#though I think Frank might’ve been older than all of them

[sweetest-honeybee]

Tagging this for the crime au bc I needed some human designs for WM but the joyful siblings :D

[fancoloredglasses]

Mystery Science Theater 3000 (making it cool to talk over the movie since 1988)

[All images are owned by Factory. Seeing as you got your material from public domain, I hope you would find it hypocritical to sue]

(Thanks to jumpsuitjoel)

I’m going to apologize ahead of time. The start of this review is gonna seem a bit dry and rambling, but I promise there’s a point.

In the days before cable, there were two types of stations on TVs:

Channels 2-13 (for whatever reason, there was no Channel 1) were VHF (or “Very High Frequency”) stations and had better reception on these things called “antennas” that were either large enough to need to be mounted to the top of houses or small enough to be on top of the TV (the good old-fashioned “rabbit ears”) These were usually the stations that were the local affiliates for the major networks (at the time those were ABC, NBC, PBS, and CBS) due to the signal being more expensive to maintain.

Channels 14 and up (83 until the 80s, then it was cut back to 69) were UHF (or “Ultra-High Frequency”) were cheaper to operate but often were difficult to receive depending on where the antenna was located, what was around it and its alignment (you either had to adjust the rabbit ears or install a device that would rotate the antenna on your house) The majority of these were unaffiliated (or “independent”) stations that mostly aired reruns and local-interest programming (like sporting events involving the Home Team) When cable took over and every production company wanted their own network (Fox, UPN, WB, CW, etc.), most of these were gobbled up as affiliates.

You may be asking what the history of broadcast TV has to do with Mystery Science Theater 3000 (or “MST3K”) Trust me, I’m getting to that.

One of the mainstays of independent stations is the afternoon movies. Most stations on weekends from noon until prime time would have a steady stream of older movies. They tended to have the same hundred or so movies on rotation (did you miss The Ghost and Mr. Chicken on the afternoon movie? No sweat, it’ll be back in about 3 months!) The reason the movies were older was they were cheaper to purchase. In fact, some were so old they were in the public domain and could be bought by the station for next to nothing!

Now, a lot of these movies were, shall we say, less than fresh if Rotten Tomatoes had existed when they came out (why do you think they were so cheap?) Which brings us to our review.

A comedian named Joel Hodgson approached an independent station in Minneapolis about a way to “spice up” the stinkers the station had acquired: he and his friends would crack jokes at the movie. The backstory was that he’s forced to watch them after being imprisoned on a spacecraft known as the Satellite of Love. The show was enough of a hit that the idea was bought by the Comedy Channel (later Comedy Central)

The premise stayed pretty much the same, but Joel was an employee of a company known as the Gizmonics Institute.

His supervisor Dr. Clayton Forrester and his minion assistant who went by the name “TV’s Frank” were the ones who kidnapped Joel and shipped him off to the Satellite of Love. The plan was that they would see how long it would take a steady diet of bad movies to drive Joel insane.

Joel might’ve succumbed to madness had he not scavenged parts of the satellites to build robotic companions (though given their personalities, it may have already been too late for poor Joel)

Tom Servo is one of the bots that Joel watches the films with along with...

...Crow T. Robot.

Gypsy controls the major functions of the Satellite of Love. Since that takes up much of her processing power, she can sometimes seem a bit slow-witted.

Cambot is the primary means of communication between Forrester and the Satellite of Love.

After 6 seasons (including Minnesota), Joel decided to leave the show. However, Dr. Forrester needed a new guinea pig for their experiment so...

(Thanks to Xander Lars Knight)

Other than the change in guinea pigs, nothing much changed.

Two seasons later, TV’s Frank was killed off leaving Dr. Forrester alone in his lab, so he brought in...

...his mother Pearl. This lasted one season before Comedy Central cancelled the show. However, the show got life as a feature film (so...a movie about guys talking over a movie?) before being picked up by the Sci-Fi Network (what is now known as SyFy)

Due to lack of funding. Dr. Forrester cut his losses (literally; he sent the Satellite of Love into deep space!), but 500 years in the future, a cyrogenically frozen Pearl (don’t ask) is thawed and she drags the Satellite of Love back to Earth to continue the experiment (and Mike hasn’t aged much in the meantime) until the series was finally ended with season 10 (until it was revived on Netflix in 2017 with a new guinea pig named Jonah. I haven’t seen the new series but I can’t imagine the format has changed much)

These days, Foundry (the production company that owns MST3K has started a streaming service where you can watch the first 10 seasons for free.

As always, if you would like to see any episodes reviewed (how exactly would I do that? I mean, the cast is already telling better jokes than I could...), let me know.

And now for the sign off...

(Thanks to DovahBudgie100)

[emcads]

So if you’re in the mood to talk about tpof (again!), I was thinking it’s a real crime that we didn’t get to know how Esme felt about anything since the battle with Borya to meeting Amenirdis. Like what was she thinking specially about the magical princess aboard Jack’s ship who definitely had something for him? Was she jealous like she’d been with Tia Dalma (although I still think it might’ve been just Jack thinking that)? Curious?

oh, you know me, anon. i’m always in the mood to talk about tpof.

this got unexpectedly long so i’m popping it below a cut <3

i think this is an interesting one bc esme’s jealousy itself is not very straightforward.  she tries very very dearly not to be jealous,  and not to let jack’s other relationships bother her: she wouldn’t be with the man if she remotely thought to expect fidelity,  and deciding to continue to be with him is just the choice that she makes.  but at the end of the day esmeralda is only human:  of course it’s going to bother her to some extent / make her jealous,  even if she’s deciding to deal with that herself rather than take that jealousy out on him. for the most part, it’s fine, jack is off gallivanting with sex workers,  that’s how he is,  and that’s how she’s always known pirates to be –– whether or not they’re in a committed relationship. what distinguishes  tia dalma  / amendiris  as meriting legitimate jealousy in her eyes is the fact that she knows that there’s more to it than just a casual sex / purchased sex kind of thing. they’re both powerful, competent women who command not only jack’s affection but his respect ( much like herself ),  possibly even his love in the case of amenirdis,  though esmeralda can only make guesses on that count.  probably her most immature line in the whole book is her little “is she pretty?” about tia dalma, but to me ...  idk, that’s also one of her most honest moments,  where’s she’s just genuine about the jealousy she’s feeling, about wanting to impress jack and wanting him, period.

and knowing, too, that she’s getting older, she’s not in her 20′s anymore as jack is. far be it from me to say she’s lost any amount of beauty, but she worries about it. physical appearance has been one of her practical tools in her field as well as access to romance.

anyway, i wouldn’t really call it a matter of competition,  and honestly,  she’s so frank and open and giving towards amenirdis that i just don’t see her as the type of girl that would ever let a man cause infighting and discord between herself and another woman.  part of the reason she knows jack’s attachment so well is because she respects the hell out of these women too  ––  of course he’d fall for them,  who wouldn’t ?   but at the same time, she knows that she won’t ever really “measure up” to these women,  in terms of power,  or ability to captivate jack’s attention,  or even to help him when he needs it,  and I think that’s what really bothers her more so than the actual sex  ( though on that count, she is human, so she’s thinking about that too even if she isn’t saying it ).  esmeralda is already fighting a losing battle with his love for the pearl / captaincy with the eitc,  so it’s ...  a little distressing to know that he’s already very much being captivated by someone else.  she doesn’t really stop to consider that he might not actually be romantically / sexually engaged with amenirdis the very moment she finds out she’s actually super hot, it’s practically a given knowing jack.  but it’s also one more thing –– a very visibly, beautiful reminder –– that the man she’s in love with doesn’t think about her all that much,  so that does hurt. ( especially when you consider she’s just dropped everything to save his entire ship and crew post-battle, not something he has done or would ever do for her )  and she handles it with grace, i think, especially meeting amenirdis where she’s at and treating her as an individual rather than in connection to jack.

i think ...  her desire to meet ayisha/amenirdis is somewhat honest, and somewhat not. there’s definitely a petty part of her that wants to meet jack’s new love interest for herself and size her up, because of fucking course jack sparrow can’t leave port with an ugly woman without her being smoking hot by midvoyage.  but what she says about wanting to meet her out of genuine admiration, and wanting to help her, is also true.  she highly, highly respects women in positions of power, even those who were born into it, because she’s lived that life herself and knows how it can be,  and tbh the opportunity to meet an actual royal isn’t one she’s about to pass up. her place of generosity also sort of ... comes from a place of knowing jack and his sartorial habits, and how content he is with the grime and ... other things,  and making an educated guess that he hasn’t made her comfort a priority in that regard.  so she’s able to relate to her,  distantly, in the idea of being a well-born woman among pirates,  who also desperately wants to bone jack.

edit:  just to add that she’s certain they’re involved once she realizes amenirdis wants to be involved with him.  jack will pretty much sleep with anyone willing,  but that’s a non-negotiable point.

[acciofanfics]

Say Please (George Weasley x Reader) SMUT

Request: Any chance you could do one o f the weasley twins and a slytherin reader. From enemies to lovers with a nsfw

Pairing: George Weasley x FemReader

Warnings: Bad language words and smut

Word Count: 2567

A/N: So I hope this fits in with the request, the timeline is a little rushed. Also, I normally prefer Fred myself, but my partner in crime loves George so I figured I’d try writing for him 😂 -S

—————————————————————

Honestly, (Y/N) rarely caused much trouble. It might’ve come to a surprise to some of the close minded Gryffindors, but not all Slytherins lived to torment their class mates. In this particular moment she wondered how her house ended up with the poor reputation, because she would not be in detention if it hadn’t been for those annoying Weasley twins. She shot a glare over at... she thought it was George. “3 days. 3 days detention because of you and your brother! Could you have not at least waited until after class? I’m not sure what it is that warranted the abuse to begin with but no that wasn’t enough detention to?!”

Fred and George never thought too much about detention. They mostly didn’t get caught, but there were always a few hiccups and they’d learned the best way to deal was grin and bear it... it did suck that McGonagall was aware the punishment did little to deter them. It was her policy that they had to be separated during detention, she thought they had too much fun otherwise. Poor Fred... he was stuck in Snape’s classroom alone. Not that George much cared for the girl scolding him, “If it’s any consolation we weren’t even aiming for you. It’s hardly our fault you decided to sit next to that git Clark.”

As far as apologies went. That was a rotten one, but she supposed it did provide some comfort. If she were being frank, she didn’t really care for her desk mate either. He often snuck looks at her parchment and tried to correct her or offer his help to even the slightest mistake. It was so condescending, and he rarely knew what he talking about. She tried to imagine what it would like if he had been the one to open the exploding note. “Well, I guess that does clear some things up. Maybe you should work on your aim.”

“Well you can blame Fred on that, he’s the one with the bad aim.” George chuckled although he had to admit it wasn’t nearly as fun to pick on his slightly older brother when he wasn’t there to disagree with him.

“Well who’s the brains of the operation because it wasn’t the brightest plan to start with?”

Yeah, George definitely didn’t enjoy the company that much. She might’ve been pretty, but that seemed to be the only thing she had going for her. A sense of humor? Definitely not. An eye for genius? Clearly lacking. Sure the exploding note had been delivered to the wrong target and landed them all detention, but it got a great response. Lots of laughs. “Agree to disagree.”

“Well you don’t have to agree with me, I’m still right. You got a few kids to laugh, you missed your target, there’s no lasting effect really and had it been Clark who opened it you would’ve been spending detention with him for 3 days. Since you called him a git I’m guessing you three aren’t that close.” Her voice was so matter-of-fact, and so annoying. It also didn’t sit right with George that she might’ve gotten a few details right.

“Well what would be your brilliant plan?”

“Oh I don’t have one.” (Y/N) stopped her cleaning (no magic, because it was a punishment) and looked at George. He thought she was smiling for a split second, but upon further inspection it was definitely a smirk. “Of course I haven’t put any thought what so ever into it. I guarantee that I could come up with a better one though.”

The next day George cursed the fact he had detention again... it didn’t seem fair that it was only him that had to share it with (Y/N). When he asked Fred to go in his place, Fred told him the fact that he asked him to trade was proof enough he didn’t want to trade. Thankfully Professor McGonagall had a task for them that required a little more concentration and therefor less time he actually had to speak to the girl.

“I’ve done some thinking and I think I figured it out.”

George snickered at her thought. McGonagall had them grading first-years parchments. They should’ve definitely known the information already, but she left them an answer key just in case. “Well, I’d hope so. You’ve been looking at the answers for the past 30 minutes.”

She rolled her eyes, and didn’t bother looking up from the parchment. “Ha ha. I meant I figured out what I think would be a numerous prank for Clark.”

“Oh do tell...” George sighed, not at all interested, but willing to humor her all the same.

“I’ve spent an unfortunate amount of time with him, and I’d say he fancies himself more than anyone else. I’ve been paying a bit more attention, since our last conversation and I’ve noticed anytime he passes a mirror he checks his hair. I think you should do some sort of charm to mess with his hair. Even if it’s fixed relatively quickly he’ll be furious.”

Hmmm.... maybe? “What if it wasn’t a charm?”

“A potion might have a longer lasting effect... but how would you give it to him without him knowing something is up?”

“Maybe slip it in his drink?”

“He’d see it and none of us he likes enough to not suspect something and immediately know who it was.”

“Do you think it’d be possible to hide it in some sweets? Sign it from a secret admirer? He’s too arrogant to turn it down.”

George hadn’t meant to honestly give what she said too much thought and there he was:planning out a whole prank with the girl. Fred would feel so betrayed, until it worked at least. Maybe she wasn’t as bad as he originally thought, but he still didn’t know if he liked her that much. Plus she was probably all talk.

Finally it was day 3, the end of their torturous sentence. It couldn’t come fast enough, especially since they had to clean again. George had shared the information he’d gathered from (Y/N) with Fred and he was all in. As much as he hated that they didn’t think of it, a good joke was a good joke.

“So it might interest you to know that I’ve acquired most of the ingredients to brew a hair raising potion. I just need one more thing I can nab tomorrow.”

Wow. Honestly he hadn’t expected her to really go through with it, much less steal the ingredients. “We haven’t even gotten out of detention yet and you’re already trying to get back in. You’re gonna miss me, huh?”

“Oh come off it. If you and your brother want to help, I’m going to set up in the girls bathroom on the second floor tomorrow night after dinner.”

There would’ve been no problem with that plan whatsoever. Sneaking out hadn’t ever been a problem since Fred and George snagged the Marauder’s Map in their first year, and even though they’d given it to Harry they still had most of the secret passages memorized. No, the problem that Fred had landed himself an extra day of detention. It wasn’t a secret that Snape didn’t like them, but it seemed unlikely that Fred really had done NOTHING to provoke him. He honestly couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit annoyed at his twin for leaving him to walk into that bathroom alone...

“Where’s Fred? I thought you two did everything together?” (Y/N) teased as she pulled a cauldron out of one of the stalls and gathered all of her supplies around the surrounding area. George was just a bit surprised that she actually recognized it was him. They’d tricked their own mother more than once, and she’d caught on in 3 days time?

“You know Snape, he’s got it out for us. Fred took the brunt of it today,” George shrugged and drew closer to her, ready to offer his assistance. “Look on the bright side, now you have me all to yourself.”

“Yay...” Her voice was less than enthusiastic, but a small smile played on her lips none the less. “Well don’t just stand there, hand me those rat tails.”

George had to admit that it wasn’t nearly as bad as he imagined. While, he was starting to come to the conclusion he might’ve misjudged her, he was now sure that was the case. He’d even gotten her to laugh! Surprisingly it was a good laugh too, one of the ones that were highly contagious. Brewing the potion didn’t take nearly as much time as he thought, and it wasn’t long at all before (Y/N) was giving it a final stir. “Now it just has to set for about an hour. I suppose after that we just need to put it in some candy and give it to him?”

“Seems simple enough, once we figure out the best place to leave it that will make sure he gets it.”

“I’ll leave it outside his room.” (Y/N) stated simply. It only made sense that she would, she was in the same house and the magical enchantments that the school was founded had a pretty backwards, but beneficial rule on the dorms. Girls could get into the boys dormitory quite easily, so I’d wouldn’t be a problem.

George couldn’t place it, but he didn’t know how thrilled he was with that part of the plan. There were other ways: like leaving it on a table in the great hall... or visiting the owlery? “What if you get caught?”

“I suppose I’m no stranger to detention now, am I? Don’t worry I don’t plan on letting you guys take credit for my brilliance, I won’t snitch.”

“It wasn’t that!” He didn’t know why it was so important she didn’t think he was worried about that, but it seemed like it was relevant in that moment.

(Y/N)’s smirk came back when she saw his cheeks turning just the slightest tint of red. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but there was the possibility she didn’t hate the twins as much as she did when she first opened that blasted note. Well, George at least (she hadn’t been forced to spend time with Fred). And it wasn’t like she was blind, he was attractive. Plus she hadn’t even planned any payback for him ruining her reputation in McGonagall’s class... it wouldn’t hurt to tease him just a bit. Really, he kind of deserved it. “We have an hour to kill... I wonder what we should do?”

George tensed ever so slightly when she leaned closer to him and batted her eye lashes. She was definitely on to him. Damn, well he wasn’t usually one to back down from a challenge. Usually he had his brother for backup, but that wouldn’t do him any good here and honestly he no longer desired to have Fred’s company... at least at the moment. “Well, I have a few ideas... we are alone.”

(Y/N)’s confidence didn’t waver, she expected a bit of stubbornness from him. Instead she climbed into his lap, her knees resting not so comfortably on the cool tile. Her forwardness seemed to catch him off guard slightly, but he quickly regained composure and smirked at her. It took a good bit of effort not to roll her eyes, but she managed. “Well don’t just sit there.”

George knew he was falling into a trap, but to be honest at that moment he didn’t quite care. He didn’t need to be told twice and he captured her lips in a lip bruising kiss. It was almost instantaneous that they both seemed to forget they they didn’t fancy either other. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands found her thighs, where he began to pull her against him.

It took no time for a sweet kiss to start burning into something more. No, it was more like someone throwing a match into gasoline: an immediate explosion. Her hips moved willingly against him, both enjoying the friction and she didn’t even think twice about George snapping open the buttons on her blouse. It gave her the idea to start on his shirt.

(Y/N) shivered when George helped her out of her bra. The cool air making her arch herself into him even further, but the cold didn’t last long because George began placing feverish kisses all over the newly exposed skin. Her moans definitely did something for him, even if it was just a confidence boost he nipped a bit harder or his grip on her skin got tighter. Normally, George might worry about leaving a hand shaped bruise on her arse, but he was far too focused and seeing how loud he could make her.

(Y/N) awkwardly reached between them and started to undo his trousers. George was willing to pull his hands away from her briefly to help her accomplish her goal. She leaned up, just enough for him to be able to wiggle his trousers and underwear down enough to free his erection. It wasn’t the most graceful thing they’d done, but she hiked up her skirt and pulled her panties to the side so she could sink down onto him.

The two let out a moan in unison and George grabbed hold of her hips, “Bloody hell...”

(Y/N) wasn’t sure what exactly came over her, other than a mixture of satisfaction and lust. “Say you’re sorry for getting me detention.”

Was she kidding? “Seriously?” When she started to lift herself up, he quickly changed his tune. “I’m sorry!”

She quickly dropped herself back down, earning another moan from the redhead underneath her. Of course having his cock buried deep inside her felt amazing, but having a bit of control made it feel even better. “Say please.”

George didn’t even think twice about obliging her order. The word spilled from his lips before he could even comprehend what he was saying, but he didn’t care. The plea made her move against him finally and he would say anything to keep her bouncing on his cock. Clearly she knew it too and that was enough to keep her satisfied because she kept it up.

It was somewhere between an eternity and a few minutes, before she felt herself getting close. It was harder to keep it up her rhythm, and George must’ve noticed because he started to use the grip on her hips to his advantage by lifting her and pulling her back down. She stopped abruptly, “If you want something from me, you need to ask.”

“Please?”

“Please what?” (Y/N) purred into his ears, rolling her hips.

“Please let me fuck you...” George’s voice was needy and he was so scared that she would tell him no. It was an instant relief when she muttered an okay against his skin.

Before (Y/N) could even register what was happening her back hit the frigid tile and George’s hips were snapping against hers hard and fast and she was seeing stars. So close... so close... she was coming undone. “George!”

It was no time, before he finished. Her orgasm fast-tracking his. He had to let his breathing steady before he could speak, “I think that should be a regular occurrence. We are way too good for it to be a one time thing.”

He laughed when she winked at him, “Well you know what to say.”

[sodamnbored]

I so badly want a Roman prequel series. More than a Solangelo book. There could be so many great things in it.

Ideally, we’d get a series, basically original PJO but on the Roman side, presumably then following Jason in the same way we originally followed Percy.

