#people living outside of SEA will have to watch it on IQ

[negrowhat]

Pausing COL to mention that the new installment of City Boy_Log is going to be on IQIYI and YT. GASP! That's big

[r6shippingdelivery]

This goana be a big one All OP's Christmas tradition can be sexual if you want. Ps mean all of them

Whenever I get an ask for all of the ops, I’ve always kept those family friendly, so if you don’t mind… Holiday traditions for all the ops! I also want to thank everyone who’s helped me with this and endured my questions and prying, thank you so much @demilitarised-zone, @grain-crain-drain, @cerosin & @aesos-caliber. Any mistakes remain my own, y’all did an awesome job helping me!

FBI

Ash: Eliza Cohen is Jewish, she celebrates Hannukah, not Christmas. She feels a little alone in the endless sea of Christmas decorations, but she’s happy to see everyone around her being cheerful and festive. If anyone actually tells her “Happy Hannukah” instead of “Merry Christmas” she might feel inclined to share one of her sufganiyot with them. 

Thermite: He loves to decorate the place with luminarias (lights or candles in paper bags). He also makes wreaths out of barbed wire. Nobody knows if he’s kidding or not when he says that’s actually a longstanding tradition in Texas.

Pulse: He takes gingerbread houses very seriously, and tries to make them as elaborate as his baking experience allows him. Do NOT mess with Pulse’s gingerbread houses. Ever.

Castle: Tinsel, baubles and lights might look very pretty, but for Castle it doesn’t feel like a true Christmas tree unless it’s decorated with pop-corn threaded on a string too.

SAS

Thatcher: He doesn’t go carol singing, but it’s the only time of the year he’ll go to a church service, and then right to the pub. Also, the Queen’s speech is sacred and a must hear every year, no excuses and no clowning around when her Majesty is on the telly.

Sledge: His favourite celebration is Hogmanay (New Year’s Eve), with the street parties and bonfires and fireworks. Aside from that, every year he burns a yule log, and if he’s argued with someone recently, he’ll burn too a branch of rowan tree, to clean the air and start the New Year with a clean slate. Not that he truly believes it works, but it’s still a nice tradition.

Smoke: If anyone asks him, he’ll say his favorite thing from the Holidays is getting stuffed with good food. However, now that his daughter is a teen, he’ll admit he used to love writing with her a letter to Santa, and then watching her face of wonder when she opened the exact presents she had wished for.

Mute: He only celebrates Christmas because everyone around him does, not because it has any significance to him. But fitting in is easier if you go along with it, and it is a fun festival, even if he’s not the best at gift giving.

GIGN

Montagne: He loves visiting Christmas markets, walking around, buying a new figurine or ornament. He as a sizeable collection of santons, even if most of the time he sets a pretty minimalistic crèche (nativity scene/manger)

Twitch: When she was a kid she used to celebrate St. Nicholas on the 6th of December, since it was an important tradition where she lived. Nowadays, she celebrates by distributing candy to her friends and teammates (and keeping a good portion for herself as well).

Doc: He is a muslim and doesn’t really celebrate Christmas. He appreciates the festive atmosphere, and doesn’t mind the decorations, but he doesn’t decorate his home, nor does he celebrate anything in particular. He’ll gladly make use of the free days to spend time with his family and friends tho, and also give to whatever charities are popular around these dates (which usually are kid related).

Rook: To him Christmas means good food - mostly scarfing down as much foie gras as he can, and having bûche de Noël (yule log cake) for dessert - and good company. He holds a small pre-Christmas team party every year, so he can celebrate with his teammates before he goes to visit and celebrate with his family.

Spetsnaz

Tachanka: Watching “The little blue light” (a variety TV show) right after midnight in New Year’s Eve, both him and his sister have been watching that literally all their lives. He used to dress up as Ded Moroz (Grandfather Frost) for his kids and nephews, but they’re too old for that nowadays.

Kapkan: After New Year’s, he’ll always go on a lone hunt for a few days and come back with fresh meat right in time to celebrate the Old New Year (on January 12th).

Glaz: After the celebration of the New Year and being in contact with more people than he usually handles, and drinking a lot more than it’s advisable, he’ll spend the next day  nursing a hangover and painting, isolated from the rest of the world. 

Fuze: He would say the home cooked food from his mother and grandma is the highlight of the Holidays, since he doesn’t care much for celebrating when they all feel his missing’s brother’s absence so keenly still.

GSG9

Jäger: He adores Christmas and still buys advent calendars for himself every year. He also inevitably forgets to open several days in a row and eventually binge eats all the sweets when he remembers. He hides it tho, because he doesn’t want people to think he’s childish.

Bandit: In contrast to Jäger, Bandit doesn’t care one whit about the Holidays. He’s of the opinion that the only good thing about Christmas season is Glühwein. Although, if he’s with his family, he will accompany his nephews on Epiphany day to go singing carols and get sweets.

Blitz: He will always organise a secret Santa event at the base before everyone scatters around for the holidays. Loves Christmas markets and the very American traditions of wearing tacky Christmas sweaters.

IQ: She likes to bake Christmas sweets, but dislikes her teammates hounding her for cookies. Aside from that, she’s pretty minimal in decorations and showing the Christmas cheer. Although she has an Aventskranz (advent wreath) and burns one candle every Sunday leading up to Christmas. 

JTF2

Buck: It’s not Christmas without Tourtiere (a traditional meat pie) and Buck is quite an expert in making those, the results are even better than the one his mother makes much to her frustration.

Frost: Moose Milk, a highly alcoholic beverage that’s a tradition in the Canadian Armed Forces. Frost is the undisputed champion of both preparing the Moose Milk and drinking more cups than anyone else.

SEAL

Valkyrie: For her Christmas is not complete without gifting (and in turn receiving) Poinsettia flowers, and eating tamales. And while a Christmas tree is a must, she still keeps with her family’s tradition of putting up a nacimiento (nativity scene), even if it’s much more minimalistic than the one her mother does.

Blackbeard: He participates in a Jingle bells 5k run, dressed as Santa. He likes dressing as Santa. Aside from that, he’s very particular about going to personally choose a tree, then set it and decorate it on his own.

BOPE

Capitao: What he misses the most is watching the kids have fun with  the Christmas play of “Os Pastores” (The Shepherds), he barely goes home nowadays, and there are no more children in the family for now either.

Caveira: She wishes for a proper amigo secreto (aka, secret Santa), where you give (and receive) small gifts all through December using an alias and some sneaking around, and then having to guess the identity of your secret Santa on Christmas’ day. 

SAT

Hibana: She sticks to the notion of Christmas being a time to spread happiness, and also a romantic time. She’ll give people small gifts, go admire the Christmas lights, and eat outside. If it can be a romantic dinner with her partner, even better.

Echo: To him Christmas means pretty lights, eating KFC and cake. And visiting Tokyo Disneyland if he’s in Japan during those days.

GEO

Jackal: He never celebrated Christmas much, he never saw the point in it when he doesn’t have a family to celebrate with. But he always liked all the traditions around New Year’s Eve to bring in good luck: eating the 12 grapes (one for each strike of the clock at midnight), wearing red underwear, dropping a golden ring on your champagne glass for your first toast at midnight; and most importantly, right after the clock strikes the end of the year, hugging the people gathered around you. It always gave him a feeling of comfort, as if he was part of a family.

Mira: Two words, Christmas lottery. She finds a way to buy some from Spain every single year, and then faithfully tune in on the 22nd of December to hear the kids from San Ildefonso’s schoolchanting the drawn numbers and prizes. It doesn’t feel like Christmas is about to start without that.

SDU

Ying: Christmas is synonymous with party, especially since it’s impossible to escape the Winterfest in Hong Kong. Who doesn’t like to party?

Lesion: He likes sending Christmas postcards, by traditional mail yes. And he’d be even happier to receive some as well. Aside from that, he doesn’t really celebrate Christmas.

GROM

Zofia: She likes to have a traditional Christmas, especially when it comes to Christmas’ Eve dinner. Even if most years she can’t really buy a live carp to kill herself as her dad did, she still has carp fillet on the menu. Always puts an extra place on the table, as it’s the tradition, but also because she hopes one day Ela will take up her offer to come.

Ela: The true Christmas tradition for her is avoiding her family, although Zofia keeps inviting her to spend either Christmas’ Eve or Christmas Day with them and meet her niece.

707SMB

Vigil: He prefers to spend the holidays either alone with his parents or with very few people around, he’s not comfortable with those big gatherings and parties everyone seems so fond of. And ice-cream cake from Baskin Robbins is a must. 

Dokkaebi: She still doesn’t get why so many westerners think that money is not an appropriate gift. It’s better than receiving something that one doesn’t like, right? All her Christmas decoration depict Granpa Santa with blue robes, and she will always argue blue is the right color, not red.

CBRN

Lion: He always attends midnight mass on the night of Christmas’ Eve. He used to hate it when he was a kid going with his parents, but now he finds it calming and comforting.

Finka: She misses celebrating Kalyady, which mixes the pagan celebration of the winter solstice with the celebration of Christmas and New Year. Caroling is so much fun when you also dress up with masks of animals or fantastical beasts.

GIS

Maestro: Christmas means family gatherings for him, and home baked Panettone, and carol singing and visiting the Christmas Markets. Will invite to his table anyone who mentions not having plans for the holidays, since nothing seems worse to him than being alone on Christmas.

Alibi: While her family doesn’t celebrate Christmas, she sometimes will celebrate it with friends if she doesn’t have those days free to go home to visit her family. The thing she likes the most is decorating. Proper, tasteful decorating, not those kitsch nightmares so many people seem so fond of! 

GSUTR

Clash: She loves Boxing Day as much or even more than Christmas, cause while family meetings can sometimes be a little tense, she’s always felt at ease with her friends; and especially after joining Rainbow, she’s dying to celebrate with them.

