it go. Roy didn’t stop him and they stayed in another stretch of silence that Danny broke again.

“When do you have to leave?”

“In a few hours.”

“So if I fall asleep, you’ll probably be gone when I get up?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Used to it…” he trailed a bit and wrinkled his nose, “That wasn’t supposed to…”

“Nah. I get it. I know.”

Yet another pause in conversation and Danny started to settle further, “Hey…”

“Mmm?”

“Are you at least going to stay for those few hours?”

Roy nodded before he tilted his head to Danny. “Yeah. I can, if you want.”

“I want…” Danny closed one eye and wrinkled his nose again as he tried to piece together his next request, “Um… can you…? God, this sounds stupid and needy but…” he bit his lip, the words just not falling into place quite right. “Never mind…”

He turned onto his side, back to Roy, until he heard shuffling behind him. He turned over to see Roy settling under the hotel comforter, glasses off and hat removed, a hand under his head and eyes closed. He stared at him for a long moment before Roy cracked open one eye and waved Danny closer. “Stop gawking, asshole. If you want me to stay, I might as well get comfortable.”

The invitation was clear and Danny joined him under the covers, curling up to him and cuddling close. A single arm wrapped around him and one hand rested on his shoulder, that newly freed up spot in his chest filling with a comfortable warmth as he closed his eyes.

“Hey, Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope things work out and you can stay happy.”

“Thanks.”

“Um… Roy?”

“What?”

Danny pressed a light kiss to Roy’s cheek again and whispered to his ear, “Thanks for showing up.”

“Well… it was either show up or listen to Courtney whine until this fucking tour was over, but you’re still welcome.”

Danny hummed and closed his eyes, halfway to sleep before he murmured one more time. “And Roy?”

“What now?”

“You’re so great.”

That got a laugh, a set of fingers pushing back his hair and lips to his forehead. “You’re not so bad yourself. Now get some sleep.”

There was a nearly inaudible ‘okay’ in reply as Danny finally managed to drift off comfortably for the first time in a number of nights that he’d lost count of.

And it wouldn’t be until he half woke up as Roy moved him with a whispered apology so he could gather his stuff – when he was still groggy and still full of sleep, with a cloudy brain and weighted limbs – that he latched onto the pillow that still smelled a little like Roy’s shampoo. It wouldn’t be until he croaked out a slurred ‘good-bye, I miss you’ to Roy’s whispered farewell and he heard the automatic lock on the hotel door click closed and he was finally left alone that a portion of his brain, one caught in between consciousness and sleep, in that sweet limbo where the blankets feel just right against your skin and the temperature in the room is just right and your buzzing brain feels at peace, that Danny could finally feel it.

That rotting, heavy, benign bitterness he’d been toting around for months had finally jarred loose and melted away and the sweet, warm content that had blossomed hours before had decided to take root.

He finally felt okay.

[bitchronan]

lime to the heart

Draco x Percy

College, non-magical AU

ao3

Crowds of obnoxious college-aged kids weren’t out of the ordinary on a Saturday evening at the store where Percy worked - they arrived en masse pre messy nights out to bulk buy vodka and own-brand mixers - but even still, the group that had just passed through the automatic sliding doors exuded the cocky self-confidence that could only be pulled off by the incredibly entitled.

The group was headed up by an arrogant blonde boy drawling loudly into a mobile phone as he pointed his friends towards the liquor aisle.

“I don’t care if there’s vodka there,” he was saying. “If you think I’m going to drink dollar store toilet cleaner, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Percy sighed as he began to unpack the next crate of tomatoes, thankful only that he wasn’t on checkout tonight.

“Can we do tequila shots with pink Himalayan sea salt?” A brunette girl in heels about as high as her skirt was short asked.

“Only if we’re criminally insane,” a dark-skinned boy replied rolling his eyes. “Honestly Daph, you’re as blonde as your sister sometimes.”

‘Daph’ stuck out her jewel-studded tongue at the tall boy and returned to perusing the shelves.

“Marcus says to get more solo cups - they’ve run out - and also to bring him some fags,” the cocky blonde boy announced, having hung up his phone and loaded two bottles of tequila into a shopping cart being pushed by a girl with a razor-sharp bob and a bored expression.

“Oh, Draco don’t talk about yourself like that,” Daphne quipped, causing the girl pushing the cart to laugh loudly and obnoxiously.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” Draco shot her a venomous look but the corners of his mouth twitched into a small smirk.

“I wasn’t sure,” Daphne replied. “It’s so similar to your bad mood.”

“Is anyone but me going to be useful?” Draco ignored the jab, “Or do I have to do everything myself.”

“Title of your sex tape,” bob girl smirked, blowing a large pink bubble with gum that popped loudly.

“I’m a saint to deal with you lot,” was all Draco replied before he swept ahead of the group towards the fruit and vegetable aisle.

Percy immediately put his head down and tried to look invisible - an impossible feat considering his carrot-top hair and green polo emblazoned with the words ‘ASK FOR ASSISTANCE’ across the shoulder blades, but an admirable attempt nonetheless.

The short-haired girl leaned forwards over the handle of the shopping cart, giving anyone looking an ample view of her chest covered only by what Percy suspected to be lingerie rather than a top.

“What, we need broccoli or something?” She asked, “Worried no one at the party will have enough vitamin C?”

“Scurvy is an admirable cause,” the tall dark boy replied. “And Draco is a philanthropist.”

“Scurvy or preventing it?” Daphne asked with a grin, plucking a peach from the stand Percy had finished stacking only ten minutes earlier and biting into it.

“God, Daph,” the other girl scoffed, popping her gum again.

“Want some?” Daphne asked, holding the peach out. Juice dripped down her wrist onto the shiny laminate floor.

The girl wrinkled her nose and Daphne turned, “Hey Blaise, want some of my peach?”

“Is that a metaphor?” Blaise replied, “Because if so it’ll have to be a hard pass.”

Daphne had just taken another bite of the peach when Draco rounded the fruit display.

“Excuse me?”

Percy didn’t look up from his tomatoes.

“Excuse me?” Draco repeated, louder this time.

Percy straightened slowly, plastering his customer service face on. “How can I help?”

“Do you have any limes that aren’t so… ugly?”

Percy couldn’t help but frown at this, “Ugly?” He repeated.

“Yeah, like more aesthetically pleasing limes,” Draco confirmed.

The unnamed girl snorted from behind Percy, Draco glared at her over his shoulder.

“Whatever limes are out are all we have,” Percy said, dumbfounded at this line of questioning.

“We could go to Trader Joe’s,” Daphne suggested through a mouthful of peach.

“They’re limes,” the dark-haired girl said. Percy stepped out of the middle of their conversation, wondering if he could return to unloading his tomatoes.

“We’re gonna be too drunk to see what they look like in an hour,” she said rolling her eyes.

Draco sniffed, “Maybe you, Pansy. I won’t be able to enjoy myself if I know our limes are so deformed.”

“You’ll be deformed in a minute,” she retorted. “Go grab some limes before I hurt you so badly you won’t be able to enjoy yourself ever again.”

Percy wished fervently he wasn’t experiencing this.

The four of them stood in silence as they waited for Draco to return with the limes. After what felt like an eternity he dropped several into the shopping cart, which now contained two bottles of tequila, several stacks of red solo cups, a tub of table salt, and several admittedly unattractive limes.

“Onwards,” Daphne declared licking peach juice off her wrist whilst waggling her eyebrows at Blaise.

Percy wondered if she was planning to pay for the peach or not.

Pansy threw Percy a penetrating look as the other three left toward the checkouts.

“What time do you finish working?” She asked her gaze moving from him to the crates of tomatoes.

“What?” He asked.

“What time do you finish?” She repeated, “We’re going to a party at Phi Delta Alpha, come along once you get off.”

“I don’t really… do parties,” Percy protested.

“Whatever, I don’t care. You should come anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she said like it was obvious, “Draco likes you and I’m sick of listening to him talk about how depressing his life is, or whatever.”

“Sounds like you’re a great listener.”

“Thanks,” she said, unaffected. “You’ll come then.”

“When was the last time someone said ‘no’ to you?” Percy asked.

“They don’t. I don’t let them.”

“How democratic.”

She didn’t reply, just grinned wickedly and turned towards her friends who were arguing loudly by the door about cocktail umbrellas versus tiny plastic swords.

Percy wished he could claim he didn’t know where Phi Delta Alpha was but it was pretty much impossible to attend UW without at some point acquiring such knowledge. He could, however, honestly say he had never been there before. When he pulled up and squeezed his tiny, shitty car into one of the last spaces left on the street he almost pulled immediately out and left again.

Students spilt out of the front of the house onto the lawn, most holding red solo cups and some smoking and vaping. Percy knew this area was mostly student and Greek housing so parties tended to be thrown here regularly, he’d never come to one before.

Summoning all his courage he climbed out of the car and approached the frat house - he’d changed out of his green polo shirt back into the casual button down he’d been wearing earlier that day but still felt incorrectly dressed for the occasion.

He squeezed through the crowds of people into the house, some rap song Percy didn’t recognise was blaring from the speakers and a keg was shoved unceremoniously in one corner of the living room. Percy stepped over a discarded solo cup, trying not to let his discomfort show on his face and moved further into the room.

A girl shrieked and someone grabbed his arm halting his progress.

“You came!” Daphne screamed at him, more than loud enough to be heard over the music and chatter.

Her brown hair had been twisted into a careless bun on the top of her head, and her insanely high heels discarded in favour of a pair of high-top converse that were clearly several sizes too big for her and had been laced tightly to stop them from slipping right off her feet. She held a solo cup in the hand that wasn’t still wrapped around his wrist; it was full of what looked like Red Bull and sloshed dangerously.

“Want some?” She offered the cup to Percy.

“No, thanks,” he replied. “Did you pay for that peach?”

She screwed up her entire face with the effort of understanding him after he’d repeated the question enough times to make him feel ridiculous she grinned childishly. “What are you the peach police? Peachlice?” She laughed at her own joke then, seeing his frown replied, “Calm your tits, of course I paid for it. Draco’s in the kitchen with Pansy by the way.” She added, taking a swig of the drink.

“Right,” Percy replied. “Cool.”

Someone called Daphne’s name, and she turned away, already smiling widely at the newcomer. She tripped on her too large converse and made her way across the room laughing to herself, wiping red bull off her skirt.

Percy found his way to the kitchen, unsure of why he had come here at all. The song had changed to Barbie Girl and, upon entering the room, Percy found Pansy sitting on the kitchen island, her legs loosely looped around Draco’s waist and both of them singing along to the music. Unsure of whether to make himself known Percy stood stupidly in the doorway until someone walked into him, spilling half a beer down his shirt and causing the rest of the kitchen to turn towards the commotion.

“Watch where you’re fucking going!” The stranger who had poured their drink down Percy’s front swore.

“Crabbe,” Pansy said sharply.

Crabbe turned to look at her, opening his mouth to retort.

“Fuck off,” Draco supplied picking up a drink from beside Pansy and joining Crabbe and Percy by the door.

Crabbe scowled but did as he was told and Draco held the drink out to Percy.

“What is it?” Percy asked frowning.

“Lemonade. You can pour it yourself if you don’t believe me,” he added seeing the scepticism on Percy’s face.

“You were confident I’d come.”

“You came didn’t you?” Draco smirked pushing the drink into Percy’s hand, “Come on.”

Percy followed Draco into the kitchen proper and watched as Draco prepared himself a confusing concoction of drinks.

“I’m Draco by the way,” he said once he’d taken a sip of the purple drink.

“Yeah,” Percy replied slowly, pretty sure he was having an out-of-body experience. “Percy.”

“Right, your name tag said so.”

“Do you normally invite random guys to parties with you?” Percy asked feeling supremely uncomfortable.

“Pansy invited you,” Draco pointed out, taking another swig of the purple concoction.

“Right.” Percy put the untouched lemonade down, “I should go.”

“No, I’m sorry, I just meant - no I don’t normally invite random supermarket workers to parties. That’s more Pansy’s thing, but I’m glad she did.”

“Well, how has your night been so far?”

Draco laughed, “Better than yours I’d wager - you’ve probably made an enemy for life in Crabbe.”

“He walked into me!” Percy protested before catching Draco’s expression, “You’re joking.”

“Yeah,” he replied with a grin. “He has the memory of a possum.”

“How do you know possums don’t have really good memories?” Percy challenged.

“Do they?”

“I don’t know. You’re not as drunk as Pansy threatened,” he added when the conversation lapsed. “Did the ugly limes affect you that much?”

Draco grinned, “Didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you more than I already had. Although, ugly limes do plague my mind.”

Destiny’s Child was now pounding through the speakers. Percy wondered if he’d been transported to an alternate universe where frat parties played nineties hits and rich kids were actually kind of charming.

