#if u say anything about my usage of that slur i WILL block u i can and will reclaim it for myself and if u dont like it its not my problem

[hauntedtrait]

happy disabled pride month from ur favorite local cripple 💗 (they/them)

[pentagramcityradio]

Things to Know

//This is the rules and about for mobile users. That will be under the cut, as it will be long.

Guidelines are as follows:

I am selective and non-exclusive for IC interactions.

This is a sideblog of angel-dust-addict.  All follow-backs will be from there.

This blog is an OC and multi-fandom friendly blog.

Mun and muse are both well over 21.

I will not RP with anyone who does not have listed somewhere on their blog that they are 18+.  If this is not listed and you interact, I will block you.  Simple as that.  Alastor is a sociopathic serial killer and cannibal.  There will be adult themes on this blog.  If you’re a minor, kindly just close out this tab and leave my blog.

Don’t godmod.  

Do not like my open starters if you have no intention of answering them.  This goes doubly for non RP blogs and I will block non-RP blogs who do this.  By doing that you drive away people who might actually want to answer them.

There may be smut on this blog, but I’m more selective about those threads.  Please see the FAQ and About pages for more on shipping.

I am always completely fine with fading to black.  I will not ask you to write something you aren’t comfortable with.  This goes for violence as well as smut.

If I find out you have lied to me about your age, I will block you and will report you if this was done in order to RP smut.

I will do my best to try to tag things that are NSFW or that may be triggery or otherwise cause problems for people.  If I miss something, let me know.  RP is meant to be fun for all of us. 

The Not Safe For Work tag is simply “NSFW” and it covers sexually explicit material, excessive gore or violence, etc.  Thread posts that contain NSFW or particularly triggery material will be placed under a read-more at my partner’s request.  This blog is 18+ and everything will be tagged appropriately.

The trigger tag is “tw: [tagged trigger]”, so for example “tw: violence.”

The content warning tag is “cw: [content]”.  This is used for things like sexual content, gore, torture, anything that would earn a post an NSFW tag, as well as for minor instances of things like period typical homophobia.  For instance, Alastor is a cannibal.  If I'm mentioning something about that in passing, it will be tagged “cw: cannibalism mention.“  If there’s anything graphic, such as in depth discussion, it will have a “tw” tag instead.

There may be instances of slurs in the context of RP dialogue or inner monologue.  This is not reflective of the mun’s views.  Alastor lived from the 1890s to the 1930s and sometimes his language usage reflects that, even though he has no problem with the LGBTQ community, women, or people of color.  The specific content tag for his use of slurs is “cw: Alastor’s 1910s lingo”.

Do not push ships on me.  I’m generally fine with shipping, as long as we discuss it first.  But if I have said no to something, that means no.  It’s usually because I’m uncomfortable with it for some reason, and I will generally make that reason known.  Don’t keep pushing  If you do this, I will not RP with you.

The mun is not the muse.  That should go without saying.  Alastor may say or do things that I would never say or do and that I disagree with.  But that’s Alastor, not me.  It will be clear when I’m talking OOC, as those posts will start with a //.  If it doesn’t have a //, it’s Alastor.  If something he says or does is triggery to you and you would like me to tag it, please let me know and I will be happy to do so.

Please, please do not reblog RP threads from me that you are not involved in.  Liking is fine.  Reblogging is not.  It screws up my thread tracker.

I do not generally send in “passwords” and whatnot.  However, I also almost never follow anybody who doesn’t have rules somewhere on their blog, as I do make a point of reading those so I know how they run their blog.  I’m just an anxious mess and sometimes it’s hard for me to reach out to people and that does extend to sending passwords.  Or any messages, for that matter.

Unless otherwise stated, interactions with each character my muse interacts with are treated as separate.  The only instance to which this does not apply is dashboard chatter amongst alternates.

If your muse is not from Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss, that does not mean I won’t play with you.  However, if your muse is not someone Alastor could be reasonably expected to know, he won’t know them straight off.  