Maverick: It’s been years since he last celebrated Christmas, between being deployed and then, well, imprisoned for a time. He remembers he used to go watch “The Nutcracker” almost every year, and build snowmen Santas, but it seems like that was a lifetime ago.

GIGR

Kaid: Doesn’t celebrate Christmas and he’s not very fond of the over-the-top decorations that pop up everywhere. He’s a bit grumpy about it, especially since doing good deeds for the community sounds like what the holidays should be about. He actually likes that bit.

Nomad: She doesn’t celebrate Christmas either, but doesn’t mind participating in the festivities. She’s travelled all over the world and observed the local traditions when she was there, this is no different.

SASR

Mozzie: He will sing the carol “Six White Boomers” 8about how Santa’s reindeers are replaced by kangaroos since the heat is too much for them) until everyone is either sick of it or knows the lyrics by heart or both. And also, beach barbecues!

Gridlock: For her Christmas means summer and going to the beach and Santa in a surfboard. The idea of a white Christmas is very aesthetically pleasing, but in reality she hates it and can’t wait to go back to a place where Christmas means beach parties.

USS

Warden: He has to have some fruitcake (mostly nuts, some other dried fruits, and spices) soaked in bourbon. It’s a true delicacy, trust him, he’s a man of refined tastes, right?

JGK

Nokk: The tradition she likes the best is, before opening any presents, lighting up the tree (with real candles instead of lights if possible) and walk around it while singing carols. She and her mother used to sing and twirl around the tree as fast as possible, until they were almost dizzy and laughing.

APCA

Amaru: She will make dark hot chocolate with cinnamon and cloves for everyone. The fireworks at midnight on Christmas’ Eve are a must, as is gathering at home with her family and closest friends.

FES

Goyo: It’s not Christmas without ponche and rompope (more or less equivalents to punch and eggnogg, and alcoholic). He also likes to eat pozole, although his is never quite as good as the one his mom cooked for him. (And no, tía Azucena, he’s too old for a Posadas party, stop bringing piñatas!)

NIGHTHAVEN

Kali: She doesn’t celebrate that, and doesn’t really give any special free days to her men either. Lucrative opportunities for work don’t stop just because it’s Christmas or New Year, quite the contrary she would say.

Wamai: He doesn’t care much about celebrating Christmas or not. The only special consideration he’ll take is to eat meat instead of fish (since his fishing family always had meat that day as a treat) and have a couple of strong drinks, maybe with Kali, and she will even smile at his toast. Those are his only indulgences for the holidays.

[venactricisfics]

Malibu Desert

Pink and sparkly 

A Mayans Based Story

Adult content

Master List

Chapter Fourteen 

I felt myself again for the first time in days. The bruises and marks had faded to just a memory. Bishop and I were getting closer. He opened up more about club stuff. He seemed more relaxed now that he didn't have to hide half of who he was from me. I knew Bishop the man, I loved him, but seeing more of Bishop, El Presidente of the Mayans MC, only deepened my feelings. 

I slip into a pair of jeans and a top, finally able to show my bruise-free arms again, then make my way into the kitchen. I smile at the note left taped to my box of cereal, "Bacon and toast on a plate in the microwave. Pack a bag, meet me at the clubhouse. I still owe you that ride." He knew exactly what I needed. I eat then pack a small bag of essentials. With a smile on my face, I head to the clubhouse. 

Romero Bros Scrap Yard had become a refuge. I loved being there. The Mayans were family.  I stop my SUV looking at the sign for a while. 

“What you staring at Malibu?” I jump at the sound of Angel’s voice outside my window.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” I pull myself from the thoughts I’d lost myself in. “I was just about to go inside. Bishop here?” 

“That a trick question? Where the fuck else would he be?” He opens the door of my SUV glancing at the passenger’s seat.

“I didn’t bring you any food, but if you want to grab my bag it’s in the back,” I push my sunglasses up on my head and walk up the steps inside.  EZ brings me a Diet Coke as soon as I sit down. “Thanks.” My eyes fix on Bishop as I pop the top of the can, “So where are you taking me?” 

“Up north. Club’s got a meeting with SAMCRO,” he said. My smile faded a little.  It would be a business trip. I was looking forward to spending some alone time with Bishop.

“Ok, I needed to meet with them I just didn’t think it would be so soon,” I responded. 

“Reaper has a cabin in the woods that they’re giving to us for a few days,” he added. “You good with getting a little fresh air with me, querida?”  I push my hair from my face, “I think I can be good with that.” I lean forward and press my lips to his. 

An hour later my arms are wrapped around Bishop’s waist and we’re riding in formation north to the little town of Charming. It was late into the night when we stopped in front of the Stockton Clubhouse. 

“This does not look like a quiet cabin in the woods, babe,” I look up at the building as I climb off his bike.

“We’re staying here the night,” Bishop responded, “Meeting with the Crow in the morning then vacation in the woods.”

“I can handle that. As much fun as hanging out with a bunch of guys is,” I slide my hand in his, “I prefer dedicating all my attention to a singular guy.” We’re greeted by a group of rowdy Mayans from the Stockton charter. 

“You remember Oso,” Bishop introduces me to the charter president. 

“From Vegas,” I give him a smile, “nice to see you again.” 

“Welcome to our clubhouse,” he responds leading us inside to a party that had been going for long before we got there. “Make yourselves at home.” 

“Thank you,” I glance around looking for a bathroom. 

“Down that hall,” Bishop points, “and to the left. Prospect will bring your bag if you want to get cleaned up.” I nod and press my lips against his cheek heading in the direction he had pointed. 

After washing off a layer of road dirt and touching up my makeup I head back out. I search the crowd of leather-clad men and scantily clad women for a familiar face.  Angel was occupied by a bleach blonde whose boobs were probably bigger than her IQ.  Coco and Gilly were equally distracted. 

“You want something to drink?” I almost jump out of my skin hearing EZ’s voice behind me.

“You scared the shit outta me,” I take a few breaths to slow the rapid beating of my heart. “I think I need one. A beer I guess. Why are you serving people here?” I quirk a brow and take a seat at the bar.  He points to the prospect patch on his chest. “Where’s Bishop?”

“At the table with Oso,” EZ responds after popping the cap of the beer, motioning toward an open set of double doors.

“Club stuff?” I swivel around staring at the open doors.

“Just talking I think,” he responded. 

“I think they’re about ready for another round, don’t you prospect?” I walk behind the bar and help him open a few beers for the guys at the table. EZ carried four while I managed mine along with two other bottles of beer.  I walk nervously to the door. Letting EZ enter first to set beers in front of Hank, Taza, and Riz. I straighten up and walk confidently with a smile then place a beer on the table for Oso and rest my hand on Bishop’s shoulder as I set his beer down.

“Me alegra que tu princesa irlandesa no sea demasiado buena para servirte,” Oso says with a chuckle.  

“I live to serve,” I respond glancing around the room. “Is this a men’s only meeting or can I join?” Oso nods in the direction of the chair to Bishop’s right.

“We’re just catching up, querida,” Bishop says as I take a seat next to him. He takes a pull from his cigarette while placing his free hand possessively on my thigh. 

“Don’t let me get in the way of your business,” I bring my beer to my lips and take a long drink. 

“I want you here close, amor,” Bishop’s rings tickle my inner thigh. 

“Not going anywhere,” I bite my lip as he inches his fingers higher. Dangerously higher. My breath hitches as he rubs me at the junction of my thighs.  Almost daring me to give away what he was doing. He kept the conversation going with Oso as he teases me. I almost choke on my beer as he increases the pressure. 

"Are you ok, querida?" He asks as though he has no idea what he's doing to me. 

"I'm fine, just went down the wrong way, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I think I need to call it a night," I stand trying to compose myself before heading in the direction of the clubhouse apartment. 

"Pussy grabbing is not very presidential," I text Bishop once closing the door behind me.  

"Depends on the president,"  he responded. I can't help but chuckle at the message. 

"Are you coming to bed soon? Or should I get started without you?" I drop my phone on the bed as I slip out of my jeans and top.

"By all means get started without me, I want you nice and wet when I join you," I could almost see the smirk behind the words. 

"If I make myself cum before you get here, I'm going to sleep and you have to wait." I hit send and climb under the covers, my fingertips ghost over my inner thighs, inching higher. I let out a soft moan as my fingers run lightly over my center. The satin already damp from Bishop's teasing. I lift my hips sliding my panties down. I was excited hearing all the noise from the other room and the possibility that they would hear me or…

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. I raise up on my elbows, I didn't expect Bishop to come back so soon. "Come in," I call out as I continue moving my fingers gently over my moistened lips. "I didn't think you'd want me to cum without you." 

The light flipped on and my face went crimson. 

"Yo, Malibu," It wasn't Bishop standing there. Angel froze in place staring at me for the longest second of my life. I chucked a pillow at him then he swiftly turns around as I scramble to yank a T-shirt over my head and pull my jeans up over my hips. 

I turn back facing him after making sure I was completely covered.  “What are you doing here?” 

"Sorry I… shit…Gilly broke a bottle and the glass is in his hand, need you to take a look at it," he stumbled over his words seeing how embarrassed I was he laughs. "I didn't see anything, Malibu. Well not much." I push past him as I grab my medical bag, mortified. 

"Where's Gilly?" I breathe trying to return the natural color to my face. 

"At the bar," he responded. I walk quickly across the floor not caring at the moment how disheveled I looked. "You alright, sweetheart?" Taking Gilly's hand in mine as I climb into the barstool next to his. The glass was deep. But superficial. He just needed a few stitches. 

“You might have problems gripping until it heals,” I wrap his hand with gauze.  “You’ll want to get a tetanus shot when we get home if it’s been a while since you’ve gotten one.” 

“I’ll do that, mamá, ” Gilly takes a hit of a joint that was being passed. 

“Anyone else need to be stitched up while I’m up?” I ask with a yawn as I clean up the mess.  