But that would just be rehashing what we’ve already seen! Jason’s story would be too similar to Percy’s! - I hear you cry. But bear with me.

Yes: there would be some big similarities - following a son of one of the big three as he grows up and masters his powers and all that. And yes it would also conclude with him fighting a titan. But! I also think they’re different enough that it would read more as parallels than just copy and paste. It could be really interesting.

For one thing: Jason is starting way earlier than Percy. And I am desperate to know about the wolves thing. Correct me if I’m wrong, but all the info we have thus far is pretty vague, no? We know he went to the wolves when he was about two years old. But we don’t really know how long he stayed with them.

There’s the idea that he was raised by wolves (which don’t get me wrong I love that) and only went to the Legion when he was older - for parallels sake say about twelve. But we don’t know that’s the case for sure. He might’ve just spent the more or less normal time period with the wolves, or even if he were there longer than most - a year, two years even - he might’ve toddled off to camp still pretty young.

Cause this is another thing: we know very little about Camp Jupiter. In CHB you see for a fact that there are plenty of young demigods there, talking ten and under. Unless I’m mistaken, we never really heard mention of any little kids in the Legion right? Hazel was what, thirteen, in SoN, which is fairly young, but I don’t think there was any mention of anyone much younger than that. There was the little girl helping Terminus, but she was from New Rome not the Legion. And the Legion isn’t a summer camp of course, that’s a crucial difference.

They are quite literally an army, preparing for war should one ever arise. So do they have a minimum age requirement? Would not be unreasonable to assume they would. We know the majority of Legionaries are legacies from New Rome as opposed to actual half bloods, so it’s not unreasonable to think these kids live normal lives in New Rome until they hit a certain age and get conscripted/have the option to join the Legion for training.

If this is the case, then Jason might not’ve been with the wolves for years at all. He could’ve done his time and then been passed along to the care of New Rome. Set up somewhere to go to school and grow up and have something of a life to prepare him for his future in the Legion. That would be an interesting difference from Percy who had grown up not knowing about his heritage, for Jason to be fully aware of his godly parentage and to grow up knowing he was heading to the Legion as soon as he was old enough. I’m not sure about timings because in The Lost Hero pretty sure he’s fifteen and has twelve lines on his tattoo “for twelve years of service in the Legion” according to the wiki; but the wiki for the tattoos alone says the lines can be for years at Camp Jupiter or for completed quests and such, so it could mean he was toddling about CJ at three years old in mini Legionnaire armour like Caligula (oh the irony), or just that he crammed a crap load of cool stuff into just a few years when he was older.

So the series could quite happily start with him joining the Legion and maybe just summarise his life before that, have the important parts explained as relevant to the plot, I dunno. But it would give us more info on how Camp Jupiter actually works because personally I am clamouring for more info on the Romans.

Presuming that Jason is at least a Probatio by the time he’s about twelve (and it’d be cool to see him earn his full place in the legion too), that also means we’d get to see other people’s stories happening alongside his.

We know he fought the Trojan Sea Monster at some point, so that would be a cool quest to see play out. We don’t know a lot of other things he’s done, but we can assume he’d have been in the Legion when Reyna turned up, which would also be a really interesting story to follow.

We know from tSoM that Reyna and Hylla were on Circe’s island, when Percy was about 12/13, and it seems in SoN that he and Reyna were both around the same age, 16 or so. We know Reyna and Hylla spent some time after tSoM on Blackbeard’s ship before she made it to Camp Jupiter. So somewhere between ages 12-16, she would pop up at camp and I firmly believe she would’ve been Jason’s friend before they both became Praetors. And I would kill to see it. I wanna see them go on a quest together so badly. They would be an awesome team.

But we’d get to see Jason go through the steps, Probatio to Centurion to Praetor. We’d see him improving the Fifth Cohort’s standing in the Legion. We’d see Reyna become Praetor. (We’d ideally see Jason and Octavian gently bitch at each other like with Percy, but that’s just for me.) We’d get to see Jason and Reyna being Praetors together for a bit hopefully. That would be cool. And no doubt the series would conclude with their side of the Titan War, with Krios’ defeat - which would be so cool to see!

Being able to see more of their side of the war would also be really interesting as well. Because surely, there was more to it for them than just that one battle out of nowhere right? They must’ve been aware of the war and enlisted by the gods to help out right? Maybe there were some other titans for them to fight, maybe they had defectors too? Perhaps they were under the impression Kronos was still chopped up in little bits and Krios was running the show, either wanting to take Kronos’ place as the big cheese, or thinking the titans were working to reform Kronos, but they were kept out of Luke’s side of things so they didn’t realise that he already had been? Who knows. Certainly not me, cause we don’t have any books on it.

And there would be opportunities to have almost crossovers. Particularly regarding the war. They might just overhear things that don’t necessarily make sense to them but that we get, stuff like that. See some aftermath from one of Percy’s visits to the area. So many options.

Oh also actually, just for added angst and a different view than Percy’s, there was that freaking tragic bit in HoH I think where Jason thinks about his mother. The part about following orders and rules bothered him, but he insisted on doing so and keeping his promises because his mother had abandoned him and broken her promise. That would be an interesting aspect for the narration and his point of view because it’s the exact opposite of Percy. Percy doesn’t mind pushing the limits with the gods and exploiting loopholes or calling them on their faults, focused on surviving till the end of the day when he can go home to his mother and forget the gods and their stupid rules. Jason, on the other hand, doesn’t have anywhere to go back to. Camp Jupiter and the roles he’s given there are quite literally it for him, so even though he may resent it as much as Percy, he feels the need to bite his tongue and do everything in his power meet expectations and stay in line, etc. And yes, it’s for the benefit of others like he said in HoH, but maybe also the threat that if he makes too much trouble, where else is he gonna go and who else outside the Legion does he have?

Unfortunately we wouldn’t get to see Frank and Hazel come into it as newbies because that would’ve only happened after the war, so unlikely the series would continue after they beat Krios. But it’d still be a good set up to lead back into HoO alongside original PJO.

Also, I wanna know if Jason would’ve been particularly aware of his dad handing him off to Juno, or if she took a back seat until yoinking his memories out his head and dumping him on a dusty bus. I quite like the idea of him knowing, that she wouldn’t have been shy about popping up now and again as his patron, maybe sending him quests, offering occasional assistance like Poseidon did for Percy. Juno cared about her little champion, you can’t tell me different. I’d like to see her drop by from time to time. Or if he just accepted he was Jupiter’s and his dad basically never wanted to talk to him, and was a bit blindsided when Juno popped up after his hit on Krios.

Maybe he was just heading to bed after a long day of Titan slaying, thinking what he’d have for breakfast tomorrow and poof - Juno staring at him in his PJs, doesn’t he feel underdressed. Barely gets out an “um-?” before she’s like “got a quest for you. Surprise!”

(Since we got The Fall Of Jason Grace from Apollo in ToA, this series could be called something silly like The Rise Of Jason Grace to mirror it. I dunno.)

Either way, I need this. We deserve this. I will literally pay like 20$ per book if we could get this.

Wrote this hella sleep deprived and without sources and I’m still in ToA and haven’t read the extra books yet like demigod files and the Probatio one, so anything I’ve missed, had been answered, or is just plain wrong, let me know.

[geniedocroe]

TIME BOMB

(frank perconte X reader)

requested on wattpad <3

wc: 800ish

“Jeez, Frank! Can’t you just leave it alone?”

“Have you lost your mind?” Frank protested, throwing his hands up in disbelief.

“Oh! It’s not that big of a deal!”

“Not a big deal? You joined the damn airborne!”

“And so did you!”

You and Frank had always been friends. Your parents had grown up together, the two of you were very close in age, and were practically inseparable anywhere you went. Despite how well you got along, you didn’t always see eye-to-eye. Besides, Frank was older than you, so that meant he technically had a sort of higher power over you (much to your annoyance).

There was something more than friends between the two of you, you knew it. You liked him, but he was just a family friend. Frank never made his feelings incredibly clear. With him, whatever was meant to be would happen when needed. That wasn’t the best motto to live by, but you had to deal with it.

“Well . . .” He struggled to find his next words. You looked at him expectantly with raised brows.

“Well, what?”

“What about us?” Frank spat out desperately.

“Us?” You had scoffed in disbelief. “There is no us! There never was!”

Frank recoiled, not very content with that statement. You might’ve been denying or repressing your feelings, but most of the arguments shared between the two of you went in this direction. One of you would claim there was an “us”, the other would deny it, and no one would ever confess their actual feelings. You were growing tired of this stupid game and Frank seemed on the edge of annoyance. The relationship was a ticking time bomb. You just hoped you had the right tools to diffuse it before it was too late.

There was no going back. Frank knew it and you knew it. Every day was the same as before. You’d argue and someone would storm out. An argument before either of you headed off to training was no good at all. There would never be enough time in the world for something like this. Yes, you were stubborn, but Frank owned that title. You would have to be the one to own up and apologize on most occasions, however, this wasn’t your fault.

No one wanted to die at war. Most people didn’t have a choice. Either you enlisted, or you were drafted. Anyone back at home saw too many family members or friends go away to only never be seen again. You couldn’t even bear to imagine the pain of losing someone at Pearl Harbor. Hell, you couldn’t even think about losing Frank even when he was still right at your side. You felt it in your bones. You wanted to enlist. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. If you were gonna die, at least you’d be with Frank . . .

“I want there to be!”

“What?” You paused.

“I want there to be an us. I look at you and I can’t help but love you. It’s honestly revolting-”

“Wow, thank you. That’s very uplifting.”

“It’s the really gross kind of love. The kind where all I want is to wake up in your arms or watch the sunset next to you. I can imagine where we’d live in forty years and the names of all our kids. It’s terrifying, but it all sounds so exciting because I know it’ll be with you.”

There was another pause where the two of you just stared at each other. Frank looked as though he could’ve cried. He was genuine, it was obvious. You had never fully doubted his feelings. It had always been some sort of confirmation of them that you had been seeking. For as long as you could remember, the topic of your relationship was a tug-of-war between the two of you. Now one of you had pulled far too hard and were both freefalling.

“Ugh, I hate you!” You hollered, surging forward. Frank attempted to take a step back (as if he was afraid of you or something), but you were quicker than him. With your hand on his collar and his own arms pinned to his sides as if he was a statue, Frank was blushing like wildfire.

“You don’t.” He stated, so sure that he was in the right.

“Yes, I do.” You were standing so close to each other that you probably could’ve morphed into one.

“I really don’t think you do.”

Without another thought, Frank pressed his lips to your own in a fleeting motion. Caught off guard, you stumbled slightly. Before you could even react he had pulled away with cheeks burning brighter than ever. You stared back at him with wide eyes as he tried to avoid your gaze.

“Okay, you caught me, I don’t hate you as much as I thought.”

[westmoor]

voices from within (a post-halloween special)

(other parts can be found here)

Following the success of his latest novel, Jaskier accompanies Geralt to fulfill a contract. He only hopes to get some sounds on tape, film some furniture moving, get his name out there and maybe catch the start of a new story - but some houses are haunted by more than just the ghosts of former residents.

---

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice barely rang above a breath. “Oh, it’s gorgeous.” For a moment he stood staring up at the building that was to shelter him for the next twenty-four hours, until the slamming of the driver’s side door snapped him out of it and he turned. “Geralt-”

Geralt only hummed his assent. It was impressive, stately even: When Jaskier had referred to it as a castle, it wasn’t far from the truth. 

Wide and squared and two storeys tall, brick painted a light creamy beige offset by dark brown, a dozen arched lattice windows gleamed in the afternoon light. Had he believed houses had personality he might’ve said this one looked friendly, inviting.

“What do you think?” Blue eyes twinkled at him, clearly pleased. “Do you like it? Think it will meet our expectations?”

He didn’t. He was decidedly less excited than his counterpart by what awaited them, and truth be told he would’ve preferred not to be there at all - or rather, preferred for Jaskier not to be there. It was a rule of his, one he’d reinforced after they had gotten together. He did not allow humans near his line of work.

But the novelist, after the success of the initial story featuring a Witcher, had been the one contacted about the job and had even brokered the contract, holding it over Geralt’s head until they had reached a compromise. He would be given free reign to do what he needed for the night, gather whichever so-called supernatural evidence and material he required, as long as he followed direction and kept a safe distance when told to. He had until dawn.

Still, Geralt couldn’t help the sneaking feeling of foreboding lurking at the back of his mind.

So no, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way it loomed behind the lean figure of his partner, deceptively calm, crouched like a beast lying in wait.

Geralt was saved from the attempt to voice his concerns - as brash as his boyfriend could be, he was remarkably perceptive - by a second car pulling in behind theirs.

No outside involvement had been another one of Geralt’s demands, triggering a tirade of protests from Jaskier, who in turn had argued that he couldn’t possibly cover the necessary ground on his own. Not within such a short time frame.

Unable to move his witcher, that particular settlement had eventually been perched on a technicality: No outsiders would join their so-called expedition.

How Jaskier had been able to get hold of Lambert and Eskel, much less convinced them both to join in, Geralt would never know.

Sneaky bastard.

Watching his brothers emerge from the car and approach them, however, he felt the restless beast in his chest subdued. Jaskier drew trouble like a spoonful of sugar drew wasps, but surely even he couldn’t manage to put himself in too much danger, not with three pairs of seasoned witcher eyes at his back.  

Rounding the silver hood of the vehicle, Eskel nodded at Geralt and extended a hand in friendly greeting to Jaskier. The two of them had only briefly met but hit it off immediately, which wasn’t too surprising - anyone with the sense not to balk at his scars would find the older wolf to be good company. 

Still waters run deep though, and his brothers knew better than anyone what it would take for a stranger to work through the layers of Eskel’s polite facade and earn real trust. Luckily for all of them, Jaskier’s openness and frank speech - verbose but earnest - had battered at it in much the same way as he’d broken down Geralt’s own walls.

Lambert, on the other hand - 

“Thought you said this place had ghosts, or whatever.” His hands were buried as deep in his pockets as they would go. “Are we going to go find some, or just stand out here until we join them? I’m freezing my tits off.”

Lambert was an acquired taste.

Jaskier didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest, and eagerly grasped the incentive to get moving. Within moments he had ushered them all up the double stone steps with an authority that probably wasn’t appropriate for a young man to direct at three monster-hunting mutants twice his size, but seemed entirely natural to him. 

Geralt thanked his lucky stars that neither brother commented on the quickening of his heartbeat.

---

If the exterior was impressive, the interior was overwhelming.

Heavy oak doors swung open on well-oiled hinges and they were led through to a lounging area, masterfully decorated to reflect the wealth and status of its original owners, walls practically dripping with frames illustrating its rich history. Past cushioned chairs, rococo sofas and tables on spindly legs, a grand staircase twisted up to the second floor, banister continuing along an interior balcony wrapping around the entrance from above. Beyond, rows of pearly white doors and pastel hallways would carry them into the heart of the manor.

Crossing the threshold felt like stepping through time. Despite the electric lights and vague distant hum of heating units, each piece in sight was as close to original as could be hoped for, selected and maintained with utmost care. 

But there was something else, too. Not so much a smell as a breath, an unmistakable lingering of things long lost.

Neither witcher voiced it, though they all clearly noticed - eyes skimming walls and nostrils flaring momentarily before they discerned what couldn’t be pinned down.

Jaskier slipped seamlessly into the role of the enthusiastic guide, throwing tidbits and details left and right while introducing the trio to the building’s past and present characters. His brothers exchanged glances at the shift in demeanour, but Geralt remained unfazed. He knew the writer hadn’t stumbled into his profession by chance, but lived and breathed for such occasions. Be it in speech or in prose, he was a born narrator.

What followed was a thorough tour of every notable room, nook, and cranny, all with a performative flair and tinged with what Jaskier referred to as reported phenomenons. Geralt hung back. He had already heard the broad strokes of it, but listened nonetheless, the added structure and dulcet tone of his lover’s voice crafting it into a proper story. 

The other two were paying the attention of hearing it for the first time, and his mind revived the question of how they’d been convinced to join in the first place. He might end up having to ask.

Though Jaskier was an entertaining host - and only got them lost twice - an hour had come and gone by the time they completed their loop and found themselves back at the top of the staircase.

“Now, gentlemen!” Clapping his hands, their guide halted in front of one of the large white doors. One, Geralt noted, they hadn’t opened yet. “If you would so kindly help bring in the equipment and start setting up for the night…” His lips quirked in that mischievous way at least one of them had come to know all too well. “I’ve saved the best for last.”

A lesser man would have succumbed to Lambert’s baiting comments and Geralt’s glare, but Jaskier’s penchant for dramatics could weather any storm. 

Only once the car had been emptied of gear and devices, wires stretched and screens installed, and after he’d procured a sturdy meal for his companions through a particularly scared-looking pizza delivery person, were they allowed back near the second floor landing.

“I want to look everything over one more time before we start recording, and maybe move another cam down to the first floor. The maid’s quarter is said to be particularly reliable, lots of people claim to have heard voices - lullabies even - between 3 and 4am.”

It was Eskel, who so far had been the most amenable of the group and asked only the most practical questions, that finally raised the issue that had crawled steadily closer to the surface as they worked. “This seems like a pretty big contract for a few disembodied voices.”

“Ah.” Jaskier’s grin grew wide. “But we’ve only scratched the surface so far. “

“In here,” he tapped the great door behind him, “lies the heart of this little castle, the grand salon, where the original owners would entertain guests. Basically the entire staff claims to have heard sounds coming from here. Music, clinking glass, the clamour of voices, as if there’s a party taking place, dragging well into the night. But when they open the door and look inside…” He snapped his fingers. “Nothing! Dark and abandoned, quiet as a grave.”

“If the claims are true, this is where it all began. There was an accident, you see, a real tragedy, one that cost the master of the house - a mister Lamm - and all six of his sons their lives. His widow, Dora, unable to let go and half mad with grief, prayed day and night to be reunited with her husband and to see her family again. But when religion failed her, as it’s wont to do, she cast her net wider, and gathered every prominent mystic and occultist of her time to aid her quest.”

Geralt stepped closer, the crux of their stay finally about to be revealed to his brothers, who were following the recounting with rapt attention.

“And she succeeded in bringing them back. Not to life, perhaps, but the halls were filled with children’s laughter and the sounds of running footsteps once again. Dora is said to have sat up nightly, listening, speaking to them until dawn. Only, it wasn’t the only thing they brought along.”

Eskel nodded, an idea of which road the story was about to go down, but waited for the man to continue.

“Now, I don’t know that I believe everything -” 

Lambert snorted, earning a sharp elbow to the side.

“- but according to mediums and other visitors who’ve stayed here over the years, the house is open somehow. Like a friction point worn thin. Supposedly whatever leaks through serves as a sort of battery for the rest - the knocking, the voices, the singing - but it’s not just that, either.”

Jaskier’s voice lowered a note as he dropped the theatrical edge, turning serious. “Previous employees say it… changes people. Makes them ill, triggers things. Makes them say and do things and behave in ways they otherwise wouldn’t. Most don’t stay very long. Others won’t leave, even after their employment is terminated.”

“The current owner wants it shut, whatever it is,” Geralt interjected. 

If Jaskier was annoyed at having his flow broken, it didn’t show, and he smoothly picked back up. “And that’s why we’re here! By morning, thanks to Geralt’s ministrations, this place should be as devoid of any spiritual activity as any regular old heap of rocks, and I want to catch it before it goes.”

Silence fell over the group.

“That’s it?” Lambert looked at Jaskier, brows raised. Then at Geralt, and back at Jaskier, who nodded affirmatively. He shrugged. “Okay. Fun.”

Geralt released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, and Jaskier leaned up to the door. 

“Well then, friends, if you’re ready!” He flicked the lock, before stepping back and turning to Geralt, features seeped in expectation. 

“Darling, would you do the honours?”