Name: Alastor

Aliases: The Radio Demon, Smiles (Angel), Strawberry Pimp (Angel)

Twin Name: Story

Gender: Male

Years living: 1895-1933

Age, at death:��38

Age, total: 128

Height: 6'6"

Weight: 

Physical appearance: Alastor is a deer demon.  He has red hair tipped with black at all edges.  He also has large deer ears atop his head, rather than human ears, and small antlers situated between them.  He does also have a small tail, though this is generally hidden beneath his jacket.  His skin is an ashen greyish color and he has yellowed, shark-like teeth.  His eyes are red in his normal form, with a dark red sclera and bright red iris.  While his shoes have cloven hoofprints on the bottoms, reminiscent of his animal’s feet, his fingers sport long claws more suited to predator than prey.  When angered, his eyes take on the appearance of radio dials.  If pushed beyond that point, his eyes turn completely black and his antlers and claws grow to monstrous lengths.

Distinguishing marks: Antlers, deer ears, red and black hair, and red eyes.

Affiliations: Charlie Morningstar & the Happy/Hazbin Hotel

Alignment: Neutral evil

Languages: English, French Creole

Abilities: Alastor can manipulate radio frequencies, even being able to use them to go so far as disrupting reality around him.  He is also adept at eldritch magic.  He is tuned into radio frequencies to the extent that he is able to know about anything happening anywhere in Pentagram City where there’s a radio nearby.  He can also separate his shadow from himself and use it for basic tasks, surveillance, and as a means of essentially teleporting.

Positive traits: Work ethic

Likes: Radio, jazz music, hunting

Weaknesses: Pride, luddite tendencies

Negative traits: Cruel, manipulative, narcissistic, cannibalistic

Dislikes: Television, anyone who challenges his power, boredom

Weapon of choice: Magic

Orientation: Asexual, demiromantic

Relationship status: Single and not really looking, though he’s open to new experiences

Mental Health and Behavior:

Alastor is a sociopath.  He does not experience feelings of empathy.  On Earth, this was one of the things that led him to becoming a serial killer.  Unlike most sociopathic people, Alastor became fascinated with other people and that fascination took a dark turn.  He enjoyed causing fear and pain.  To him, it was a form of art.  He didn’t turn to cannibalism, however, until the Great Depression struck.  He had already been killing for years, and with the unavailability of food - especially meat - cannibalism was a matter of practicality.  As with all things, however, Alastor became obsessed with the artistry of it.  Everything from the way he butchered the corpses to the way he cooked the resultant meat was an art form.

The only person for whom Alastor ever really felt anything was his mother, of whom he was deeply fond.  He admired her determination and drive and respected the sacrifices she made in order to raise him.  He did not, however, love her.  That is something Alastor is incapable of, though she was the closest he ever came.  Even this fondness, however, had undertones of his narcissism.  He was chiefly concerned with her attitudes and actions towards him, rather than the woman herself.

History: 

Alastor was born about half an hour outside New Orleans, Louisiana in 1895.  His childhood was lonely and difficult.  The result of an unwilling union between a Black woman and a white man, Alastor didn’t really have a place on either side of the racial divide.  His mother raised him alone.  Making ends meet was often a struggle, but she provided for her son as best she could.  Alastor was highly intelligent and she made sure that he did attend school through the eighth grade.  She also raised him with the practice of Voodoo, a syncretic religion that had elements of both Catholicism and West African spiritual practices.  Alastor would continue to practice Voodoo until his death, although by the end he had deviated so far from the original path that the typical practitioner would have no trouble at all distancing his practices from their own. As a teenager, he did farm labor in order to help in keeping the household afloat.  During that time, he continued to read as much as he could.  When radios began to become more commonplace, he listened avidly whenever the opportunity arose.  Between his love for jazz and his love of the medium, Alastor decided he wanted to become a radio broadcaster.  He may have been too black for a lot of dance halls and other venues in the still deeply segregated American South, but on the radio no one could determine your race.  He studied not only the technology involved, but also the way broadcasters tended to speak.  This is how he picked up his Transatlantic accent.

It was during the 1920s that he moved to New Orleans.  There, he found a world of new opportunities.  In addition to the chance he wanted to find a career in radio, he also found a hunting ground.  His first kill was a way to assuage his own curiosity.  He had, of course, heard of the ax man murders.  After all, that hadn’t been so very long ago at the time.  He was curious how difficult it would be to get away with something like that - and what it would feel like to see the fear in a person’s face when they knew death was coming for them, to see the light dim and the life leave them.  Morbid as that fascination was, he was almost sure it would yield to him some sort of truth about the world.  It had to, didn’t it?  So egregious was the crime that surely it would enlighten him to something.  The only truth it revealed was how much he enjoyed the feeling of power that surged through him as he watched the life leave his victims.