"Go back to bed, querida," Bishop says while taking the trash from me, "I'll join you soon." He gives a soft peck to my temple. I nod. 

I was tired from the ride and the late hour. But I couldn't get back to sleep once I got back into bed. My brain wouldn't shut off. 

I'm stirred from my thoughts by another knock at the door, "Who is it?" I'd learned my lesson even though now I lay in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. 

"Me," Bishop says from the other side. 

"Come in," I respond. The door opens and he struts in. 

"I understand you had a surprise visitor," his face stoic as he shrugs out of his kutte. 

"You mean Angel?" I watch his movements trying to asses him. I couldn't tell if he were actually mad about it. "I thought he was you when he knocked on the door," my cheeks flush, "he got an eyeful I'm sure. Even though he claims he didn't." 

He sits down on the edge of the bed beside me, his hand cups my face as his dark eyes fix on mine, "You're mine. Angel knows this. Even if he did, he didn't." I nod as he kisses my forehead. "Get some sleep, amor. It'll be a long day tomorrow."

---

The morning comes sooner than I would have liked it.  I was stirred awake by Bishop climbing from the bed. I let out a groan, “What time is it?”

“Almost seven,” he pushes my hair from my face and gives me a kiss.

“Why are you up so early?” my arms slide around his neck as I try to pull him back in bed with me. 

He smiles pulling me up with him, “Gotta get ready to head out to the Wahewa Reservation just outside of Charming. Meeting is set for ten. And it’s still about an hour’s ride from here.” 

I stumble to my feet not wanting to move from the warmth of the bed, “That’s today?” I rub my eyes trying to wake myself up. I knew I had to get myself together. There would be a shit ton of testosterone and I’d be the only woman there. On top of my normal tribe of Mexicans, there would be a club of white guys, and the remaining Irish Kings. 

“That’s today,” he grabs his shaving kit and carries it into the adjoining bathroom.  I hear him step into the shower before I muster up the energy to get my own toiletry bag and follow him into the bathroom. I stand at the sink brushing my teeth and wash my face.  

As I dry my face I feel Bishop’s hand wrap around my arm pulling me into the shower with him. I giggle as my shirt clings to my body, “I’m still dressed.” 

“Let’s change that, querida,” his lips crash against mine after he pulls up my soaked shirt and tosses it on the shower floor.  I groan into the kiss, feeling his hands explore my now exposed breasts, thumbs circling my hardened nipples. My fingers cling to his sides as I feel the heat building inside me. His hands move to peel my panties, soaked from the water and his touch, from my hips. With a squeeze of my thigh I lift it up, hooking it high around his hip. Bishop trails his lips down my neck, sucking along the trail of water as he drives hard and deep inside me. “Oh, god,” I cry out clinging to him to keep from falling. And I was so close already. Each time he drives deeper inside my heat, hitting the exact spot.  My body tightens around him and I shudder.  The water ran cold before he cried out his own release. A release we both needed. 

It wasn't often that we had a quickie in the morning, Bishop preferred to take his time with me. Making me quake several times before he finished. 

His arms wrap around me as I shiver, “Get dressed, hermosa. Need to get on the road soon.” 

A half-hour and a cup of coffee later, I swing my leg over Bishop’s bike, it felt so natural there. My body molded to his as we travel down the California highway north. We made it to the reservation right on time. The spot was lined with reaper marked Harleys and a black SUV.  It was daunting. I should have been scared.  But as I walked into the barn with Bishop on my left, Hank on my right, followed by the rest of the Mayans MC, I was empowered. 

“Packer,” I give the San Bernardino president a peck on the cheek, “Thank you for arranging the meet.”

“No problem,” he leads me toward a tall man with scars on his face and a president’s patch on his chest. I extend my hand to the man, “Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Telford.”

“Aye,” he responds looking me over.  I didn’t know what he expected but I stood my ground. 

“Right,” I stand in the center of the group of intimidating men.  “I know you’re used to a firm hand moving the process.  I don’t think much has to change now that that hand has a better manicure. What my father and Conner have arranged with SAMCRO,” I glance back to Telford, “will continue as long as it continues to work.  We will continue to supply the cartel with packaging and delivery done by the Reaper.” 

“We’ll have ta take it to da table,” Telford responds, “but I think we can make dat work.”

“I have no interest in changing how you run your clubs,” my lips curve into a smile, “metrosexuals don’t do a thing for me. As long as we all continue making a shit ton of money. I’m good.”

The barn echoed with various sounds of agreement. Things were going better than expected. Motorcycle Clubs had a reputation for toxic masculinity. But I never saw it from the Mayans. And so far the Sons didn't display it either. Not that I'd given them cause. The system was working, no need to change it. 

"Though next time we have a get-together, Mr. Telford," I wrinkle my nose, "can we  do it in a place that smells less like horse shit?" 

"Aye," the Scott responds, "I t'ink we can handle dat. Call me Chibs." I offer him a smile in return, "I think I can do that." 

"Der is some samples ye can bring back to da cartel," Conner points to a wooden crate, "new merchandise from da Russians." One of his men opens the box with a crowbar. There were grenade launchers and RPGs and Glocks.

“Nothing pink with sparkles?” I ask with a grin.

“I’ll make sure ta include dat wit ya next order,” Conner says, “ya da would be proud o’ ya.” I give him a kiss on the cheek and a hug.  I hadn’t seen Conner since I was in high school. 

“Thank you,” I wipe away a stray tear. “I need a shot of Jameson before I start crying.”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Norton & Constantine Pt 1

The following are excerpts translated from the Novel about Norton and Constantine. This was... a lot longer than I expected so I’m splitting it in two.

These only include areas where Norton (No. 13) and Constantine appear together. Other references are omitted.

Please enjoy!

------RONALD TANG’S DREAM----------

“Brother...”  Someone called softly in the darkness

It was really annoying! Who lost their kid?

“Bother.” The child called again.

Annoying, annoying, annoying! There is no ‘brother’ here!

“Brother... Then I’ll go.” The child whispered, his voice gradually growing silent.

Suddenly, he couldn’t bear that lonely, fading voice. It invoked the sight of a child’s back, slinking away like an abandoned hound.

“Okay, okay, okay! Which street and what house number do you live at? What’s the name of your unreliable brother? I’ll take you home!” He turned over and sat up.

A child dressed in bright white, like a camellia blooming in moonlight, sat on the floor in the sun, holding a writing case and making a long stroke.

“Hey, you’re not leaving? Are you kidding me?” He wanted to say, but he didn’t.

Instead, he did what came naturally. There was a plate of green grapes on the table. He picked a small bunch from it and handed it to the child across from him.

The child raised his head, his eyes flashed with panic, like an alert cub, “Brother, there are many people outside.”

Huh? He thought it was very quiet.

The next sentence also came naturally. “Maybe you will die? But, Constantine, don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. When I’m with my brother, I’m not afraid... but... why don’t you eat me? Eat me and you can break through any cage!” The child said seriously.

Eat you, he thought. Although you are very white and tender, it does not mean you are better than hamburgers. I just ate a hamburger for lunch and I’m not hungry.

“You are good food, but that would be too lonely. For thousands of years, only you and I were together.” He said, jokingly. “But death is really sad. It’s like being sealed in a black box, forever and ever. Pitch black, like reaching out in the dark and never touching anything.”

Looking at him, the boy’s clear pupils flashed in anticipation.  “The so-called destiny of the abandoned clan is to cross the wasteland, raise the battle flag again and return to our home. Death is not terrible, it is just a long sleep. Before you can swallow the world, it is better to sleep peacefully than to walk alone. We will still wake up.”

“Brother, if you raise the the battle flag and swallow the world, will you eat me?” 

Damn it! Is this a stage play of a drama between loving cannibals? These family ethics are really strange!

The child poured a glass of water from the pitcher, handed it to him, and he drank it.

“I’m leaving, brother, goodbye.” The child stood up.

He wanted to say that he was not his brother and you’ve got the wrong person, but he just casually said, “Goodbye, be careful. Don’t believe any humans.”

Again with the strange, bored lines.

The child went out and closed the door behind him. He listened to the child’s foot steps getting farther and farther away, until, finally, they completely disappeared.

Suddenly, he felt nervous. He thought he was getting faint. What would happen if such a young child got abducted because he let him go off on the street? He didn’t know how far he had to go to find his brother. He became restless, and when he finally couldn’t help it, he got up and ran to the door.

He opened the door, and the blazing light shone on his white clothes, not sun light but firelight. The city has been burning for days, charred human forms run crying in the fire. Thousands of arrows fall from the sky and a huge sign reading “Baidi” falls and turns over. It’s hell.

At the center of the city, there is a tall pillar. The child is hung on the top of the pillar, eyes closed, the flames of the city burning him.

It’s like a grand sacrifice.

It hurt so much, like the cut of a knife. This important person was lost because he made a mistake.

He suddenly remembered something and realized he was truly the brother of that child.

He called out his name. “Constantine!”

He sat up abruptly, opening his eyes in the afternoon sun, short of breath, covered in cold sweat all over. The noise of an elevated light rail passed him by.

He suddenly found the sound so pleasing to his ear, reminding him that everything in his dream was fake and that he was in an ordinary world

--------RONALD TANG ENTERS CASSELL----------

“Brother...”

No. 13 was taken aback. He was walking in a dark corridor, illuminated by the light of the phone screen. At this moment, he heard the faint sound of people talking in front of the class.

He hurriedly lowered his body and covered the phone screen with his palm, so that the corridor was completely dark. He moved a few silent steps so that no one could tell his location without an infrared night vision device. Only the hum of the fan remained in the corridor, repeating at a steady frequency.

“Did she get it wrong?” No. 13 thought.