[propheye]

[   STATEMENT OF ANAIS VALENTINE,   REGARDING A 1996 FAMILY VACATION TO THE GRAND CANYON AND AN ATTEMPTED RITUAL SITE FOUND THERE.   STATEMENT GIVEN IN A DREAM,   JANUARY 2017.   ]

anais is not my real name.   i probably don’t need to tell you that;   you’re a tape recorder in a dream,   i’m sure you know my name.   dream-logic dictates you should know everything i know.   something else i know is that dream-logic isn’t always consistent,   doesn’t always make sense.   not in the usual dream way,   but in the this is more than a dream way,   in the way that i’m sure if i went hunting in the usher archives on monday i’d find the very recorder i’m talking into right now with these very words on it.

so hi,   future me.   i know i’ll be too curious to resist.   that’s the issue,   isn’t it?   my own fucking curiosity.

you want a story.   i know the deal.   here’s one.

my family was never the type to do much;   we went to the farmer’s market together every sunday but only because all our hands were needed to carry the groceries,   and that was probably the only time all five of us were in the same place.   mom worked nights,   dad worked pretty much all the time,   and i was the youngest of three.   but mom won the lotto when i was eight   —   not the kind of prize that makes you rich,   but a couple hundred meant we could have a family vacation for the first time,   and we road tripped from san francisco to the grand canyon.

it was a ten hour drive and by the end of it we were all sick to death of each other.   my sisters were teenagers by then   —   emil’s ten years older,   frank nine years,   so it’s not like we had anything in common.   mom and dad’d get divorced two years later,   and things were already tense there,   too.   we spent a very quiet night in a roadside motel   —   the kind of quiet that’s heavy,   that even an eight year old can tell would be a sin to be broken,   or would unleash something that no kid really wants to let loose.

the canyon’s big.   obviously,   right?   but it’s the kind of big that’s   —   that’s vast,   and i fucking know what that means,   now.   the elements at play.   that kind of scale isn’t something you can look away from,   even when you’re an eighteen year old supposed to be looking after your kid sister while your parents scope the gift shop for snacks.

i don’t blame emil for losing track of me.   but she did.   i was a tiny kid,   and it was easy to slip past barriers,   and i’d just had a climbing unit in my gym class,   where they hauled a rock wall into our gym and let us loose on it,   so i thought,   obviously,   that scaling the side of the canyon wouldn’t be any huge deal.

i fell.   of course i fucking fell.   it’s a goddamn miracle i didn’t fall further and break every single bone in my body.   as it was,   i only broke my leg;   it never healed quite right and i still have to use a cane on bad days.

it’d make sense if i’d screamed,   but i don’t think i did.   i remember being very sure that if i made any noise at all,   i’d get something’s attention.   i must’ve had a concussion too,   but i didn’t know what that meant,   and it wasn’t   ...   i’ve gotten concussions since then,   y’know?   it didn’t feel the same.   things weren’t fuzzy.   they were really clear.   like when i looked around i could see everything.

i saw:   an old man at the edge of the opposite side of the rocks,   with people falling around him.   i don’t know where they came from.   from the top,   would make sense,   but they seemed to just keep going,   like a repeat pattern.   i saw:   skeletons,   half-decomposed,   piling up from the very bottom where the water flowed until they’d almost reached the height i laid at.   i saw:   the air around me,   like it was a physical thing,   pressing in closer and closer until i could barely breathe.

more things,   too,   but they’re harder to describe.   more feelings than sights.

i turned myself around as quietly as i could and found myself in a cave,   and i sure as fuck hadn’t been there a moment ago,   but i wasn’t really in a place to question it,   was i?   on the wall there were carvings.   i saw them clearly,   even though it was dark and i’m pretty sure i still haven’t developed nightvision,   but it took me a second to understand them.   they were all eyes,   carved in relief so they were three-dimensional and jutting out at me.

i reached out to touch one.   that was fucking idiotic of me,   but i was eight,   so i’ve stopped judging myself for that one.

things stopped being all high-definition then,   so it’s kind of a blur,   but i must’ve finally started yelling because someone came and found me and returned me to my family.   vacation got cut short,   but that wasn’t really such a bummer   —   i got to miss the first two weeks of third grade to rest my leg,   and my family never had to be all in the same car for ten hours again,   thank fucking god.

the dreams started up afterwards.   i got really good at pop quizzes in my classes,   to the point that i wasn’t allowed to take the same ones as the rest of the class,   because the teachers thought i must’ve been cheating.   i mean,   i did cheat,   sometimes.   just not on those.   i dreamt that a boy in my grade was going to be in a car crash,   and he missed school for a week afterwards.   things like that.

it’s not always bad things,   but it usually is.   they’re easier to make out.   i don’t think this dream is one of those   —   they’ve got a certain tint to them,   and they’re like i’m looking through more eyes than just my own,   like a security camera setup is in my brain and i’ve got a three-sixty degree view.   this one’s weird,   but in the usher way,   not the cassandra way.

it wasn’t just the dreams that started after the canyon incident.   i’m always being watched.   i’m not paranoid,   no matter what my dad might’ve said if you asked him.   he thinks i’m dead now.   it’s   ...   it isn’t easy to fake your death,   exactly,   but after the first time it’s not hard.   after you figure it out once,   erasing yourself is a whole lot easier than keeping yourself the same.

i think that brings us to the now.   i could go into my two years in college before i dropped out,   or the half-dozen fake names i’ve had between eight and now,   but i’ve seen your ilk around the foundation.   don’t really get the recorders thing,   but it goes with everything else there,   right?   the watched feeling’s worse there,   but not oppressive in the way it is everywhere else.   more like a blanket than something smothering.   like i’m part of it,   somehow.

i started working at the usher foundation six months ago.   needed a tech person for their research team,   they said.   i’m going to destroy this damn tape if it actually shows up there,   so i guess i’m good to admit that that’s not why i started working there.   didn’t drop all my shit and move five states to dc because i saw a linkedin listing for something i hadn’t yet forged the qualifications for.   that’d be crazy.

there’s a reputation when you go snooping about weird shit of a certain kind.   not ghosts or whatever,   not bigfoot,   not even the paranoia thing,   but the grand canyon suddenly being filled with bones kinda weird.   y’know,   i’ve never actually told anyone about that part.   i knew,   even as a kid,   that it’d get written off as a hallucination.   all the roads lead to usher.   any answers i could get,    i could get there.

and i sure as fuck wasn’t going to give a statement of my own.   i guess that’s what i’m doing now,   but dreams don’t count unless they come true later.   i’ll deal with that when it happens.

so i’m working there,   researching and occasionally hacking when whatever info they need isn’t available.   you pick up skills like that.   an ex of mine was much better at computers than i was,   but i learned a lot from her in the year i stayed there.

i’m there to look into what happened to me,   sure,   but there’s a bigger reason.

i keep dreaming about the end of the world.   i don’t need to tell you which kind of dream those are.

[vulpinesaint]

Nyctophobia - Ch. 9

Sebastian trusts one person entirely and completely-and it certainly isn’t the strange boy who washed up on the shore of his island kingdom.

After a disastrous turn of events, however, the pair are forced off on an adventure through a land that neither of them know anything about. With a bard, a spy, and maybe a bit of magic, they’ll have to fight hard to get back home…

Wherever home is.

link to chapter one

link to all chapters (mobile)

link to all chapters (desktop)

Chapter Nine - The Prince In The Cell

The town jail—or the guard house; it was one of the two and Sebastian didn’t have enough experience with either to tell which one—only had a few cells. Sebastian ended up in one, behind stone walls and a wooden door with a space cut out for a few metal bars. He was isolated from the world, save for sound, with only a cot and a chair. They hadn’t told him anything about why he was there; just separated him and Robin and put him in a cell.

He was decidedly unfond of the situation. He felt trapped.

A guard opened the door. She looked as if she might’ve been in charge—she certainly carried herself with more decorum than the other guards Sebastian had come into contact with. She looked around Marianna’s age. Maybe a bit older. Sebastian glared at her, mistrusting, as she entered the cell. 

Upon arresting them, the guards had taken his and Robin’s things, among them his mother’s dagger. They’d also taken one of his knives when they’d caught him trying to pick the lock with it earlier on. This all left him with only one blade, the odds of which he did not like. 

“What am I doing here?”

The guard exhaled, closing the door behind her. One hand rested on the hilt of her sword. “I could ask you the same thing, kid.”

Sebastian glared harder. 

The guard pulled the chair over in front of the wooden cot and sat down. “Sit down,” she told him, gesturing to the cot. “We’re going to have a conversation.”

Sebastian said nothing in response. The guard sighed and turned the chair to face him, bracing her elbows on her knees. “Look. Here’s the situation. You match the description for a couple of criminals that the Queen’s issued and official warrant of arrest for. You and your friend, I mean. Our men might have been a little quick in arresting you, but you match the description almost exactly. Now—hold on—” she held up a and as Sebastian opened his mouth to protest. “There’s something I want to know. See, the Queen didn’t say anything about what exactly these criminals did, and the men and I are all awfully curious. Either way, you’ll be turned into the capital for imprisonment or execution or what have you, but we’ll treat you nicer if you let us in on your secret. Sound good?”

The word execution rang in Sebastian’s mind. He was being falsely accused. Him and Robin both. His thoughts raced. “That’s impossible. There’s no reason for my companion or I to be arrested.” Might was well try for the truth, before anything else.

The guard raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really? Because to me, you look awfully similar to—” from her pocket, she produced a piece of paper, and began to read. “Two young men, late teens to early twenties, both with brown hair. One tall, near six foot, green eyes, and one slightly shorter, with blue eyes.” She paused, and glanced down meaningfully at Sebastian’s boots. “Odd clothing or mannerisms. Got the report just this morning, actually. And then you two showed up.” She folded the paper and tucked it back into her pocket.

Sebastian’s expression didn’t betray his alarm. He kept his expression schooled as he racked his brain for any reason that the queen of this country would know about himself and Robin. They’d stolen from someone, but that man couldn’t have pinpointed them as the thieves, and there was no reason for the queen to be involved. It had to be someone else fitting their descriptions. “I’m sure you have the wrong people.”

The guard hummed a reluctant agreement. “Well. I wasn’t entirely convinced, at first, either; but that weapon and that partner of yours certainly aren’t helping your case.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Royal indignance started to creep into Sebastian’s tone.

“Well, to start, not many people have daggers like yours. Especially not the one in your bag, and the one that you pulled out of nowhere to try and pick the lock.” She tilted her head, smiling at Sebastian. A false sweetness honeyed her expression. “Care to tell me more about that?”

Sebastian did his best not to let his expression budge when she mentioned the dagger. “The sapphire knife is a family heirloom.” No real lies. Not yet. “The other is for protection.” He still had one of his daggers, in his right boot; he could kill the guard then and there and attempt an escape. His mind ran through the scenario several times before he bitterly accepted that he’d probably be overwhelmed by guards the minute he was out the door.

He still didn’t know why any of this was happening, and to be frank, he was panicked—though he was good at hiding it, even from himself. That was what he’d been doing since landing on the damned beach. He’d been caught for a crime he hadn’t committed, and his weapons, apparently, were conspicuous—skies, what kind of idiotic people didn’t carry any kind of protection with them? Since when was self-defense considered criminal? Stupid people, stupid guard, stupid continent—

“Oh, really?”

Sebastian decided to switch tactics. Build up a lie. Hope for the best. Hope they’d seem innocent. Any further with the truth, and he’d have to tell them where he was from, and he sincerely doubted that any of the idiotic mainland people would believe that he was a prince from an island that none of them had ever heard of. “We’re travelling. There are thieves on the road, you know.”

“And where are you and the other young man travelling to?

He shrugged. “Up the coast.”

That seemed to throw the guard for a moment. “Up the coast? Toward the capital?”

Sebastian had no idea where the capital of this damned, cursed country was, but he went along with it. “Yes. Toward the capital.”

“And why would that be, exactly?”

Sbeastian kept his expression schooled. He knew how to lie, to come up with something believable on the spot. It would’ve been easier if he knew how anything in te damned kingdom functioned, but he did his best. “We’re seeing the question. Thought it would be a nice trip, going up the coast.”

The guard nodded, but didn’t seem to believe him in the least. “Hmm. Well. There’s still another problem.”

“And what would that be?” He couldn’t escape his conspicuous clothes, but he’d provided a viable explanation for everything else, he felt. He didn’t know why he had the compulsion to lie his way out of all of it. He felt trapped. He wanted out.

“Your companion, there—well, it’s almost comical how much he looks like his wanted poster.”

Sebastian’s guard slipped. “His wanted poster?”

The guard produced another piece of paper from her pocket, and unfolded it. “We’ve had this one for a while, actually. Couple of months. Long enough that Jenson must’ve recognized your little friend.” She turned the paper to show Sebastian, and he was so startled by the striking likeness of Robin on the paper that he didn’t get a chance to read the charges against him before the guard folded the paper back into her pocket.

“I might’ve been willing to believe that you didn’t know about his crimes. But with a warrant out against the both of you? I can’t see how there’s a chance in hell you’re innocent, kid.”

“He wouldn’t—” Sebastian started, the confused outburst escaping him before he had the chance to consider it. Bad move. A slip-up.

The thoughts he’d been having those past few days clicked in his head. The musings over Robin’s past life. What if he’d really been a thief?

A hint of confusion slipped into the guard’s expression, but it disappeared after a moment. “Look, kid. I’m giving you a chance to confess, here.” She sounded kind, compassionate; Sebastian might’ve been convinced by it if he hadn’t been surrounded by liars his whole life.

He changed tactics. He drew himself up, lifted his chin, and gave the guard his iciest royal stare, the one that told the people around him that he had status. He’d learned it from his mother. He used to watch her staring down at the nobility, and he’d practice the expression in mirrors, in the reflective surfaces of crowns and blades. “I have nothing to confess.” He told the truth, but it felt like keeping up an act, rather than defending himself.

The guard studied his face. She was older than him—not old enough to be his mother, but maybe an aunt, or an older sister. Sebastian had never known any of his family members. His mother had been an only child, and her parents had died rather early on. His father’s family, the royal side, had been as resilient as his father himself when it came to surviving attacks. He’d never seen more than the occasional portrait of any of them. 

“I think you’re making a mistake here, kid. This is your last chance at leniency.” The guard leaned in closer, elbows resting on her knees and hands clasped. Sebastian held his ground. “If you won’t cooperate, we’re not going to be so nice when we take you off to the queen tomorrow.”

“Maybe the queen can tell me what I’ve done.” He’d almost said ‘your queen’. He detested this place.

The guard laughed, short and almost sympathetic. “Brave. The queen’ll filet you alive.” With that, she stood and left the cell. She didn’t even bother to keep an eye on Sebastian as she opened the door. He felt irrationally insulted.

The rest of that day was spent pacing the cell. He didn’t sit down on the cot, but he did jump up on the chair a few times when he was sure nobody was around. He didn’t want to relax. It felt wrong.

Nobody fed him, and his stomach grumbled a number of times—they hadn’t been eating that well since landing, and he wished desperately for good food, while cursing the idiotic guards that were stopping him from eating.

As he sat, waiting for morning, waiting for whatever would happen, he thought a few things over. Most importantly, how he would escape—whether he could pick the lock with his remaining dagger, whether he would be caught if he tried, whether he would be able to get Robin out if he were to take that route.

Something in his mind reminded him that it would be a hell of a lot easier to just leave Robin and go without him. Something else, fond and fierce, violently quashed that thought. He couldn’t leave Robin. Robin trusted him, Robin was dependent on him—he’d promised himself that he would protect him. No way in hell was he going to leave him to the whims of some guards.

Especially now that he’d seen that wanted poster.

That was the other thing on his mind. Robin had done something. And the two of them, at least two people who looked like them, had done something bad enough to have a warrant issued by the queen. Sebastian had no idea what was going on, and it frustrated him to no end, made him want to scream and throw the chair against the wall and cry. 

He staunchly ignored the impulse to cry. He kicked the chair against the wall. Nobody came in to check on him, so he glared at the piece of wood and left it on its side. There was a jagged crack in the wood. He felt a little better. 

He couldn’t help but think that maybe this was some sick sort of reversal of his and Robin’s situations. Robin had been pulled into Sebastian’s life, into danger and uncertainty, through no fault of his own. The opposite was happening to Sebastian now.

The sun set, and his mind had made no real progress. All he’d been able to settle on was that there really was something to the little things he’d noticed about Robin—the quiet movement, the easy theft, the way he could hide his emotions so naturally, the unease at sleeping in one room for too long. There was something to connect it all, some common thread in the shifty tapestry. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Night fell. He could hear crickets outside. There was no light in the cell. He stood by the door, at full attention, waiting for any sign of movement. He hated being stuck. He hated feeling unprepared. He hated feeling trapped. 

The sound of boots approached his cell door, hours later, in what must have been the middle of the night. Sebastian perked up. There was no reason for a guard to come to the cell, this late, unless he’d severely misjudged the time, and he was being taken to the queen of this awful, horrid kingdom. 

Maybe it was Robin. Maybe he’d gotten out, gotten keys; he’d held his own in the escape from the castle, and Sebastian knew he could steal, so—

Keys turned in the lock, and the door opened to reveal a guard; the same one who had arrested them earlier. Sebastian’s heart fell. Robin’s footsteps had always been quieter.

“Hey, there, prisoner.” The guard grinned, baring pearly white teeth. His sword was drawn, and trained on Sebastian’s neck.

Sebastian couldn’t see any hint of sincerity in the man’s expression. He lifted his chin, as regal as he could be, daring an attack, and glared back.

“Got a proposition for ya,” the guard continued, undaunted by Sebastian’s response (or lack thereof). “See, we don’t get paid that well. And I couldn’t help but notice this pretty little silver-blue dagger with your things. Quite the weapon, isn’t it?”

Sebastian refrained from using his remaining knife at that point, but glared daggers nonetheless.

The guard kept on. “So. Here’s my deal for you. I’ll let you out, give you your stuff, and you can be on your way. You give me that pretty dagger in exchange. You get your freedom, the rest will assume that you took the weapon, and I get something nice for myself. Everyone wins.”

“No.” Steel braced Sebastian’s tone. There was no way in hell he was giving up his mother’s dagger. It was precious. Valuable. It was—

Well. It was the last thing he had of her.

“Oh, come on, kid,” said the guard, who really didn’t look that much older than Sebastian himself. Sebastian positively bristled at his patronizing tone. “It’s not like you have much choice in the matter. I may not know what you did, but I know you’re guilty. Either you get out now or you get convicted, and you won’t get your precious dagger back anyway.”

A long pause. Silence. “Fine. Let me out.”

The guard lowered his sword, and stepped aside, and Sebastian stepped out of the cell. It already felt easier to breathe.

The guard led the way to the door of the jail, or guard station, or whatever it was called, and gestured to Sebastian’s pack, where it sat by the door. He must’ve placed it there beforehand. There was a smugness in his grin, and with the placement of the pack, he’d obviously been certain that his plan would work; there was a surety, an egotistical confidence to it all, and Sebastian absolutely detested it.

“There you are, mystery man. You can be on your way, now.” A hint of silver-blue flashed in the guard’s hand, in his pocket, and Sebastian tensed. Then something else occurred to him.

“Where’s my companion?”

The guard looked entirely satisfied in himself. Sebastian didn’t have the words to describe how much he hated him in that moment. “Your little ‘companion’ wasn’t part of the deal, kid. Either you go on without him or you stay here in a cell.”

Sebastian’s glare was icy as he bent to pick up his pack from its demeaning place on the floor, and he kept it trained on the guard the whole time. His hand rested on the top of his boot.

Sebastian had been fighting for a long time. He’d been training with sharp weapons since he was a child, and he knew how to use them, knew how to use his body, to move fast and defeat opponents. The guard obviously didn’t have those same advantages. Sebastian had a blade to his neck and a hand around the hilt of the man’s sword before the shock had even begun to set in.

“Where are your keys?” he hissed, and when the guard muttered some incoherent, fearful answer, Sebastian ordered him to hand them over.

“Now, take me to my friend.”

Keys in hand, knife to the guard’s neck, Sebastian felt better than he had in a while. This was a plan. This was action. This was him, having control, having agency; he could do something. He was saving Robin. He reveled in it as they walked to Robin’s cell.

The guard walked slowly, silent, trying to maintain composure. Sebastian had met this kind of man before. They all possessed a certain brand of cockiness, a self-surety, and they all, inevitably, feared death above all else. 

When the guard pointed out the cell, Sebastian confirmed, nodded, and plunged his dagger into the man’s throat, twisting it sharply. He’d still have to wait for him to die, but at least he wouldn’t be able to scream for help.

The guard made a gargling sound and dropped to the floor. Sebastian flicked his hand away sharply to get some of the blood off and turned to unlock the door to Robin’s cell.

Robin hadn’t slept, either, and he looked tired and on-edge, but seeing him felt like a breath of fresh air. Sebastian did his best to ignore the look on Robin’s face when he saw the still-dying guard.

“C’mon. We have to go.” Sebastian considered crushing the throat of the guard further, but then decided that having blood on his boots would not be helpful if he were to get caught again. He stepped around the forming puddle and knelt, retrieving his mother’s dagger from the guard’s pocket. He felt much better with it in his possession. It didn’t quite fit, but he slipped it into his boot.

Robin had emerged from his cell, and picked his way around the guard. He didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t say anything. Sebastian offered his hand. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but it was a nice reassurance, to know that Robin was there. After a moment, Robin took it. Sebastian led the way out of the little complex. He was still missing a dagger, but he didn’t have time to go poking around while they might still have gotten caught.