Death came for Alastor when, in 1933 at the age of 38, he was happened upon by a hunter while burying the remains of what would turn out to be his last Earthly victim.  The man had been hunting with his blueticks and when he spotted movement in the trees, he fired at the source, thinking it to be a deer.  That first shot didn’t kill Alastor, but it did slow him down enough that he couldn’t escape the hounds.  When he realized what he and his dogs had done, the hunter shot Alastor point blank in the head and left his body hidden in a nearby thicket where it was unlikely to be found.  An ignominious end for the ambitious man.

After that final rifle blast, Alastor was surprised to find himself awakening in a different place altogether.  It didn’t take him long to realize he was dead.  There was no way he wasn’t, given the last thing he could remember was a hunter standing over him and a rifle barrel in his face.  To his indignation, he discovered in short order that he had somehow gained a stag’s ears, antlers, and tail.  He had become the very deer the hunter had mistaken him for.  But he made the best of the situation.  After all the appeals he had made to the loa over the course of his life - not to mention his final pleas as he faced down the hunter’s hounds - he found he had been heard.  His appeals had been acknowledged and answered, though not in the way he would have expected.  In this world beyond the physical realm, this land of the departed, he found himself with all the power he could ever have craved in life.  Not one to spurn a gift, he wasted no time putting his newfound abilities to use.  And thus the Radio Demon was born.

[vampireqrow-moved]

hey so I agree with a lot of the stuff in your post about the transphobia involved in the origin of the pansexual label, but I just have one question: what are the actual impacts of people with good intentions calling themselves pan? If you don't hate pansexuals and consider them bi, why type up a paragraphs long manifesto on the harms of the origin of the label if it means the same thing in the way that most non transphobic people (your audience) use it? a lot of identities can be used in transphobic ways (like bi and lesbian and anything really) and plenty of valid identities from problematic roots and evolve over time as people use them differently (queer, transsexual). so how is a person with good intentions using a not-perfect label in a way you don't like a threat to the community? if someone is using the label pan transphobically, wouldn't their bigotry exist independently? if pan people do not act in transphobic ways besides using the label pansexual, realistically what is changing if they call themselves bi beyond holier-than-thou aesthetic activism? plus, a blog on the internet isn't going to get everyone to stop identifying as pansexual, especially considering multiple prominent celebrities ID as pan. so why spend all that energy quibbling on semantics because some bi people use a slightly different word when you could be worrying about Literally anything else? just feels like you want to find something to argue about lol. extremely disappointed that I had to break a mutual

im going to respond to each thing you bring up chronologically- im not trying to nitpick or prioritize certain things you say ill just forget things if i go out of order and i dont want to miss something important. ALSO! i will be typing less formally (like keysmashes and shortening words n stuff) in this response than my og post bc its 1am as im starting to type this so im tired but i want to be clear that i am like. taking this seriously and im not like. mocking u in anyway if it could read that way?? i hope not but just in case anyways here it goes!

in terms of actual impact people with good intentions identifying as pan: honestly im not  sure the full scope of the impact this has, so ill only be speaking to what ive personally seen which might not be all. but like... id argue my younger self has good intentionals iding as pan. i wanted to support trans people, even if i didnt understand a lot of the nuance involved. as a result of this, i developed a sense of superiority over other bisexuals and a mentality that bisexuality was a primitive and lesser sexuality. that mentality is harmful, and although im not sure if it affected bisexuals around me (of which there are many most of my friends are bi ajfjfjf) its still a harmful mentality and can easily hurt people even if i specifically didnt. also using it even with good intentions, which i know many people have, still spreads and further normalizes a label that imo can not be separated from its transphobic origins. this effect is not as extreme as other forms of transphobia and biphobia by A LONG SHOT. the bi community faces a lot of other issues but that doesnt mean this one isnt worth addressing if that makes sense?

if i dont hate pansexuals: ik this is part of a larger point which i will adress but i specified this in my post bc i see a lot of other posts that are negative towards pansexuality have "i hate pan ppl" somewhere in it or a close equivalent. i do not shame these ppl for their anger, i just wanted to be clear i think a lot of pan ppl are bi ppl with good intentions choosing a label they dont fully understand based on a misunderstanding of bisexuality.