Feeling bold he turned to Draco, “Wanna dance?”

Draco looked a little shocked but decidedly thrilled with the suggestion and downed the rest of his drink before overzealously dragging Percy to the makeshift dance floor.

As soon as Percy realised that even if he was sober everyone else was too drunk to care what a fool he was making of himself he found he actually rather enjoyed frat parties. He and Draco danced to the two Destiny’s Child songs that played back to back (Say My Name and Nasty Girl) then, when some techno song neither of them knew came on, Draco dragged Percy back to the kitchen and allowed him to mix him a drink. It turned out the colour of fertiliser but Draco drank it anyway and mostly managed to conceal his disgust.

Percy watched as Draco wiped the corner of his mouth, “That was… delicious,” he said, eyes watering.

Percy smiled wickedly, “I can make you another.”

Draco looked panic-stricken for a moment before he burst out laughing, “You’re a menace!”

Feeling emboldened Percy stepped forwards, closing the short distance between them and pressed his lips to Draco. The other boy responded instinctively, one hand grasping the back of Percy’s shirt at the small of his back and the other reaching up to cup his face. Draco opened his mouth and Percy tasted the remnants of the drink he had made on his tongue.

When they broke apart Draco was flushed and Percy’s shirt had come untucked from his jeans at the back.

Percy pulled a face, “Pansy was right, you must really like me if you drank that.”

Draco laughed, “And you must really like me if you’re willing to come to frat parties and get beer poured down you.”

“Guess we’re even,” Percy said smiling.

“Guess so,” Draco pulled him in for another kiss.

[sunyoonandstars]

Hi! I'm also new to the family and I'm already in love with all of them, they're all so amazing , generous and gorgeous, that sometimes I wonder if they're even real ,you know? And I was wondering if there's something I should definitely know about the boys? Or something you think I should know? Thank you for being so sweet and kind to us all, you're the best!!

I can totally understand that you already have them in your heart! 💜 I was lost the very second I started researching interviews. They’re all just so genuine and amazing in their own ways.��

What you should definitely know about the boys … In general? They’re incredibly hard-working and dedicated to their work and fandom. They love us, their fans, and miss no chance to let us know how grateful they are for our continuing support. They started out pretty young, especially Jungkook, and have been living together since their trainee days (over 7 years ago). They also repeatedly stated – a fact that seems especially important to Yoongi – that they don’t plan on changing that anytime soon, even though by now they are surely old and ‘rich’ enough to be living by themselves. They consider each other family, they deeply care about, rely upon and are always there for each other. There is so, so, so much more, what I’m sure you’ll find out through watching interviews or videos like Run BTS!, Bts Gayo, Bangtan Bomb … 

And what I personally think you should know about each of the members for starters:

1. Kim Seokjin / Jin 

the ‘mother’ of BTS 

mentioned that he doesn’t like being misgendered, so it’s not intended as a nickname but merely as a description of the role he occupies within the group (he protectively cares for the members in an almost mother-like way [e.g. loves to cook for them] especially, the younger ones, and never misses out on a chance to jokingly lament over the fact that he virtually ‘raised Jungkook on his back’) 

DO NOT call him eomma/mom or ‘princess Jin’, as some fans used to because he does not feel comfortable about it! 

is mostly responsible for/adamant about keeping the dorm clean (or at least that was the case in their first dorm, back when they used to share a room and sleep in bunk beds. Now they have staff who regularly cleans their new, more luxurious apartment, I believe. Or at least I think Yoongi mentioned something similar in a radio interview/podcast once.) 

king of nagging 

DAD JOKES 

he has a driver’s license 

family: parents + older brother 

Yoongi once called him a “family man” and an “ideal husband” in an interview 

Jin once stated that he would want his firstborn to be a girl and the second child to be a boy so his son would have a noona (older sister) that would treat him kindly and that the boy could look up to since he was often being teased by his hyung (older brother) 

last year his parents gifted him the most adorable pet sugar gliders 

WORLDWIDE HANDSOME

BROAD SHOULDERS (especially for Korean standards apparently)

considers his face (jokingly?) his greatest asset 

but underneath it all he is still very insecure (I believe)

likes hearing others call him cute or handsome 

loves doing aegyo 

actually needs (rather strong) glasses but doesn’t like wearing them because he can’t feel confident when doing so 

recently seems to ponder beginning his a career as a hairstylist??? 😳

should stay away from scissors in the future … 

has the most genuine, beautiful, infectious, hilarious windshield laugh 

often laughs until he literally tears up 

because he freaking loves to laugh

and even more to make others laugh 

does not mind making a fool of himself in doing so 

was literally cast off the street 

a member of the staff spotted him walking by and reportedly started running after him because he was so handsome even back then

graduated from college (majored in acting) 

alongside RM (Namjoon), he is considered the worst dancer of BTS

yet he is among the hardest-working members because he previously didn't have any kind of background/experience in either dancing or singing (was cast as a ‘visual’) 

and because of that he is very hard on himself 

has improved a lot since debut 

but is not being given enough credit, appreciation, and lines

he loves cooking and food and eating

EAT JIN 🍜

and once was put on a heartbreaking diet (like all idols at some point, probably, but still, it must’ve been incredibly hard on him) and was repeatedly told by his managers he was fat/chubby 😤 (WHERE? I demand to know…) 

SIGNATURE: enthusiastically blowing kisses upon kisses upon kisses + HEART EVENTS 

because he is simply the sweetest angel there is

2. Min Yoongi / Suga

the grumpy grandpa of BTS 

but also more of a ‘father’ 

because he is practically the dorm’s handyman (usually responsible for changing light bulbs and stuff)   

good at working with his hands and fixing things (which RM previously broke …) 

MOTIONLESS MIN (because on his [rare] days off he likes to do literally nothing)

strives to be stone in his next lifetime 

likes to sleep (A LOT) and is always tired

can literally sleep anywhere 

probably because he likes to work/is especially creative at night (once said most his songs are produced between midnight and 6:00am) 

insanely talented lyricist/rapper/producer 

actually did not audition to become an idol but to become a producer at Big Hit and work behind the scenes 

AGUST D ❗️

claims he got his stage/nickname ‘Suga’ because of his pale complexion and his sweet smile (’wanted to promote sweetly’) 

despite his ‘bad boy’ image/attitude (especially on-stage) 

his hometown is Daegu (which is what the ‘D’ in AGUST D stands for) 

his family also consist of parents + older brother 

he moved to Seoul on his own back pre-debut 

starved for a few months so he could keep on producing/working on his music and career while living off of under-payed part-time jobs 

during that time he developed anxiety (suffered several attacks, even in BTS’ earlier days after debut) and depression (which he openly addresses on his AGUST D mixtape. If you haven’t already you should really give it a listen and study the translated lyrics.) 

writes/composes songs every day and can do so everywhere, even in crowded public places 

he relieves stress through writing/composing songs 

doesn’t like going outside and repeatedly stated he ‘doesn’t like people’ (I believe he refers to being around many strangers/in crowded and loud places)

prefers to stay at home 

so his ideal date would also be a comfortable night in 

Yoongi is usually on the quieter side 

but when he speaks up, damn, you can be sure he has something to say 

wise beyond his age 

great common/general knowledge 

very outspoken and straightforward  (’savage Suga’/’savage Yoongi’) 

so it’s his task to openly scold the younger members and call them out on their questionable behavior 

does have his silly/hyped-up moments, though 

and they are priceless

can occasionally actually let loose 

but it happens rather rarely 

always seems to be very observant and contemplative 

GUMMY SMILE 

HIS SHRUG  

MIN GENIUS 

workaholic 

tends to overwork himself and neglect self-care/sleep/his health (forgets to eat/skips a lot of meals) 

his studio is called the ‘Genius Lab’

seems to regularly put himself on a diet?? he seems to be getting skinnier and skinnier, or is it only me, guys?? 

claims he doesn’t give a shit

but he actually does 

cares a lot about the people close to him, simply doesn’t show it so obviously 

does not seem too big on showing it through physical contact, too (once said himself in an interview that he wouldn’t be the kind of boyfriend to hold hands or put his arm around his s/o’s shoulder in public because he isn’t the sweet kind of boyfriend like that) 

takes care of them ‘behind the scenes’/’in secret’ 

beneath the gruff exterior, he’s just a huge softie 

used to play basketball in high school and was quite good at it, too

he is second smallest in the group (a few centimeters taller than our mochi Jimin)

which sometimes leads him to jump in order to get into the frame when they are taking group shots at award shows and such (it’s adorable) 

does not particularly enjoy physical activities and the way they tire him out 

loves meat 

can actually cook quite well but isn’t as vocal about it as Jin 

also takes cooking very seriously (see Run BTS! Ep. 36, for example) 

tends to speak in Satoori dialect when he’s nervous 

doesn’t consider himself handsome/charming 

wants to become even more successful and for his music to reach as many people as possible 

Waaaah ….. These turned out longer than expected. I’ll do the other members, too, later on, sweet anon. And maybe repost this as a real headcanon or something tomorrow. For now I, unfortunately, have to go to sleep because it’s 02:30am here and I have to get up in 4 hours … 😁

I hope this helped/was at least close to what you imagined, anon! Take care and feel free to message me anytime!! 💜

[rmjagonshi]

The Prince and the Streetrat

For the writing prompt from @princeasimdiya12 with her suggestion of Mullet Stan Alladdin Au set in Agrabah. I may have gone a bit over my initial word count estimate. Hence why it took longer than expected. So....sorry?

Gen (no ships), family friendly and all that. 

The Market was unusually busy today. It was off season for much of the local harvests and the trade caravans were coming in by the dozens. Some were even from places he didn’t recognize; their garb and wares colorful and exotic. The number of horses in the public stables was now rivalling the number of camels. The street cleaners and stable hands were running to keep up with the increased workload. The guards were out in full force, but even they were having trouble keeping up with the petty crime occurring sometimes right in front of them.

With all the tradesman distracted and the large crowds, it was the perfect time to gather stock for the week. It had been so long since he was able to get enough food for more than a day. In fact, the last time the market was this busy, the kingdom celebrated the prince’s coming of age ceremony; the day the son of the emperor became a man and could now take his position as ruler of Agrabah. Furtive movement to his left caught his eye; a fisherman was tossing out some rejected pieces of the fish he was butchering. If he was quick or charming enough, he could probably get the fish heads, tails and spines. Not the best, but still meat, and meat was rare for a streetrat.  

The kids and he were going to have themselves a proper feast. With the crowds, he might even be able to pickpocket a few of the richer folk, might be able to get Mable a new dress, or at least the fabric to make one. He was good with a needle and thread, but he had never actually made clothes before. The boy was getting taller, too. He would need to conserve fabric to accommodate the two growing children in his care.

Silently, he swung down from the awning he was perch atop, shuffling across the decorative eves and dropping down to the dusty ground in a narrow alley. He checked to make sure the handholds he had carved into the wooden supports were spaced closed enough to make for a quick climb; he’d left his bag up top, it did no good to have all his ill-gotten gains with him if he was ever caught. He’d grab a few things here and there and make a trip back to deposit it. If anything happened, Mason knew where the drop bag was and knew when to collect it. Smart kid, not quite strong enough to make it on his own, but the boy was young still, he had time.

On the ground he had to be careful. Being a streetrat had more than its fair share of disadvantages. Wearing the same clothes everyday made him easy to spot by the local tradesman; he was hoping there were enough newcomers to allow him to lose himself in the throng. He glanced briefly down at his worn clothes. The color of his leggings reminded him of sour milk, the patches doing nothing to remedy the terrible dye choice, and his open vest was a royal blue, almost purple. He loved it, but it was an unusual color and drew too much attention. He would have to be quick.

Three hours passed before he chose to call it a day. He had gotten those fish heads and tails by flirting with the fishmonger’s daughter and trading away a kiss. The poor girl was a bit slow and had one perpetually lazy eye, but she wasn't too bad looking. He might just visit her again. He was able to swipe a bag of millet to make into flat bread, a full basket of dates (that he topped with rejected ones), a full watermelon, couple of eggplants, a pouch of mystery spice he pocketed without thinking, and a full goat leg, already drained. He’d even been able to lift a leather band to pull his horridly long hair back. Mable told him it made him look dashing; he thought she was crazy, but he never cut it knowing he would disappoint her.  

He had a few close calls with the guards; they tailed him for a street or two before he ducked into an alley and shimmied up the side of a residential building and onto the roof. The stall owners gave him no trouble. The newcomers were duped by his dazzling smile and charming personality and he delighted in swiping things out from under them. Local tradesmen were more warry, but waiting for the moment they were distracted by other customers made easy work. He heard from gossip that the prince was being officially crowned heir in a week’s time, and that the celebration would end in a grand ball where he would choose a bride from the neighboring kingdoms. Heck, if it meant he and his family could eat this well, the prince could marry a new girl every week.  