He was proud to be a master in the bounty hunter’s line. He accepted all manner of strange cases and performed beautifully. He has never felt so strange as he did today. Since entering this campus, he has had auditory hallucinations. Every time he walked around in a quiet environment and listened to his footsteps, he would mistakenly think that someone was speaking in front of him. At first, he ignored it. He didn’t realize it was weird until he left the crystal clear shadow girl and the beer-drinking man. Because after he entered the tunnel leading to the “ice cellar”, the strange voice became clear. He was underground and except for the ventilation system, there was no gap for sound to penetrate.

No. 13 slowly straightened up, and stopped using his phone for light, turning it off. He touched the wall of the corridor with his waist and walked forward. 

“Brother....” This time the voice came from behind him, as if someone sighed nearby.

No. 13 drew out the saw-barrel shotgun, turned around and pointed it behind him. According to his heroic or rough character, he should have shot this person point-blank, regardless of whether he was a man or a ghost. But he was too nervous this time. God knows why, but he felt like this sound was very familiar. As familiar as when you lived in an airport as a child, listening to planes taking off and landing every day, and the sounds of jet engines put you to sleep.

He couldn’t remember where he heard this sound. It was like a bubble floating from the depths of his mind. it was very familiar and it had a dream-like, black sweetness, which made him a little drowsy.

“Who is it?” he asked.

No one answered but the hum of the exhaust fan.

No. 13 scratched the back of his head, regretting taking this assignment. He was hired by regular customers, who had taken care of his business many times over the years. No. 13 trusted these people very much, so he agreed without much thought. In the past, he took assignments like exploring a desert tomb or a sunken ship in the ice sea. Every place sounded more mysterious the this Cassell College, but this time things became more and more strange. He lost contact with the other people for no reason. At the beginning,  there was a series of strange encounters. Although his nerves were steady, and he still believed this college is just a gathering place for a group of board game lovers who love living out fantasies, he felt he had underestimated their IQ. Walking in here was like walking into a maze.

--------------RONALD TANG FALLS INTO THE ICE CELLAR AQUARIUM--------------

No. 13 slowly turned around and saw a pair of eyes he size of ping-pong balls staring at him curiously a few meters behind him. It was a very authentic great white shark.

Probably in order to prove to No. 13 that he is a young shark with great bite force, the great white shark opened its mouth, displaying thorny teeth.

No. 13 glanced desperately at his hand. This was the most unlucky day in his life. When he fell, his hand scraped against the gate and it was overflowing with a faint red color. Everyone who has watched the “Discovery Channel” program knows that sharks are crazy when they smell blood. As long as it smells blood it will pounce on a piece of wood and No 13 is good eating.

“Brother...” The young boy’s voice echoed around him.

“Please, don’t tell me it’s you calling me?” At the end of his life, No. 13 actually thought this world was so funny as to let a shark be calling him.

A strange expression suddenly appeared in the shark’s blood red eyes. This was the first time that No. 13 felt that he could see the expression in the eyes of a fish. The shark slowly closed its mouth, swinging its fins and tail but it was not advancing but silently retreating. As the distance between it and No. 13 lengthened, it turned around and dived into the water at high speed, plunging into an artificial rock cave. Immediately, a bloody red mist gushed from the rock reef cave and then a big dead fish was thrown out.

No. 13 didn’t understand what was going on. He could only read the shark’s eyes. It looked at him in fear and then slowly disappeared.

He didn’t quite understand what was going on. The shark seemed to be terribly afraid of him. and took the big fish’s nest and hid himself.

--- THE AWAKENING OF CONSTANTINE--

A great chill fell on everyone heart. They realized that they were prematurely optimistic. “Two echoes...” Someone whispered.

“A cavity...” Someone said.

The internal structure of the copper tank was clearly revealed. The inside of the copper tank is divided into two halves. In one half is the curled up skeleton of what appeared to be a human being. The other half is empty.

A disturbing crack is just above the cavity!

“Something... escaped from it!” Someone’s voice began to tremble.

“Why?” The principal asked in a low voice.

No. 13 wondered as well, why all these people were suddenly so quiet.

At this moment, he is laboratory assistant wearing a mask to prepare dissection equipment. His journey has been so smooth. After walking around the ‘ice cellar’ for a long time, he entered what appeared to to a laboratory. In this area, he saw a group of men taking a shower, in an lively discussion about a copper jar. In the heavy steam, no one could see each other’s faces, so No. 13 took off his clothes and stepped in to shower with them.

More than a dozen naked men walked about in the vapor and when they past him, a few even greeted him. 

After bathing, they took out sterile suits from sealed plastic bags and covered themselves head to toe. They were tightly protected, as if they were going to the virus laboratory or going to walk on the moon.

No. 13 realized that this was his perfect opportunity so he knocked out a guy about his height, took his ID card and pinned it to his chest, and put on his suit.

When he entered this sealed glass laboratory, he took off his mask to drink a glass of champagne. He was that casual. When someone gave him a cart full of dissecting equipment, he lightly examined it while people around him applauded. No one paid him any attention to him, entirely focused on the brass jar in the glass enclosure.

“Regardless, the autopsy should continue.” The principal raised his hand. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I can’t wait any longer to obtain this important data.”

The researchers began to applaud again, and the principal’s calm and determination under the unexpected was always convincing.

“Is all the equipment ready?” The principal asked.

No. 13 hurried to raise his hand. He pushed a trolley made of synthetic materials on which the nano-material transparent scalpels, saws and scissors, as well as other unrecognizable tools were displayed.

“For safety’s sake, only the person responsible for the dissection enters, and the others are responsible for recording are to stand outside.” The principal turned to No. 13, with an expression of expectation, “Ready?”

No. 13 can only nod. He doesn’t know what a Dragon King is, but he is sure that the knowledge of anatomy of frogs he learned in high school biology class wasn’t enough for him. Fortunately, he stuffed his saw-barrel shotgun and a few soaked ammunition clips under the sterile suit. This game him a little more confidence.

In fact, he really wanted to turn around and walk away. It didn’t seem like he was strong enough to move the copper pot alone. with a glass wall on the outside and a quartz glass cavity inside, he could only see the indistinct shadow of the copper pot, which was not enough for him to accumulate enough materials to go back and claim the 5 million dollars.

The principal patted him on the shoulder, and the hatch leading to the low temperature laboratory inside slid open, and the white gas evaporated from the gushing liquid nitrogen. The principal put on his mask while No. 13 shivered.

He walked into the cryogenic chamber, and all he saw was white, with bright blue flickering lights all around. In the center was the oval quartz glass chamber with a huge copper tank and liquid nitrogen vapor under his feet.

For a moment, he had the illusion that he was standing on the endless snowy field and heard a low call from a distance beyond his sight, “Brother.”

“An egg...” No. 13 thought, “Brass Egg.”

Would such a report be worth even 200 dollars? No. 13 is a bit hesitant. The money seemed too good to be true.

In the quartz glass cavity, there is a jar with a brass texture and a dark green patina on the surface. He can just make out an engraved pattern of a double snake guarding a giant tree. The outer wall was originally completely closed, bu there was a gray tin-colored place above it and there was a black hole that seemed to be corroded out.

But it was much like an egg.

There was no doubt that this was his goal. The smell of medal rust in the air started to become stifling. The strong magnetic field made a loose screw on his watch fly out and cling to the quartz glass cavity. The out wall began to quake. No wonder this lab is made completely of glass! There was no metal anywhere!

Dozens of eyes behind him watched him. Sooner or later they would figure him out. No. 13 thought quickly. “What the hell is this? This is worth 5 million dollars for its information?”

“No, what they’re after isn’t this copper jar... but what’s in it!”

“No wonder that the instructions said to observe with my own two eyes and if it’s broken, look inside!” No. 13 made up his mind. He tore off his lab coat in full view, and leaped on to the exam table and peered into the gap. 

The black gap was like a well of time.

“Brother, there are many people outside.”

“maybe you will die? but Constantine, don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. As long as I stay with my brother I’m not afraid. But why don’t you eat me? Eat me, brother, and you can break out of any cage.”

“You are good food, but that would be too lonely. For thousands of years, only you and I were together.”

“But death is really sad, like being sealed in a black box, forever and ever, pitch black. You reach into the dark and never feel anything.”

“The so-called destiny of the abandoned clan is to cross the wasteland, raise the battle flag again, and return home. Death is not terrible. It is just a long sleep. Before we can swallow the world, we expect to ravel alone. It is better to sleep peacefully and wait to wake up.”

“Brother... when you raise the flag and devour the world, will you eat me?”

“Yes, then you will be with me, and you will come to the world!”

No. 13 felt dizzy. “Who is...talking?”

It seemed that he was really standing by a well, listening to the people in it. In the dark of the well, someone looked up at him. The well was deep, and he felt like he might fall in at any moment.

“Damn, why is this kind of second-rate stage play lines again?” No 13 looked away and felt a little cursed. Things that are this old might be cursed. Fortunately, No. 13 never cared about strange objects, but before this one, his heart was beating wildly.

“All those who are in front of the army are in front!” After reciting this sentence in bad Chinese, No. 13 pulled out the shotgun, turned and pointed it at the stunned group of researchers outside the tempered glass. "Hands in the air! Unless you want to die!”

The principal was stupefied for a moment, and immediately raised his hands. He seemed to be an old guy who understood the current state of affairs. The researchers’ eyes were full of disbelief but they also raised their hands after the principal.

“Alright, I’ll add a sentence to my report that says that when I looked inside... it was as if someone was looking back at me.” He thought to himself.

But that should have been impossible. Under the low temperature of liquid nitrogen, even if there were bacteria inside, it would freeze to death.

“I’ll just treat it as a high school gym class and just do it.” No. 13 kicked opened the door of the cryogenic chamber.

A researcher suddenly lifted the transparent plastic cover on the console and pressed a red button inside with one hand.

“Dragon Invasion in the secure area! Invasion!” A stern girl’s voice echoed in the air.

The reinforced outer cover outside the quart glass cavity behind No. 13 was fastened tightly, twelve valves sealed at the same moment and a large amount of liquid nitrogen was injected into it.