why write a paragraphs long manifesto on the harms of pansexuals origin: ok 😭😭 the real reason here is that im literally just bad at summarizing. like thats literally it. i also like talking, its a bad combination. plus ive been thinking abt this for like. over a year im not even kidding and just like i have a lot of thoughts and figured if i was going to bother making my own post instead of rbing someone elses that i might as well get everything i wanted to say off my chest. ALSO BTW i literally got an ask like a week ago that was several paragraphs long asking me to explain my thoughts on why pan was harmful and some other stuff so like. this is partially responding to that and partially just me wanting to air my grievances ? idk if thats the right expression 😔😔

why write the post if my audience of people who identify as pan arent doing it in a transphobic way ? again sorry i didnt really understand the phrasing so i hope this is a vaguely correct summary!! um but like... again imo i think pan cant be separated from its transphobia and like. again imo iding as pan is like. a transphobic action/choice? obviously one transphobic thing does mean someone necessarily is like officially a Transphobe (it CAN be depending on the action but i dont think that applies here) but that doesnt mean there arent problems with what they did. this is like very complicated, but like. someone doing something harmful without the knowlege that its harmful doesnt make that person a bigot by any means it just means they didnt know. and i feel thats the case here? a lot of ppl (myself included until recently) know next to nothing abt pansexualitys origins so a trans inclusve sexuality might seem like a safe and good bet just because they dont know too much abt it, and like? i cant hate those people cause that was me for 5+ years and djgjfjdj you just dont know what you dont know!

basically i think iding with a transphobic label is inherently a singular transphobic action that doesnt make the person transphobic by itself, but is still a transphobic instance.

a lot of identities can be used in transphobic ways like bi, lesbian, etc.: this is true and a point i attempted to make on my original post, but i might not have clear enough. my issue with pan is specifically that it is a transphobic response to a preexisting identity. lesbian isnt an attempted trans inclusive indentity that replaced an identity that already existed (which have many trans ppl identifying with the og label). transphobes can use whatever labels they want, but transphobes using a label vs a label having a transphobic origin is very different. bigots use inclusive and supporting language for their bigotry all the time but language that originated with that bigotry is worse.

many valid identities stem from problemstic origins (like transsexual and queer) but the words evolve: ok my paraphrasing is a little weird there. anyways. the thing here is that. those are slurs. reclaimed slurs that can be empowering to many people, yes, but slurs nonetheless. reclaiming a slur is taking a harmful word and wearing it as a badge of pride. first off, pansexual is not a slur (ur not implying that in anyway just. saying) and it isnt being reclaimed when people dont treat it as having harmful origins. transsexual is the way some people identify but ppl acknowlege its a slur and originates from transphobia. ppl love to act like queer isnt a slur, which is an issue in and of itself, but just. factually it has historically and is currently being used against ppl with the intent to hurt them. pansexual isnt on the same level as these and other words like the f slur, d slur, etc. pansexual originates from trans and biphobia WITHIN the community and not outside of it, and most pansexuals dont see themselves as reclaiming the title because they dont think anythings wrong with it in the first place. and reclaiming it just seems unnecessary considering its history? theres no empowerment from using pan as a label as opposed to queer or transsexual, and it just divides the bisexual community for no reason.

how is a person using a not-perfect label a threat to the community? ok i dont think its a threat but still an issue if that difference makes sense? id like to reiterate a few things ive said before, but for me personally, it made me look down on bisexuals and see them as lesser, and it made people around me see pan as the "trans inclusive" sexuality as opposed to bisexuality, and basically its usage just leads to further biphobia. is this the worst of biphobia? no!!! but its still biphobia and why not attempt to target and minimize that? i have no way to singlehandedly stop biphobia, but my post might get through to my friends who id as pan and that small thing is better than nothing.

if someone used the pan label in a transphobic way, wouldnt that bigotry be different from people using it not transphobically?: someone claiming all bi ppl are transphobic and only pan is the acceptable label is obviously a lot worse than someone iding as pan and saying bi/pan solidarity but again, the second isnt not an issue because the first one is a bigger issue, its just a smaller issue in comparison. i wouldnt say the bigotry is different, one is just worse than the other, but it still has the same problems.

if pan people dont do anything transphobic other than id as pan then what changes with iding as bi over pan other holier-than-thou activism: its just one less person using a transphobic label? which isnt that big but it might lead to their friends stopping iding as pan and cause fewer people around them to see bi as a transphobic identity. which is small scale stuff, i wont try to blow it out of proportion, but thats still a step in the right direction and hopefully more people follow with it. its not terribly huge or lifechanging but something small that may only affect the people close to you is still something rather than nothing.