He was tempted to head back down and try picking a few pockets. He had been eyeing the stall, run by a scary old woman he was sure was a witch, all day. She had fabric in all types and colors. Finely woven silk as thin as a flower petal, thick canvas rolls perfect for sleeping mats, and wool spun so fine and clean that he didn’t recognize it as wool. He’s sure the old woman noticed him, he got lost staring at the pale pink wool spool he wanted to get for Mable. The witch had eyed him crossly, her angular face and long nose adding to her menacing appearance.

He was tempted, he was, but the risk was almost not worth it. Stealing food was one thing, you spent a day or two in the dungeons. Stealing money meant losing a hand. But he couldn’t get the fabric any other way. He could just try stealing something from some hanging laundry, but he’d done that last time and poor Mabel was forced to tie it in place until she grew into it.

Alright. Just once. He’d have to really pick his target. Someone who obviously had a lot and wouldn’t miss a small amount. It didn’t take long. A foreigner with large white hair, pale skin and strange pale blue garb strutted through the crowd below, a large coin purse dangling from his waist. He smirked and tracked the foreigner from the rooftops, He dropped down to the street and made his way into the throng of people, maneuvering his way to the snooty foreigner. He found his chance when the man stopped to chide a stall owner over their quality of fruit, claiming that his homeland had much better produce. It was hardy a challenge to lift the bag and disappear in the crowd and up another wooden scaffolding. He could hear the man screaming that someone had stolen his money, but he was already a street over and making his way down to the fabric stall.

He tucked the bag in his vest and lowly approached the old woman, trying his best to act casual. “Back again, I see. Come to try and rob me like you’ve robbed the others?” Her eyes bore into his sole. Her voice was high and screechy and wrapped around him like a miasma. He stood, transfixed, and fought the urge to run. Had she seen him? Did she know him? He had never seen her before. Maybe she was a witch.

He cleared his throat and stepped forward, “I don’t understand what you mean. I am simply interested in the pick fabric you have. It seems of low quality, seems scratchy, but it’s the right color. How much ya chargin’ for it?” He fingered the fabric and tried to look as disdainful as the man he had pickpocketed. But the woman saw through his ruse. She grabbed his wrist and yanked him forwards over the small wooden counter.

“Far more than you can afford, Streetrat!” Her breath stank worse than his, and he couldn’t bathe regularly. He tried pulling back but she held firm. He fumbled with the purse and the coins spilled out onto the counter. “I can pay, witch! Let go!” He struggled against her iron grip, feeling the blood pulse in his veins, faster and faster.

“Stolen coins are worthless to me Stan! You shall get what you deserve! Guards! Thief!”

He pulled harder, he didn’t care about the stupid fabric anymore! This witch knew his name! Knew he had stolen the money! He needed to leave, get his family’s food and get home. NOW!

A six-fingered hand materialized in the space between him and the woman. A gentle voice filled his ear as a second warm hand settled on his shoulder. “Now, now. That won’t be necessary.”

The witch released his wrist at once, attention now focused on the newcomer. Stan pulled his wrist to his chest and rubbed at the skin. It felt like a she had burned him; the skin was red and tight and looked swollen. He turned to the newcomer and was faced with something uncanny. It was like looking into a reflection. The man’s face was his own, maybe a bit slimmer. Same square jaw, same overly large nose, same high forehead.

“His man was simply trying to purchase something from you. No need for accusations. Now, what was it that you wanted to buy?” The man’s face was soft and open as he turned to face Stan. Stan was disconcerted with the familiarities between them. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. But the stranger had saved him, so he owed the man some courtesy.

“Just some of the pink wool. A yard or so. Probably two ta be safe.” Stan’s voice was strained. He was having trouble bringing out his classic charm. He was unnerved and he just wanted to get out of here.

“Perfect. How much for two yards of the pink fabric, miss?” The stranger smiled at the witch, nose only slightly wrinkling at the woman’s breath. It was like this stranger had drawn all the charm from Stan for himself. Stan decided he didn’t like him. He was dressed well, too well. A businessman, or even a council member. The sand colored robe the stranger wore was made of fine thread, tightly woven together. This man was exceedingly wealthy, despite his deformity. Though, if Stan was being honest, the extra finger was kind of fascinating, in a weird and morbid sort of way.

“Sixty coins. It’s the finest I have save for the silk.” The woman’s screech was painful to the ears and made Stan flinch. Sixty Coins! That was insane! No trader worth their salt would charge sixty coins for wool. He didn’t even know if the white-haired man he had stolen from had that much. He hastily began counting the coins, making small piles of five to keep track. Even though he had more money at his fingertips than he had ever had before, he was still woefully short of the price necessary to get Mabel a new dress. She was grossly overcharging. He swore under his breath.

Stan’s posture slumped. He didn’t even have enough to buy one yard. His eyes skirted the dusty street in hopes that he might have dropped a coin or ten. Nothing. He heard a clink of coins on the counter and watched in stunned silence as the stranger counted out sixty coins with ease and tucked away the purse that still held far more.

“That should cover the cost, yes?” The man pushed the pile of coins to the woman. She scooped them up and let them fall into a pocket sewn into the front of her robe before pulling out a pair of shears and a leather strip to measure with.

“You don’t…have to…” Stan stuttered. He really didn’t want to take charity from this man. He didn’t like owing favors to people, especially people he didn’t know yet. Bu the man was insistent.

“Nonsense. It’s quite alright.” There was that gleaming smile again. Teeth clean and face smooth, this man was very wealthy indeed. It might be in Stan’s best interest to befriend this stranger. It might prove lucrative.

The witch pressed two yards of cloth wrapped in burlap into the stranger’s hands and he accepted it graciously. The stranger nodded to him and started to hand the bundle to Stan when the sounds of the guards carried over the crowd. The stranger glanced over his shoulder, flipped his hood up quickly and tugged Stan by the hand and into the masses.

This stranger was on the run from the law, huh? Ok, maybe he was starting to like him. He left the stolen purse on the witch’s counter.

Stan took over leading and made his way back to the alley he started from. The stranger was still hanging onto the burlap bag and seemed to have no intent to hand it over.

“By the way, I never got your name.”

“Stan. Yours?”

My name is S… is Ford. You can call me Ford.”

Stan raised his eye at the obvious cover, but instead took Ford’s hand, gave it a quick shake and let go. “Well, nice meeting you. Thanks for helping. It’s yours now, so I’ll be goin’.” He didn’t wait for Ford to leave before starting his way up the building to the roof where his drop bag was.

“You going to hurry up? You’re slow.” Stan heard a chuckle below him and nearly lost his grip whirling his head around to see that Ford as climbing up after him. He heard guard voices close by and understood. Once he reached the top, he turned back around and helped Ford climb onto the roof. He made no mention of the extra finger.    

Stan flashed Ford a knowing grin when the man peered over the edge of the roof to check on the guards. Anyone on the run from the law was a friend of his. Well, not everyone, but heck, he couldn’t exactly judge. They waited a few minutes, watching the busy street below as the evening encroached upon the desert kingdom. The wind swept over the two men, catching at Stan’s long hair that had come loose from the leather band and pulling Ford’s hood down around his collar. They hadn’t said much to one another, but Stan was surprisingly comfortable with the company. But it was getting late, and the kids would be getting worried if he didn’t make it back soon.  

The man pulled a crooked face when Stan pulled out the bag of goods and threw it over his shoulder. “I aided a lowly criminal? I should have let that woman call the guards.” However, Ford’s actions belied his actions when he tied the burlap wrap around his torso and made to follow Stan.

Stan snorted. “Hey, man’s gotta eat. I’d work if I could, but no one’ll give me a job.” It wasn't exactly a lie; he had never been offered a job, but he also had never tried to get one. He had lived his life on the streets, most of it alone. He mother had left one night to gather food just as he was doing, and never came back. It was another reason he wanted to make sure he made it back tonight; the kids didn’t deserve that.

“That much food for one person? I’m not letting you out of my sight. What did you need this fabric for, anyway? Reselling? Smuggling? I think that purse was stolen. You know, you people are the reason why the economy is failing.”

Stan rolled his eyes. The guy kept talking, but be he was still not making any moved to call the guards or arrest him. He placed a plank of wood over the gap between buildings; he wasn't going to play acrobat carrying this much food. And he didn’t think that the smart guy could make the same leaps of faith he made on a daily basis.  

“You commin’?” He didn’t wait for an answer and made his way across the alley. He heard Ford follow hi snot long after.

They weaved in and out of rooftops and shimmied down the sides of buildings, over rubble and into the oldest part of town. They walked and climbed for nearly an hour; they passed by street urchins and beggars trying to carve out a living in the collapsing streets the populace had abandoned. Ford felt disquiet following this criminal. He was greeted by many people, beggars and children alike. Stan paused a few times and handed out food from his sack to those who looked sick. They watched Ford closely, but gave him wide berth. As much as he was uncomfortable, Stanford realized that he was in no danger walking through these streets as long as he was with this…with Stan.

They snaked through a maze of ramshackle alleys until they reached an open square of what used to be an academy. Stan lead him through a collapsed stairwell, dodging fallen wooden support beams and brushing aside cloth hung to give privacy. Stan held his hand and guided him over a few weak areas that shifted under his weight.      

He heard voices ahead, two distinct ones. They sounded young. The whispers rang out and bounced off the stone walls. Stanford heard a sound that he might have attributed to a chicken being strangled. He heard Stan sight ahead of him and mutter something under his breath.

“It’s fine, kid, it’s just me. We’ve got a guest. He’s safe. I brought dinner.” They mounted the last few steps and came to a landing that may have been a central gathering area for students once upon a time. The walls were decorated with tattered fabric and ancient parchment covered in paint and drawings likely created by a child. There were mats on the floor mad of palm fibers and a few toys made of broken pieces of wood, metal, and bits of string. Pieces of wood and stone were pushed together into some semblance of furniture, a stack of chipped bowls, flat pieces of pottery used as plates and wooden utensils sat on the sill of a window that had been boarded up. Piles of cloth sat in a corner beside a wash bucket beside a hole in the floor. A curtain was tacked onto the wall to act as a privacy barrier.    

When Stanford saw the two children run up to the streetrat Stan, all the anger at seeing this man take so much from hard working men and women dissipated. This man was just trying to feed his family the only way he could. He felt shame at putting so much value on such a small thing as a yard of wool. The children were frantic over Stan, asking him if he was alright, if he had gotten caught, what took so long, who Ford was, and what was in the bag, was it all food? Ford could tell these children were hungry; they weren’t starving, least not the way the children they passed on the street earlier were starving, but they were still likely going without meals more times than not. They were thin and gangly, and likely older than they looked. Stanford placed their ages somewhere between twelve or fourteen. He placed Stan at around twenty, closer to Stanford’s own age. If this was the criminal classes in the city, then his father was being purposefully blind to the social problems in his kingdom.    

“For the girl?” Stanford asked, pulling the burlap sling off his shoulder and lifting out the pink fabric. The little girl, nearly a woman, squealed in delight and rushed over to him; stranger or no, the prospect of something pretty was too alluring. She carefully fingered the cloth slowly, like she couldn’t believe it was real.

“Stan, did you steal this?” She asked quietly, eyes flicking up to Stanford, unsure of what she could say in front of him.

“You know that can get you into more trouble, right? Food is one thing, but anything that really has value will get the guards on your tail faster than you could blink.” The boy was more warry of Stanford and hung back to help Stan unpack the assortment of food he had swindled and stolen.    

“Thank this guy, Ford, right?” Stanford nodded once. “He was the one who paid for it. Wasn’t cheap either. That woman was inflating the price ‘cause the prince is throwing some kinda party.” Ford felt himself freeze at Stan’s mention of the celebrations in his honor. He had been trying to escape the city and do some investigating in the desert when he came across Stan and the saleswoman. He had no interest in the feasts or the parading around and showing off for the foreign officials.    

Warm brown eyes looked up at him with glee and adoration, with maybe a hint of shyness. Her eyes catching just a hint of the light peeking through the gap in the ragged tapestry covering the giant hole in the wall. He couldn’t help but smile at her, something about her just filled his chest with warmth and affection. He knelt down and set the fabric in her hands like a prized treasure.

“Here you are, m’lady.” A faint blush rose to her cheeks, but she took the compliment in stride.

“Why thank you good sir. And my, what charming manners you have.” He smiled at her with ease and she smiled back with equal intensity. They shared a quiet giggle between them and exchanged names. He complimented her on such a pretty name and told her that the name Mabel meant someone who is kind and lovable. She blushed and giggled again.