At the door, Sebastian stopped to put his pack on his shoulder, and they made it outside, into the moonlight and the fresh air. The place they’d been held was just outside town, up on a hill; there was a lovely view of the moon and the town. He would have stopped to just… sit, and revel in his freedom, but he was still anxious about being caught. 

Even if he had stopped, he wouldn’t have lost much time. 

“Stop!” 

Sebastian and Robin both whirled around, dropping each other’s hands. Another guard—the tall, broad-shouldered one who’d helped in arresting them—stood with his sword at the ready. “Look, nobody has to get hurt,” he said, glancing between them with a reticence that gave Sebastian pause. “But I can’t let you go. Come with me.”

Robin took hold of Sebastian’s wrist and whispered to him. “Let’s just run.”

“He’ll call for backup. I have to make sure he won’t call anyone.” Sebastian handed his things to Robin.

“Sebastian—” Robin started, but Sebastian was already moving, determined to leave no loose ends.

“You can still go back to your cells,” the guard said, as Sebastian walked toward him. “There doesn’t have to be a fight. I don’t have to call anyone else out here.” His sword was leveled at Sebastian’s chest, and his hands tightened around the grip. Sebastian kept his pace even. He knew how to fight off a sword-user with his daggers. He’d had enough practice with one to feel fairly confident. 

A problem presented itself, however, in his weapons. Usually, two daggers provided a defense and an attack, but he only had one, and his mother’s blade was much smaller than what he was used to. It certainly looked more ceremonial than practical, and while it could do damage, it didn’t look strong enough and certainly not long enough to block a sword if it needed to. The last thing Sebastian wanted to do was ruin his mother’s dagger for one stupid fight. He opted to only use the one in his hand. He would be fine. The other guard didn’t seem to have much going for him, combat-wise, so this guard would probably be the same. Didn’t seem like people fought much over here, anyway.

Knees bent, like a cat ready to strike, Sebastian moved into the range of the sword. He had to get close enough to land a hit. Possibly two. The guard struck first—a swing at the shoulder that Sebastian was able to block—and then he was close enough. He aimed a stab at the guard’s neck, but it was blocked. Another swing from the sword. He dodged back out of reach as the blade surged towards his torso, then, as the guard was recovering, darted back in to strike again. The guard raised his sword. That would be easy to block, he thought, and slipped under an arm and drove his blade into the area where he would find the guard’s heart. He pulled away with a rush of victory, breathing harder, though the fight wasn’t over. He’d landed a strong hit. It would be easier from then on.

He’d been too confident.

Blinding pain shot through his left shoulder, and he barely registered the sword through the pain and then the feeling of blood seeping into his clothes. A flash of metal pulled away from it as the solid figure of the guard staggered back.

The pressure of hands appeared on his left arm and right shoulder, and Sebastian tried to jerk away before he registered that it was Robin, solid and gentle and pulling him away from the guard.

“Come on, Sebastian. Let’s just go,” Robin pleaded, shifting his grip from his left arm to around his waist when he hissed in pain. 

“He’s not dead yet,” Sebastian insisted, fighting tears and not feeling the pain all at once. “I have to finish it.”

“No, you don’t,” Robin said, firmer this time. “We have to run. Come on.” 

Sebastian protested again, but Robin pulled him away, out into the night. He gave in after a few more minutes, unable to focus on the pain and protest all at once. They broke into a run, Sebastian holding onto his arm to try and keep it from moving too much, and Robin pulling him along. Over his shoulder, Sebastian saw the guard make his way across the doorstep of the guard house, and heard him call for help.

It took a moment for the other guards—the woman from before, and one that Sebastian didn’t recognize—to run outside. By the time that they did, Sebastian and Robin had made it down the hill, and were running across the town towards where they’d left their horse. 

The guards called for someone to stop them, but Sebastian could barely hear it over the pounding in his head and of his feet against the cobblestone. He saw people emerging blearily from houses and storefronts, but he and Robin were past them before they had any opportunity to stop them. 

He could have sobbed with relief when he saw that the horse was still there. Robin let go of Sebastian and ran to untie the animal. Once that had been done, he pulled himself up, helping Sebastian up after him. Once Sebastian was holding onto Robin, probably getting blood all over the other young man, Robin gave a sharp “Hyah!” and they rode off into the darkness, leaving the yelling of the guards to fade into the background.

-

oh, boy. long wait, huh?

at least this probably had enough action to make it a little bit exciting. are you guys intrigued? tell me what you think!

also, people tell me to stop hurting sebastian, but i gotta tell you that it’s not gonna stop anytime soon. either way, i mean, i already killed his mom, so i’m not sure there’s much worse i could do to him. just saying.

anyway! i’ll try and be a little faster on the next update. no promises, though :)

see you guys next update *finger guns*

~ Love from Rai ~

TAGS: @virgils-jacket , @nemothesurvivor , @deathshadowrules , @yayroos , @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars , @rainykingdoms

(let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

[maqichour]

*inhales* hi ! i’m roni ( she/her ) , i’m nineteen , i’m from california and i must confess : i’m a fake very very clueless as i’ve never been in any sort of hp rp before . . . but i’m also rly Determined so i’m gonna fake it ‘til i make it ! but anyways , this is marc and he’s a loser ?? i’m rly bad at writing bios but . . . i tried ?? but yeah , pls read about him below ! also give this a like if you’d like to plot && i’ll message you asap , though i’m probably gonna message everyone anyways omg

   dusty stacks of old, worn out books you’ve collected but haven’t yet found the time to read . . . forgiving someone no matter how hard it may be . . . the hand that pulls you back up when you fall . . . fields of sunflowers at sunset . . . doing what you think is right even if others are against it . . . the warm and calming sounds of a piano filling the room . . . lying in the grass for hours, soaking up the warm sun .

 if you’re looking for MARC MCKINNON, you’ll probably find HIM in the HUFFLEPUFF dorm with the rest of the SEVENTH years. they’re the TWENTY-ONE year old PUREBLOOD who looks kind of like ALEX FITZALAN. they seem AFFABLE, COURTEOUS & FRANK to me, but apparently they’re also STUBBORN, OPINIONATED & FICKLE. maybe that’s why their patronus is A BASSET HOUND. ( cis male / he/him )

。・ * ✧ about !

marc was never as bright or quick as his sister, often finding himself among the average ( and even sometimes below ) , though he never really minded, finding comfort in knowing he’d at least tried his very best. 

even as a child, marc was kind and gentle ( much like his parents ) as well as curious and full of his own thoughts and opinions. as he got older, the more he believed his opinions were always right and was more adamant towards them. one of his earliest thoughts was regarding the attitude and morals held by most purebloods-- he simply didn’t understand them, and almost hated being stuck with the label, as well. he kept it to himself for a while, but soon learned his parents felt the same way, and everything made sense to him. he knew he was right and it was then he vowed to speak his mind more frequently rather than hide his opinions.

marc always felt deep down that he was a hufflepuff and hoped for nothing more when first attending hogwarts. any fear he might’ve felt about getting sorted into any other house was quickly buried-- he knew in his heart he wouldn’t get them, and his heart was rarely wrong. he only hoped his sister would be there with him, but he knew she’d be fine on her own in slytherin, and she was, mostly. marc, on the other hand, struggled his first year trying to find his own place within the school and within his house. it didn’t take long, though, and people were sort of drawn to him -- his friendly and polite disposition almost like a beacon -- and he soon found himself climbing the social ladder, not entirely realizing how or when it happened. 

he still wasn’t the brightest student, but he had found certain things he did excel at, such as herbology, astronomy, potions, care of magical creatures, and charms ( though he also thoroughly enjoyed muggle studies ) as well as  quidditch ( as a chaser ! )  and even becoming a prefect for his house.

marc is most often spotted chatting with friends in the hall ( and constantly making new ones ) , helping anyone and everyone in need of it, or just . . . arguing. though in his free time, he loves to read, play music, and just like ... walk around exploring ??

。・ * ✧ etc !

house : hufflepuff

patronus : a basset hound

clubs / etc : quidditch ( chaser ! ) , prefect , potions club , astronomy club, charms club 

pets : a toad . . . name tbd

zodiac sign : scorpio ( 6 november ! )

positive traits : affable / courteous / frank / open-minded / determined / loyal / patient / optimistic / confident yet humble / etc

negative traits : stubborn / opinionated / fickle / adamant / disorganized / etc

inspo : amy santiago , michael scott , winston bishop , jessica day , etc

im rly bad at writing bios so i don’t think i got to properly convey everything i wanted to so !! time to blab ?? slash ( / ) a tldr ?? okay so !! 

marc spends a lot of his free time reading but he’s kinda a slow reader bc he gets distracted easily or can’t find the free time but he rly does love to read ??

loves loves loves plants n herbology ??

is rly rly friendly n loves company n loves people he’s just a people person i guess??

isn’t the most talented ever but he’s okay with that because he knows his strengths lie more in other things !! 

he doesn’t know what he wants to do in the future and if u ask him , he’ll give u a different answer each time ( though his go-to’s are usually something about wanting to work in hogsmead or as a herbology professor even though he knows either might not be the best fit , like , socially??  )

follows the rules but sometimes wishes he was a bit more rebellious ??

but he likes to wander around a lot and if people question him he’ll pull the prefect card 

basically he’s ..all the stuff in his musings tag n aesthetics and that scene from spider-man homecoming where peter’s like “i can be intimidating” ( this one ) except ..he can sometimes but that’s usually just bc he’s rly loud n passionate about his opinions omg he’s rly just a softie i wish i was better at elaborating but i’m not but trust me you’ll see dhfjd

。・ * ✧ connection ideas !

i’m so ! bad @ this but uh

best friends / ( fr )enemies / unlikely friends / bad influence / any friends ???

exes / flirtationship / unrequited crush ( can go either way ) ?? 

forgot to mention . . . but marc is bi so !! these are open to anyone n everyone !!

idk let’s wing it !

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

The Problem with the Avengers

 I’ve been reading a lot of Avengers comics recently scattered throughout their history and whilst they often have enough superhero action to kill some time, rarely have I ever found myself that engaged by the stories. In truth I’ve felt that way about virtually every Avengers story I’ve ever read.

In contrast whenever my reading lists took me to a random X-Men or Fantastic Four comic book I found they made for simply better reading.

This got me thinking about how traditionally and even now with the enhanced status the Avengers have in the comic series still seems to generate less enthusiasm than a lot of it’s competition with the really major superhero teams out there.

I think the fundamental problem is that, unlike those other teams, the Avengers is sorely lacking in identity.

I define the major Marvel/DC superhero teams as the ones that have been around near consistently for at least 30ish years and have have bled into multiple forms of other mass media.

So we’re talking the Fantastic 4, the Justice League (regardless of whether it’s called the Super Friends, the JLA, etc), the X-Men (and it’s associated spin-offs, e.g. X-Force, X-Factor, New Mutants) and the Titans/Teen Titans and the Avengers.

Unlike the Avengers, each of those teams has one or more simple ideas and hooks that have, more often than not, defined them and given them a basic but concrete premise to fall back on that the audience can easily connect to.

The Justice League are the All-stars of the DC universe, the team with the truly iconic characters in it’s line up and/or the guys who are at least mainstays of the DC universe in some fashion and well known to comic book readers. They are also at times allegorical to Greco-Roman Gods, e.g. Superman = Zeus, Batman = Hades, Green Lantern = Apollo, etc.

The X-Men are allegories for persecuted minorities and those who face bigotry in some fashion, as well as at times being allegories for adolescence.

The Fantastic Four are a nuclear family of scientists and explorers.

The Teen Titans are the junior heroes, the next generation, a junior Justice League if you will and more often than not the sidekicks to the older iconic heroes.

The Titans are the above but all grown up, independent, a non-nuclear family and in essence the next generation on the cusp of becoming the what their mentors were.

Now the Avengers at face value also have an easily understood hook too. They’re Earth’s Mightiest Heroes right? They, like the Justice League, are the All-stars of the Marvel universe right? Sometimes they’re talked of as being loosely equivalents to the Knights of the Roundtable.

The problem is that in practice...this is mostly lip-service.

For sure IN-UNIVERSE most people look up to the Avengers or hold them in similar esteem that the DC citizens hold the Justice League.

But as far as the real life audience is concerned for most of the Avengers history they really weren’t the All-stars of the Marvel universe and that comparison to Arthurian legend is really more talked about outside the comics more than it ever was genuine text or subtext in the pages themselves.

Lets put the Avengers into historical context. When the team debuted in 1963, consisting of Thor, Iron Man, Hulk, Ant-Man and the Wasp, all of those characters were less than 2 years old.

And its a matter of historical record that they were neither the highest selling nor the most popular superhero books Marvel was putting out, Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four were.

Furthermore the Hulk’s solo title had earlier that year been cancelled and whilst the other Avengers were continuing to regularly appear every month it was in anthology titles where they were simply the main, but not solo, stars. Those titles weren’t even NAMED after those heroes. You had Tales of Suspense for Iron Man, Journey into Mystery for Thor and Tales to Astonish for Ant-Man and Wasp.

Were these guys REALLY Marvel’s mightiest heroes?*

No they really weren’t.

To be frank it seems more like Stan Lee et al were trying to make bank off of the innate appeal of crossing characters over and doing so by grouping together the less successful and less popular characters.

You could make a similar argument for the Justice League of course, except when they debuted most of their members had been around considerably longer and they had Wonder Woman as a mainstay with Superman and Batman at times dropping in too, their presence only increasing across the decades. Nowdays many fans feel its just not the Justice League without the Trinity of Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman.

Back to the Avengers, these characters were the revered all-stars of Marvel in name only, with the Hulk even leaving shortly afterwards, replaced by the probably more famous Captain America...who also didn’t have his own book at the time. Cap actually didn’t regularly appear in any title until around a year after his Avengers debut when he began starring alongside Iron Man.

Cap might’ve been a long established hero but even he wasn’t high profile enough to get his OWN solo-series. In fact when he finally did what really happened was he became the solo star of Tales of Suspense (renamed to Captain America) and IRON MAN got his first true solo-series**

To make the matter clearer when the Avengers went through their first major shakeup (less than TWO YEARS after the series began) the cast consisted of Cap (who was still sharing with Iron Man at this point), Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver.

The Avengers had now been reduced to one character who shared a title with another one and three former villains who’d NEVER had solo-stories before, who weren’t even appearing regularly anywhere outside of the Avengers title.

Creatively this wasn’t all that bad. After all one of the pitfalls of team books like Avengers or Justice League is that often the series is constrained by events happening in the characters’ solo books or the other way around. Like the, F4 Cap’s kooky quartet could grow and develop in the Avengers and the only place you could see that potential growth was IN the Avengers comic itself; Johnny and Ben’s bland and bad solo yarns in Strange Tales notwithstanding.

However Cap kooky quartet was yet more evidence of how the ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ was a cool slogan for the team and nothing more. They were a million miles away from being the Marvel All-stars they were treated or promoted as.

They were just ANOTHER Marvel team, more or less a home for miscellaneous Marvel heroes who were:

a)      Relatively Earthbound

b)      Not overly weird like Dr Strange

c)       Flashier than dude’s without costumes like Nick Fury

d)      Not already on teams

e)      Not independently popular/interesting like Spider-Man

 After all there is a reason so much of Iron Man and Cap’s histories are wrapped up with the Avengers titles and why most adaptations of the characters work in wider Marvel Universe elements. Its because those characters supporting casts and rogue galleries were not strong enough on their own to support their solo titles most of the time, so they essentially became Avengers satellite books.

 This miscellaneous aspect to the Avengers though gave rise to another interpretation of the team, that in fact part and parcel of the point of them was that ANY Marvel hero could join their ranks. In essence that the Avengers could be a grand crossroads of the Marvel universe where any and all characters could pop up.

 Its a nice sentiment but holds little water when you consider how the Avengers in-universe were typically treated as the premiere superhero team and how in practice many characters remained consistently out of their ranks. Even if we do swallow this line of thinking that simply means that the Avengers in being a team where anyone can join simply has no identity at all.

 The X-Men during Claremont’s iconic run had a similar sort of idea of constantly changing up the roster except that book had the fundamental mutant metaphor to hold the shifting characters together no matter what.

 When your team identity is that the identity can be anything your team hasn’t GOT an identity.

 And this problem with the Avengers (a lack of identity wrapped around a false claim of being the Marvel All-star line up) went on and on and on for DECADES!

 It got to the point where the X-Men, who in the Silver age FAILED compared to the Avengers, made good on their second chance and gradually grew in popularity until they clearly eclipsed every other Marvel team and by the 1990s eclipsed every other superhero team and book on the stands, exempting at times Spider-Man or Batman. In that decade anything with an X would sell whilst anything with an Avengers A was B-grade at best.

 Whilst the Avengers claimed to be Earth’s Mightiest Heroes and Marvels A-list heroes, Spider-Man and the X-Men actually WERE.

 In 2004 when Bendis created the New Avengers with the explicit intention of re-orientating the team to finally truly be the Marvel A-list squad it had always claimed to be it had 2 big problems.

 The first was that after 40 years and 500 issues the perception of the Avengers within the comic book community had become pretty entrenched. The second was that Bendis only slightly made good on this promise of reinvention.

 By which I mean he added Spider-Man and Wolverine (basically the Superman and Batman of Marvel as far as their popularity went) to the Avengers as mainstays and then kept Iron Man, Cap and added in B-listers Luke Cage and Jessica Drew and not even a B-lister the Sentry.

 To be clear I am not trying to insult Luke or Jessica but most people in 2004 didn’t know who they were and most who did didn’t care about him. they were added to raise their profile which is the exact opposite of what the book was claiming to do.

 Even now with both characters holding more prestige than they did back then, if you were making a truly All-star Marvel superhero team Luke Cage and Jessica Drew probably wouldn’t be on the squad considering neither has a movie.

 Whilst it’s true Bendis made New Avengers an unqualified success if you or I wrote a comic book with the two biggest Marvel characters in it hot on the heels of beloved and acclaimed movie appearances for both (which were sequels no less) of course it will sell like hot cakes.

 But that sales success has absolutely not lasted.

 Because again, the Avengers have no true identity as a superhero team, not even with the raised profile of the more traditional Avengers members afforded by their film appearances. At this point the failure of Iron Man’s popularity in wider pop culture to translate into much of an increase in comic sales is a bad joke. The fact is the comic book reading community still regards Iron Man as of lesser status than someone like Batman or Spider-Man or Wolverine and similarly the Avengers status as a team is still being hurt by the decades during which they were all sizzle and little steak.

 Ironically this effect has been mitigated in adaptations. In cartoons (like Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes) a fresh modern take on the Marvel universe was presented wherein the Avengers characters were among the first  and seemingly only heroes to inhabit that world (as far as the audience initially believed) essentially rendering them Earth’s Mightiest Heroes by default and free of the F4 or Spider-Man as a measuring stick could truly come off as All-stars. It also helped that the team membership was more consistent and a greater focus was placed upon their interpersonal relationships with one another, rendering them either a family or a kind of private little community of superheroes. Plus the show was as much an adaptation of the wider Marvel universe as it was Avengers stories, meaning often they could give focus episodes over to individual members to flesh them out.

 To n extent the same thing happened in the MCU although because the MUC established solo movies for most of the Avengers first it in essence raised the prestige of each character thus justifying their claim to the film Avengers being all-star players. Plus there was a certain glamour and energy afforded the first film from being a never before done experiment in crossing over so many properties, this then fuelling consequent movies like Infinity War.

 What’s ironic about all this is that the false interpretation of the Avengers being the Knights of the Roundtable is actually a way more fertile concept to build the Avengers team identity around and a more compelling hook to sell to the wider audience.

 You could retain the idea that, in-universe, they are the Marvel All-star line up, but in the true substance of the series loosely build the stories and characters more around moderinzed takes upon Arthurian legend and ideals of heroism. Much as the Justice League have at times served as loose allegories for the Greco-Roman Pantheon.

If you look at the original team of Avengers, plus Captain America and Hawkeye, they already fit into loose concepts of Medieval era knights anyway.

Cap is a soldier, in other words a modern day knight, who is the absolute ideal warrior (Lancelot) complete with a form of chainmail armour and a weapon distinctly from Ye Olden Days.

Iron Man has frequently been referred to as a modern day knight in shining armour because he literally wears armour.

Thor is a Viking whom, I’m not sure were exactly around during when Arthurian legend is supposed to happen but like...close enough.

Hulk is perhaps equivalent to a troll, a creature from Medieval fairy tales.

Hawkeye is of course an archer and a clear Robin Hood allegory (Robin Hood is also Medieval).

And you could say Ant-Man and Wasp are akin to pixies. And even if you think not Hank when Giant Man is obviously a fairy tale giant.

I’m not saying every character needs to be as exact as those, but it’s just something for the team to concretely hang their hat on rather than continuing to insist they are the best Marvel characters all in one team when they usually don’t even have Marvel’s most popular character with them!