“Are you calling the police? Is this a convenience store robbery?” No. 13 was very annoyed by the situation.

He should have put the saw-barrel shotgun against the researcher’s forehead and blasted him with a single shot. But he was still a little dizzy and every bullet was soaked when he fell into the aquarium. So he stepped forward and kicked the guy and then took down seven more researchers. Taking advantage of the chaos, No. 13 turned and ran out of the laboratory.

“Stop him!” The principal shouted. 

The researchers came to their senses and swarmed outside.

At the same time, in the water above the aquarium, No 13′s lost phone suddenly turned on. 

“No. 13 if you are not dead right now, then you should be close to the target. Your target is a brass pot, about 1.8 meters in height and 1.2 meters in diameter, with a corroded gap above it. The last instruction is to open the gray tin bottle and pour the solution through the gap. Once this is completed, the bonus rises to 10 million US dollars.”

The water eventually penetrated the phone’s battery and it stopped working forever.

In the shadow of the cryogenic hatch, a person sighed low. Everyone had evacuated and no one noticed him in the chaos. “And just like that, the mission failed? This young man is really unreliable.” He said softly.

He walked out of the shadows, picked up the tin bottle left by No. 13 and walked into the quartz glass cavity. He inserted a black card into the card slot on the console.

“This operation will cause the opening of he Dragon’s Egg. Norton, the King of Bronze and Fire may wake up. Operation prohibited! Operation Prohibited! Operation Prohibited!” Norma’s voice echoed over the laboratory and a warning alarm blared. Red lights rolled through the entire lab.

“Keep quiet, Norma, this is the time for us to witness a miracle.” The man lowered the valve and cut off the communication between the entire laboratory and Norma.

With the main power supply cut, Norma’s voice disappeared, the lights went out one by one, and only the alarm is left, the red lights rotating.

The crimson of the warning lights flow in the dark, like lava, like blood, like doomsday.

These light up the expressionless face of the man.

The temperature rises rapidly, the high-speed rotating electron flow in the superconducting magnetic field attenuates, and the suspended quartz glass cavity slowly dropped down. The twelve sealed valves unlocked at once and a huge amount of white steam was ejected. The reinforced outer covered opened.

“With my bones and blood to the great Majesty, Nidhogg. He is the supreme, the most powerful and the most virtuous existence, destined to rule the whole world.” The man stretched out his hand to touch the quartz glass chamber and felt the vibration coming from it. The vibration became more and more intense.

“Good, you didn’t make me wait too long!” The man drew his knife from his sleeve. A sharp blue knife mark was left in the glass wall. The vacuum inside was broken, and screaming air poured in. The man cut the neck of the gray tin bottle with a knife and aimed the break at the crack. The gray tin-colored liquid followed the knife mark into the quartz glass cavity and circulated along the inner wall of the glass like a thin snake, away from the central copper tank, as if afraid of it. But s more and more liquid entered the glass cavity, this ash stream began to boil and bubble with a rustling and peeling sound, like a living thing.

the man put the knife in his sleeve and left the cryogenic laboratory. 

He looked back at the door for the last time and all the gray tin solution flew away from the inner wall in an instant and ‘pounced’ on the copper pot. When the two touched, a violent corrosive effect appeared, and the indestructible popper can is like a piece of softened cheese melted in a microwave, emitting a dark green mist.

An indescribable low growl echoed in the cryogenic laboratory, anxious and manic.

“Welcome back to the world, Constantine.” The man closed the door.

TO BE CONTINUED..... @mechaspirit

[lisetteaman]

Sonder

Monday, December 17, 2001

A woman is in labor. She is young and heavily influenced by her parents’ unfolding resentment over her stupidly throwing her life away for a boy and becoming pregnant. He stands guard in the waiting room while his parents stare apathetically at the pages of a Time magazine that is ruminating on the Twin Towers. They sit, indifferent towards the current situation of their son having knocked up a teenager. Her parents barge into the waiting room and start an intense discourse in which each parent is screaming at the other, but no one is listening. Each forcefully playing his own disconnected word as if in a game of Scrabble, borrowing bits of the others’ anecdotes, while trying to see who can increase his score. Amongst all the squabbling, the young woman gives birth to a son, Jack.

Across the hall is a second woman in labor of identical age but antithetical descent. Her parents were extremely loving and unconditionally forgiving, but now deceased, while his are globe trotters who never stopped to watch him grow up. With neither involvement nor surveillance of an upper-hand, they wander into a territory much too young for a couple to embark upon and wind up with a kid, whom they name Olive.

Monday, December 17, 2018 Jack

5:30am His alarm goes off, and he hops into the shower. It’s the only part of his morning routine that he actually enjoys. He takes his showers in complete darkness, the lights off to further exemplify how much his heart craves to slip into the morning air with the steam and melt into the black sky just behind his skylight above his shower head. He looks up and sees the vapor condense to the cold glass of the window-pane. He draws a dick in the fog and goes back to playing with himself. Don’t be fooled: he’s a good kid, even with an immature and slightly inappropriate brain. Don’t blame him; blame his biological sex organ. There’s a pounding in his head. Nope, it’s his father on the other side of the door hammering him to hurry up. Time is always official business in his household. His parents are strict and conservative, of the affluent, conceited type. Jack has no say in this life. It was as though his parents put him in a box once he was born and slapped a label on it, saying: “elite, sophisticated aristocrat” and put no room for failure in with him. They had to. They needed to organize their life somehow, as their parents were hounding them to get their shit together if they wanted some semblance of a successful life. But proof be known, Jack’s parents are now exactly what they wanted to be: rich and famous. It is only fitting that they teach Jack the exact same way to live—with your head up your ass and your ego two sizes too big.

It’s about the hundredth time his father has started this conversation with him. It’s always about the law firm, and how Jack needs to keep his grades above everyone else’s in the class if he wants to get into Yale, like his father, and become the next business partner in the firm. “The board only wants to see Ivy League graduates, Jack…” Jack tunes him out and starts drifting into thoughts that are too conceptual for an early morning without coffee, but that’s how Jack likes it. He likes his brain and all the corners it takes him to. It just never seems tangible enough for Jack to get out of this barricaded city and plan the contours of his life—to go explore the world’s abyss for all it offers in releasing the fantasies that remain dormant inside his head. He’s a hopeless romantic. He has never loved anyone, but his heart, as fragile and malformed as it is, is too gentle and graceful to share with others. He protects it and its sentimental value.

6:45am Although Jack is mostly undisturbed by his parents’ lineage of condescension and economical influence, he does assume the role of a private school boy with wispy, blonde hair and a sophisticated veneer. His driver, Stewart, is parked outside to take Jack to Bradley Preparatory Academy. The limo turns and drives past the Lexington Avenue street subway. Jack turns his head and stares out the window at all the passersby in the subway street car, and thinks of how they all ride around town with their newspapers and their sweaty palms stuck to the subway car poles and their gum shoved under the seats, living in such frustration and haste. He turns his attention back and buries his head in his book, The Catcher in the Rye.

Olive

6:53am She sits smushed between two obese men in overly large, black wool coats, who are clearly failing in their attempt to hide their stress-induced eating habits. She looks at the kid sitting across from her take his gum out and stick it under the seat. She’s sweating and reaches her palm out for the pole to get up and stand somewhere else—not worth the body odor and loss in blood circulation. She hates this route. The Lexington Avenue stop, with all the men who aren’t wealthy enough to drive to work, but just arrogant enough to make her upper lip curl as they eye her up and down before disembarking the subway car. Most people take quick glances at Olive but are too skeptical to trust in how stunningly beautiful she naturally is. She dyes her curly, long hair pink and wears an excessive amount of black eyeliner. She has a septum nose ring in the shape of a butterfly and a pretty bold tattoo of the letter A on the side of her neck below her ear—her mother’s first initial, but some look at it and think of The Scarlet Letter. She’s on her way to work. Her parents passed away last year, and now she lives with her aunt in a tiny apartment in Queens. Her aunt made her a promise that she didn’t have to go to school this year as long as she got a job. So naturally, Olive picked a coffee shop in Midtown. “It’s where all the assholes are, Aunt Grace. The meatheads, the hoodlums, the tourists—they all congregate at my coffee shop.” Aunt Grace is not the biggest fan of having her 17-year-old niece travel right into the raucous of Time Square. She sees through Olive’s chill veneer—her hurt and big brain masked behind makeup and a stellar performance of “I don’t give a shit.” Olive is quintessentially brilliant. She was tested at a young age for an IQ score and found out she was in the top 2 percent of the world at her age. She refuses to get tested again, not for fear that she will have fallen behind, but for just the opposite—for fear that her score will be even more impressive and “they” will sit her in a think tank or ship her off to do long division somewhere until all of her brain cells die. She has read just about everything that has a spine or a library code, and yet, she is rarely amused by any of it. If Olive had it her way, she’d be a starving artist—hitchhiking her way to some rural landscape, finding earthly materials to paint with, and blogging her experiences with people from different cultures around the world.

3:45pm Olive usually walks down to Central Park when she gets off of work. Sometimes she runs, but it’s a cold day out and kind of gloomy. She loves these days—the days when the people seem to be more capricious than normal and she can find a nook somewhere she can sit and watch the melancholy mood dissipate into the grey air. It always seems quieter on these days, more people with their headphones in and their caps on, blinding their focus from the inherit craziness singing in the background. She remembers it’s her birthday. It’s been a whole year since her parents died. She dials her mom’s phone number and listens for the voicemail message: “Hi, you’ve reached Abagail, sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, probably doing something fantastical with Olive right now. I’ll call you back when I get a chance. P.S. if this is Grace, you know where to find me.” Olive is not a crier. She rarely shows her emotions, especially to the people around her. But right now, she sits alone on a park bench, bawling her eyes out, wishing time and memory flowed backwards. What a perfect moment to start questioning everything around her—how time keeps getting faster, how babies are being born but others are dying. How the world seems to be constantly growing, and yet, this city has bolted her down and she can’t escape to see what’s out there and who’s living as vivid and complex a life as she is. She starts getting stuck inside her head, trapping her beautiful, yet damaged mind inside. She feels swallowed in a sea of thoughts and tumbling emotions that are rising like a maverick. She can’t contain it anymore. She erupts—she opens her big mouth and screams. Silence. No one is around her. The world has just stopped—frozen in time and place. She turns her head to see if she can move. Nothing happens, no sounds, just silence. Then, wham! A cab flips over and smashes into a tree.