a blog the internet isnt going to get people to stop iding as pan: oh absolutely not. honestly i expected to get unfollowed/blocked more than change peoples minds regarding the pan label (im surprised i only lost two followers so far honestly) but again, someone literally asked me to do this and i wanted to be clear on my stance on the label, since in the past ive been supportive of it. im not expecting the post to get more than five likes, its more directed to my followers rather than the internet as a whole. im not expecting a large impact, im hoping to change the minds of my followers and friends who id as and support the pan label. thats it. if something bigger comes from it- great! but thats not what im aiming to do.

prev point + many prominent celebrities id as pan: the first name that comes to mind is someone im not a fan of for separate reasons but thats irrelevant. i mean im repeating myself a bit but some celebrities in the past validated and made me feel excited abt my identity as a pan person when they came out, and it justified the label to me, even when i had doubts. i have never interacted with a celebrity and do not plan to change their minds abt their identity. again, my post was for my friends and followers and maybe who ever was scrolling through the biphobia tag and decided to read my post.

why spend that much energy worrying abt the pan label instead of something else: ive spent waaaaay more energy thinking abt a singular meme i didnt like regarding my favourite rwby character so like. maybe i just overreact to things lol. maybe i have a lot of energy and since i cant talk my friends ears off abt my favourite fruits or the different voting methods i learned in my math class or what would dreams taste like, then i gotta put my energy into something. idk. i have a lot of energy and honestly? this didnt take that much. but i felt it weighing on me as my friends talked positively abt the pan label, when i felt guilty for the superiority i felt over my bi friends INCLUDING my best friend and favourite person in the world so like. i spent enough energy worrying abt it, and like. in hindsight since its been over 12 hours since posting it, im thinking abt it less. i was more worried abt feeling dishonest with my friends than actually worrying abt pansexuality, but i figured i owed them an explanation for why my feelings around it had changed.

just feels like you want to find something to argue about: okay i DO love arguing but im not pulling this out of my ass for fun. its in response to posts ive seen on my dash, asks i recieved abt pansexuality, and my way of letting people know my views have changed and why since i know at least some people are curious.

i am sorry to lose a mutual as well, and i genuinely hope things go well for you, but uh yeah thats that.

again, if people have further questions im willing to answer them i just might take a while bc i have school and other stuff 2 do but uhhh yea sorry if im clogging ur dash sjfjfkkf

[doyoungbunnyagenda]

Crown Of Thorns; Bed Of Roses - k.dy: Chapter 1

 <- [preivous] |

Summary • Alcohol and late-night rendezvous were the only things keeping the young princess Y/N stable. Doyoung was an actor finding his relief his in cigarettes and dark streets. Ever since meeting one night, they both have spent their time picking up each other’s pieces and building each other from the ground up. When Y/N thinks her life is back on track, her childhood demons come back to bite her, however this time they have a proposal. That had to do with her father, herself and a shotgun... When Doyoung tries to rescue her from her demons, he puts himself in equally as much danger.

Pairing • actor!doyoung x modernprincess!reader

Genre • drama with a whole lot a angst and small traces of fluff. royalty!au

Word count • 3k

Warnings • underaged drinking(depends on where u live), drug usage, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of corrupt governments, arranged marriage, dialogue-heavy

Songs to listen to • War Crimes, Watch What Happens Next, I Felt Younger When We Met all by Waterparks I’m a big parxs fan okay, don’t judge

A/N • @original-jomi , @elite-puppy-seungminnie So this is what I’ve been doing for the whole Christmas break. This was so much fun to write. And as this is written by me, there is barely any fluff (like four lines in total). Well nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!!!

Winter 2017

“You think you can control me like I’m some doll of yours, where you play dress up and chuck them with whatever man you think best, I’m an adult for Christ’s sake.” She shouted at your father lounging on the expensive couch like he owns the entire country which he did.

“Come on, princess it’s only an arranged marriage, nothing out of the ordinary.”

She let out a scoff at the sound of his words.

“So do you even care about me as a person? Are you even putting my happiness into consideration, or do you see me as a business transaction, a peace treaty?” She questioned starting to get to her wit's end with her Dad’s attitude.

“No the point is you fall in love during the marriage, have you seen the Jung family? I remember going to that wedding and they were arranged.” Her protests fell silent.