[current-mcr-news]

Casual Interactions #4: Full Transcription

John: Welcome to Casual Interactions podcast with Frank, Shaun, and Hambone. How are you guys doing today?

Frank: Good.

Shaun: Great.

F: I got the "strength and beauty" mug. Did you notice that?

S: I have a Superman one.

F: Yeah.

J: I got the "coffee makes you poop" mug.

F: Which is- yeah. That's a universal truth mug.

J: Yeah, it's like a truth bomb mug.

F: Yeah. I like that.

J: That makes you go. So, we wrapped up episode 3, which is pretty much, I think, all we really have to say on a band that went absolutely nowhere.

F: That's the thing, man! I can't believe we got that far with it.

J: Anything you wanna wrap up?

F: I don't think so. I feel like, I thought it was- I was like, "Oh wow, like, that was actually entertaining." It was probably more entertaining than actually living it.

S: Oh, you know, I actually thought of something.

F: Oh, what do you got?

S: I thought it might be interesting to talk about how Hambone got the name Hambone.

J: Oh god.

F: Oh my god.

S: Because that's not his actual name, in case you were wondering.

F: He was not born as Hambone.

J: In fairness, I've been Hambone for almost as long as I've been John McGuire.

F: So, here's the thing. It started on a long trip down the shore.

S: To Atlantic City. But here's the question I have: what the fuck were we doing in Atlantic City? That I have no idea. Why the hell were we going to Atlantic City?

F: I don't know! We had no money.

S: No.

F: No. We were underage-

J: We're really doing this? We're gonna tell the story?

S: Do you know the story?!

F: Do you know the story?

J: Oh, I know the story.

F: Oh, please tell the story then!

S: Is it a bad story?

F: Yeah, I definitely came here like, thinking that we weren't going to do anymore origins.

S: Listen, you don't have to do this if you don't want to.

F: No! Well, now we do.

S: I just thought it might be interesting.

F: Alright, even if it doesn't make it, I'd like to know because I don't remember.

J: So what the story is, is that I was-

S: Just tell Frank. Just text Frank.

F: Just whisper it to me! Sorry, go ahead.

J: [whispers] Just whisper it over here. Just fucking whisper it. [speaking] We were all underage, and we rented a condo in Absecon. Now this is before you could do that home away, this was before you could just go on your phone and like, find a cabin in the woods and rent it for the weekend for like a sexy getaway. We, for some reason-

F: Or murder.

J: Or murder, hey.

F: Right?

S: Who does- who has a sexy getaway in a cabin in the fucking woods?!

J: Clearly not murderers. Clearly.

S: Wait did- oh, alright, never mind.

F: People do that! Don't they? I don't know, I've never done it.

J: Yeah.

F: Hambone's done it.

S: Hambone apparently does that.

J: Well, if you call a sexy getaway in the woods playing a lot of Dungeons & Dragons, and eating a lot of barbecue, then yeah. I'm here for it.

F: Oh, a sexless getaway.

J: When you look back, it's a sexless getaway.

F: Got it.

J: So, we did this thing where- I don't even know why we rented it, but we rented it for New Year's Eve, and everyone was down there.

F: Oh my god, I remember that. Alright, go ahead.

J: Yeah. Yeah. Everyone was down there-

S: I remember who Hambone was dating at the time.

J: I do.

F: You don't?

J: I do!

F: Oh, I do too.

J: Yeah, we're not- okay, there's a certain layer of mystery that needs to be left on this story.

F: Got it!

S: No, yeah, I agree.

F: Real quick though, she was into witchcraft, right?

S: She was a witch.

J: Allegedly.

F: Alright, got it.

S: And then she gave Hambone a bath.

J: That was a different girl and that was a Christmas party. So-

F: Okay.

J: Jesus Christ, I'm so happy a lot of this stuff happened before the internet.

F: I like when it floods back on the air. Alright, go ahead.

J: Yeah. So, we went down there with a whole bunch of our friends, and everyone got like, obliterated. Me more than anybody else. Everyone had a few pops too many, and I ended up naked in front of the fridge, and it was completely dark in the room. Have you ever seen the end of the movie The Lost Boys, where the grandfather finally kills the head vampire. He comes home, and it's completely dark in there, and he opens up the fridge and the light envelopes the room? That essentially was the kitchen in this shitty apartment that we rented in Absecon, New Jersey. Now, I- for some reason, I'm naked, and I walk downstairs to go into the fridge, probably to get a sandwich.

F: Presumably out of the bath.

J: Presumably out of the bath. Different party! I'm telling you.

F: Alright!

J: And, I don't know, I went down there. Now, granted, back in the day, I was a little bit of a larger fellow. I was, you know, probably close to about 3 bills at the time.

F: Really?! No!

S: Come on.

F: No!

J: Oh yeah.

S: Really?!

J: Yeah.

S: I never would've thought that.

F: You wore it well then.

J: Thank you very much guys!

F: You're welcome. I'm just saying.

J: Stop flattering me so much!

S: Go tickle him.

J: Don't tickle- I'm- stop! Hey, there's a line. So, I went downstairs, presumably to get a sandwich or something. It's completely dark down there, I don't really know that anyone's down there because it's late at night. So, I open up the fridge, and I lean over into the fridge to get a sandwich, and a little voice from behind me says, "Hambone, get me a Coke." And I look up and I turn, and there's Frank, looking at my giant, moon-like ass, glowing from the light of the refrigerator. And you know, it's the kind of thing that happens when someone says a name in your direction, and if you look, it sticks with you for the rest of your life. So, here we are, 20 something years later, and I'm still Hambone.

S: Oh man.

F: Yeah, alright.

J: That's how it happened.

F: Just because all I wanted was a Pepsi.

J: Yeah! Just one Pepsi. And then that nickname stuck.

F: Right, yeah yeah yeah.

J: For 20 years!

F: Holy shit.

J: But you know what? It turned into something to the point where, you know, now we are almost 40. Or I am, because I'm a little bit older. How much older am I?

S: Are you 40?

J: I'm gonna be 40 next year.

S: Oh.

F: Okay.

J: I'm rounding up at this point. Like, 39. Four months from now, I'll be 40. We're good. So, it's cool because now like, people know me as Hambone, like, everywhere.

F: Well, you took that and ran with it, too.

J: Of course I ran with it, I had to. When you have a nickname like Hambone, you kinda just- there's two ways you can go with it: into hiding, or ever forward.

F: Alright, I'm gonna interject because the way I remember it-

J: Right.

F: Was we were in the car-

J: Yeah.

F: On the way down to the shore.

S: This is what I remember, yeah.

F: Okay. And, Shaun and I were, for some reason, in the backseat.

S: Together.

F: No one was in the front seat but you. You were driving.

J: So, wait, I was driving you two.

F: You were driving like a chauffeur.

S: But wasn't his girlfriend with him?

F: That could-

S: And they went into a rest stop?

F: Right now, the front passenger seat is just blurry.

S: Maybe it's blurry.

F: It's just a blur in my memory, I don't know. But it could've been a spell, is why I can't see! It might've been. But what I remember was, we were in the backseat and we were talking. We were like, "You know, you can't give yourself a nickname. And how is it in these movies like, these people have these amazing nicknames.”

J: Yeah.

F: Like, you know, all these things. And we were like, "We gotta give John a nickname."

S: Yes!

F: Because people would call you John McGuire Superstar. Do you remember that?

J: I do remember that.

F: Alright, that was like, the original name because you knew everybody.

J: But I did not give myself that nickname.

F: No, you didn't.

J: Because you can't give yourself a nickname!

F: Yeah, you can't give yourself a nickname. And we were like, "That a little- that's like, I don't know, that sounds- first off, it's long."

S: Like Jesus Christ Superstar.

J: It's very long.

F: It sounds like- yeah, which is where I'm sure it came from.

S: Yeah, and Hambone's not Jesus.

J: Certainly not.

F: So, we came up- we were like- alright, well, Shaun actually came up with the first one. Do you remember?

S: Horse-

F: Horse Tool? Horse Tool.

J: I don't remember any of that.

F: You don't remember? Alright, so, we were like, "No, we can't use that." And then, I said, "Hambone."

S: Yeah, right.

F: And then you were like, "No," and Shaun was like, "Well, you have to pick one of them." And you were like, "Aright, well then Hambone." And that's how it started, and maybe that night later on-

S: That's what happened.

F: I saw you naked and was like, "Yo, Hambone, get me a Coke!"

J: That definitely- because that's the first, in my memory, the first instance-

F: Okay! But the origin, if we're going origin stories, was in the backseat. We were like, "He needs a nickname, because like, he's larger than life, and you need that larger than life name."

S: Now, here's a question.

J: I was larger than a church.

S: What if he had picked Horse Tool? How would his life be different today?

J: Shaun, I-

F: Yeah, I think that would have-

J: Trust me.

F: Here's the thing-

J: I'm Irish. I could never make Horse Tool play.

F: That would've dissipated.

S: Yeah, no, yeah, you're right. That wouldn't have stuck.

F: I think it would've just been like, "Oh, it just doesn't roll off the tongue."

J: Horse Tool. Doesn't really- yeah, it doesn't roll off the tongue.

S: Yeah.

F: You know? But like, essentially, yeah. Like, you had either, like, Large Cock or Hambone, which is like, this party animal nickname, and you chose the party animal.

J: And I ran with it.

F: Yeah, and then you changed it to-

J: I ran hard with it.

F: Hambone, King of Rock and Roll.

J: Yes.

F: And that's where it kinda took life.

J: Well, the reason why it went Hambone, King of Rock and Roll like, I- Jesus, I hated myself so much. Like, I hated myself to the point where I just didn't want to be around. And I kinda was like, "If I could be anybody else, then I don't wanna die. Then I can make it, I could just be whoever else I could be." So, that's why I kinda started up with the Hambone, King of Rock and Roll thing, and I just kinda fully turned into that persona because I didn't want to live in my own skin. But then, I lived a little too much Hambone, King of Rock and Roll.

F: That's the thing. Sometimes, we can do that and we'll overcompensate so far that it then turns like- because that's the thing is like, those demons, right? The feeling of not being comfortable in your own skin, the anxiety and the depression, stuff like that. If those aren't dealt with, even if we like, cover them up with like, a band-aid of a persona, or like, a stage show, or writing, you know, different things. Like, it's never going to be dealt with. It's just gonna rear its head in different ways.

J: Oh yeah, and it certainly did. I mean, a lot of it, though, came out in my writing. And a lot of it came out in, you know, the kind of things I would kinda, contribute to art and creativity. I mean, I think that's pretty much a good thing we could talk about tonight.

F: Yeah.

J: Is talk about art and creativity. Like, what drives you to write. Like, what makes you create. You know, for me, when I started, I mean it was all like, teenage feelings and like- I grew up listening to classic rock radio, and I just would dissect songs and I would try to figure out how like, how they did it, how they would write songs. Like, I kind of understood a bridge before I knew how to play guitar.

F: Right.

J: So, I would channel like, you know, the things that I was feeling on the surface levels into kinda like, the songs I would write which, half of which ended up on Heartbreak in Stereo. But how about you guys? Like, what is it that brings it out of you?

F: Well, I think it differs, like, from song to song and experience to experience, you know what I mean? I think, at least for me, it's definitely a lot of life intimidates [imitates] art, you know what I mean? And you start to be like, "Aright, well these are things that have happened to me and I don't know how to deal with them in real life, so how do I manufacture a way to kind of-" You know like, when you have a conversation with someone or a fight with someone, and you're like, two days later, you're like, "Fuck, that's what I should've said!"

J: Oh yeah.

F: Like, right? Writing a song is the best way to do that.

J: Right.

F: Is to create the perfect situation where you said everything you wanted to say, and did everything you wanted to do, and uh, or you could retell it the way that it actually happened and be like, "Oh, this is how I fucked up." That kinda thing.

J: Right. Yeah, because you know, putting them in a car and trying to get them to the right moment when they actually hear what you wrote about them so you could like, get them on the back end.

F: Oh yeah!

J: It just never works.

F: Dude-

J: It's a long way to go for revenge.

F: But think about that. When you think about it like, "Oh, yeah, they're gonna hear this and they're gonna know." They never heard it.

J: No.

F: They never. But in your mind, you're like, "Ah, there you go, that was the perfect comeback."

J: Yeah. I bet Warren Beatty never really heard You're So Vain, he just don't care. Because at that point, you know, that chick made a million bucks.

F: Oh, he heard it. Oh, he heard it.

J: Oh, I bet he did.

F: Alright, so, I actually wanted to ask you this because I feel like when we first met, you were um, very instrumental in, I guess, showing me a lot of different bands, and getting me really kinda, farther into punk rock and stuff like that. I grew up listening to, you know, classic rock, and a lot of blues from my dad, and stuff of that nature. And you know, I think, like, a lot of people in my generation like, you know, Nirvana hit, and then you would start to like, read liner notes and be like, "Alright, well, Sub Pop.” Like, find out about Mudhoney and find out about The Melvins, and stuff like that. Kinda try to dig deeper and going to, like, Sonic Youth and do all the- you know, like, that route. So, I had that, you know, just from being a teenager in the 90s. But then when we met, like, you started making me mixtapes. So, who got you into all the stuff that you were into, and that you could pass along?

J: So, you know, for me, growing up listening to NEW, growing up listening to classic rock, CVX 101, I remember listening to WNEW and hearing The Clash’s London Calling. And hearing them playing Lost In The Supermarket, you know, the hits. The real baseline stuff. And then just, you know, seeing a Rolling Stone magazine lying around somewhere. Like, I couldn't tell you even what issue it was or where it was, but I remember seeing it and seeing a picture of The Ramones. And you know, back then before the internet, you had to do a lot of detective work if you wanted to be able to find the bands that you liked, or you wanted to be able to kinda, get turned on to something. Like, you actually had to do the leg work, so I just did. I went around and I was like, looking for stuff and trying to find stuff. I had an older kid on my block and he was really into like, Skinny Puppy and, you know, that's- I quickly realized that industrial music wasn't for me. But you know, I would backtrack and I would ride by bike places like, I mean, there was St. Mark's Records. When it was over in Harrison, I'd ride my bike there and I would buy stuff. There was Let It Rock.

F: Let It Rock was huge.

J: You know, trying to find places. There was Two Tone in Passaic, like, there were places. Like, these little oases where people who were into punk rock, and into new wave, and into alternative music could go and find something on a local level. Because I mean, certainly wasn't- weren't getting it at the shopping malls.

F: Yeah. Remember how hard it was to kinda like, to break in, because when you would go to stores like that, like I remember like, my first couple experiences at Let It Rock, like, it was so intimidating.

J: Oh yeah.

F: Like, you weren't welcome there. You know what I mean? Like, it wasn't like, "Oh, hey! You don't know really much about this, let me show you some stuff. You should have this record!"

J: Which is a terrible business model, to be mean to your customers.

F: No, yeah, I was like- yeah, seriously. Like, that dude did not want anyone in there. He had like, a one-eyed cat, and it was rough, dude. It was rough. And like, I think, I feel like too, correct if I'm wrong, but like, all the records had like, real snarky like, descriptions on them too. Like, you know, "Not as good as The Misfits." And then you go to The Misfits record and it'd be like, "This band sucks too." That was like, "Oh, alright."

J: I got drunk one night, and I was meaning to ask him, because he owns a bar now, and I was in the bar, and I was like, "They must sell shit, man." I gotta ask him, "What do you like?" Because you know, I feel like at this point, after 40 years of like, shopping in his store, and like, you know, drinking in the bar, I paid to see it at this point, so I wanna know.

F: Yeah.

J: My thing was, I found all these-

F: He was probably into like, Creed.

J: He probably really listened to Creed. It's like his dirty secret, you know. He actually wears like, dad jeans. I uh, so I got into all these bands and there was a Sam Goody in my town as well, which had some of the stuff. Like, I got my first X tape there, and it was not the one I wanted, but it was the one they had, and that's what I did a lot of when I was younger. I bought a lot of tapes by the band, but like, later era when they were on major labels, where it was like, I had to buy it because that's the one they had, and it's not the one I wanted. And then- but I knew about all these bands.

F: Right.

J: So, this dude, Frank Di Maria moved into my block, and I heard him playing guitar in his house, and I just went up to his house and I just rang his doorbell.

F: Wow!

S: Oh my god.

F: That takes balls!

J: I'm like 13, 14 years old. I mean, but have you met me, man?

F: You got the horse tools.

J: I got the horse tools!

F: That's what you need to go and knock on a door, you need a couple of tools from a horse.

J: Yeah. And he's like, "Hi," and I'm like, "Hey, I heard you playing guitar. You wanna hang out?" And I mean, I'm like 13, 14 years old, but I'm like, "He lives in my neighborhood, what harm could come of this?" Kids, don't go and knock on stranger's doors nowadays.

F: Right, yeah. Jesus.

J: Lots of harm could come of it. This was a very long ago. So, we went up, and he had all these tapes, and he had all the tapes that I wanted.

F: Oh wow.

J: And he was like, "Here, man, you can borrow these tapes." And he's like, "If you, like, wanna just borrow them," he's like, "just go to like, the store and get like, a box of blank tapes. Just dub them." And he had like, Hüsker Dü, he had The Replacements, The Pixies, Camper Van Beethoven. Like, all the stuff that I'd been reading about that I couldn't find anywhere was right there. And he was like, "Here, take it."

F: Holy shit.

J: So, I went- I got my mom to like, drive me to like, the five and dime, and I bought like, a box of like, 120 minute tapes and I taped everything and I wore every one of those tapes out.

F: Wow. That's awesome.

J: And that's how I got into the music I got into.

F: See, that's the thing, right? Like, I feel like, with that uh, type of situation where you kinda, like, you discover it. Like, you have this ownership over it.

J: Right.

F: That holy grail moment where things have been, you know, passed down and it's almost like you've been handed the scrolls. You know what I mean? It's like, "Here. Take this, son, and make something of it." And I feel like it sticks with you longer. Like, it's not like, "Oh, I just found this on, you know like, a website or something. And I have like, 16 discographies in my pocket and I don't listen to any of them." It's like, throwaway.

J: Music becomes disposable.

F: Yeah.

J: I mean, the reason you were able to eventually hear Jawbreaker when you were, was because my mom wouldn't let me go to New York to go to concerts. She thought like, if I went to New York I was gonna get murdered. So my friend Livio-

F: Opposed to hanging out with some guy down the street.

J: Yeah, that- just walking and knocking on your neighbor's door was fine. My friend, Livio, he would go to shows at Maxwell's. And her thing was, "If you wanna go to shows, you can go with him, as long as you don't go to New York." But it was, every show that you would've gotten in New York, you got at Maxwell's. Maxwell's was in Hoboken, which is maybe like 15 minutes from my house. It was a small club, held about 180 people. I saw some of the best shows of my life there. Like, I saw Jawbreaker there, I saw Face To Face there, I saw everyone. Everyone who came through. And it was great, but that's how I got to see those bands. And then, when we met in high school, I was able to kinda, just be like, "Here, you're- this is gonna be your first-" I think, was it 24 Hour Revenge Therapy, I handed to you, and said, "This is gonna be your favorite record."

F: Yes, and it immediately was. I think also, too, like, those were like, the opportunities I got was going to The Pipeline with you, and getting to see like, you know, The Bouncing Souls, and Westend. And I think that was an aha moment, for me at least, too, because it was like, finding like- these weren't, you know, bands like Jawbreaker or Black Flag or something like that, like bands that had like, done it or were like, legends of their time. Like, this was like, "Oh wow, these bands live around us, and they're doing it on a small scale, and I could do this kind of thing." And then I think, The Pipeline was a really good bridge to go to local like, VFW hall shows for me, and that was even like, "Holy shit. Wait, I can go see these bands with like, a can of soup?" Like, that's crazy, you know? And then to realize like, it wasn't even an actual club or anything. Like, kids were putting the shows on.

J: Yeah.

F: And that was a fucking like, that was like somebody had like, shot me in the head with an opportunity gun, kind of thing.

J: So, Shaun, how about you? What got you into music? Like, where were you finding your music? Because you were actually on the other side of Clifton.

S: Yeah.

J: In a very different neighborhood.

S: Yeah. I think my first show was Felix Frump-

F: Oh shit!

S: When I was a freshman.

F: Nice!

S: Yeah. But me, it came from-

F: Where?

S: Where was- you were probably there, right?

F: Yeah, maybe. Lyndhurst American?

S: Maybe. I think I went with Eugene.

F: Okay, yeah. Yeah.

S: Yeah. Me, it came from skateboarding. The whole skateboarding culture. I was skateboarding in grammar school, and high school, this is what you listened to, you know?

F: Right, yeah.

S: I just went along with what we were doing on the streets, you know.

J: Yeah.