Ford caught Stan and the boy rolling their eyes and putting together a fire to cook the goat leg and make a decent stew with the vegetables. Ford stood to help, but Stan waved him off. A tug on his robe brought his attention back to Mabel.

“Do you want to see some of the designs I came up with for this?” She held up the pink fabric and looked into Ford’s eyes with hope. He could tell she didn’t have much chance for company other than Stan and the boy, and she was having a hard time saying no to her. Her enthusiasm and cheerfulness was infections.

“Sure. What did you have in mind? Something modest or more flashy?” Her eyes sparkled at his answer. She took him by the hand and lead him over to her little corner. “I had a few designs in mind, actually. You look like you might know a thing or two about fashion what with the jewelry and the quality of your clothes. You can tell me what might be in style.” Ford let out a nervous laugh, he had forgotten about the earrings and gold pendant he wore. He was surprised no one had tried to mug him. But if all the thieves were like this tiny family, well, jewels were the least of their concern.      

Stanford did not expect to find himself in the company of the lowest class of people in his kingdom when he left home. He did not expect to help a poor man purchase a gift for his daughter and find him a criminal by necessity. He did not expect to share in their ill-gotten feast and spend the evening telling stories of wild escapades surviving on the streets and hair-raising adventures overheard from tavern goers. Stanford had few stories he could tell that wouldn’t give away his identity, but he could at least tell them about learning how to ride a camel when he was younger and how he now lived in perpetual fear of them even though he was required to ride them for ‘work’. He also told them of all the strange and mystical things that existed in the desert and even pulled out a leather-bound journal he was working on to catalogue all that he found. They boy, Mason, was fascinated by the pictures, but was ashamed to admit that he, nor his sister, could read all that well. Books were nigh on impossible to come by without money, even in a defunct academy.

“Hey, by the way, I noticed that you and Stan kinda look alike.” Mason had said, trying to hide his face behind Ford’s journal; he was looking at the sketches Ford had done of the spiraling pits of quicksand Ford had come across in his explorations.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, you two kinda do look alike. What if you’re long lost brothers?” Mable said in delight, rushing over to Ford and mapping out his features with her fingertips.

“Mable, stop, you’re embarrassing yourself.” Mason sounded more like he was the one embarrassed, and Mable stuck her tongue out in response, but did stop and return to her seat. “She is right, though. You two could be brothers.” Stan waved them off and dug out the watermelon for dessert.    

The large hole in the wall was really just a missing wall covered with a variety of cloth tacked to the wall on either side. It provided a beautiful ambient light and an amazing view of the sun setting behind the palace. Stanford tried to show enthusiasm, but the reminder of his future only seemed to suck the joy out of him.

When the children had gone to sleep, bellies full and heads equally full of stories and prospects for food tomorrow, Stanford found himself sitting in comfortable silence with the strange man he never expected to meet. He was reluctant to leave, and only did so long after the sun had set and Stan sat dozing against the frame the wall-sized window made. He stuck to the rooftops instead of the streets to find his way back, climbing over the palace wall with the aid of a perfectly concealed rope he had hidden earlier that day. He gathered some old things in a pile before he fell asleep that night, dreaming of pink dresses, narrow streets, and goat stew.  

Stanford made it a habit to venture back to that abandoned landing on the old part of town everyday leading up to the crowning ceremony and subsequent bridal choosing. He fully admitted he was avoiding it; not because he disliked women, far from, but he was in no hurry to marry a stranger just to satisfy his father’s need to be a grandfather. Besides, the mysteries of the desert still eluded his grasp and he had so much yet to learn before he settled down. His liaisons to the abandoned part of town was eating into the time he could be spending searching out answers. But he found he didn’t mind.  

He brought food, and books, and old toys for the children and brought companionship for his new friend. He and Stan would sit for hours and just talk about anything that happened to catch their interest. Stan was uneducated, but he was wicked smart about how to read people, how to avoid trouble and how to de-escalate conflict. The few times Stanford thought to bring up politics and law, Stan was quick to comment on what laws seemed to work and which ones only provided loopholes for the corrupt to exploit the lower masses.

While neither one ever discussed it since the first night, Mason’s comment that they looked alike still resonated in the prince’s mind. He often found himself staring at his reflection and analyzing his features, comparing them to his companion’s, and to his father’s. One night, he finally built up the courage to ask his father about the possibility of illegitimate heirs. He found his opportunity when his father began discussing his new duties as crowned heir. This was his chance.

“Father, I’ve been going over the old laws, and, while I know that I don’t have any siblings, I wonder what would happen if I did? How would that change the crown order? I read something that if the siblings were close in age, a high council vote would choose the heir, is that true?”

His father paused, letting his fort drop to his plate before looking his son in the eye. Or, maybe, the emperor always had a thin black cloth tied around his eyes for reasons unknown to Stanford. He had learned as a young boy to never ask. Filbrick was a hard man, and an even harder emperor. He desired physical wealth above all else and felt that any man could earn his way to wealth through hard and honest work. He cared little for knowledge unless it brought him more wealth and status with the neighboring kingdoms. Stan, and the children, was just the type of person his father wanted to drive out from the city. Stanford could feel the seconds pass like hours waiting for his father to speak.

“Yeah, it’s true. And I don’t know if you have any siblings. I never kept track of the number of of servants I bedded. Come to think of it, there was one girl that came forward about twenty years ago. Claimed she had borne a son from me. I recognized her, but she was a liar and a thief, so she was ejected from the palace. I never found out if her claims were true.” Filbrick resumed his meal, indicating the conversation was over.

“I…I have a brother?” Stanford refused to let it go. The possibility, the chance that he had a sibling, that he may very well have met his sibling, was too much of a pull to back down.

“I don’t know, nor care. If he’s as much of a liar and a thief as that woman, then he’s likely one of the surge draining the lifeblood from this city.” Filbrick was angry and bristled at Stanford’s insistence to continue the topic. His face smoothed a bit as he remembered the mystery woman. “Shame too, I liked her, she was feisty and didn’t kowtow to my every command.”

But Stanford had stopped listening. He had all the information he needed. Stan had told him of his mother, how she had found the academy building and kept him there as a child, of how she never came back. He told Ford about the stories she used to tell him of working in the palace, of how the halls were painted with gold and flowers and the kitchen was always stocked. She told him about the gardens and fountains and how kind and just the emperor was, if a bit misguided. Stan had told Ford he had seen firsthand what the laws of the kingdom did to people, what people turned to to protect themselves. He didn’t hate the emperor, but Stan felt that their ruler did not understand the plight of the underclass, did not know that hardship of going without and being forced to steal.

Stanford left that night after his last meal. He was supposed to be preparing for the ceremony tomorrow, but this was far too important. He dressed hurriedly and made sure to inform his room attendant that he would not need anything else that night. When the young girl (she was extraordinarily pretty, and unusually intelligent, he may have to bend the laws a bit when it came to marriage) had left, he escaped through the servant’s passage and over the palace wall.

After a week of traveling the rooftops and allies, he was familiar with the route to the old academy and the residents along the way knew him enough to leave him be. He wanted to help them, but he could do only one thing at a time, and after his crowning ceremony, he could intact proper change. But, for now, he just needed to find Stan and the kids. He dropped down from the roof to the deserted square and entered the academy. He could hear voices above and the crackling of a fire. He was just in time for dinner. Shame he had already eaten. He had grown to love the simple stew Stan made – he always made sure to bring gifts or ingredients to cover his portion, he wasn't completely devoid of logic.

He heard the voices stop as he mounted the stairs. A poor imitation of a chicken echoed off the walls and he returned his own, more recognizable call. “’Bout time! Was wondering when you’d come. Thought maybe you’d finally gotten lost.” Stanford chuckled at Stan’s thinly disguised worry. He saw Mason pick up the book Ford had given him, eager to impress the man with how quickly he was learning to read. But they all froze when he mounted the last stair into their tiny home.      

He stepped out of the shadows and removed his robe, letting the light catch his regal garb and reflect back a prism of colors in the tiny room he thought of as ore a home than his own. Stan’s eyes were blown wide, hair loose and piece of moldy bread left forgotten on the pottery piece he used as a plate. Stan recognized him now, or his clothes, at least. He worn this to all his public appearances, which is why he chose it for tonight. The children recognized him too, he was sure of it when Mason stopped in his tracks to greet Stanford. Mable clutched the doll he had given her and stared.

Stanford dropped the robe and crossed the room in a few quick paces. He stopped in front of the man he had come to think of as his best friend, one he hoped would now become his family.

“Stan,” He felt tears well up in his eyes as his took Stan by the shoulders and felt a smile split his face in two. “I have something wonderous to tell you.” Stan blinked and swallowed once, uncomprehending the sight before him.

He could hear the children whispering frantically back and forth. He caught only a few words. He embraced the man before him. The man that looked so much like him, the man that he had come to care so much for. The children he had come to love dearly in such a short period of time. He felt Stan slowly return the embrace, still stunned and visibly shaken. The words escaped Stanford’s mouth before he could stop them.  

“My brother.”  

[juleshq]

JULES .

* / BASICS

full name: juliana kaia dicaprio

nicknames: jules

age & dob: twenty-one , august 14th , 1998

place of birth: long island , new york .

sexuality: bisexual

bender: cisfemale

* /  MORE BASIC INFO

languages: english, french, some spanish.

religion: catholic

education: high school , majoring in biology at stanford

occupation: unemployed

drinks, smokes, & drugs: all of the above

* / PERSONALITY

zodiac sign: leo

likes: dark chocolate , tea in the morning , white roses , instigating bad situations , wine , black coffee , the smell of freshly brewed coffee , talking with strangers , long travels , adventures , being called “ angel ” , popcorn , quick tex responders , products made with silk , athletes , crime shows / films , crowded rooms , glitter .

dislikes: fake designer bags , people who don’t know how to lie , f , people who wear pearls regularly , long text messages , voicemails , men who are cheap , people who chew with their mouth open , humming ,  thrift shops , water-poof mascara , the smell of grass , extensive planning , and arrogance & stupidity combined .

bad habits: breaking promises to herself & others , not thinking before doing , fixating with her hair when nervous .

secret talent: juggling

fears: aging terribly , being widowed , drowning , being buried alive .

positive traits: alluring , convincing , affectionate , ambitious / devoted , systematic .

negative traits: manipulative , conniving , deceitful , dishonest , subjective .

* / APPEARANCE

tattoos: dagger on right index finger , “ devil ” on left index finger .

piercings: three in each ear , cartilage .

* / FAMILY INFO.

parent names: claire boucher & david dicaprio .

parent relationship: divorced .

sibling names: annalise , ashton , keller , & wade .

sibling relationship: step siblings & half .

children: none .

pets: 2 family dogs on her moms side.

* / BIOGRAPHY

i’m sorry it got long

              𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐑’s entire childhood was spent in the spotlight -- her father was a huge rockstar in the 70's & 80's, and her mother a model . Claire spent her childhood between Florida , California , and New York , attending red carpets , premieres , etc. Claire attended Stanford to obtain a bachelor in science but was in and out of modeling in her teens and early twenties . 

             𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐎  lived an affluent life more under the radar . His grandfather is CEO of JD banking , one of the four largest banks in the world . He attended Princeton as the rest of his family did . He got involved in the company business at a very young age as did his brothers , but went on to become the new CEO after his fathers unfortunate passing in 2002 . 

             𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 was and will forever be her parents pride & joy . her parents were high school sweethearts & got married young -- at a twenty-two / twenty-three . they had been trying for two years to start their own family but jules’ mother struggled . thanksgiving in the hamptons , a dicaprio family tradition the day is engraved in her mothers memory , in 1997 , they announced to their family that after years of trying , they were pregnant . 

             𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 grew up completely pampered ; bi-weekly trips to the nail salon with her mother and annual father-daughter trips . her mother was her best friend until she began morphing jules into what she thought was perfect . making sure she spoke at least one other language , was active in school , extracurriculars , how she presented herself . her mother cared about image due to her own childhood of growing up in the spotlight . besides the near brainwash to fit her mother’s image of perfect , everything was ideal &  ‘ normal ’ up until the summer before her freshman year of high school . her mother discovered the affair her father had been having for months with a woman he did business with . he claimed it was due to the fact that jules’ mother had returned to some normalcy and wanted to work again , modeling and doing some traveling , therefore he ‘ just missed her around ’ . jules was aware of everything going on  , heard the countless nights they spent arguing in the opposite wing of the house , she picked up on her father being late to family dinner because “ he had work to do ” . her parents tried their best to keep her in the dark for the sake of her sanity , innocence , and view on her father . jules went along with it all , the daddy’s girl in her was in denial for all of the months leading up to their divorce . at the end , her mother got full custody of her .

              𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄 came two “ yes ” parents . everything became a competition between the two , trying to one up the other ; who took jules on the better summer vacation , had the most over the top christmas morning , etc . it  was insanely manipulative & jules there wasn’t a time period where jules felt more alone ; not having a sibling to relate to , she was embarassed to tell her peers the real reason why her parents split , it was so cliché . both parents didn’t take too long to remarry , her father found another stay-at-home wife and her mother lucked out with a lawyer ten years older than she . her step-father had two daughtes & son with whom jules hated in the beginning – it  was a lot to take in and she was used to being the only child . her father went on to have a child with his new wife two years after their marriage . it was all an immense amount of change within seven years . 

               𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 for jules had been constantly changing since the news of her father’s affair , she’d spend her summers & holiday’s going back & forth between each parents in the hamptons until her father moved to calabasas to be closer to his wife’s family as soon as the baby was born . jules had always been a wild , reckless child at heart and the divorce between her parents only allowed her to push her limits even more . the two-three years her parents spent processing their divorce were her golden years -- she could not get in trouble with her parents and they never got upset with her . she took advantage of it all and abused drinking , hanging out with boys , you name it . she loved the attention she received from any male figure -- it made up for the lack of attention she was getting from her father once he got the boot . 

               𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄 was where jules found her safe space ; she could be her wild self , far away from home and only a five hour drive from her father that she still rarely sees . she joined a sorority , joined the exec board , was forced to join french club by her mother , all while maintaining a 4.08 gpa . 

            *  ` 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄 jules has always been a wild child . she’s always had a desire for attention , all eyes & attention on her , though the  B I R T H of her uncontrollable desire for attention from males stemmed after her parents divorce . the lack of attention from her father allowed her to realize her dad wasn’t the only one who could spoil her & every man was basically the same . she’s not super close with either of her dads at the moment and sees her father about three times a year , two of which are holidays & every now and then the spontaneous visit from him in cali .  

           𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 is a h u g e  cry baby in the sense that she hates not getting what she wants . its not on purpose most of the time , it’s the way she was raised and the nature of her parents . she’s never had to ask for anything twice & hates doing so . though she’s a huge cry baby , she will try her best to mask her actual tears . she does a good job of seeming innocent , she’s that one friend that is super sus & lies a lot & keeps secrets but somehow is so good at convincing people other wise ? she’s a huge flirt , even when she’s not doing it on purpose , it’s sort of a weird practice or habit she’s grown into ? she feels empowered in the weirdest way of owning men and being able to form their opinion of her for them , this stems from her newly founded daddy issues  it’s more so due to the fact that her relationship with her father began to diminish once he moved out . she is & has been on her “ fuck love ” rampage . 

        𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 do whatever she wants and will hide her bad intentions . she lives for chaos , loves enjoys pushing limits & boundaries . she loves a game of cat & mouse / teasing just knowing she has someone in her grip is what helps her sleep at night . she is a bit crazy . . .  the type to watch someone’s snap score go up . def that type to block and unblock someone 238473 timES . she has an underlying need of approval from others and she almost needs to be liked by everyone she meets .

      𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 she wants to model & be a playboy bunny BUT her dad would literally disown her if she didn’t follow her family legacy and attend stanford or yale to use her brains for good . she’s in school to be a pediatrician because at the end of the day she loves children and always wanted to seek a job in the healthcare field . she has plans to attend yale’s medical school after her senior year is complete at stanford . 

i really based her off of american beauty & angela in the movie ( if you’ve seen it omg ily ) g

[namjoonchronicles]

[Final: Mutual Ver.] Tumbleweed, Her (M) #20 - [BAP] Mafia!Au

[A/N] Three versions, remember? Now you know why it took so long. I couldn’t decide.

Ever been stuck between two roads? Have you ever been so terrified about something you can’t change?

Ever wonder what life the human next to you could be living? Can you cry out loud and tell everyone how you feel? Can you say the exact words your hearts are telling you to feel and make them understand?

Ever realized how small you are, when you stand in the midst of endless crowds of strangers? Did you ever looked in the television screen and wondered, why powerful people are powerful and why are you, you? Ever think of that?

Daehyun was thrown in jail. He lives in orange jumpsuits now. Because of his threats and the things that he knew, once the prosecutors got their claws on him, he was never going to escape. The only thing he set his life for have stabbed him in his back. And it’s a lonely life he chose. He was standing behind brick walls, never to see freedom. His cases were confiscated and retained. He realised now that avenge is difficult, when you’re up against the wrong people. He spent hours looking out a small window, smiling grimly. “The powerful stays powerful.”

The radio through the cell echoed to his. “President Kim and his son, Kim Himchan is seen leaving the Congress room after the declaration has been made.” Indeed, Daehyun’s accusation was correct. Kim Himchan’s father proceeds to become the next president in the recent elections, and he brought some pretty famous names, along with him. Himchan had been regularly seeing his therapist. He worked from home and was under close watch from his father’s men. Which wasn’t a difficult task. He had the leash around his son’s neck, handled by a man no other than Lee Jaehan’s son: Moon Jongup.

Moon Jongup escaped the shooting because his men wasn’t going to let him die. The gunshots that were heard are from his men. The gas that was released and aided his escape while you dropped to your knees, was his teams’. Yes. He is alive and is actively monitoring the blue house, Korea’s National Presidential House. Jongup is tatted up to his upper arm, he still had the dragon tattoo on his back. His hair is now platinum blonde. The words used to describe him?

Ruthless. Handsome. Devil.

Jongup had a slaughterhouse he uses to do his evil deeds. It reeks dried blood in there. Jongup had to wear black mask every time he walks in. A dozen men walked in before him, and they parted in the middle to make way for him. Fleshes of cows hanging from the ceiling, dogs barking. He entered when his conmen was pouring ‘taste enhancer’ liquid on the men who is strapped on the plastic chair underneath a light. “...Please save me. Please don’t kill me.” This men in his 30s begged, when Jongup stood awaiting his men to bring him his chair. “...I didn’t know that the packages were carrying less than promised!” He starts sputtering meaningless words. Meaningless, as Jongup would convey.

Jongup visibly rolled his eyes to the side. A young lady made them a coffee as the ‘discussion’ was in session. Jongup’s expression remains unfazed. He stood up suddenly, kicking the stool back. And the strapped man whimpered. The dogs growled. Their salivas dripping down to the dirty blood stained floor. Hungry and growing insane by the scent of flesh. Jongup moves his hand to one finger and twisted out a red ruby ring, a titanium black diamond studded one, followed by the one carved in gold. He still had his mask on. Moon Jongup moves to the helpless man and tilted his head to one side, then to the other. “Forgive me, good sir! I swear I didn’t know!” He cried and then a slap across his face was delivered by Jongup’s merciless hand. Jongup wiggles his mouth out of the mask and hissed, “...Now that would have hurt a lot more if I had left the rings on.”

The poor man groans in pain as he fall to the floor, on his side. Jongup kicks the chair away and the dogs were just lurching forward, barking for release. The stench from the man was unbearable. “You know very well, I don’t like liars. I’ll send your children to a good orphanage. People like you shouldn’t breed, he took a white handkerchief to wipe the blood off of his fingers, before he commanded an eerie instruction, “...pour more on his manhood. Let the boys rip em’ off.” Jongup fastens his mask back on and walked out of the premise without a stain. The dogs were released upon Jongup leaving and the man was left to be devoured by canines.

That was how Jongup kept his late father’s reign going.

And he had Himchan under his nose, most of the time. He had a lot in his hands, being Himchan’s family’s bodyguards. All the men surrounding the family were Jongup’s men. But when they end up in bar fights, Jongup will have to answer to one man. And that man is Yongguk. Lieutenant Bang Yongguk, standing beside his car, with his arms crossed, wearing Reuben glasses. Jongup tils his chin up and then to the side, leaves the car that was suppose to take him to the city, and approached Yongguk. “Business is good?” Yongguk asked.

“...Did my boys bother your turf again? I told them not to.” He shoves both hands into his pocket, looking boastful. “Beer?” Yongguk invited. Jongup smiled intently, scoffing and looked at Yongguk through his bangs. “What kind of cop goes out drinking with a gangster. Does that even make sense.” Jongup turns his heel and head to the opposite direction, turning his back to Yongguk but one mention of a name, had his steps halted to a complete stop. “She asks me about you.” Yongguk’s voice darted through the wind, into his heart. Jongup’s stone cold heart. “What do I tell her?”

Jongup’s eyes turned glassy for brief moment before he sternly replied, “Tell her…” He pauses, breathes in and bit his lower lip, his eyes shake, and he frowned to the view ahead, “...Tell her. I’m fucking dead.”

“You are a living corpse.” Yongguk commented. “Who you’re trying to fool?!”

Jongup had his car doors opened for him. “Myself!”

The recent conversation with Jongup’s broken soul had given Yongguk an unwanted headache, so he found himself in Youngjae’s drugstore for a quick relief. “You know if you keep stalling, she’s going to lose it.” Youngjae brought him a beer and nothing else. Yongguk gave him suspicious eyes, “It’s not like you to promote drinking.” Youngjae scoffs as he snaps one can open for himself, “I’d be half dead drinking if I were you.” Yongguk drops his head to what Youngjae said.

“...I told you. I’m stupidly in love with her.” Yongguk downed the hall can in one go. “I know you’re a heavy weight, but you got a long way home still.” Youngjae watched Yongguk set the empty can on the table and scrunched it like he would a paper. Then he saw you and Junhong passing Youngjae’s pharmacy in a delightful mood. Totally oblivious to the whole situation.

Junhong rubs the back of his neck in a shy smile. “Noona, I was thinking if I could spend the night with mom, tonight.” He was a bit hesitant in his voice and you quickly replied, “Why not. Take Yongguk with you, he’d be ecstatic. I wonder where he is. It’s getting really late. Could he be caught up with a new case? He usually would text me if he is.” You slide your phone out and tap the screen to see no new messages. “I’m actually getting worried.” You hummed. “You worry about everybody…” Junhong kicks the air.

“Did you pack the things already? Mom don’t have much in her house so it’s best to be prepared. Bring in some extra cash too.” You told him. “It’s almost 9pm, you must hurry if you want to catch the bus home to mom.” You reminded him. Junhong sprinted back home to get his things. Junhong almost sped past Youngjae’s pharmacy. He was glad the pharmacy was still open. He walked to see Yongguk downing his third can of beer. Youngjae barely managing to stay sober.

“You went out with noona and returned without her?” Yongguk asked, he wasn’t drunk at all. Junhong nodded. “Can you send me to mom’s? I was going to stay there a few night.” Junhong asked politely. “I want to, but I’m a little drunk. I can call someone to help.” Yongguk reaches for his phone and dialled a number.

Jongup was sitting on a semi circle couch watching the clubbing scene turned raunchy as it goes deeper to the night. He had a special room on the upper level that is far more quiet than the rest of the club. Jongup glide his eyes over to his phone that’s an arm reach. It’s flashing Yongguk’s name. He slid his hand on it and answered the call. “...Junhong? Sure.” He said and hung up. After commanding one of his men to fetch, Jongup returned to his ‘entertainment’.

He switched his attention to his iPad, where it shows grids of surveillance camera on various corner in the club. Doing a little bit of ‘housekeeping’ he would say. The camera view switches from one to another with a swipe of his finger. He changed the entire see-through glass mirror into his own desktop.

His men kept him occupied. His needs were attended. Jongup kept his mind going. Constantly thinking about expanding the turf, providing top notch security for the community that pays him. Stopping young kids from violence and petty theft, teaching them martial arts and keeping them in school.

The reason why he kept himself so busy is because. It was the only way he knows how. How to keep you out of his head. His schedule was repetitive. Draining him and swallowing him as a whole. Sometimes, it’s never about who you think of when you’re alone at night. Sometimes, it's about who you think of in the scorching daylight. And for Jongup, it’s you.

Day and night, he tries to numb it out with punches on the punching bags, liquor and medications. Until it all got too much.

Until one night, through the same surveillance camera, he saw one, painfully, familiar face. Jongup stood up from his couch to approach the massive screen in front of him. He touched your face with the back of his hand. “Where is this surveillance cam from?”

“The second floor bar. She’s a regular here, sir.” His henchmen answered.

Jongup exhales through his nose, dipping his hands into his pocket, looking down. “Bang Yongguk. I told you to take care of her. What is she doing here.” He muttered under his breath. “I told you she does what she wants. Until you come and see her, she’s going to keep on doing this.” Yongguk hisses through the phone call.

It had gotten to the point where Jongup had to do the unthinkable.