“If you need more examples, me and your mother we‘re arranged, look where it left us.” The King proclaimed.

“With my mother dead and with a father who only cares about his own safety and nothing else.” She gave her father an ice-cold glare as he remained stunned on the couch. Before he could open his mouth too, argue back, She spoke,

“I don’t care about what you think anymore, I’m not marrying any man you decide to put with me and that’s final, not that you’ll listen anyway.” You cut him off while storming out of one of the many royal places situated, in the middle of the capital.

In her hand, she made sure she had her black face mask and her designer beanie that she received as a gift from one of her friends. Quickly, you darted out of the house, ignoring her father’s angry desperate pleas for her to listen to him, getting quieter and quieter the further she ran. She fixed her mask on her face and went down the back passageway behind the mansion. If anyone went through the front way, they definitely would’ve been caught by security. The builders were stupid enough not to build a security system at the back of the mansion. Breaking in was a piece of cake, all it took was a jump and they were in. The girl leapt over the hedge and made it out of the courtyard, her feet landing on the pavement with a thud. No one could tell who she was and it felt good for once.

Strolling the midnight streets of her country, she turned around the block of some random fast food place. The silence of the city was something she craved. The world around her felt too loud, so she treasured the time she got alone to herself. She just wished Her dad could understand from her perspective. Her point of view. Not his own twisted perspective. 

Hers.

 It was her life he was handing over not his own. Ever since the princess was born your dad traded around her like poker chips. Anything and everything that would improve public opinion about him and his family was on the table. 

Signing her up for any elite activity he could think of. Horse riding, she started at the age of seven. Archery, she had already won several gold medals in national tournaments. By the age of 13, she was already a world-renowned child ballet dancer. On top of all of that, she had to get extremely high grades, it didn’t matter if she couldn’t, she had too. It wasn’t like the king was doing it to better his daughter's future. He only cared about his image and how he can make his family look like a trophy family when it was far from the truth. Totally forgetting that the country still hasn’t forgotten about the ‘indecent” 13 years ago.

Nights like this were nights where she enjoyed getting drunk off her head. It was always fun to drink your problems away. Wandering into the liquor store, she always visits because they didn’t ask for ID. She swore they knew she was underage. As she once walked in with her ‘friends’ from private school one Saturday night many moons ago, buying out the whole store's stock luxury red wine. From one of the shelves, her hand grasped a bottle of hard liquor, shaking slightly as she grabbed it. You went up to the cashier and slammed a tenner on the counter, then left, leaving them very confused and alone in the shop once again. Her mask was now resting on her chin. She popped open the bottle and lifted the top of its neck to her chapped lips. The burn that ran down her throat felt electric, giving her body an instant buzz. She continued to wander down this lonely road, occasionally taking swigs from the drink. She knew it was irresponsible to go out at this time of night and get so drunk she couldn't stand up straight, but it was a means of escaping her reality. And trust me she would take any chance she got.

“Stupid father” The girl mumbled as she ambled and staggered down the streets. The bottle of liquor was long discarded on some random roadside and her mask was perched on her face. She somehow made her way to the shadiest part and poorest part of town. The level of unemployment was so high in this area that many people had resorted to other (less legal) means to keep themselves alive. She honestly didn’t blame them, when the rich were using all their tax money to live a lavish lifestyle, they were in the corners starving, outcasted by their government. The only thing they should be expected to do is rebel. She mumbled another curse word before stumbling into an alleyway collapsing on the floor. She was tired. She had been awake since 6 am in the morning. She swore her dad barely understood the basic concept of sleep. Her head banged against the flimsy garage opening behind her. The princess let out a curse at the sudden pain surging through her head accompanied by a pulsing migraine.

“Problem?” A low voice from above her spoke, his tone laced in darkness. her eyes remained plastered onto the floor, too shy to look up at the person above her. 

“A shy one, I see.” The person said to themselves, they sighed deeply again at her persistent silence and spoke once again,” Not replying when you’re spoken too, is quite impolite, with the clothes you’re wearing I’d expect more of your upbringing.” The person rudely remarked.

“Excuse me, who are you to say that?” She said, with a look of offence evident in her eyes. 