F: I think that was my other outlet, too, was when I started skating and hanging out with Costa, and all those dudes. Like, he would just go to- we would go to the mall and there would be a Sam Goody, but he would just steal tapes.

J: Right.

S: He would just steal it.

F: He would go in, and then he'd be like, "Oh, I got these three. What do you think? Which one would be good?" And then he'd be like, "Put your hat out." And I would be like, "What?" And he would just shove them all in my hat.

J: See, this is where having a small head comes in handy, because there's head room to steal tapes.

F: Yeah. Yeah, so that's why you always had like, a fucking scally cap with you because you could steal tapes with it. And uh, and that's how I found like, you know, he had gotten like, some Pennywise tapes, and uh, Agnostic Front and stuff like that. And yeah, so, that was the other way I had to find out about- but he never let me dub any of his shit! I would just have to steal it and go to his house and listen to it.

J: How rude!

F: I know, I know!

J: Maybe that was his way of getting you to come over and hang out.

F: It's possible, it's possible. I think I was just- he just didn't wanna get caught, I think is what it was.

J: Yeah, because back in the day when you were actually physically copying music, the feds are really gonna be able to track you down for that. "Oh, he's got a bootleg R.E.M. tape in his pocket! Watch out for that guy."

F: Dude. I love that band so much.

J: "It's got the sad songs on it."

F: "It's got the sad songs. Go get that sad boy." Oh man, so alright. Well, alright, so, what made you wanna then go from just being an observer or a listener, to someone that did it? Like, what made you think that you could? And what made you wanna start writing your own songs?

J: So, what made me wanna start writing my own songs was the inability to be able to play other people's songs. So, a lot of it-

F: Okay.

J: I mean, I learned how to play guitar, and a lot of it came from- part of me was convincing myself, "Well, I could write my own songs, and I'm doing it because I want to." But the other part of me, the reality was like, I wasn't good enough to play other people's songs.

F: Yeah!

J: I mean, I'm like 14 years old. You try playing All Along The Watchtower. You know-

F: Fuck that, dude.

J: I could squeeze those 6 chords of The Wind Cries Mary out, no problem. But you know, some stuff was really above my pay grade.

F: Uh huh.

J: So, I started to try to write my own songs and also, you know, I've always been creative. I've been creative since I was like, a little kid. And it was an outlet that, because I loved music so much, I just wanted to be a part of it. So, I started writing my own songs, and you know, a lot of that, you know, I was showing you and-

F: Do you remember the first song you ever wrote?

J: Do I remember the first song that I ever wrote? Uh, the first song I ever wrote, I don't really know. I gotta go back. It'll come to me. After I get home tonight, it's gonna come to me and I'm like, "Son of a bitch, that's what it was." But yeah, I don't fully remember what that first song was. But I just kept writing, and I kept writing more and more songs, and I kept getting a little bit better. A lot of it was like, knocks of the things I was listening to.

F: Right.

J: But a lot of it was, you know, me just trying to take whatever rudimentary knowledge that I had of playing guitar and singing- which I still can't really do-

F: Eh, it doesn't matter.

J: And just stretch it out. Just stretch it out, and I'm like writing lyrics and taking care of stuff that way. When I knew that I could do it too, right? I remember the exact moment. I was at Maxwell's, and it was Mr. T Experience, and The Parasites, and The Smugglers. And it was Valentine's Day, they did a Valentine's Day show at Maxwell's. And I was talking to the bass player of The Parasites at the time, and he was like, 19.

F: Wow.

J: And I was like, "You're only 19 years old?" And he's like, "Yeah." And I think I was like, 15 at the time. And I was like, "But you're from California." "Yeah." "But you're in New Jersey!" "Yeah, I'm on tour." I was like, "But you're only 19."

F: "Is your mom here?!"

J: "Does your mom know?" I mean, I actually asked him, "Does your mom know?" and he was like, "Nah dude, it's cool, man. I'm over 18, I can do whatever the hell I want." And he was like, drinking a beer and he was all cool and stuff, and I was like, "Man, like, he's only 4 years older than me." Because you know, at that point, you're looking at people in the records that you're listening to, and you're looking at people like, on MTV, and you're looking at, you know, people at the shows you're going to. And you just know that everyone is at least 10, 15, 20 years older than you are.

F: Right.

J: But to see someone who is- I probably could've went to high school with if he got, like, left back one year. He might've. I don't know. I shouldn't pass judgement but I'm just saying.

F: I mean, if he was cool, he did.

J: He was- I'm sure he got left back. He was pretty cool, man. But that was the thing. I just kinda sat there going, "I could do this. I could put a band together, and I could go on tour." And a lot of my life has been, just kind of, making a decision. Deciding I'm gonna do something, I'm gonna give it my all, and kind of, just making things up as I go along. And that's kinda what I did. I mean, I went to school and I grabbed you, and I was like, "You're joining a band."

F: Yes, exactly what happened, yeah.

J: And you were like- he was like, "I don't know about that." And then I just showed up at your house and your mom let me in. She was like, "Who are you?" And I was like, "I'm John."

S: You do that a lot, huh?

F: Yes, you do, yeah.

J: I was like, "Your son's starting a band with me." And then, you kinda couldn't say no.

F: That's exactly what happened. Because I remember that first day you came over.

J: Yeah.

F: You came, and we went down in my basement, and you were like, "Oh, you can actually play chords and stuff, you can play guitar." And I was like, "Uhhh kinda?" And you were like, "Alright, cool. Like, I'm gonna get us a gig." And then you left! That was it. Remember that?

J: And then I did!

F: Yeah!

J: And then we had to put a band together.

F: I know!

J: Yeah.

F: Yeah, that was scary as shit.

S: That's funny.

F: Yeah.

J: But I mean, granted, it worked out pretty good.

F: Oh no, thank god. It was honestly like, I would have talked all that shit like, "Oh yeah, I wanna do this band. I wanna do the band, I wanna play a show," but it wouldn't have happened.

J: Yeah.

F: Like, I needed you to be like, "Oh, okay, so now this is our band. These are the guys that are in it, and we're playing next Thursday," basically.

J: Yeah. I mean, that's one of the things that I, you know, no matter-

F: You can't teach that, by the way. That's like-

J: Thank you.

F: Like, a quality that you have that is- I don't know, I mean, that's- I don't know if you're- you must've been just born with it, I guess. Like, just to have the balls to be like, "Hey, listen, this is what I wanna do. I'm gonna fucking do it, and nobody can tell me that I can't."

J: You know, I will tell you that, having getting bullied a lot as a kid, definitely made me lack confidence in a lot of ways, and like, you know, I'm still working through a lot of stuff with it. Like, just, it sticks with you. However, the other side of it is, I hit a point where I'm like, "Well, like, if people like, think I'm shitty, or people think I'm a piece of shit, or like, if people are just gonna talk shit anyway, I'm just gonna do whatever the fuck I want."

F: That's, yeah.

J: It's something that like, I can't always harness, but when I do, man, I just kinda was like, "Well, fuck it."

F: It's like a laser beam.

J: It's a laser beam, and I just go to town and then I just tell you, "You're starting a band with me and we're gonna figure this out on the fly."

F: That's fucking amazing, man. I love that shit. Because I feel like a lot of people are, you know, maybe are dealing with that same thing, where they're like, "Oh, you know, I don't really fit in anywhere. Um, I'm getting shit for just trying to be myself, I'm getting shit for trying to hide, I'm getting shit for- no matter what I do." And you could either, you know, that branches off into two ways. You either be like, "Alright, well, fuck it. I'm just gonna do whatever the fuck I wanna do anyway, because I'm gonna get shit either way." Or you try to hide even more, you know, and then you hate yourself so much that, like, because you didn't do all the things that you wanted to do because people were telling you that you suck.

J: Yeah, I hid on the inside, but on the outside, I was like, "Hey, world, it's me!" And I just kinda went- like everything in my life, I've just kind of- you hit that saturation point where you're almost like, you know like, that whole- you're a teapot. And you know, just riling up, getting hotter, getting hotter, and finally you just gotta scream, you gotta let it all out. And for me, it was just like, "Alright, well, I'm gonna start this band." It's like, "Well, I don't wanna go to college, I'm gonna go on tour." And then I just did that. And then it's like, "Well, that didn't really work out, so now I have to figure something else out. So, I'm just gonna kind of do what I want until I figure out what my third act is."

F: Yeah.

J: And that's that.

F: To go back a little bit, I had one of those moments too, where I saw somebody doing it, and then I realized that they were almost my age, and then it was like this, "Holy shit," moment of like- I remember, we were at Warped Tour. You were- we were together.

J: Right.

F: We were at Warped Tour.

J: We hung out a lot.

F: Yes, we did. Yeah yeah. All my defining moments, I feel like it was me and Hambone, and probably Shaun.

J: Yeah.

F: So we're at Warped Tour, like you do. It was in Asbury Park. Breathing in lots and lots of dust, and it was a two-fold that day. One, Humble Beginnings had won a contest or something and opened the tour, or opened the show, rather. And they were a local band in Jersey. I think they were from, maybe a little north from us, but like, you know, they played VFW halls and all that shit. And all of a sudden, they were on this major fucking tour, and it was like, "Holy shit." Like, "They're on a stage with like, other bands that are huge, like NOFX and all this stuff.” And that was, "Holy shit, like, one of us can- we can do this."

J: Right.

F: And then, two was, Anti-Flag played, and Chris 2 just joined the band.

J: Right.

F: And I mean, you know, I should probably text him, but I'm pretty sure he was like, maybe 17 or something like that.

J: Yeah.

F: And of course, we were like, you know, I was 13, 14, but it was like, "Holy shit," like, "This dude is on stage, with a band that I love, playing, and he's not that much older than me. Like, I can do this. Like, how do I do this?" And then I turned to you, and you were like, "Well, we're gonna just do this. Basically. That's how we do it. You just follow me, kid."

J: Yeah. So, we're going a little long on this episode, so we're gonna-

F: Oh, we are? I'm sorry.

J: No! It's our show, we can do whatever the hell we want. However, in order to be able to put them out monthly, we gotta wrap it up so we can record another one. What we are gonna do though is, we're gonna take a quick break, and drink something weird that Frank brought us back from Chicago. We're gonna talk about it in the next episode.

F: Yeah.

J: In the meantime, I'm gonna leave you with this thought. Imagine this. It's that moment in your life where you see a kid your age doing it. Right? And you're like, "Shit, I could do that too." Imagine a lot of people out there right there, who never actually do that, and then they get to be our age, and they're looking back at those kids saying, "I should've did it then."

F: Right.

J: So, the thought I'll leave everyone with today is, that we are truly lucky that we kind of, followed the course that we did. Maybe it was unorthodox, maybe it doesn't work for everybody, but man, it worked out pretty good for all of us.

F: Yeah, thank god, man. Thank god for the people that took those steps and let us know that it was okay to be fucked up, and young, and follow your dreams.

J: Absolutely.

F: You know? Yeah, I don't know where I would be without the ones that I saw do it before me, and the ones that gave me the push to fucking try it on my own, as well.

J: Well, cheers to that. So, join us next month for another episode of Casual Interactions. Until then, hold onto your friends.

[ambivalentangst]

Hold Me Tight Under the Moonlight

This is my work for @voltronexchange , for @happygaytrain / @jinkoroll featuring Keith and Lance as childhood friends, with faery!lance. Surprise! I hope you enjoy it, it’s been a pleasure to create for this event!

   Keith had never exactly been an ideal child. He was too thin, too haggard and shrewd in a way that made his foster parents constantly check to be sure their wallets were as they left them. Keith was small too, a wisp of a creature that was more versed in landing a good kick in someone’s teeth then spreading his arms for a hug. He never made friends, not with the way his hair hung in his face to cast an ominous silhouette over his eyes. Keith was scary, and that was that. Then, naturally, Lance came along. Keith found him one day in the forest, hanging upside down from a branch by his knees that somehow seemed to blend in with the bark.

   “Who are you?” Lance had snarked with crossed arms and an upturn to his nose that was dismissive enough to make Keith want to sock him in it.

   “Who are you?” Keith fired back. Lance lifted his chin contrarily.

   “I asked first, fleshy.” Keith, at eight years old, could not argue with that logic.

   “I’m Keith.”

   “I’m Lance.”

   As there would often be in future squabbles as well, there was silence for several lingering moments. Then Lance asked if Keith had washed his hair recently and so he spat in his eye. Lance smacked him and then they rolled into a nearby brook in the fight that followed. Keith returned to his foster family sopping wet, pissed as hell, and swore vengeance the next day.

   Lance and Keith grew to be fast friends in the process of carving slingshots and chasing each other with mud stolen from the banks of the stream. Keith never asked why Lance wasn’t at his school, or why when he looked at him out of the corner of his eye he could see a creature that was not at all human. In return, Lance called him fleshy less and started clipping him on the shoulder instead of the back of the neck with various ammunition he sent flying with eery accuracy from those slingshots he was so very good at making. At nine, Keith had run to the forest he was sure to find Lance in with angry tears on his cheeks. Lance sat with him in terse pause while he waited for Keith to explain. Keith didn’t notice the way Lance’s shoulder brushing his felt more like a mass of thorns then skin and bone.

   “I don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice pulled taut with fury. “Why are they so mean, Lance? I just want to play with them. Not always, not even every day. Just enough so that recess doesn’t feel so lonely.” Keith hated the way the gum in his hair stuck to the back of his neck, hated the brown grit spread all over his face and shirt because they’d shoved him into a rain puddle and he’d gotten a worm stuck to his cheek. Lance gripped his hand, and when Keith stared at he could swear it pulsed and shimmered with golden light, and that where Lance’s fingers normally were there was instead dark oak, wound through with the deep emerald of vines. His voice was not so boyish, not so human when he spoke.

   “Keith, I will always let you stay with me,” he promised with a sound like the gales that assaulted Keith’s house in particularly brutal storms, and Keith shed more searing tears that Lance dutifully wiped away. Lance said nothing more, and Keith turned his face into his familiar embrace to cry in the shadows cast by the foliage

   The next day it rained hard, and within a recess that was only permitted with a wary glance cast towards the sky in its moment of reprieve, Keith saw the boys who had pushed him down get their ankles scratched by thorns that had somehow grown overnight. He knew it wasn’t very nice, but when he walked into the forest that day after school a smile was back on his face.

   Lance was a constant, growing as he did with his ivy touch and eyes that sometimes seemed more like knots of tubers and jewels then muscle. Keith could come crying to him with anything and everything, and the next day he’d be happy again by some miracle or another. He finally had a foster family that stuck, though they didn’t understand why Keith so devotedly ran off to the woods every day. It was when they were older, after an afternoon spent bemoaning school work while Lance complained of his older sister that Keith was prepositioned for a dance. Lance was a flushed, nervous mess as he suggested that he come to where they were currently later that night, and that he would be waiting. Keith was wary, naturally.

   “You’re not going to kill me and dump my body in the creek, right?” Lance was indignant.

   “It pains me to think you think so low of me. You, my dearest fleshy, deserve much better then a hasty midnight murder.” They’d both laughed, but then a calm had settled over Lance. “Keith,” he began very slowly, very carefully, in that voice of his that sounded so very strange.

   “Tonight, you might see something you don’t like, okay? A-And if you really don’t like it, you can leave. I won’t mind. All I want, all I ask, really, is just one dance.” Keith had only snickered, and shoved Lance into the water. By the time he’d come back up with a glare that could kill, Keith was laying back on a rock with his tongue stuck out at his chain of sloppily strung together expletives.

   “It’s just you, Lance. No matter what you do, I’ll never think of you any differently.” Keith was too busy clinging to his rock in an attempt to stay dry to make note of the adoring relief on Lance’s face at his words.

   That night, Keith slipped out of the window of his home and past his sleeping foster parents as well as the fluffy bundle of hatred they called a cat, to the forest. It was different without the light of day. Patches of moonlight were his only guide, stepping nimbly down the path he knew by heart. In the clearing he normally found Lance in, there was something odd. At first he thought it was a rock, or perhaps a tree. It was tall, dark, and foreign in the night. It made Keith’s skin pucker, but he took a hesitant step forward.

   “Lance?” he asked carefully, cautiously. He didn’t want to be the white person in every badly done horror movie, but Lance had promised he’d be there and he never let him down. Besides, it was their forest. It wasn’t dangerous. Keith listened to his voice echo before dying out, and then the thing moved.

    Keith was a scrappy kid. He had no problem punching someone, enjoyed it, even. Fighting was fun, but when the seven foot tall beast of unknown origin stirred there was a certain fear he had never felt before that gripped him tight with unyielding force. His feet felt like they were encased in cinder blocks, trapped in place. An embarrassing whimper escaped him, his amethyst eyes blown wide. The thing was enormous, with limbs that hung loose and gangly from their misshapen sockets. In what Keith barely recognized as a face there was nothing but a tangle of roots, with two sapphires pulsing deeply somewhere inside. There was no nose, but there was a mouth. Spindly, finely sharpened teeth were shoved inside, about as inviting as the jagged stab of rocky mountains piercing the sky. Keith could swear that in the moment they appeared to be tinged red.

   Keith screamed, and then the creature lunged. Suddenly there was a hand, bark and leaf all at once clapping over his mouth with brutal power that still managed to remain gentle. Keith could not even have blinked in the time it took.

   “It’s okay,” the monster cooed, and Keith stared at it in wonder and no small amount of fear because he knew that voice. It whistled like wind through the treetops, comforted him when he cried about things it never understood. That was Lance’s voice.

   “I-I-” Keith stuttered, and Lance drew back with what might’ve been a wince. He was draped in a rotted conglomeration of honey comb and ivy, a cloying smell wafting unpleasantly into Keith’s nose.

   “I’m sorry,” he told him. “You can leave if you want. I just needed you to know the truth,” he admitted softly, looking at the moon. Keith stared at him, at how long and strong his limbs were, acting faster then anything natural should be able. When he looked back to Keith he thought Lance looked scared. Even without the features he knew so well there was a certain set to his jaw and waver in his stare that made him recognize such insecurity. Keith did not run, despite that his body screamed at him to do so. He mustered the frankness that often left Lance sputtering excuses and shoving him to the floor for a good wrestling match, the latter more so when they were younger.

   “I always knew you looked weird,” he teased, and just like that the tension melted away. Lance laughed, and Keith ignored that it sounded more like a woodpecker chipping away at a tree then a human sound.

   “Shut up, fleshy,” he snapped, but his tone was arch and Keith paid it no mind. He settled in next to him, forcing himself not to flinch at the broad, solid expanse of timber that had replaced his skin.

   “What are you, anyways?” he demanded to know. Lance’s enormous head swiveled, and Keith couldn’t help but to swallow thickly under such a gaze.

   “A faery, you heathen. You’re telling me you didn’t have any idea?” Keith scoffed, looking away with a roll of his eyes.

   “You don’t have wings,” he protested, and Lance made an offended squawk that rumbled in the back of his throat.

   “Most of us don’t. That’s a myth, by the way. Wings are completely impractical, if you really think about it. Trying to lift yourself up into the air when you can already do pretty much anything more quickly than the eye can register? Dumb.” Keith spread his hands in a placating motion, already regretting his words, or more accurately, that they’d incensed the ever opinionated Lance.

   “I get it, I get it,” he was quick to tell him, and Lance stilled. The moon had lowered a little, but they still had time. There was a quiet again, and Keith squirmed under the weight of Lance’s jeweled stare.

   “I asked you for a dance,” Lance reminded him, and Keith nodded.

   “Yeah. You did.” The words were flat and lacked verve, presented awkwardly with dead weight. Lance chuckled nervously, that same inhuman sound.

   “A dance is important to us, Keith. It’s, well-” Lance broke off, and had he looked human Keith would guess he’d be blushing “-it’s like a claim. If you dance with a faery once, you have to come back to dance again. That way the cycle keeps repeating, and we never lose those we love.” Keith stared at Lance incredulously.

   “You want me to keep coming back?” Lance looked away and twiddled his thumbs, which was an interesting look coupled with his current appearance. Keith could care less, and felt a telltale wetness at the corners of his eyes.

   “I don’t want you to ever leave, Keith.” Again, a hush, and then Lance offered a lengthy, wooden limb to him. Keith was proud to say his hand only trembled a little as he took it, and had Lance pull him into his vine ridden chest. They twirled under the light of the moon, swaying and bowing with the wind. Keith liked the moss damp on Lance’s palms, the softness there that couldn’t be found in the version of him he’d more commonly known. He thought they’d had an unspoken agreement to not mention the tears leaving fat tracks on Keith’s cheeks, but then Lance had to clear his throat and open his mouth

   “Are you crying?”

   “No!”

   There was a beat of dead space, and then the faint sound of Keith bashfully placing his forehead on Lance’s chest to hide the heat to his cheeks.