Jack

4:13pm Jack usually gets picked up by Stewart after school, but he decides to ditch his driver and catch a ride in a cab downtown to Central Park. The clouds are hanging especially low, blanketing the city in its sorrows—these are the kind of days he likes. His driver slams on the breaks. However, the car beside goes flying through the intersection, but it doesn’t make it through the red light in time. The cab is hit by a fast moving semi, is vaulted into the air, and strikes a tree upside down. Jack tells his driver to go ahead and turn around to take him back home. The road would be closed soon, and if he stayed at the park, there would be too much traffic to ever get back home in time for dinner. Dinner’s always at a hard 6:00pm, after indoor lacrosse practice, but he skipped today…didn’t have the heart for it.

Jack’s birthday has always weighed on him, but this year has been especially heavy. His parents have pressured him more, his friends are mostly heroin addicts, and the girl he has been inconveniently crushing on for the past three years is stuck like glue to the hot glow-up from sophomore year. He turns his head out the window and watches as the people dance about the street, always rushing—places to be, people to meet, busy lives to attend to. For the rest of the cab ride home, Jack ponders the irrevocable power of freedom and silently cries in the back of the cab. He wonders if there is a person out there that will make him dance.

Olive

11:34pm Olive walks through the front door. Grace jumps up from the kitchen table and runs to her. “Where have you been? Don’t you do that to me again!” Grace has tears in her eyes. She grabs Olive and holds her in her arms. Olive explains that there was an accident near the park, so she walked for a couple miles before calling a cab the rest of the way home. “Hun. You have to be careful. It’s a zoo out there this time of the year and I HATE the idea of you being alone, especially today.” She plays with Olive’s hair. Olive looks into her eyes and starts sobbing again. She can’t hold it back anymore. It’s been a year since she cried—that’s how tough Olive’s cover-up has become, that’s how much time she has spent packaging all of her emotions into a tiny box and burying them deep into a pit in her soul. No longer, she has freedom from her pain at that exact moment. It’s fleeting though. Olive snaps back to reality and pushes Aunt Grace off of her. She wipes her tears and tells Grace that she isn’t hungry and just wants to be alone, again…a ploy to start hiding her true self from those who get too close to her.

She lies flat on her back on her bed and stares at the ceiling. Her mom was a fantastic artist and used to paint with Olive all the time. When her parents passed, she went digging under their bed for the boxes of old school supplies and random crafts until she found these paintings. She had stapled them to the ceiling. Aunt Grace was against Olive putting holes in the ceiling, but it didn’t bother Olive one bit. “What’s it like up there, mom? Is it colorful and just all that you hoped it would be?” Olive has the particular feeling that no matter what she does, everything will always go wrong. It’s like everyone around her is just living such a normal and simple life, but she has these powers to see the future and know that something—her passions, her love life, her job, her cares, her worries—will always go wrong. She’s coped this past year in her own silent, painful way. She wears threaded friendship bracelets and rubber bands over her wrists to hide the pain from the naked eye, but what the eye can’t see is that she is secretly scabulous. She is proud of her scars, of the character and the meaning behind where they are and how they got there. She plays with them like autographs on her body that she doesn’t share with the world. They remind her of her identity and how she got to this particular place of hell in her life. They speak of her brilliancy, of her broken mind and damaged heart. She gets out her phone and dials her mom’s number again. She can hear it ring in the box that she keeps it in, tucked away on the top shelf of her closet. It’s her namesake, and she must never let anyone take it away from her. Aunt Grace doesn’t know she has it for fear she would rip it away from her on a forced path of closure and acceptance. But, Aunt Grace, how the FUCK ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO ACCEPT THAT YOUR MOTHER WAS FUCKING KILLED?

Aunt Grace knocks on the door, and Olive lets her in. Grace apologizes, but Olive knows it’s not her fault. She pats the bed for Grace to come and lie down with her. They stare at the ceiling while Aunt Grace tells old stories of Abagail and the crazy, stupid adventures they would have as kids. How Abagail fell in love so young and then had Olive.  How Olive was such a tiny baby, born 3 months early, yet grew up to a be such a feisty, resilient, and brilliant young woman. The world seems to be spinning slower tonight with Aunt Grace sharing her memories about Olive’s mother. This whole year has seemed, to Olive, to be growing faster in time, as though the moon has been gravitating farther from this earth, and so she was spinning faster and faster until now. Now, it finally stops. The moon returns, and there is a brief moment of clarity for Olive. “Aunt Grace, do you ever feel like you’re stuck in one body, occupying just one space and it will never change? That people around you will continue to live freely but you will essentially never grow up to understand the world and what it has to offer? That you’re just a gawky kid from Queens who has lived the same day over and over again and nothing about it will ever change… “And that maybe you’re supposed to meet someone who will change your world? That there is somebody perfect out there, just for you and you’re supposed to spend eternity together, because he is the cosmic balance to your failures?” Aunt Grace doesn’t have an answer for her. So for the remainder of her 17th birthday, they lie together, with Olive’s head resting on her aunt’s shoulder. Olive feels safe for the first time in what seems like ages. She likes it and holds on to that feeling for as long as she can.

Tuesday, December 18, 2018 Jack

10:00am There’s a school trip to the Met to see the new exhibit on Art and Conspiracy, how everything is connected—public policy and the expression of artists who explored the hidden operations of power and the symbiotic suspicions between government and its citizens. However, Jack’s class is comprised of kids who spend their time vacationing in the Hampton’s and whose parents are politically powerful in the Republican party. Therefore, they aren’t interested in artists who unveil how the government is hidden in webs of deceit.

Olive

9:00am Aunt Grace wakes Olive. “Let’s go to the art museum today. C’mon girly, call off work this one time. We didn’t get to do anything for your birthday yesterday, and it’s the perfect day to go. It’s raining and you looove the Met. You can’t deny it.” Olive smiles and already knows the answer. All Aunt Grace had to do was say the word “Met” and Olive would be snapping on her shoes and out the door.

10:00am They arrive with a huge crowd of prep boys from the Academy down the street. Olive looks at them with disgust. “Look at them with their perfect hair and pocket squares in their suit jackets, so precise and perfect. Their lives so plain and planned—destined for wealth and authoritative power.”

Jack

10:38am Jack is drawn to the stunning expression of freed meaning and colorful revelations. He approaches an especially extraordinary depiction of Gerald Ford being pulled by a puppeteer behind the stock mark exchange. It’s exactly how he feels. Someone is pulling on him, his heart, and he can’t see who. He walks towards the art piece. There’s a tall white wall separating the room into two sides. He leans his right shoulder against the wall as he looks at the picture. He stops and feels the wall with his hand.

10:41am The hopeless romantic questions, “Is it her?” The woman who is tugging on his heart and pulling him along. The woman who has been dragging him around the city, pushing him to think that there is more of the world out there than what his school has taught him and his parent have preached to him. More than the uniform thought that people live such boring, regular lives, but that there are people who claim a dynamic life of excitement, complication, and vividness. These thoughts come flooding in; he can’t imagine anything else but that there is someone with just as beautiful a heart and complex a mind as him. A woman who will flip him upside down and change his world.

Olive

10:41am She stands with a white wall on her left side as she stares up at two black and white paintings. One is an alien, and she knows that’s exactly how she feels. An out of body experience occurs. She is lifted up out of her body. She feels pulled along, with increasing thoughts that there is more to this world, to this universe than this one place that she has stayed all her life. There is more out there, a reason her parents were killed by a drunk driver. A reason they left this earth and flew into the sky. There is a person who lives at this exact moment who is drawing her in, her heart, her mind. Then…

The Meantime

10:42am Nothing. A moment of tangency flees from the mind; the simple sample size of the original thought that the people of this world stand still and their lives are of no real meaning, just random commotion, comes back into focus. Jack turns to his left and walks away. Olive turns right and tells Aunt Grace she should leave.

10:43am A failed occhiolism: they never became aware of the smallness of their perspectives, in which they could never draw a meaningful conclusion about their worlds, and how they could have crossed paths and added to the complexities of the world’s great culture. A moment so innocuous, but with a chance for it marking the diversion in a new era of life. Like they just missed their cue. Two people who share a parallel story, harmonizing in what could have been a wilder experiment if she just turned the corner and crossed his path. But life is an unrepeatable anecdote. A universal flaw that the epiphanies of Jack and Olive were imperceptive and fleeting, until nothing was left but the echo of what might have been.

[cynabate-blog]

Instincts

Foreword (full)

— Honey, Wake Up.

My mother's voice calls me sweetly, while gently pushing my shoulder.

— Are we there yet? —I stretch my arms over my head. Sleeping sitting really is uncomfortable, especially in such a space Reduced.

— Already almost —He replies, pointing to the sign indicating the entrance to the city.

“Welcome To Winston-Salem. "

Another damn old-fashioned town. At least this is surrounded by a fairly dense forest, unlike the previous one.

— I'm sure About what You'll like it here.

My mother, what a noble and sweet woman. She gives everything for me, sacrificed so much... deserves to be happy. For that reason I agreed to enter a The University; I don't need it, but I want you to feel proud of me.

— I know it's hard, but we'll strive — Press My Hand hard— This time it will work.

— And if you don't, We can always send everything to the devil again.

— Josh, please.

— Gabriel, Mom. My name is Gabriel.

It's not enough to have to leave my life behind, I also have to change my name.