Abandoning her shyness, she got the courage to look at the person who dares to insult her. If only they knew who she was. When she looked up everything she was planning to say got caught in her throat. To only be replaced by a gasp. Their presence was intimidating, to say the least. A male from what you could tell. His shoulders were broad and his eyes a piercing shade of dark brown. If it wasn’t for the moonlight, she could have sworn his eyes were as black as the world around him. Tuffs of raven hair could be seen slightly poking outside of his midnight stained hat. If she didn’t look close enough, he could be mistaken for invisible. A cigarette was held in his nimble fingers and he brought out a lighter from his back pocket. He held it to his lips and lit a spark on the end. After he took his hit, the man looked back at the girl before him.

“You realise staring is also quite rude?” The man sighed sarcastically. She remained silent. “I expected a rich girl like you to know better. Do you know how many people I know who would love to wear that coat or hat of yours.”

She scoffed,” What right do you have to say that. Have you seen yourself? Your hat, no normal person could afford that here. Who’s a credit card is that coming from hmm?” She drunkenly slurred.

The man sighed at your state and chucked lightly.” I’m self-made man, no trust fund, no inheritance, nothing of that sort. I worked my life from the ground up and see where I am now.”

“Smoking a blunt alone in the most dangerous part of town? That definitely sounds like The Life to me.” She said.

“That’s right buttercup, I’m living the life aren’t I?.” He laughed and looked into your eyes. A warm feeling crept up in her chest and a small smile that he could not see graced her features.

“But what do you mean alone, I’m talking to you right? Or has the spice gotten to me and I’m just talking to a ghost.” He joked.

“That latter obviously.” She rolled her eyes and laughed along with her.

“I like your sense of humour, what’s your name?”

Her eyes went wide. If there was one thing he couldn’t know it was her name, it was too risky, her family’s perfect image would be cut in half and plunged into disrepair.

“No can do, it’s a secret.” She teased and playfully put her finger up to her mask. “What about you?” She questioned

“That’s a secret too, I’m afraid.” The man said while mimicking your action.

After laughing at their childishness for a couple of minutes. A comfortable silence filled the air. She observed the slight rise and fall in his chest as he took a couple more hits of the drug and discarded it on the ground and stomped out the tiny flame with his foot. She would blame it on her drunken self, but he reminded her of a prince. A prince you would find in a somewhat twisted modern fairy tale. With all his money he practically could be classified as one. He had a dominative aura which she couldn’t help but challenge. The man could obviously take a joke which was a welcomed change to what she was had known and gotten used to for the whole of her life. For once the girl felt comfortable. Unrestricted. At peace with her thoughts and it wasn’t the alcohol, it was because of him.

“I wish I could be you, you seem so carefree, I want your life.” She said, out of the blue.

“I’m not, trust me, it’s just because of the drugs, I’m not like this, I’m not the person your seeing now.”

“I don’t believe that.” She said her words breathy.”I believe this is your true self when drugs and alcohol get involved, there’s no hiding from yourself. The mistakes you make when your drunk and high aren’t mistakes, they’re not late-night regrets-“

The man interrupted her drunk ramblings and said,” So if me finding myself in the bed of my best friend’s roommate isn’t a mistake, then what was it?”

“It was what you wanted to do, ignoring all the consequences of the morning. When you're under the influence, your common sense is replaced by pure desire. You don't think and that's good, right? It's hard to think with a raging headache."

He sighed,” No that’s not it and I know from experience, your deepest desires aren’t always the best for you and the people around you. The life you are describing is the life you want to get away from..."

“Am I mad for wanting to kiss you right now?” She said unexpectedly, causing a slight gasp to escape from the man next to her.

“Yes, you’re crazy.”

“I would like to I think I’m perfectly sane.”

A blush crept on to the apples of his cheeks for the first time that night. His following words were stuttered. He was flustered.

“Your mother and father must have really gone wrong to create a child like you.”

“Just father here.” You replied 

“What about your mother?”

“Dead.”

“How long?”

“13 years...” she paused before taking a deep breath and continuing. “13 years dead, 13 years of hell for me. I swear ever since she died a switch was flipped in my father. Never known why.” She sighed looking down at the gravel floor.

“13 years ago, I was a runaway. Home was never the safest place, it was for the best. I’m pretty sure my parents didn’t even go looking for me.”

“Seems the both of us have had shitty up upbringings. I guess that makes us equal"

“Well then, about that kiss...” the man trailed off-topic.

“What about it?” You laughed slightly.

“I can’t kiss someone whose name I don’t know.”