   “A little.” Lance tossed his head back to laugh in his own unorthodox way, and though he was more alien and more different and more dangerous then Keith had ever known, he still found comfort in his happiness. When he glanced at his arms he could see the faint outline of flesh and blood, but he didn’t mind knowing the truth of what laid underneath either. It wasn’t perfect and Keith still had plenty of questions but Lance was still Lance, and Keith wouldn’t want him any other way.

[thinkingaboutsanfrancisco]

Like water bursting free from the confinements of the dam, he finally starts to pour out the cocktail of sweet, delectable, context for me. It quickly drowns out his meaningless suggestion of being concise, but I'm not going to refute statements of immunity. I'm not mad, his lack of pith doesn't bother me. Shocking, I know, but at this point it's the only thing that is going to get me to any potential realm of understanding so I can possibly add anything of value before I eventually return home and resume anxiously stewing in my own regrets. It has to be getting late by now. Pulling out my phone and openly checking the time would be rude, so I have to take a long deep breath to still that pestering, habitual, urge. My homework was done on Friday night, surviving school on no sleep is a mastered art by now, my phone hasn't buzzed and the owl cars can carry me home if need be. I don't need to look at it. I don't need to be reminded again. Shifting more towards him, I extend my arm on the back of the bench and bring it up to rest my cheek on my palm, tuning into the spectacular story of S and Lyd.

It all begins when they're...even younger than I am? Really? Yes, he's older than me, but not by much. Certainly not enough to warrant this old man-whippersnapper dynamic he keeps putting us in. But, technically, he is right. They're...thirteen and fourteen? Middle school?! Oh Jesus Christ...

Say no more, S. I get exactly the nauseatingly obnoxious tone you're going for. Anything that sprouts in eighth grade is destined to be a fucking weed. I seriously believe that it'd be best if we just abolished that year completely, let puberty set in some so that no one has to witness the horrifying process and then resume in highschool. The slight decrease in bullshit exposure would have a major impact on the state of humanity, I assure you. 

His story starts off more Wonder Years wholesome than initially expected. He sees her, that dangerously random and impalpable switch is flipped in his head where everything else in his world is rendered nebulous and she's now the only thing he can focus on, he does something with it and asks her out, gets luckier than a lotto winner when she agrees, and they date. I have to admit that I'm continuing to struggle thinking of him as anything other than his current form of a lanky college student by day and my coke supplier by night. Trying to visualize his last story that took place this morning was hard enough, but I eventually could conjure it. Beyond our burners and serving our burnouts, there's always the shining side of the coin: the life that makes walking carefully through these shadows worth enduring. It might've taken a while to grasp, the autopilot we run on out here that blinds us to the human qualities of our customers and dealers takes a minute to switch off, but it's not too hard to buy him having it to comfort someone who means something to him. We've all had to be someone's shoulder to cry on at least once in our lives, him selling me discounted grams and eight balls on a Friday night doesn't exclude him from doing that on a Saturday. He's human too.

Him as a teenager though, younger than I am...I fucking can't. I keep having to put his current self in as a visual placeholder, despite knowing damn well that he didn't have facial hair or probably as long of a drawl at fourfuckingteen, but what the hell else can I do? Imagine him freaking out on her with that same cracking barely pubescent voice that I mouthed off with too? I'd rather not. It's an amusing discrepancy but just makes it more glaringly obvious of my weird spot that I've put myself in: too deep to where I'm hooked, still not deep enough to make something out of it. I need to settle down though. He's still setting up the foundation for me and I find my lips spreading into a sardonic grin when he puts out a metaphor he knows I understand. Addiction. But him being addicted to her being akin to how he's addicted to his favorite movie is such a saccharine view of it that my stomach turns like I've eaten too many Pixie Sticks. He doesn't realize how natural his voice picks up that speed, how his eyes can still grow that agape and filled with wonder. Everything he's talking about is so innocuous that it's practically rated G, which should be a welcome change given the complete smut film that was this morning, but I've seen that same foolish look in so many other people that I can't revel in the glory of that summer pinnacle he continues to hold within him now. It's a good thing too. The comedown's already here and, while there's never any subtly to the crash, there's something painful in his frank brevity. He has to rip this moment off like a band-aid because it still hurts to think about a decade or so later and... 

Is this what's going to happen to me?

I know everything feels eternal on a bad night but...is it truly going to be like this forever? Am I still going to want to bash my phone against my head over all of my miscues with Ray when I'm my fucking twenties? 

Quit worrying about it. I won't even know her then. 

Surely I'm never gonna cross her mind twice once she graduates and leaves my sight for better pastures---or even before if she caught my stupid drift and already said bon voyage in my inbox. God knows where the fuck I'll be, but she's too good to let herself linger in my rotting brain. She's like a shooting star, a bright little blip that dazzles into my highschool life as quickly as it leaves the sky with nothing and all I can do is sit here in the dark and watch. That's just how the world works. 

You can't control fate like that. 

I wish I could tell New Year's Eve 2006 S this, maybe it could've spared 2015 S from having to recount a story that chews up my silly moment of existentialism and spits it out...

Initially, it doesn't start off bad but that's becoming a reoccurring theme so I'm able to brace myself for the first bout of secondhand cringe. It's nine years ago, he's drunk and oblivious this time, and she unexpectedly breaks up with him. New Year, New Me makes me groan, but it's manageable. Unlike what happens next... 

"My best friend, he looks at me, and he says - I saw Lydia making out with some guy in the bathroom. Before she broke up with you.” 

Any humor that I could ever have found in this situation has drained out of me like the warmth in my body as I just stare at him, struck as stunned as his friend who had the misfortune of watching it unfold. The maniacal laugh is back again, but it does nothing to shake me from being frozen by the complete and total violation of trust that thank god I've only had to aurally witness. If anything, I at least can understand his reaction now. Hell, I can fucking respect it. It must've taken years to develop the ability to even breathe normally again after hearing about that, much less pace back and forth trying to escape the inescapable. I can't even fucking move, despite my brain screaming at me to tell him that I absolutely don't want to hear anything more chilling because I think I've heard enough of this story that I've regretfully asked for. I get the jest. They had a decade long unstable relationship, everybody's wrong, and the right thing to do is for them to not get back together again. Fuck, I can even offer him a slice of optimism now. It's a good thing that it didn't work out today, S. It's a really good thing. She's as insouciant with your feelings now as she was then and the only way it's ever going to stop is if you stop being oblivious and quit letting her walk all over you. You know it and--- "It was a day after I told her I loved her for the first time. She said it back, but…I guess she didn’t mean it, huh? Anyway..." 

Now I do too. 

He keeps going on, something about 2008 and...I don't know why the hell he feels it necessary to bring up James Dean but it doesn't matter. I can't listen and I don't have to. There's absolutely nothing that he can say or she could do that could shock me more than that. There's nothing anybody could do that's worse. Her physically ripping into his chest and taking his heart only to run over it several times before apathetically tossing it back to him would've been better...at least the pain would have to stop after a while and he wouldn't have to linger with the chronic ache he's been suffering from. It's humane in comparison to her fatal lie...but... "I feel like I’m fucking dying. My head hurts. So that’s the brilliant story of how I went balls deep on my ex-girlfriend right after she got cheated on. You like it? You got any fucking thoughts? Let me know. Let me know, because I’m about to have a conniption if I can’t find any reason in her unceremonious sort of break-up text. Swear to god..." 

If it weren't for that, I'm not sure I'd ever be able to come back to the present...which is weird because I've never physically left it. Every memory of his is new information to me and there's so much of it that it actually makes what was exchanged with her tonight seem like an eternity ago. I have to remember that he's supposed to be the one who committed a heinous act by sleeping with her after her boyfriend cheated on her, I have to remember that she came to him crying over it, I have to remember that she isn't totally heartless and that he was the only person who's ever truly been there for her. I have to remember that this is my drug dealer and some girl I've never even met and...I have to remember to be careful. I'm definitely in too deep now and it'd be just about my luck if my fate got sealed out here without any coke at stake just because I saw past all of the nostalgia and possessed the audacity to call a spade a spade. 

Maybe that's why he called me out here. Maybe I'm the only person who can say it. 

My eyes close as I remove the disintegrating Parliament from my lips, breathing in and trying to bring myself back to all those fucking thoughts that I had...

"Well...there is a reason. As nonsensical, unfair, and sometimes downright cruel the world can be, within it's burning core always remains a reason and...I think you know it. Or, at least, I'm led to believe you maintain a good idea of it. You said yourself that you don't know why you're surprised because it ends up in the same shit every time and I don't think you need me to elaborate on the inevitability of the result. You two are not meant to be, and no matter how good both of your intentions are or everything else that's changed in your lives, this decade long track record cements the truth. She knows what you want and if she couldn't give that to you ten years ago and couldn't give it today, she's not going to give it to you tomorrow either. The only thing that's gonna change is when you realize that Lyd the majestic fucking angel is a joke that you don't have to keep falling fool to. You shouldn't have slept with her last night and she shouldn't have slept with you either, you're both wrong and you've both have been wrong. You've come full circle. We can sit here for another two hours and agonize over how shittily she's gone about it, but the fact is that it was honest. Brutally honest, but that's become her specialty. At least it's clarity. She's decided to move on and, if you want to finally break this long and suffocating chain, you should too. No one person is worth that much pain."

[rollercoasterwrite]

The Selfishness of Our Hearts - A Year in The Life | Chapter 4 - Shame of Love

This a follow-up story to the Selfishness of Our Hearts - entirely available here

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Pairing : JongyuUuuuuUUUU Summary : What happened the past two years [Part II]. Genre : Angst, heartbreak, smut.  Word Count : 10 000 words ~ (woooah, but after the six month hiatus kinda had to lol)

Jinki downed another glass of water. The waiter passing by had just filled it to the rim and now it was empty again. He knew the dryness of his mouth couldn't be soothed by any amount of liquid, but drinking was the simplest thing he could do while he nervously waited for the other to show. He didn't even dare to look at his cellphone to see if Jonghyun had tried to reach him. It probably wasn't the case, judging on how tense his boyfriend had seemed right before he had stepped out of their apartment. He couldn't blame him. He probably would've felt betrayed too if he were in his shoes. Nevertheless, Kibum was his brother and he couldn't let anyone come between them. Jinki bit his lip. Liar. He knew it was dishonest to be thinking that. He knew that that was what had kind of already happened. And that made it that much more important to him to pick up the broken pieces and try to piece them back together. The question now was : Was that even possible? He wished with all his heart that he hadn't messed up for good, but he mentally braced himself for that possibility. He had done the worst thing he could've ever done to his brother and put in his position, he wasn't sure he would've been able to get over that.

I'm so sorry, Kibum.

He didn't know if an apology would have any kind of impact, but he was prepared to apologize until the day he took his last breath. Over the last few months, those words had crossed his mind every hour of the day. At first, he had tried to ignore them, but the more they popped up, the more he realized it was selfish of him to try to keep them away. The least he could do was carry the burden of his fault. If he was going to be with Jonghyun, he needed to always keep in mind what that happiness had cost. It had cost him his integrity, part of his sanity and the unshakeable bond he had previously shared with his brother.

I'm so sorry, Kibum.

The waiter came back again to fill his glass. '' Sir, are you ready to order now? '' he politely asked.

Jinki could feel some impatience in his seemingly nice tone. '' Um... yeah... uh... '' He tried to come up with an order quickly. '' A black coffee, please, '' he finally said, right before giving himself a mental kick in the butt.

The waiter had already turned on his heels before he had a chance to retract his order. He had sworn off coffee for the last few weeks to keep his anxiety at a reasonable level. It was slowly starting to work after he had had to go through the withdrawal symptoms. He was just starting to not feel like a zombie again and now he was about to ruin it all. He could've gone for I'll just not drink it, but he knew his resolve wasn't that strong. The smell of coffee had never stopped being triggering, so much that he had had to ask Jonghyun to not make coffee in the apartment anymore and go buy it outside instead. He knew how much of an addict that had made him sound, but that was just part of who he was. He always had to have something overtaking his life. And consequently, he always had to go through the pain of having that something not be in his life anymore. Coffee had probably been the least painful thing he had had to rid himself of.

The steaming cup was suddenly set before him. As he had expected, the warm and bitter liquid lost no time to glide along his taste buds. His eyes widened in pleasure, his restlessness temporarily soothed by the familiarity of the taste. If anyone had been watching him closely, they would've probably thought that he was a drug addict getting his fix, but that would've been too simple an assumption. Nothing was getting fixed; he was just breaking himself apart more before someone else could do that for him. He was now accepting that he couldn't help wanting what he wanted no matter what the consequences might be. So when those words would get thrown at him, he'd just catch them, thus accepting his responsibility.

The little bell attached to the front door of the coffee shop suddenly rung, advising the employees that someone had just come in. Jinki's gaze moved upwards, making him forget about his drug for a moment. His body lost all its blood, making him die for a split second before every one of his senses heightened into survival mode. His eyes met those of his brother. The latter froze for a moment in his tracks before he picked up the pace again and stopped in front of his table.

'' Hi, '' Kibum dryly said before he sat down on the empty chair that had forever been waiting for him.

'' Hi, '' Jinki managed to reply despite feeling like his own throat was closing in on itself. Simultaneously, he also felt like the room had just gotten thirty times hotter. If he had had any common sense, he would've run out the door to save himself from what was about to come. But common sense had never been his forte. Suffering was.

'' You started without me, huh? '' Kibum noted as his eyes stopped on his cup.

Jinki tried to swallow the scarce amount of moistness left his mouth. '' The waiter was getting impatient... '' he explained as his inner voice let out a loud curse. He didn't want this meeting to start on the wrong foot.

Kibum frowned. '' How long have you been here? ''

'' Um... '' Jinki looked at his watch. '' For almost thirty minutes, '' he realized with surprise. He didn't dare say that it felt like he had been waiting for two hours.

'' Didn't we say 11? '' Kibum asked, confused.

'' Yes, yes. I just... I just came earlier, '' Jinki reassured. The truth of the matter was that he couldn't have stayed in their apartment any longer. The palpable moodiness of his boyfriend had almost brought him to the brink of despair. He had felt like his whole word had been about to collapse, so instead of watching it crash and burn, he had chosen to flee. That was also another one of his strengths. He would deal with Jonghyun later. If it's not too late... Jinki took a deep breath and forcefully brought himself back to the present moment.

'' Do you want to order anything? '' he casually asked the one he had missed more than words could say. He allowed himself to keep his eyes on him as he waited for an answer. He had just enough time to notice that the other's hair had grown, bringing his bangs right over his feline eyes, before he answered.

'' Yeah, I've been craving an almond croissant and a spicy latte for some while now, '' Kibum admitted with a normalcy that caught Jinki off guard.

The older one couldn't help but feel a spark of hope light up inside him.

'' Don't you eat that every day in London? '' Jinki asked with what might've been a laugh if this had been any other normal family bonding time.

Kibum snorted. '' Do you want me to get fat? ''

Jinki couldn't help it this time. A frank laugh left his lips as he was reminded of how shallow Kibum could sometimes be. Jinki had never seen that as something annoying though. He actually admired that in his brother. There had always been that lightness about him that he never had had within himself. He was always too serious about everything and he always felt things too deeply.

'' A little fat never hurt nobody, '' he joked as he felt his body relax.

'' Not if you work in the fashion industry, '' Kibum countered as what seemed like a smile crept up his lips.

'' You're not a model, '' Jinki instantly pointed out.

'' That doesn't mean I should let myself go,'' the younger one promptly retorted.

'' No one said anything about letting yourself go. I was just pointing out that putting on a few extra pounds wasn't the end of the world, '' Jinki reiterated with another laugh.

Kibum suddenly gave his brother a serious look. '' Well it would be for me. '' His words fell into the space like a ton of bricks.  

Jinki felt a chill run down his spine. What just happened? '' That's fine, I get it, '' he awkwardly acknowledged after clearing his throat. His body became tense again. Fortunately, the waiter stopped at their table at that moment. '' What can I get for you? '' he asked as his body turned towards the newly arrived.

'' I'll take a cup of fruits and french toasts, please. Oh, and a cup of camomile tea too, '' he indicated.

Jinki's brows furrowed. Why the sudden change?

'' And can I get something else for you sir? '' the young man in uniform then asked him.

'' No, I'm fine, thank you. ''

They were then left alone again. Jinki would've been tempted to let an uncomfortable silence settle between them, but he was too curious to keep his mouth shut.

'' What happened to the almond croissant and the spicy latte? '' he asked.

'' I didn't feel like eating that anymore. People change you know? '' Kibum observed.

Jinki couldn't help but feel like that seemingly innocent statement had a double meaning. He nibbled on his bottom lip to try to calm his nerves, but that didn't do much for him. Instead, he settled for taking another sip of coffee. That comforted him for a second before he was left to deal with his unease and hurt. His head dropped forward slightly, his gaze burning through the wood of the table. He had just been given a taste of how good things had been between them and he wished he could've gotten more of it. He wanted to be able to talk to his brother about anything and everything, but now he had to think about his every word. I'm so sorry, Kibum. He wanted to let those words out, he wanted the other to hear them, but he knew that might make things worse. So what then? What could he do? Why had Kibum called him? All those questions were running through his mind as he tried not to crumble in front of his brother.

'' Jinki, '' Kibum firmly uttered.

The older one tried to push down the lump of guilt that had risen in his throat, before lifting his head up again. Jinki felt his heart skip a beat. Kibum's expression was dead serious.

'' You're thinking about apologizing, aren't you? '' the younger one inquired only to confirm what he already knew.

Jinki slowly nodded as his palms rapidly became covered in cold sweat. In that moment, he silently wished the other hadn't known him so well.

'' Well, go ahead, '' Kibum said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Jinki's eyes widened for a second before they retrieved their normal size. That was to be expected, this was part of the process. The brunette cleared his throat again.

'' I... '' His heart was now racing, his mind being filled up by a heavy fog. '' I..., '' he tried again, but the rest of the sentence stayed stuck in his throat. It was a different thing to want to apologize and to actually be able to apologize. It should've been easy though. Kibum deserved to get a sincere apology more than anything.

He was once again saved by the waiter who came to their table with the younger one's order. After a brief thank you on the latter's part, the other man went away, leaving Jinki with no other escape. He could've said that he needed to use the restroom, but that would've just been utterly pathetic. He couldn't escape anymore.

'' Kibum, I'm... '' He stopped himself again. Something in Kibum's gaze struck him with fear. He already knew there was no use trying to get those words out now. He had lost his chance.  

'' Why is it so hard for you to apologize? '' Kibum sharply asked.

'' I... '' Jinki bit his lip hard this time. He could feel his insides shake. He wouldn't last long if things kept up this way.

'' You're just as selfish as before, '' his brother let out accusingly.

Those words felt like a slap to Jinki's face. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. ''No... Kibum, that's not it... ''

'' That's exactly it. You can't apologize because that would ruin your little fantasy. You'd have to admit that you did something wrong, '' Kibum kept on in the same tone, his anger picking up with every word.

Jinki shook his head vigorously. '' I know I did something wrong. I know it too well, '' he immediately countered, giving way to the lump of guilt that had just wanted to get out of him.

'' Do you? '' Kibum threw at him with spite. '' So let me ask you a little question. Are you still with him? ''

The question was another slap to his face. That was the last thing he wanted to be asked. '' Yes... '' His head dropped once more; at this point he knew it was game over. He wouldn't get the chance to face Kibum ever again.

A brutal silence followed his answer, making him feel like the worst human being in the entire world. Maybe Kibum was right; maybe he had been lying to himself all that time. He was just now realizing his feelings of guilt didn't match his actions. He wasn't paying the full price for his crime.

'' I'm sorry, Kibum. '' At this point, the words just fell out of his mouth, the guilt he carried inside him now unbearable.

'' I'm sorry too, Jinki. I thought you might've done the right thing by now, '' the younger one pointed out.

That was the final slap. Jinki felt his eyes sting and then his whole vision became a blur. He still heard the chair in front of him being pulled back. He rubbed his eyes fast enough to catch his brother walking towards the exit. He then looked at the untouched cup of fruits and plate of french toasts. His heart squeezed as the other's previous words hit him again.

People change you know?

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

Jonghyun paced back and forth for what felt like the millionth time. The inner turmoil that had been torturing him for the last few hours had finally spilled out into physical restlessness. He couldn't get rid of all those questions he knew he shouldn't be asking himself. They all kept rolling through his mind one after the other. And then the most important one would always end up popping up, making his chest tighten and his body stiffen. What if he leaves me?

This time that question had him stop in his tracks. He froze right there into place, somewhere right in between the lamp at the corner of the living room and the futon at its other end. He was suddenly completely engulfed in the scene unfolding in his mind. Jinki with a bag in one hand and his passport in the other.