— I know, my life, but it's easier to get used to this way.

— Joshua Wells. What a pathetic name —I cross my Arms— My IQ drops every time I say it out loud.

I resent having to disown the name my father gave me. I'm proud to be Gabriel Blake, but I know I have no choice.

— Joshua Wells, you damned scum —Murmur.

— Enough. There is no other way.

I'm not saying any more, I'm in a bad mood and it's not fair to take it. All this shit is my fault.

He diverted the view and I am dedicated to revise The messages on my phone…

Ethan                                                                                    

[And how are you doing?]

Josh

{I just woke up}

Ethan

[and the people?]

Josh

{A shit}

{I wish you were with me > = (}

Ethan

[You know I can't leave my parents nowa]

Josh

{I know. I miss you.}

Ethan

[Me too]

[I must take care of something. I'll talk to you later.]

 Ethan is my best friend and I don't know what I'll do without him. He's the only person in this rotten world that I really care about, besides my mother of course.

The city is very different from the boring old town I imagined. Most passers-by are young, college-bound students. But nOr I'm interested, I'm not here to make friends.

— Arrived —We parked behind an old building.

Under the car and I keep crestfallen My mother into the house.

— Home, Sweet Home.

My mother and her bloody positivism.

— What a crap.

The place is a fiasco, Smells of mold and dust; The garbage is everywhere, there are rats running inside and outside the walls. I even managed to hear them, loud and clear, As if they were moving next to Me.

— Joshua Stop complaining —He rebukes me with his gaze— We're going to eat something and then we'll clean.

After lowering the suitcases and taking a substantial sandwich, I dedicate myself to clean the one that will be my room while mom takes care of the rest of the house. The building Is Divided into two floorsNWe we will live at the top, which has three bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen dining room; There is also a kind of terrace with a large window that makes the living room times. The ground floor is a disaster, apparently it was a kind of low-mount bar, now it will be used to install the college coffee that my mother so much desires, of course after repairing it.

— What about my stuff? —Cry from where I am— My room is packed with that old man's trash. Where are my demeanor?

— Josh, calm down. The truck will arrive later —Mom walks through the door and watches me frowning— Have more respect for your grandfather's memory.

I don't understand what's bothering you so much, that old bastard ran into this place when he was just a teenager. If he had done that with me, I would dance on his graveQShe doesn't hold a grudge.; He always says that if he hadn't gone he wouldn't have had me... yes, right. As if my father had allowed it.

I smile when I imagine my father's attitude. Actually, I didn't know him very well; He was five years old when he was ripped off our side. SHowever, my mother has taken charge of telling me every detail pertaining to Christopher Blake, the most extraordinary man to ever tread on this world.

When TErminamos Unpacking We decided to go out for some dinner. Fast food is the best option, I don't like burgers, But there's no other.

We walked very close, mom is telling her anecdotes, apparently has a story for every Damn Village building.

When I get to the place I start to get nervous, it is crowded with college students gathered in groups and everyone watches us as we open our way to the counter. I raise the hood of My Sweatshirt to avoid To Your eyes Curious That focus on my face, I don't want to be recognized.

— A double burger, fries and a soda —Order my mother.

The girl behind the counter looks at me like I'm a freak. What should I say about her and her strange pink hair?

— Fries —murmuring, turning his face.

— Josh, you can't just eat that..

— It is ok —I ring my eyes— Also a soda.

— Joshua, you have to feed —My mother scolds Me— Another double burger.

— I said I only want potatoes.

The murmurs begin to increase and I hear a "Mama's Boy", which unleashes a general laugh. Something inside of me begins to untie, I am aware of what will happen if I do not leave this place immediately.

My mother holds my arm and stares at me. I know what those green eyes are telling me...

"Control yourself, Gabriel. Grip

I can not obey, so I just turn on my feet and I go to the exit pushing everyone who stands in my way.

I'm going to go through the door and hit something. Suddenly I'm sitting on the floor sobándome the bottom of my back, since I took a big hit.

I look up to meet a stout guy, trigueña skin and long hair with some braids, it seems to exceed my age only for a couple of years. It passes from me, while three others continue to laugh in laughter

— Hey! What the fuck is wrong with you?! —Cry, clenching Fists. NOr I can bear to istA class of idiots.

If he gets to answer, he's a dead man.

— You're the one in the middle —Responds, With a very loud voice.

Me POngo Standing effortlessly For Jump on the idiot and rip his head off when someone Press My arm delicately.

— Are you ok? —A soft, quiet voice makes me turn right away, just to meet AYou eyes so Blue and dark As the Deep Sea.

managed to nod without being able to deflect the look, the guy in front of me is truly attractive. is high and quite Burly, it has white skin, a rather long hair of a beautiful jet black and a look that seems to be able to reveal the secrets of My Soul. Instinctively duck the head, I don't want him to know the beast that lives inside of me.

— Robert, Be more careful — taking their eyes off mine.

"No, no, no. Look at me... don't see anyone else just me. "

COmienzo to Tremble Inexplicably.

“What's wrong with me? Why is this person causing me this?”

— Take it easy. I won't let him hurt you. — Such Perishes What It confuses my nervous tremors with fear.

"Baby, If you Knew"

Wait, what? Why did I call him that? No, I don't like men, nor women, but that's not the case. What does this guy have that makes me think like that? I need to know, I have to...

— Thank you —My mother's voice Interrupts US — Sure was nothing.

I do not oppose resistance and let me drag out of the place. My mother pulls my arm hard forcing me to walk.

— What about dinner?

I look over my shoulder and I see that Pelinegro standing in the middle of the sidewalk, Watching me as if he wanted to follow us.

— Here I have it —Lift a paper bag with the name of the chain— Now walk.

After several streets I realized what isá Happening, everyone we meet with laughs or makes a mocking commentary to see how my mother drags me like a small child.

— Let me! —GrUño As I release his grip— What the hell is wrong with you?

She looks at me scared, she knows I can lose control with ease, But He still faces me.

— I don't want you to get near those young.

— I remind you that I can take care of myself.

I can't understand your behavior. You know very well that I don't like to make friends, not because I lack the ability to make them, But it, Just, I can't see others as my peers, I'm too different and I'm aware of it. But that doesn't mean she decides for me.

— Son, they are dangerous.

— Do I have to remind you why we moved? —Now if I'm furious— I'm a fucking monster without a heart.

My mother covers her mouth with both hands to prevent a sobs from escaping from her lips, while tears fall on her cheeks. Only then do I realize how much my words hurt and I don't know what to do.

— I have to think — sUelto, and I run away without a specific address, I can't bear to see her in that state.

I can hear your screaming calling me, But I'm not going to turn around or stop, I don't want to, I can't, I'm the cause of all the bad in your life. If it wasn't for me, my father would still be with him, if it wasn't for me, she could make a normal life, if it weren't for me, everyone would be alive.

— Why are you letting me live? —I scream at the sky, Deteniéndome and falling on my knees on the wet lawn; NOr I'm tired, But my forces fail and I don't want to go on.

I cover my eyes with my fists and start to cry.

— Kill me, please. Kill me —Whisper.

There's no way I can hurt myself. And sMy mother would blame herself for letting me down., or some similar stupidity, And his heart would break.

I'm about to continue walking when I hear a crunch and watch around me. I am in the middle of the forest, the dark and chilling forest, the wind blows rocking the branches and the clarity of the moon seeps into dim rays through the thick foliage. The sound of footsteps ever closer make the desperation I feel replaced by fear and my instinct for survival comes out with all its strength. I put myself in defensive posture, Ready for combat. NOr matter what creature it is, I'll wreck it just try to attack me.

I feel a grunt behind my back and when I turn around to defend myself I'm petrified. In front of me there is a huge wolf staring at me, his blue orbs show a flash that makes my heart throb like crazy and its black fur gives the feeling of being silky and soft.

I extend my arm with an open hand to touch it, I'm not sure why, but I'm attracted to that animal. As soon as my palm is close to its snout, the Wolf supports his head against My hand And I unwittingly smile.

I start stroking it and I encourage myself to get closer to scratching behind your ears, Like a dog.

— That good boy —I mean silly air.

A grunt responds to my comment and I walk away a few steps grabbing the hand with which I was caressing him. I don't want to disturb him and provoke him to attack me, I know I can defend myself and hurt him.

He realizes my cautious attitude and bends his head to rest on his legs.

"Are you apologizing?"

— Who are you? —I wonder looking suspiciously.

I'm sure it's a human change shape, a werewolf. I know very well that they exist, as well as vampires and other "mythological" minions.

He just deflects his gaze and lets out a snort, apparently he can't tell me... or maybe he doesn't want me to know. Still, I can't get angry, I have a much bigger secret and I can't tell anyone.

— Can I touch you? —Very slowly I sit at his side with his legs crossed.

He puts his head on my legs and I start scratching his spine. I know he's a wolf, but I can swear he's purring like a cat right now.

The Minutes pass and I say nothing, I only devote myself to enjoy the tranquility that makes me stand by his side, until a howl in the distance makes him raise his head.

— So you have a herd —commented, seeing in the same direction in which he focuses his gaze. 

Turns to look at me, seems to be debating between staying with me or answering the call.

— SeeYou. I'm doing fine.

It integrates and I keep observing as if I did not believe. I smile and stand leaning on my knees, I have numb my muscles for being so long in the same posture.

— It was just a tantrum, I'm under a lot of stress.

He still doesn't seem to believe me and I hasten to convince him, as the howls are heard closer and closer.

— How about we meet here tomorrow at this hour?

Begins to Move the tail and pull out the tongue panting. Apparently he's happy.

— It's a date then... Now describe the way to the village. I ran without looking where I was going.

He points behind me, lifting his snout. I hadn't noticed how big Es Until you Is Erect Next to me and TEngo To raise your head To see him in the eye.