Dozens of girls entered the VIP room. That VIP room is located by the second floor, where the bar you frequent to is. Dozens of sexy looking girls, young girls entered the VIP room, gleefully laughing, giggling their heads off. You watched them enter with bitter heart. “Another glass of… whatever this is.” You swirled the remaining liquid with a loose wrist. The bartender nodded and handed a new glass. You silently thanked him. “The owner is having a party inside.” The bartender explained.

Then you heard shufflings of footsteps behind you. And there he was. It didn’t take long for you to recognise that handsome devilish face. He was accompanied by many men, like him, young and able. Black suits, black dress shirt. His hair is that electrifying blue, still. Your mouth went dry as he walked right pass you, not even a glint. He just… walked away. His eyes burning to the view ahead and he entered the same room the girls had entered.

“I need…” you mumbled, “Something a little stronger than this.” The bartender repeated, “A little?”

“A lot. Stronger.” You corrected. “How strong?” He asked. “Like ‘I’m about to murder a son of a bitch’ kind of strong.” You grabbed him by the collar.

Jongup didn’t pay any attention to the girls but only find his thoughts hammering. He was quickly taken to a recent phone call to Yongguk.

“What do you plan to do?” Yongguk asked. “I’m going to really… break her.” Jongup thought, but never said. “Just be prepared. With the consequences.” Jongup hung up.

3...2...1.

The door blasted open. The party didn’t stop when you walked in. You scanned through the room and caught a pair of eyes. Hawk pair of eyes, lustrous, staring darkly at you. You pushed through the crowd of drunkards, certain that he won’t be leaving your sights anytime soon. The girls growls at you, telling you to ‘watch it’. And upon your arrival to his seating area, girls on each end, he stood up.

You gave him a bitter smile. What was that. Fear? Ego? Hostility? You thought. There’s something in his eyes. The gentle stares aren’t there at all. It was burning gaze. He had his suit off, his dark blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And you gave him something he deserves.

A slap across his delectable face. Hard. Cold. Merciless.

A stinging pain. His men started a commotion but with a wave of his hand, they stopped. Now, the party stops.

“What girl dares to slap the boss’s face?” One of his men whispered. “His girl.” The other replied. “Party’s over girls.” The girls were ushered out of the room by force.

“How dare you.” You marched right at him, shoving him until he stumbles back. With every sentences, you pushed him.

“I was waiting for you,” shove, “I spend nights, crying because of you,” push, “And you’re partying with girls half your age?! How many are you sleeping with?” You pushed him down the chair and he, not once, fought back. He looks up at you when you stopped. Those gentle eyes are back. They are back, and they’re haunting you.

He blinks softly, like a pup. Although his arms are covered with tattoos, marks and wounds so deep, it remains a scar, his body was in pain as his souls were, he was nothing like the dragon he had on his wrist. Nothing like the snakes he had high up on his elbows, the tip of it’s tail engulfing his forearm. He’s nothing like the compass he had on his neck, for he is lost and afraid and terribly in love. He straightens up in his seat, reaches for your arm, pulls you gently.

And he wrapped his arm around your thigh, and nuzzled his face to your stomach. You felt the tip of his nose dipped and his arms strengthen their grasp, it flexed. He hasn’t said a word. “You have no idea… the things I do. To forget you.” You heard him say. All you could see was his blue hair, and even after what he did--ignoring you, disappearing from you, gave you to Yongguk-- you wanted to believe that he was doing it, because he had to.

“Let me go, Jongup.” You growled, pushing his hands away, but he proved that man is stronger that he didn’t budge a bit. “...Moon Jongup.” He straightened his knees and towered you. “Don’t.” You warned him. “Then why are you here?” He shot. “Because I’m worried about you!” You roared in his face. He continued to stare deep into you, as if he is looking at your soul, your naked soul. He fluttered his eyes closed as he inches into you.

Deafening silence was all you hear. The familiar ringing in your head, the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Do you want me?” You whispered to his mouth. He paused, and he shook his head, touching your cheek with his very own. And you were astounded at this. Is he still trying to play it cool?

“Need.” He panted, “I need you.”

He picks you up, wrapped your leg around his waist and have you backed up against the nearest wall. You instantly became light headed, bewitched under his skillful touches. The lips that you missed so much is against the most the sensitive parts of your skins. His fingertips memorizes all the spots it caresses, like his lips were.

The morning after, you were on his king-sized bed, on the top of the building he owned. His beautiful tatted up back was the first thing you saw, and you curiously palm them, drawing your forefingers on them and smiling at the view of it. All mine.

You plant kisses along those beautiful inks, along his shoulders, pushing your body towards his and you were surprised that he was still sound asleep at this. So you peeked over his shoulder, and you saw his angelic face. It looked like he’s gotten the best sleep in his life. Although he had his back turned on you, your other arm was in his grasp, slipped under his side. You fisted them then relax them, repeatedly, to keep the blood flowing. You traced your lips up the back of his neck, sniffing his gorgeous scent. “...Baby.” You whispered to the shell of his ear before planting a kiss on it. He hummed back.

Turning to you, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. He buries his face into your neck. “A few more hours.” He murmured against your nape. Your fingers plays with his hair. “Yongguk is calling me.” You blinked. “Tell him you’ll be late.” He said, sliding his tongue on your weak spot. You gasped a little. “I can’t. The engagement is today.” You told him. “...I better mark you then.” He starts sucking onto your skin before you push him away.

On the aisle, Yongguk is in his best suit, next to Youngjae, tapping on his phone furiously. “I knew this would happen. I fucking knew this would happen.” Yongguk blew hot air to his forehead and threw his deadly glances to the end of the aisle where you were suppose to appear from. Himchan who notices the anxious eyes the groom had, threw a glint at the entrance as well. “Where the hell is she.” He whispered. Junhong signals Youngjae and Youngjae nodded.

You ran into Junhong’s arm. “That’s a cute suit.” You greeted him, Junhong pouted cutely, “You’re late.” You scratched your head a bit, “Blame Jongup.” Junhong exhales. “This has got to be the weirdest wedding I’ve ever been to.”

“You don’t go to a lot of weddings.” You rolled your eyes and the march begins. Yongguk gave a sheepish smile, arching an eyebrow. “How is he okay with this. You dating him and Jongup, why.” Junhong starts blabbering. “...I didn’t ask for this okay. This is between him and Jongup. I marry Yongguk and continue seeing Jongup. The main point is that I remain safe. And Himchan will never get to me either.” You smiled, stringently. A long way down the aisle it was. “Anyways, I hope you take care both of them well. I love you.” Junhong said as he lets you go into Yongguk’s arm.

“...Hope so.” You smiled at Yongguk. You exchanged vows, and kissed on the lips. “I can smell Jongup on you.” Yongguk said, a fake smile on his face as he waved away the audiences. “Kiss me more, and he’ll disappear.” You replied. “Did you tell him about the honeymoon week?” Yongguk snaps. “Not yet. I thought you were going to tell him.” You shot.

“I’ll let Junhong do that. Oh! How about the movie this weekend?” Yongguk asked. “Wait. Isn’t it next week? I have golf with Jongup, this Sunday.” You scowled as you walked down the stairs hand in hand with Yongguk towards the limousine. “I thought we agreed, odd weeks are mine, even weeks are his.” Yongguk gritted his teeth. “Why can’t both of you be at the movies and the golf course.” You rolled your head.

“Because I’m the lawfully wedded husband, and he’s the lover.” Yongguk grumbled. “The more the merrier. I will definitely not get kidnapped like I did before.” You winked. “Not on my watch.” Jongup clicked his tongue, passing both of you.

Himchan probably didn’t get jail time like Daehyun did, but he was under Jongup’s control. And because of it, he had been behaving well.

Youngjae is now a writer in a small-scale online website that centres around travelling, so when he’s not in Seoul, being your best friend, he is at the rest of the world, enjoying life and writing.

Junhong went back to college, with full tuition fees paid by both Jongup and Yongguk and Himchan’s parents. He is doing pretty well with average grades.

Daehyun is facing minimum 7 years in prison, and is now waiting for parole approval, but there’s a thin chance in that. So he had recently started a book.

Yongguk is a senior lieutenant now, with high profile cases and is often out of the city to solve them but has a good pay that he wanted to share with you. He had the stability and a good image. He was brought up in a slum and now is blossoming more and more with you by his side. So when he is not around you, he gets anxious. And that’s where Jongup comes in.

Jongup’s job is to protect you. He will be around when Yongguk is not. He provide you with infinite safety and love, when needed. He’s a dangerous man, so he can never marry. Although he is sharing with Yongguk, he knows that only he is getting the good. Yongguk is just there to provide. The real husband, is indeed, Moon Jongup. But at night, now that’s a whole different story. Right daddy Yongguk?

[A/N] Are you sure...? Those penetrating gaze can have me anytime of the day ay papi. Thank you so much for the love given to this fanfic ever since the start. Please continue to support the boys and their awesomeness (especially my Uppie his new song Try My Luck /he needs my body on him lol/ is my jam nowadays, and Yongguk’s Yamazaki,  hence the birth of this fanfic). I know I told you guys there will be three versions of endings. I ain’t lying. Like and reblog, and feel free to come inbox me anytime.

[Yongguk Ver.] [Jongup Ver.]

[dahliias]

hello children it me theye. i am playing my love, my life, dahlia. you can read about my trash monster below n as always pls come plot w me ,,,,, u all know how i feel about plotting 

lmao so. this is dahlia day hayes, aka twin sister to dexter hayes, aka the sensible one

jus call her dahlia . there are nicknames her Favorite People can use (dee namely) but if ur not someone she actively likes she’ll probably pour her drink on you lmao

ok so dahlia is 22, bisexual but its like a men 5 / 95 women thing , like she can appreciate the male form but 100% if u dont eat ur girl out she will 

so dahlia grew up in new york with a really irresponsible mum and a constantly growing family; her dad abandoned her, shes got 5 younger siblings she helped raise, it was a real fun shitshow

basically her entire life up until about 16 was her family -- dexter, her siblings, her mother, she was consumed with morning routines, bedtimes, diapers, sick children, dishes, laundry -- she had almost no personality outside of “caretaker”

except .... dahlia is lowkey p freaking amazing up in her head ? she’s amazing at engineering and math. she can fix microwaves, toasters, ovens, driers, cars, blenders. if something broke in the hayes household, it’s dahlia you’d hear little voices screaming for. 

she also has a calculator up in that head of hers. she’s been doing advanced calc since 8th grade, and senior year she was bored in two different ap math classes.

when she was 16 she decided that she wanted to try to make something of herself. she thought if she could claw her way out of the poverty-stricken mess, she could eventually bring her siblings with her and they could live a good life

so she applied for hundreds, hundreds of scholarships, met with college representatives, took her s.a.ts three times to get her 2300, -- all behind her family’s -- and dexter’s -- back

mid senior year, she found out that, against all odds, she had managed a full scholarship, living costs + relocation fees included, to berkley. with this knowledge, she pushed herself, and graduated with a 4.5.

she didn’t know how to tell her family, so she waited until a family dinner a few nights after her 18th birthday that she’d be leaving them. it broke her heart, but she desperately wanted to pursue her dreams, she wanted to know more about the world, and see more things than just the view from her crowded bedroom. 

she left for berkley in august -- and it was nothing like she expected? it was horrid. overwhelming. her dorm room was too empty. she missed her family. it was like they were inside of her, ripping her to pieces trying to drag her back to them.  she loved berkley, and finally had found a place she truly felt like she could belong and flourish, but she couldn’t handle being so far away from her twin, her babies, and her mother.

during spring break, when she finally saved up through work study to return, she dropped out and stayed with her family again; she hated herself for giving up something she was so excited and passionate about, but she felt like she couldn’t justify leaving her kids just to be selfish

so she adapted. she started working, although illegally, at a little nightclub as a waitress -- it helped, some, that she looked young, because sleezy drunk men were always willing to tip a young-looking blonde a little extra. 

she did a fair bit of illegal shit too -- she stole, she cheated, she pickpocketed, she conned, -- and eventually she ended up in underground fighting

she’s good, too. at first she came home with the shit kicked out of her every night, but she learned to anticipate the throws and learned where to hit to make it hurt, and how to use her body to hurt other people. 

she only fought on the weekends, but it was enough at the time

dahlia also grew angrier. every morning when she got home from a fight at 5 am and had to slather drugstore concealer all over her face to help get the kids up for school and out the door, she hated that -- once a genius with potential -- she let herself become a criminal. 

when dexter left the family, she grew hard; it’s hard to learn that you can’t even trust your family, but she learned that. she started working double-time, with half the time to sleep, waitressing and pickpocketing, fighting in safe rings on the weekends didn’t cut it anymore, so she started to go to rings where she would be pit against grown men; it was riskier, but the pot was much larger. 