The cheesy grin plastered under her mask was embarrassing. She pretended to think about it, but her answer was already set the minute he finished his sentence.

“Well in that case I guess-“

She felt a buzz in the back pocket of her black jeans and went silent.

“Oh, shit-“ She blurted out surprised that someone would call her at this hour. She checked her phone and saw it was her cousin Youngho. She rolled her eyes at the thought of her dad calling Youngho to sort her out, being too lazy to do it himself. She opted to answer the call and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Y/N, Where the fuck are you!?” He shouted from the other end of the line. She winced at the loud noise before continuing.”

“Somewhere, I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders and saw the man next to her stifle a giggle.

“You’re so stupid, it’s 4:29 am and you don’t know where you are? I'm so done with you. I’m tired of being woken up at 4 am with your father screeching at me to go pick you up.”

You heard your cousin sigh tiredly.

“Well it not my fault he doesn’t have my number, he could care less about where I am.” She argued back.

“Shut up and tell me where you are,” Youngho said defeatedly.

“You know where the 603’s last stop is, I’m near there.” She finally remembered.

“The most dangerous part of town, I see. Whatever I’m coming to pick you up hang on in there.” He said before hanging up.

“Your dad doesn’t have your number even my father was better than that.” The man next to you commented at your conversation.

“Does it look like my dad even gives two shits? He hasn’t bothered to get my new number after I changed my phone a year ago.”

“You don’t deserve that no one does.” He sympathised with her.

“Now you know why I run away. But it’s almost 5 am and I haven’t slept in 24 hours and I don’t fancy passing out on the streets so I think it’s time for me to leave.”

“Fair enough, see you never...” He paused as if he was waiting for her to say something.

“Y/N.” She said firmly 

“Doyoung.” He stated as she walked away from him, leaving him to wallow in his own thoughts and feelings.

She stumbled to the bus stop where she said she’ll meet Youngho. Her head rested against the metal pole and she sighed. A sigh full of contentment. Remembering what happened moments earlier, her heart warmed her chest and started to beat faster than had ever been. She felt lightheaded. Duplicates of what was in front of her kept appearing in her vision. Like some weird fever dream. Her eyes were about to flutter shut, bringing her into a dream-filled sleep but she was brought back to reality by a low but loud car horn ringing in her ears.

“Get in,” Youngho said, his tone clear and flat. Her cousin turned down the tinted windows of his Mercedes Benz and looked into her eyes with no emotion what so ever. She tried to search for his the usual bright look in his eyes, normally twinkling constantly rain or shine. But all she found was black. Pits of charcoal staring into her own. Because of her wasted state, the only way she could respond was with a laugh. Youngho continued to look unimpressed.

He pushed out the door of the car, for the girl to stumble in and hit her head on the headrest. Even though he found his cousin’s fumbling and slurring funny at times, he needed to keep a straight face.

“For fuck's sake Y/N, you’re so wasted that you can’t even get your seat belt on, here let me help.” Youngho sighed. He draped the seat belt over her half-asleep body and clicked it into the latch. He sat back in his seat and ran a hand through his brown locks. She looked up at him and noticed defined black circles under his eyes. He looked about as tired as she was. He yawned before speaking again.

“I’m tired of acting like your babysitter Y/N. Why can’t you just grow up and stop stupid stunts like this?” Youngho pleaded, tiredness laced in his voice.

“If you don’t want to feel like my babysitter, then stop acting like my dad, you’re my cousin. The three years between us doesn’t mean that much.” She protested weakly.

“Someone has to care about you, Y/N. Your dad is obviously doing a terrible job so that just leaves me, your amazing older cousin.” He chuckled hoping to loosen the atmosphere. It obviously worked as she started to smile again.

“What would I do without you?” She giggled

“Crash, burn and die,” Youngho said before placing his hands on the wheel.

“Just make sure not do this again,” He followed up,” We’re going to my place, by the way, it’s closer. Your dad was like a feral dog to me over the phone. Y’know there are much better ways of getting back at him.”

“Like what?” She questioned eyes half-open and mouth agape leaning her head against the window.

Instead of an answer, you were greeted with nothing but the sound fresh raindrops beating the window from outside and the sound of Youngho hitting the gas pedal and speeding off, into the night.

In due time, the young princess fell into a deep slumber, filled with cigarette dreams, expensive wines, cherry red lips, everlasting nights and a man named Doyoung.