If I decided to attack me I'm sure Of That I would be victorious, no matter what size o Your strength I know you will. However, I feel that neither one of us could hurt the other.

I take a couple of steps away, following the indicated path and then I decide to turn around just to find out that he did the same.

"What is this?"

I can To feel a nostalgia similar to the one that invaded me when I said goodbye to Ethan. Although this is different, it is a mixture of many feelings that I cannot identify.

I see my mother standing at the door of the old building that is now my home. It carries asa Her hideous water-green pajamas and yellow slippers decorated with flowers, look like those ridiculous old girls that come out in the novels.

— Good heavens, mom. I told you to get rid of that thing..

I pass by her without looking up, I am not good with apologies.

— Where have you been? Do you have any idea what time it is? You had Me worried.

He follows Me down the atosigándome staircase with one question after another.

— I told you I can take care of myself. Stop treating me like a little boy..

— I just worry about you. — says Between sobs.

— I know —I stop before entering the bathroom— But you don't have to. I need to see the world for Me Myself, find out who I am, what my goal in life is— vOlteo to hug her, I know I'm going to say she's going to hurt her.— Mom I'm going to live on campus.

— What? Why? —He pushes me with all his strength trying to separate, But I don't loose it.

— I have to stop depending on you and this is a good way to start.

My mother is a smart woman, I'm sure she understands what I mean, so I don't need to say any more. The hug with more strength and EsperAndo To leave Of Cry.

— You know I love you and I never wanted you to feel overwhelmed.

— I know, but it's time you let me do my life and start living yours —I'm apart To see her beautiful face And I Smile— Plus I'll just be a few minutes from here and I'll come to visitArt.

— That's a fact. I need help with this mess..

Hug me again, it's calmer.

— Sure, Mom. There are still two weeks before the beginning of classes, we will arrange this place by then.

Kiss Me Good night and retire to his room to rest.

After giving me a bath I throw myself on the bed and check the cell phone. I can't sleep thinking about everything that will come. I answer some messages from Ethan, Telling him about the place, But I do not mention anything of my strange encounter or how confused I have these emotions; That I keep it for myself because I know that the fast beating of my heart is due to the nerves of the moment... or so I hope.

[idolapps]

OOC INFO

NAME/ALIAS, PRONOUNS, TIMEZONE:

Crissy // She/Her // PST.

RESERVATION: 

N/A!

MEMBER PROFILE

FACECLAIM: 

Lee Hyunwoo, my smol son.

NAME/STAGENAME: 

Han Kiseok and he doesn’t have a stage name unless you want to count the p l e t h o r a of things that idols, managers, facility members and higher ups call him while him while he’s running their errands, in the which case we have:

“Bambi”

“Kiki’s Delivery Service

“You clumsy, incompetent fool”

“Idiot Chicken Boy”

“Kibum”

“EXO’s Minseok” ( does anyone actually know his name? )

“Why did we hire you anyways?”

aaaaand my personal favorite:

“YA!!!!!! YOU!!!!!! WHERE IS MY COFFEE HUH??!!!죽을래 !!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!”  !!!!!（╬ಠ益ಠ) !!!!!

BIRTHDATE/AGE: 

Nineteen years old. July 8th. Cancer.

COMPANY/POSITION:

Intern for Crystal Entertainment.

HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 

N/A. Baby boy is not relevant enough for dis, smh.

TRAINING PERIOD/JOINING YEAR: 

I’m not even sure if this is relevant, but if it means anything, Kiseok’s probably been with the company for a few months or something? Half a year?

INTERESTING FACTS: 

//cracks knuckles (none of this is even important, but i thought it would be fun?)

He is the admin of several KPOP fan blogs on tumblr.

I’m pretty sure he broke his leg singing into some shampoo and trying to replicate Sweetheart’s choreo in the shower. RIP.

Kiseok’s very allergic to cats, but he saw this cat on the street and fed it and it wouldn’t stop following him, so he took it in. Her name is Pepero and he’s always sneezing and dying because of her but he can’t get rid of her because he’s soft.

He does not know how to drive and bikes to work everyday.

He lives with this super ornery old woman who runs a dress shop. He ran into her shop when he was fifteen trying to hide from these bullying punks who were trying to beat him up, but once he ran in there a few more times and she realized his home was so broken one could hardly call it a home at all, she took him in. She says she only likes him because he does her taxes, but she adores him … her mahjong buddies tell him everything.

Super bi, but honestly can only stutter his way through half a sentence before the words collapse on his tongue and he gets too flustered so, really, what’s it matter?

It’s really funny if you get him drunk because he’s super shy, but he’s also a lightweight and a really wild drunk. Don’t do it. ( Do it and videotape it. )

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: 

STRENGTHS:

He has a really high IQ. His mind pretty much works like a racehorse even though his mouth stutters almost every word he’s ever said. Kiseok has maintained remarkable grades throughout the entirety of his academic career and has been called Google/Jeopardy because he is full of intellectual but useless information.

He is a notoriously quick learner because of this high intellect? Picked up a lot of the choreo for the trainees and the idol groups while he looks on and knows pretty much everyone’s names and stats???

I don’t even know if this counts, but he’s really, really kind? Like he genuinely cares a lot about everyone and is always willing to help people. He’s really sweet and lovely even though he is 100% nervous and awkward all the time. Basically he will go very far out of his way to help people.

REALLY GOOD DANCER!!!!! Singing is quite pleasant too, to tell you the truth, but really he is a very gifted dancer, like, if you saw him you’d be pretty impressed. Dancing is the only thing that makes him feel better and he’s looked up to idol groups like the ones in CE all his life and longs to be apart of them very clandestinely…but alas.

WEAKNESSES:

Kiseok has chronic social anxiety that developed from how poorly treated he’s been basically his whole life. It leaves him, at times, breathless and stupid, but he tries his best? 

Very, very shy as a result and prone to panic attacks. :(. He has a hard time talking to people and nervously rambles and stumbles his way through conversations. I can’t even imagine someone trying to hit on him, he’d die. 

Having that little faith in his abilities and being that freaked out of the times means that he had to throw away his lifelong dream of being an idol because he can’t dance or sing in front of people and so he joined CE as an intern just to be close to thing he loves. :(((((

HUGE PUSHOVER. He’s scared of disappointing people or them being sad so he’ll do anything you ask him to. It’s also his job as an intern to accommodate people, but he does have to do a lot of not so cool and strenuous stuff behind the scenes that you won’t hear him complain once about even if it’s killing him a little.

BIO/PERSONALITY:

THE FIRST LESSON YOU EVER LEARNED WAS TO HATE YOURSELF.

You were born too early, but for your mother it was too l a t e. The smell of death hung limply in the air: whodunnit? Fate in the hospital with a premature baby and case of internal bleeding gone awry. She looked like the crime scene but played the victim, leaving you as the murder weapon. 

Surprise: Y o u dunnit.

 Like the jaws of life, two hands bravely descended into the carnage and like Moses parted the vast, impossible sea of red, plucking you out and polishing your soiled body like silverware ( as if somehow cleansing your body would in turn, cleanse your s o u l . ) When they were finished, they put you in a blanket and her in a body bag. 

CRAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.

You were too young to properly recall the the itty bitty gritty details…

…But no matter:  while you might not remember,  ( your father never forgot. )

…

THE ALCOHOL MADE THE PAIN BETTER, BUT HIS TEMPER WORSE.

You spent your childhood in f e a r, towered over, dominated, quivering, shivering, dodging acid words, punches, bottles…but you weren’t fast, you weren’t reactive, you wheezed and sneezed, broken before he could even lay a finger on you. And from your miserable existence in that ramshackle house, there was only one escape —

 …

YOU CALLED THEMSELVES I D O L S BECAUSE THEY WERE YOURS.

From this unforgiving reality, you only escape were these big stars that graced your tiny screen each day and you watched them like religion, You admired the way that they carried themselves; heads held high, moves exquisite, perfect, confident words always poised on their lips and after years of feeling like a lost puzzle piece, you finally found somewhere to b e l o n g. When you danced, everything was okay. Music soothed you like medicine and created a feeling that made you feel, for once, i n v i n c i b l e. Just like that you were hooked, just like that you knew

….You always knew someday you were going to be a [ k p o p s t a r ],

( “You think that Crystal Entertainment would hire someone like you? You're nothing, Dancer Boy. You're worthless. You're a l o s e r! And the CE doesn't hire losers.” ) 

BUT FIRST YOU WOULD BE A  [ L A U G H I N G S T O C K ] 

…

You soon found that school was no better than home. The kids in your class were viciously cruel and the bullying they administered left your heart and outsides black and blue. Up and down the uneven streets, they chased your cottontail as you ran huffing and puffing and crying and clutching your collapsing chest like a lifeline. They were right in a way. Rock beat scissors but anxiety beat e v e r y t h i n g. You were too nervous, too timid and could barely utter a few generous sentences before they collapsed on your tongue like forgotten civilizations. 

BUT WHERE YOUR LIPS WERE WEAK YOUR MIND WAS STRONG

…

You were always good in school — great, even. You skipped grades and your dad never cared, other people’s father’s handing you prestigious awards on stage. Your mind worked overtime and retained information like a sponge, arranging it in intricate and complex formations that dropped jaws and astounded people. They called you “nerd,”, “dork”, “geek”, “f r e a k” but now they would have to call you Han Kiseok, Staff Member of Crystal Entertainment. 

YOU WISHED YOU COULD SEE THOSE BOYS HORRIBLE FACES NOW.

…

It wasn’t ideal. You still looked at the CE entertainers with shiny, glossy, fanatical eyes, worshipping them like gods, but you were happy — blessed to just be their Ariel and a part of their world. So while they went out on stage, singing and dancing, you helped make everything work behind the scenes, oversized lanyard, talking too fast, tripping over your words, fetching pastries and turning out paperwork like t r i c k s

— because in this world there are two kinds of people:

Important People™

and people who get those Important People™ C O F F E E.