eventually, one of the various dads of her siblings came back into their lives and tried to push in as “father,” and her mother, a wreck, let him. he told dahlia he wanted her to work on moving out because she was a bad influence on his kids, and dahlia was furious -- who was this man? a stranger who had left her family in the first place?  she refused, obviously. 

as time went on, the man became more and more aggressive with her, leading to an actual physical fight. she hurt him, and he kicked her out of the house she’d been raising her siblings in basically since she was a first grader.

she had literally no one -- so she took what money she had from the last few weeks, and put it together on a debit card. her plan was stupid and half-baked, but she decided that she would track down her wayward twin and force him to return with her so that she could get back the only purpose she had anymore -- her family.

dahlia’s not a nice girl. she doesn’t pretend to be. she’ll be perfectly cordial and nice, but if you pull a tone with her she’ll go 0 to bitch in ten seconds lmao. 

she’s not afraid of very much at all, and she has literally like four switchblades on her at any given moment, even though she’s definitely dressed like some mannequin at forever 21 lmao

she always has a lighter or a box of matches on her, and when she gets restless or agitated, she starts striking the matches, shaking them out, and throwing them on the ground, or flicking her lighter open and lighting it over and over again

she’s v unimpressed w the male population. thank dexter and her dad for that lmao 99% sure her favorite water bottle dead ass says “male tears” on it

honestly dee is so ?? edgy n mean n tough ?? but she dead ass dresses like any other lil preppy thing w her shorts n skirts n her sheer ass shirt and heeled boots, she loves the hot weather in marbella so far so she’s just like yes please i love shorts and i hate jackets

she had never actually seen the ocean before bc berkley isn’t in beach county, so when she got to marbella and saw the ocean in person the first time she finally found the one thing that scares her and takes her breath away lol

so sometimes she just sits in the sand looking at it bc she hasn’t plucked up the courage to go and play in it yet shes honestly so intimidated by the ocean . she’ll never admit it bc she is the Man Of The House but still 

it took her a while to hunt down her brother, she started in france and ended up here via hitch hiking and sneaking into trains, she has no fear its insane , so she’s probs only been in town like 2 weeks. 

she’s currently staying at a lil youth hostel so she only really has a nice army backpack full of three or four mismatched outfits and a toothbrush and a phone + charger that only works w wifi. she’s stealing toiletries from tourists and makes a living pickpocketing atm 

she’s probably going 2 be too easy to convince to kick back bc she hasnt had a goddamn day off in 4 years

when shes mad move anything breakable out of the way and do not stand close to a bar because she will throw a beer bottle at your head and she will destroy everything you own

the only ppl in the world who see any gentility to her are her baby siblings and they’re not here are they ????? 

if she Adopts u she will show u how soft and sweet and lowkey maternal she can be, but otherwise nah

i genuinely am so brain dead now i cannot think of many plots but i have 3 i really want below so pls:

someone who she can stay with in the longterm -- just because she’s gonna be here for a while and there’s only so long she can pay the fees to stay at a youth hostel and live out of a bag honestly she’s gonna want to buy a bra and wash it regularly; i’d love if these two actually get along well whatever that means. like she’s not a horrible roommate bc shes spent her whole life cleaning up after other ppl but she’ll probs steal ur clothes bc shes not gonna buy her own lol

someone who can help her just fucking unwind for two seconds like girl needs to chill i swear ?? like get her drunk. get her to actually stand in the ocean. let her listen to music and eat good food. she’s never got to be a teenager, she needs that

a person who lowkey caught her with their wallet in her hand and was like dude wyd?? and instead of throwing a punch or calling The Law Enforcement Officers they actually stopped for a sec n now the two are unlikely bffs and they are her Emotional Support even tho shes mean and bitchy and likely is gonna be like “sad??? sad?????? i do not feel that emotion. nut the fuck up.  ‘sad.’ what a pussy”

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Yaaaaay you're back!! Missed you! Could you please updated the stiles kicked out of the pack tag or just general badass-ery for stiles. (Sterek please!). Thank you, hope you had a good hoilday break!! :)

Here you go. An update on Stiles Kicked Out of the Pack and here’s our BAMF!Stiles tag which is pretty regularly updated. (Since it’s an update not all of them are Sterek but 99% are~) - Anastasia

Big Bad World by PrincessaBitchessa

(1/? I 610 I Not Rated I No Pairing)

The fic where the Sheriff is a bad parent, everyone sucks ass, and Stiles is broken.

King's Ballad by Bloody_Princess

(1/? I 717 I Explicit I Nogitsune/Stiles I MCD)

Everything is one and the same.

Everything is neither love nor hate.

Everything is Chaos.

Stiles couldn't escape the consequences of being possessed losing not only the trust of his friends and family but the very threads of his sanity. Struggling to survive in Echo House he starts to unravel not only why the Nogitsune chose him instead of Allison and Scott but also who his truly is and the sins that his soul has committed.

Stiles' Angels by CurlyLahey

(2/? I 1,563 I Mature I Sterek)

Four glowing blue eyes and one pair of ominous red ones have plagued his dreams for months on end. Five faces ingrained into his mind. Five faces of five complete strangers, he's never met them but they're there right when he closes his eyes.

Their names are Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Gabriel and Nyla. They have large, obsidian wings that fan out across their backs. In his dreams, they're ethereal, they radiate power, wisdom and beauty.

One day, they weren't just a dream anymore.

OR...

The one where Stiles gets kicked out of the pack and then realises that Archangels, the object of his dreams, the most powerful beings in all of creation are just like a bunch of kids. They need hugs, they need guidance and love and they need someone to show them the world in a way that billions of years of life experience could never teach.

His name is Stiles Stilinski and Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Gabriel and Nyla are his angels.

Could It Be Worse? by BeautifulSilence21

(4/20 I 2,552 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Stiles Stilinski is ignored by his pack, deemed as an innocent little human, a liability. Alone, Stiles has noone, or so he thought. What is it with the new woman Stiles hangs out with? And why does Stiles keeps calling her Theia when she clearly stated her name was Ann? Why does she give such a powerful vibe? And the werewolves, why do they feel so submissive when she is around?

Fallen Heroes by captivated

(2/? I 2,579 I General I Sterek I MCD)

Stiles time travels unexpectedly to the Medieval Times, at least a thousand years before he was born. He ends up in Camelot — also known as Albion — and starts to fall in with the crowd. He starts to lose his memories of his family and former friends in Beacon Hills, believing that he himself was all alone in Camelot.

Years and years of being involved with Arthur Pendragon and Merlin, he becomes the Protector of Camelot (honored by King Arthur) and serves as one of the Knights proudly until the battle with Morgana that resulted in losing, Sir Gwaine and Arthur Pendragon in the process.

Shortly after, Stiles is killed and he's sent back to the modern times. The only thing is... he has no memory of living in Beacon Hills or any of his friends. The Pack seems to keep it that way until the fallen heroes of Camelot and the once and future king are resurrected again when Albion is in need once again.

As the fallen heroes reunite, a powerful force will wake up and soon destroy everything in his path to get rid of the heroes of destiny.

wake by sinequanon

(1/1 I 2,856 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles returns home after completing his magical studies to find that he is slowly being replaced in the pack, and decides that he's not going to stay where he isn't wanted.

Then, the world ends.

Pack Your Bags, You're Coming Home With Me by CaptEdKenway

(1/1 I 3,433 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek looked at him, his heart breaking for the boy. He stood tall, his wolf pacing with the need to protect and comfort. He strode up to him just as Stiles moved forward, towards Derek. Derek enveloped him in a hug while Stiles gripped his shirt tightly, holding on for dear life. Derek cupped the back of Stiles’ head and rocked him, trying to communicate everything he needed to say in that hug. He could hear Stiles mumbling into his neck that he ‘couldn’t do it’, and that was when he noticed the nine millimeter Glock laying on the table.

Somewhere in the Forest, This Dark Heart Beats by IMANTSINMYEYESJOHNSON

(1/? I 5,665 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles has a lot of problems, but who can blame him? He's witnessed a lot. In retrospect, he's surprised he hasn't gone completely insane. Or maybe he has? Who knows anymore.He just knows that with the pack having excluded him, there's only so much he can take. Another demonic possession is no exception.

"So you don't have a pack? You don’t have anyone?" Derek's jaw flexes as he shakes his head. "Neither do I."

Way Down We Go by Formaldehyde_Eyes

(3/? I 12,450 I Explicit)

"“Stiles, they need – I need your help, please,” the Sheriff pleaded. When his son didn’t say anything he continued. “It’s Derek. He’s gone.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles sassed, “Yeah, he does that sometimes.”

“No. Stiles, he was out helping me look for the children who’ve disappeared and now we can’t find him. It’s been four days and we haven’t found anything. The pack says you can help find him, with some sparks or something.”

Stiles couldn’t help but snort at that, even with the dread sinking into his bones. “My spark,” he corrected quietly, knowing that's all they ever wanted him for."

As Stiles reluctantly helps the pack that pushed him away, dark monsters and surprising truths find their way to the surface.

Legion by CurlyLahey

(14/? I 20,450 I Mature I Stiles/OC)

When Stiles is pushed out of the pack he's miserable, angry, hurt, confused and upset. They couldn't even look him in the eye when they did it. They didn't even care that he was falling apart right in front of them. When Stiles begins to feel like he really is useless; he meets Cataleya Mikaelson.

Cataleya and her siblings are The Originals, the first vampires ever created. Cataleya lives in Beacon Hills and she meets Stiles one night and just thought he was too pale for her to drink from. The two form an unlikely bond and it becomes a friendship filled to the brim with sarcasm, supernatural and wit. The Mikaelson siblings show Stiles how much he's worth and actually treat him as an equal.

The McCall pack wants Stiles back but they came to that conclusion just a tad too late. The Mikaelsons aren't letting Stiles go so easily and Stiles isn't sure he wants to.

Tales of Sparks and Lightning by graveltotempo

(3/? I 37,205 I Teen I Sterek)

Life had not been very kind to Stiles Stilinski.He lost his mother at an early age, and watched many of his friends die while he was still in high school. He had looked at death in the eye more than once in that year alone.He had thought about dying. More than once. He had always expected to die mauled by a supernatural creature that wasn't supposed to exist, or piss off the wrong werewolf, or try Derek one too many times: all of his deaths included a ferocious battle for survival.But this? This wasn’t him being incredibly stupid. He had lived in Beacon Hills dodging supernatural mauling and killer trees just to die in a stupid airplane crash.After all that had happened, he was going to die by human hands.

Let me run away by Littleredridinghunter

(1/1 I 45,339 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Stiles overhears the pack talking about kicking him out. He leaves town and stumbles onto a television set and his whole life changes abruptly. Monsters hide around every corner and not just the supernatural kind.

It's all part of the master plan by Littleredridinghunter

(1/1 I 57,188 I Not Rated I Sterek)

When Gerard kidnaps Stiles at the lacrosse game, nobody knows he was taken, nodoby knows how bad it was. Stiles swears Erica and Boyd to secrecy.

When the pack finally find out about it they do everything they can to help him heal and protect him from future threats.

Too bad that they don't manage to do that.

[lifeonashelf]

CKY

Do any of you remember a film from the ‘90s called Shazaam?

Allow me to refresh your memory: Shazaam was a vehicle for C-list comedian Sinbad, who is perhaps best known for starring in a 1994  sitcom that was creatively titled The Sinbad Show—which I never watched because the show starred Sinbad. The Sinbad Show didn’t even last a full season on the FOX network (probably because the show starred Sinbad), but sometime either shortly before or shortly after that program was cancelled, its namesake landed the lead role in a film entitled Shazaam, a part which allowed him to stretch his acting chops by playing a wisecracking genie who acted exactly like Sinbad.

I distinctly remember seeing the trailer for this cinematic tour de force. To the best of my recollection, the plot revolved around two precocious children—one girl and one boy, naturally, to ensure that twice as many kids would beg their parents to buy the tie-in merchandise that would inexorably be produced if the film was successful—who one way or another encounter a djinn named Shazaam. Though their initial meeting befalls as a startling surprise for all parties concerned, they quickly become the best of pals and Shazaam subsequently convoys his youthful comrades through a rote series of comical PG hijinks. The specific nature of their shenanigans has been lost to the haze of time, but those details don’t matter much; a mid-‘90s movie built upon that scenario and geared toward that audience sort of writes itself (I doubt there was a subplot about Hungarian sex traffickers, for instance). I’m sure Shazaam helps the moppets surmount some sort of reasonably benign conflict and everyone learns a lesson about the true meaning of family by the time the credits roll. I’m assuming a clever dog is also involved in some fashion, and I’m confident the film features at least one protracted flatulence gag. Mind you, this is all just speculation; I can’t verify any of it since I never actually watched Shazaam (I decided not to because the trailer revealed that the film starred Sinbad).

Perhaps you already know where I’m going with this, but in case you don’t: Shazaam likely qualifies as the least successful celluloid offering ever concocted, because it is a movie which literally nobody watched. Oddly, this dearth of viewership didn’t have anything to do with Sinbad starring in it; the main reason nobody watched the film Shazaam is because the film Shazaam doesn’t actually exist. And I have a real difficult time wrapping my head around this, because not only am I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING CERTAIN that I remember viewing the trailer I’ve described, I can also readily visualize the VHS case for this movie that was never really a movie on the shelves at Blockbuster Video (imagine my incredulity when I learned that Blockbuster Video never actually existed, either). And even stranger, there are evidently thousands upon thousands of people who recall the existence of this movie that does not exist as vividly as I do.

If you kept up with the brief internet furor about this topic which arose a couple years ago, you’re undoubtedly aware the Shazaam phenomenon has been explained away as some peculiar mass delusion known as the Mandela Effect—apparently, so many human brains muddled the title and star of the ill-advised Shaquille O’Neal genie flick Kazaam that our collective hive-minds fabricated an illusory film to match our erroneous memories. (Of course, this begs the question: do those of us who remember Shazaam subconsciously wish there was a film in which Sinbad plays a sassy, flatulent genie…?). This clarification makes a kind of sense, even though my vague recollections of the corporeal Kazaam and my lucid recollections of the false Shazaam differ substantially (in my brain, Sinbad never raps or does karate in his movie, yet both disciplines factor into major plot-points in Kazaam—and Shazaam doesn’t meander into a baffling second-act detour about Hungarian sex traffickers like Shaq’s film inexplicably does).

So here’s the reason I’m bringing this up here: when I sat down to write about the band CKY, the paramount thing I intended to delve into was how I was introduced to their music. Do me a favor and keep that in mind—this information will come in handy later.

 #

  When I was a twenty-something in the very late 1990’s-slash-very early 2000’s, I worked at Domino’s Pizza as a delivery driver, which was a really excellent gig at the time. I had almost no bills and gas was a buck a gallon, so I only needed to work about 20 hours a week to earn enough money to enjoy a comfortable lifestyle. And like most twenty-something males who make their living as pizza conveyance professionals, when I wasn’t on the road, my comfortable lifestyle mainly entailed spending inordinate amounts of my free time listening to a bunch of punk rock, smoking a bunch of pot, and playing a bunch of video games.

[To be clear, not all of my co-workers at Domino’s did even one of these things. There was Dennis, for instance, who to the best of my knowledge did not enjoy punk rock, marijuana, or video games. He did, however, regularly come into work with cartons of expired baked goods that he extracted from the dumpsters behind Vons, which he would then rinse in the sink to make them “fresh” again. The prevailing rumor about Dennis’s backstory was that he was a former surgeon who had a nervous breakdown after losing a child patient on the operating table. I’m not so sure that was true, although I am very sure that he once brought in a plastic grocery bag filled with vomit instead of pastries and attempted to rinse that in the sink, too—which is why I tend to lean more toward believing Dennis was probably just fundamentally insane. There was no preamble to his unambiguously unhinged act; the dude simply strolled into the prep area at the start of his shift and said “hey, Taylor” to me like it was any other day… except he was carrying a sack of upchuck with him, clutching it right below the straps, as if girding the parcel to ensure he wouldn’t spill any of his cargo. My manager sent him home when she saw what was in the bag, but Dennis came back to work the very next afternoon—sans puke satchel—and the incident was never spoken of again. To this day, I cannot fathom how Dennis accumulated all that vomit, why he was hauling it around in his car, or what he was hoping to accomplish by soaking it in the same basin where we washed our pizza pans. Anyway, what I was getting at is that he didn’t especially fit the stereotype I outlined. We got along okay, though; I always made it a point to be really nice to the guy—you know, considering his alarming derangement and all.]

One of the staples of my Playstation habits in those days was the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater series. Despite having only spent a combined total of maybe zero-point-three hours on an actual skateboard in my entire life, my best friend Andy and I logged approximately 19,000 hours guiding the avatars in those seminal games through a multitude of gravity-and-logic-defying feats which no human being could ever possibly achieve with or without a skateboard. In the real world, I probably couldn’t even pull off an elementary trick like an ollie—but in the realm of Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater I was a four-wheeled fucking god who could effortlessly grind up the side of a building, soar off the opposite edge, perform roughly nineteen twisting flips on my way back down, then execute a perfect landing on the downslope of an opportunely-placed ramp so I could launch off that and catch enough air to do nineteen more flips. Though I have never been an aficionado of that particular sporting pursuit, the Tony Hawk games were incredibly fun and offered endless replay potential due to the almost pornographic extremity of their facets. The conscientious city planners in THPS’s utopia were mindful to randomly insert dozens of half-pipes and empty swimming pools all over their towns, and none of their edifices featured a single surface that could not be utilized for some sort of astonishing aerodynamic exploit.

Instead of composing an original musical score for the series, the developers of the Pro Skater franchise rather ingeniously opted to license fifteen-or-so songs by relatively popular bands for each installment. These tunes supplied the background inspiration during gameplay, and were ostensibly chosen because they represented genres which the skater demographic enjoyed—unsurprisingly, the soundtracks predominantly relied on crowd-pleasing punk and hip-hop material (although one of the sequels featured a song by Powerman 5000, whose fanbase was roughly equivalent to the number of people who have watched Shazaam). However, a cycle of only fifteen tracks doesn’t go a very long way when it’s entirely feasible to play 100 rounds in one sitting—as Andy and I regularly did. So as you might suspect, we ended up hearing the same song-batch an incalculable number of times throughout the course of any given session, which inevitably burned every one of those tracks permanently into our brains. This is how I became intimately familiar with the band CKY, whose cut “Flesh Into Gear” appeared in one of the Tony Hawk releases and was consequently submitted for my listening pleasure hundreds upon hundreds of times.

Luckily, “Flesh Into Gear” is a really cool tune, a prime slice of appealing proto-metal with an insidiously catchy chorus and a snaking stoner-rock guitar riff that would undoubtedly inspire anyone in their right mind to rail-slide across a chain of forty conveniently-equidistant park benches. I could hardly believe a song this excellent and shrewdly-crafted was coined by an outfit like CKY, since the group’s foremost point of notoriety at the time was their drummer’s family ties to one of the cast members of Jackass—an obtuse reality television showcase for the misadventures of a squad of unabashed idiots whose misguided testosterone impelled them to launch bottle rockets out of their rectums, drink animal semen, and obsessively scour the ends of the earth searching for various objects to pummel each other’s testicles with.

My persistent exposure to “Flesh Into Gear” via Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater eventually motivated me to purchase CKY’s 2002 release Infiltrate-Destroy-Rebuild, the album the track was borrowed from. I have been spinning that disc repeatedly since I started writing this, and—while the rest of the band’s material is satisfactory but un-extraordinary—every single time “Flesh Into Gear” comes on, it instills me with a rush of delightful nostalgia. I cannot remember the last time I played any of the Pro Skater installments, but with “Flesh Into Gear” navigating my recollections just like it navigated my board-wielding avatar seventeen years ago, I can still clearly visualize the games’ indelible imagery and virtually weave my way through the vast intricacies of those levels I traversed countless times back then. And these evocations are accompanied by a flood of additional splendid reminiscences, snapshots from a far simpler and more idyllic time—perhaps my very favorite phase of my life—an era free of real jobs and real responsibilities, when on any given day my best friend and I could unreservedly spend endless hours engrossed in Playstation, and the most critical concerns in our purview were what combination of toppings we should order on our pizza and whether or not we would be able to track down an eighth so we could smoke a bowl before watching that evening’s new episode of South Park.  

This is the true and immeasurable splendor of music. Even this many years removed, I can still listen to “Flesh Into Gear” today and instantly be enveloped in those potent and wonderful memories, transported back to a comfortable living room in Lakewood, sitting in front of a big-screen television beside someone who is closer to me than a brother, our fingers frenetically tapping on the joysticks which control our destinies on the monitor, beautifully oblivious to the evaporating hours because we are twenty-one and our time seems infinite and our futures are wide open and we have a whole lifetime of escapades ahead of us. On these glorious occasions, Andy and I weren’t just mindlessly zoning out on some silly skateboarding game. We were ardently devoting ourselves to having fun, pure and unadulterated fun, the kind of serene merriment you only get to have for a woefully short yet richly blessed period of your existence, the kind of immaculate and untroubled amusement you don’t realize you won’t ever experience again until that phase of your life imperceptibly cedes to the next and the ravages of the real world begin to methodically devour your body and your soul. We were also laughing, a lot, often so vigorously and exuberantly that our giggle-fits overtook us in irrepressible paroxysms that brought tears of elation to our eyes. Simply by being in the same room with each other, we were celebrating just how special a friendship that spans literal decades truly is, and how singularly magnificent it feels to spend time with people whose mere presence has the ability to make you happy. So, it didn’t ultimately matter how many times we heard “Flesh Into Gear”. I never got sick of that song. Who could ever get sick of laughter and happiness?

The list of CKY’s quantifiable merits isn’t an especially long one. Nevertheless, they created something which conjures a surge of jubilant memories that I will never forget, and would never want to. Thus, they will always occupy a warm place in my heart, a place where they are inextricably tied to one of the most joyful epochs of my life: those euphoric and carefree days when my best friend and I had all the time in the world to listen to “Flesh Into Gear” over and over and over again while we were playing Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater.

Okay, are you ready? Here comes the Sinbad part…

In the interest of accuracy, I went online to look up the Pro Skater series and clarify which installment this particular track was used in. As I said, each of the Tony Hawk releases featured a different assortment of songs, and since Andy and I enthusiastically immersed ourselves in all of them as they came out, we heard and re-heard the music on all of those playlists accordingly. I was fairly certain “Flesh Into Gear” was part of Pro Skater 3’s soundtrack, but I wanted to verify that it hadn’t instead appeared in one of the previous games before I started waxing nostalgic here.  

What I found out is this: CKY’s song “Flesh Into Gear” did not appear in any edition of Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater. The band did indeed supply a track to THPS3, but it was an entirely different cut called “96 Quite Bitter Beings”, which I do not have in my collection because it isn’t even on the same album as “Flesh Into Gear”. This means that for the last however-many years, I have been assigning a reverent sentimental significance to a song that, for all intents and purposes, has absolutely no relevance to the detailed web of memories I have snuggled around it. The crystal-clear recollections I have of guiding a pixilated daredevil through a labyrinth of nosegrind-ready obstacles while “Flesh Into Gear” churned in the background never happened.

Shazaam.

For the record, Andy is still my best friend, and has been for 33 years and counting. Our lives have changed significantly since our Pro Skater era, but our bond has not. Though we are only able to hang out every couple months or so at present, whenever we do, we still play video games. And we still watch South Park. And we still approach ordering pizza like the medley of toppings we select are variables in an intricate and vitally-imperative equation. And we still laugh a whole fucking lot.

Sure, I miss the old days—anyone who doesn’t miss the old days obviously wasn’t doing the old days right. Yet, despite only seeing Andy a handful of times a year and having to drive two hours to Oceanside to do so, I never get so wistful for the way things were that I neglect cherishing the way things are now. I love Andy’s wife, Neisa, and I love having a front-row seat to the incredible and inspiring marriage they have built together. I absolutely adore the two remarkable humans they created, Shae and Nixon, and I consider it the most profound honor of my life to be their Uncle Taylor. There are plenty of things I would change about my own contemporary reality, but there isn’t a single thing I would change about theirs.

Still, every now and then, I do find myself wishing I could revisit that living room in Lakewood, settle down in front of that big-screen TV with Andy, turn on the Playstation, and feel as infinite and invincible and utterly content as I did back when I was a twenty-one year-old pizza conveyance professional whose universe was far too harmonious and secure to generate even an inkling of anxiety about the present, let alone the future. If I did return to that time and place, it wouldn’t be so I could instigate any sweeping amendments or pass on some sage piece of cautionary wisdom to my younger self. No, I think I would let the pages of that chapter turn exactly the way they did. Because, all things considered, spending entire days on end doing something as enchantingly frivolous as playing Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater with your best friend in the world isn’t really all that irresponsible—it’s probably precisely what life is all about. And, you know what, it wouldn’t matter to me one bit which CKY song was on the soundtrack, just as long as Andy and I were having fun while we listened to it.  

I hope you enjoyed this piece. Even though it starred Sinbad. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go ahead and roll the credits here on that poignant note. I’ll save the story about my run-in with Hungarian sex traffickers for another time.

 July 21, 2018