This has happened before so why can't it now? He found himself thinking. In the end, Jinki had stayed, but Jonghyun always had that fear inside him of waking up and being alone. He knew that was selfish of him to even think, but he didn't want anyone to come in between him and Jinki, not even Kibum.  A sigh unconsciously left Jonghyun's mouth. All that thinking had him feeling drained. He just wanted the wait to end. He wanted to see Jinki and be comforted in the fact that he still loved him. He wouldn't be able to bear seeing in his eyes that things had changed. The thought only had him leaning against the back of their couch. He knew he should be keeping himself occupied, but anything he had tried to do previously hadn't helped to keep the thoughts at bay. To make things worse, he was carrying the guilt of having not shown his boyfriend support. Instead, he had clearly shown how unhappy he had been that his boyfriend was going to see his brother. For that, he felt terribly sorry. He didn't want to make things more difficult for Jinki, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. He had gotten so used to having a cozy life with him that any type of turbulence that menaced their homeostasis felt like a huge hindrance. All that heartache they had gone through before being able to be together couldn't be for nothing. Their story had been too complex for it to have such a simple ending.

Jonghyun jumped from surprise as his phone suddenly rang. He looked around in panic, trying to find it before the caller was directed to voicemail. After a few seconds of turning his head from side to side, he finally located it. He threw his body forward to grab the device that had slipped into one of the cracks of the couch. He pulled it out just in time to see who was calling. He answered on the spot. '' Hey baby, how did it-'' The rest of his sentence stuck midway in his throat as he heard a strangled sob at the other end. His heart squeezed in his chest. 

''Jinki, where are you ?'' All of his protective instincts had just kicked in, making him ready to unfold the wings he didn't have to get to his man.

The sobs went on almost quietly, but to Jonghyun they sounded as clear as day.

'' Jinki, please, say something, '' he voiced desperately.

'' I-I... '' A hiccup interrupted the other's words. '' I'm in... I'm at... the park...'' His voice was hoarse, almost grating to the younger one's ear.

Jonghyun's heart rate quickened. '' What park? '' he almost shouted in panic. Something in his gut was telling him that a catastrophe was about to happen. 

'' I... '' The sound of sniffing followed. '' I think it's close to home... I tried to drive home, but I can't... ''  Jonghyun knew in that instant that the other had been drinking. Contrary to him, he didn't drag his words, but the heaviness in his voice and his apparent confused state said it all. '' Jinki, I need you to tell me where you are, '' he said in his most authoritative voice. There was no time to be lost. Jonghyun needed to make sure he was okay. Plus, if Jinki got caught getting drunk in a park he could get arrested.

A couple of sniffs were heard again before the sound of a liquid being swished around in a bottle ensued. '' I shouldn't have called you. I don't want you to see me like this... '' 

'' Like what? Drunk? '' Jonghyun instantly threw back in disbelief. '' Look, you've seen me drunk so many times so that's not going to cut it. '' The younger one could feel himself getting impatient, but he couldn't help it. He had waited too long already. ''Come on, Jinki, what park are you at?''  he pressed. A heavy sigh resonated through the device he was holding against his ear. '' Wait...''

Silence came right after. Jonghyun tapped one foot against the wooden floor to shake off some nervousness. It felt like too long of a time before he heard the breathing of his boyfriend again.

'' I'm close to the restaurant where we ate those good kimchi pancakes, '' the older one indicated in a more conscious tone.

A bulb lit up in Jonghyun's mind. He remembered exactly where that was. It wasn't that far, even from walking distance. '' I'll be there in a few. Don't move, '' he ordered before hanging up.

Every move that followed was sped up to the max, to the point that he was left no time to think. He rushed out of their apartment and went down the stairs with an agility he would've never suspected he had. The crisp air of the afternoon hit him in the face, but he barely felt it as he cut through it immediately, running towards his destination. Jinki. That was the only thought that made it through whilst all his efforts were directed to keeping his body moving as fast as possible. There was probably no reason to be so alarmed, but Jonghyun had never been known for his rationality. He always ran on emotion. That fuel got him to where he wanted to be ten minutes later. Before he could spot his boyfriend, he found himself having to bend forward, his body reminding him that he needed to catch his breath. His lungs still burned as he finally started walking, but that was the least of his concerns. He looked ahead and around, but couldn't see Jinki. In an instant, he had his phone to his ear. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long for the ringing to stop.

'' Jinki, I'm here, where are you? '' he asked urgently.

'' I'm in front of the pond. ''

Jonghyun noted that his voice had taken that heavy tone again, but he lost no more time on that thought. He started walking again, straight ahead, hoping that the pond wasn't far away. They were in an immense park, which didn't help one bit to reassure him. He felt like they were worlds apart. He kept on, the phone still to his ear, the almost quiet breathing of his boyfriend the only soothing thing in that moment. He soon stopped dead in his tracks as he finally saw a stretch of water. Forgetting the pain he had previously felt inside his chest, he ran again against the uneven ground, holding his phone tightly in one hand. When he stopped, something else than his lungs reacted. A sharp pain shot through the middle of his chest as his gaze fell on the one he had been longing for all day. The heartbreak was so visible in the other's eyes, his own heart felt like it was shattering. He gave Jinki a long still look, taking in his slouched body on the bench and his now almost empty bottle of... Rum. Jonghyun let himself fall right beside Jinki. His first move was to remove the bottle from his left hand. The brunette showed no resistance. The second move was to take his now empty hand into his and squeeze tight. There were plenty of questions and words he could've put out into the world right now, but he knew better than to voice them. They stayed like that, in shared silence, for what felt like eternity. Jonghyun didn't even dare stealing glances. He knew how shameful Jinki was probably feeling right now and he didn't want to add to his burden. He wanted to be the quiet presence that would bring him out from the current abyss he was in. The third move was to trace circles with his thumb over his soft skin. That was to show his love, to show that he wasn't going anywhere.

A heavy sigh was the response he got to that gesture. Jinki slowly retracted his hand from his hold, before running it through his hair and over his face.

Jonghyun tried not to linger on the feeling of hurt that had sparked inside him. Instead, he allowed himself to look at him again. He noticed how tired he looked. '' Jinki, let's go home, '' he said. That was the only logical next move left to be made now.

But apparently, it wasn't for Jinki. '' I can't. '' His words came out steady, deadpanned.

Jonghyun frowned in confusion. '' What do you mean, you can't? '' He waited for the other to explain himself, but the explanation never came. Jinki didn't even give one look his way. '' You're not going to sleep here, '' he then added firmly.

'' No, but I guess I should sleep elsewhere tonight, '' the older one carefully uttered.

The crease between Jonghyun's brows dug deeper. '' What the fuck, Jinki? '' He couldn't help but express in an irritated voice. He didn't want to deal with whatever the other's words meant. He just wanted to get back to normal, whatever their normal was.

'' What happened? '' he insisted when Jinki chose silence again for an answer. '' You need to talk to me, because I'm about to lose it, '' he continued despite himself. He was pissed off. It wasn't like him to react so strongly, but if there was something he didn't like was to not be able to read someone else. Especially the one he was currently sharing a bed with. Kibum had been such an open book, but with Jinki it had always been hard to get to the bottom of his feelings. It was like he was still guarded and Jonghyun would be lying if he said that that didn't bother him one bit.

'' It would be wrong for me to be sleeping in the same bed as you, '' Jinki finally let out. His voice was soft and calm, a little too controlled for Jonghyun's liking. He felt like a decision had just been made for the both of them.

'' It hasn't been wrong all along so why would it be wrong now? '' the younger one countered categorically. He knew what answer was about to come, but he didn't care.

'' Jonghyun... '' Jinki sighed as he let his body sink a little lower on the bench. '' I saw Kibum today, '' he reminded as he tried his best to prevent tears from coming up again.

'' I know, Jinki, '' Jonghyun simply said. He knew that must've been a difficult encounter, but it was part of their story and they just had to live with it.

'' That's why I can't sleep in the same bed as you, '' Jinki reiterated as he straightened up. He turned his head slowly, mustering up all the courage he had left inside of him to be able to look the one he loved beyond words into the eyes. '' I couldn't even... '' He stopped himself as he felt his bottom lip trembling. He bit into it hard, trying to keep his control in check. '' I couldn't even tell him that I was sor-ry... '' His voice broke on the last word before a whole flood of emotions destroyed the inner barrier he had been trying to keep up. His head dropped as tears started rolling down his cheeks.

Jonghyun felt like he had just been punched in the gut. He was paralyzed for a few seconds by the sight of his boyfriend crying, before his protective instincts kicked in again. His arms were soon wrapped around the other's solid figure, squeezing him as tightly as he could against him. Oh, Jinki... He was on the verge of tears too, but he did his best not to let his emotions overwhelm him. He needed to be the strong one this time. Without even realizing it, he had begun to rock him back and forth in his arms like a baby. When he did realize, he just kept on, hoping that would soothe Jinki at least momentarily. The sobs slowly became more quiet until they stopped completely. Jonghyun tried to catch a better view of Jinki's face, but the latter was still hiding behind his hands.

'' Baby, come on, let's go home, '' Jonghyun tried again as he pulled back to give the other some space.

Jinki wiped the tears that had started to dry on his skin with the back of his hands. '' Okay, '' he said almost instantly.

Their eyes locked as they both turned their heads in the same direction. Jonghyun gave his boyfriend a small smile before getting up onto his feet. He extended a hand towards the other and pulled him up when he grabbed his hand. The smaller one then slid his arm under his, intertwining them tightly for closeness.

'' Where's the car? '' Jonghyun softly asked as he leaned his head against the taller one's shoulder.

'' It's parked not far from that restaurant, '' Jinki answered.

Jonghyun could feel that the other was still tense, but he wasn't about to make a case out of it now. The most important thing at the moment was to get Jinki back home. They slowly made their way back towards the streets. A few minutes later, they crossed the road and finally entered the car. Jonghyun let out a sigh of relief as his ass landed in the cushion of the driver's seat. There hadn't even been a need to voice that he was going to drive. As soon as they had reached the car, Jinki had pulled out his keys and given them to him. He lost no time to get the car moving. He just wanted them to be in their own little world. That's what's best for us, he thought as he stopped at a red light.

A sudden chuckle had him looking to his right.

'' You know what I did today? '' Jinki said, apparently amused by whatever thought was on his mind.

'' Um, yeah... you got drunk, '' Jonghyun pointed out whilst purposely omitting to mention the encounter the other had had earlier.

'' Well yeah, that's not good I guess, but I did something even worse, '' Jinki shared with the same amusement in his tone.

Jonghyun cocked an eyebrow as he tried to decipher his boyfriend's expression. He didn't know if he should be scared. Instead, he was just utterly confused. '' What are you talking about? ''

The light turned green, having him look back at the road.

'' I drank coffee, '' Jinki revealed before his shoulders started shaking with laughter.

Jonghyun's eyes widened. Yes, he was surprised about the coffee part, but he was mostly surprised by Jinki's sudden change in emotion. The man was laughing as if he had no worries at all.

'' Okay... '' He didn't know what to say to that.

'' I mean I wasn't going to, but the waiter was getting impatient so it kinda just happened, '' Jinki explained matter-of-factly.

Weird. Jonghyun was still taken aback. He had been holding a crying Jinki in his arms not even ten minutes ago and now the brunette was talking about drinking coffee again with an unsettling lightness.

'' Coffee ain't that bad, '' Jonghyun noted with a shrug. I prefer you drink coffee than get wasted in a park.

'' Yeah... I guess, but... I just wanted to get rid of that addiction, '' Jinki remarked. '' I just wanted to feel like I was more in control, you know? '' he went on pensively.

Jonghyun couldn't help but sigh. Stop being so hard on yourself. '' I get it, but sometimes we have to choose our battles. ''

'' Right... '' Jinki unconvincingly acknowledged.

Jonghyun looked his way again. There was no more lightness to his expression. '' We're almost there. It's bedtime for you as soon as we get home, '' he indicated.

Jinki snorted. '' I'm not three, Jjong. ''

'' There is no difference between a child and a 27 year old who has had too much to drink, '' Jonghyun retorted wittily.

'' Well I hope I get a bedtime story then, '' Jinki said in a pouty tone.

'' Whatever you want, baby, '' Jonghyun naturally conceded. He caught the small smile that formed on his boyfriend's lips in that moment and that only had him feeling like that happiest man in the world right now. I'll do anything for you.

The rest of the drive went on in a peaceful silence. When they finally got out of the car, the sky had become much darker and the air that much more colder. The warmth of their apartment was only more appreciated as they stepped into it. They took off their jackets and shoes. Then, Jonghyun turned around to face his boyfriend.

'' So bed it- Mmph... '' His words were cut off by the taller one's soft lips pressing against his. In an instant, arms were wrapped tightly around his waist and a warm tongue had found its way into his mouth. He gave into the kiss with not even a slight show of resistance, having his own taste of the rum the one had been drinking earlier. A soft sigh escaped between his lips as he slid a hand to the back of the other's neck to deepen the kiss. Jinki's sudden groan only had him want more. But they both had to pull back as their lungs started manifesting their need for air.

Their eyes locked as soft pants escaped their lips in sync. '' What was that about? '' Jonghyun inquired shortly after.

'' A goodnight kiss, but I shouldn't have done that ... '' Jinki indicated.

Jonghyun felt a pang in his chest. He knew what that meant. '' Don't sa-''

'' Because now I want more, '' the older one interrupted. His gaze narrowed as he looked his boyfriend up and down. '' Why do you always do this to me? '' The resentment in his tone was subtle, but it was there.

Jonghyun wasn't going to apologize for what he was making the other feel. '' Because you love me, '' he simply answered, his hazel eyes looking straight at him. He then leaned closer, bringing them only an inch apart. '' And I love you, '' he continued softly. His right hand came up to give the taller one's cheek a caress before it moved to the back of his neck again. He pulled him in for another kiss, a more gentle one this time, to remove any worry that was still lingering in his mind.

Jinki pulled away first. '' I said I couldn't be in the same bed as you tonight and now all I can think of is making love to you... I must be crazy... '' he quietly voiced.

Jonghyun felt his heart rate quicken. He didn't care for guilt right now; right now he just wanted Jinki.

'' Who cares if you're crazy, heck I'm probably the craziest one here. Like just...'' Jonghyun had to stop to gather his thoughts. '' Stop thinking so much, Jinki, '' he pleaded. He was getting exasperated and his already growing neediness was not helping.

A heavy sigh left the lips of the older one as he looked away. '' You're right, I'm sorry, '' he said, remorseful.

Jonghyun cupped the brunette's chin in his hand, turning his head back towards him. '' It's fine, baby. Let's just forget about all this tonight, okay? '' he softly uttered. He could see the lingering torment in the dark orbs of the eyes he was looking into. He wanted to get rid of it. He kissed Jinki again, more forcefully, moaning as soon as their tongues slid against each other's in a needy manner.

Jinki had been craving that closeness, those moments of intimacy they scarcely had had any time to share lately. Even though part of him was still battling with his conscience, Jonghyun was surely breaking through all his defenses. The smaller one suddenly tugged him flush against him, which made him let out a muffled groan of pain and pleasure. The kiss became sloppier as his focus was brutally shifted to the feeling of his boyfriend's groin pressed hard against his own erection. '' Jjong... '' he panted heavily when their lips parted.

'' You better not say that you can't do this or I'll kill you, '' Jonghyun sharply cut in.

That thought might've been on Jinki's mind, but it was constantly being pushed back by his current feelings. Their chests collided as he grabbed Jonghyun's ass firmly. He bit his lip to help himself from groaning again. '' I couldn't stop even if I wanted to, '' he said as his voice dipped sensually lower. A satisfied smile stretched his plump lips as he felt the other shiver against him.

'' Jinki... '' Jonghyun unabashedly whined as he looked into pupils dilated with arousal. He almost lost himself in the near pitch-dark hue of his irises, but the discomfort the tightness of his jeans was creating was reminding him of his need for more action. He pulled away slightly to let his hand slide between their bodies. '' Jinki, I need you... '' he voiced pleadingly before cupping his boyfriend firmly between the legs.

'' Ugh... '' The sound came out raw, a sensual music to Jonghyun's ear. Wanting to hear more of it, he went on caressing the other's visibly swollen member through the hard fabric of his jeans.

Jinki's legs parted more instinctively as his lids slowly fell over his eyes. His breathing had already become heavy, making the sounds that left him that much more enticing. '' Ugh... fuck... '' he cursed as he felt his legs shake from the overwhelming sensation the other's touch was provoking in and outside of him. His body was turning into mush, making it harder to stay up on his two feet. With the last shreds of resolve still inside of him, he grabbed the other's wrist and pulled his hand away.

'' You're really trying to kill me, aren't you? '' His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

'' It doesn't take you much, huh? '' Jonghyun teased with a smug smile. '' Maybe it's cause you're getting old, '' he went on purposely.

That made Jinki react exactly the way he wanted. '' You're not going to be saying the same thing in a few minutes, '' he threw back, irritated. Without notice, he grabbed Jonghyun's wrist and dragged him almost too forcefully towards their bedroom.

As soon as they entered, Jinki slammed Jonghyun hard against a wall. The latter winced, but his momentary pain rapidly dulled when his lips crushed against soft, full lips again. It was an unceremonious dance of clashing teeth and battling tongues, but the crushing feelings of need and longing they both felt couldn't be helped in that moment. Jonghyun moaned loudly as Jinki moved away from his lips to sink his teeth into his neck. The hard bite went straight to his suffering cock, the fullness of it heightening all of the other senses in his body. He needed more. And he needed it now.

'' Jinki... '' Jonghyun called out as steadily as he could. It was a difficult deed since the other had started sucking the tender spot on the crook of his neck. Despite himself, his head dropped more to one side to give the other more skin to bruise. He wanted him to go on, but with every passing second, he had less and less patience left inside him. '' Jinki. '' This time his voice didn't fail him. He lightly pushed back his boyfriend before locking eyes with him. He didn't have to say one more word to get his point across. From what he could see in the other's eyes, he was done playing too.

Without breaking eye contact, Jinki tugged at the bottom of the smaller one's shirt, letting his fingers tickle his sides as he slowly pulled his shirt up. When the other's face disappeared behind the cotton fabric, Jinki's eyes relished the sight of his nicely toned torso. He unconsciously licked his lips, itching to let his hands roam all over the surface that was the perfect balance between soft and hard. The shirt dropped to the floor a second later. '' Take off the rest, '' Jinki ordered. He would've done the rest of the undressing himself, but something about watching Jonghyun strip for him turned him on even more.

The other obliged, loving the way Jinki's eyes lingered on his body. He let his pants slowly slide down first, keeping his stare on his lover to catch every change in his expression. Jonghyun noticed how the other tried to keep a straight face, but that only lasted until his briefs landed on top of the little pile of clothes he had formed at his right. He now stood in his naked glory, enjoying how just that was making his boyfriend suffer, but also fighting hard to keep his own composure. Jinki was devouring him with his eyes in an almost predator-like manner and he would be lying if he said that that stare only wasn't enough to send him over the edge. As a means of distraction, he walked over to their bed and sat at its end.

Jinki's gaze had followed his every move, watching how the smaller one's little ass lightly bounced with every step he took. He was almost too aroused to send orders to his body to move, but a few more seconds of staring had his basic instincts take over completely. He walked over to Jonghyun, towering over him as he stilled right between his legs. There were so many words he wanted to say to him to express how much he wanted and needed him, but he got lost in all that beauty facing him.

'' Goddammit, Jjong... '' he voiced half-frustrated, half-mesmerized.

Jonghyun felt his face heat up as embarrassment bloomed in him. He still couldn't help getting flustered when Jinki manifested such strong emotions towards him. It was never long effusions of words, but with only a few words or even just one look, Jonghyun could see how much he affected the other.

'' I love you, Jinki, '' he straight out said. In that moment, he just wanted to repeat those words over and over again, because no amount would ever be enough to fully express how he felt. But he wasn't given a chance to because he was suddenly pushed down against the mattress. He gasped as Jinki's weight pressed against his body. His overly neglected cock reacted instantly with a twitch.

A deep laugh rumbled in the other's chest. '' Should I take care of that? '' He left the other no time to answer as he slowly rolled his hips.

'' Aa-aah... shit... '' Jonghyun felt like hitting Jinki for that cruel move, but he had no strength left in him. He was now a weak prey. '' Baby, no more teasing please... '' he begged.

'' Hmmm... it doesn't take you much, huh? '' Jinki had been waiting to throw that back at him. He knew his boyfriend all too well. The latter had always been the most impatient of the two.

'' Fuck you. '' Jonghyun was getting irritated; the frown on his face made that very clear.

'' You wish. You're all mine tonight, baby, '' Jinki indicated possessively. He lowered his head, silently enjoying the almost quiet moan that had just left his boyfriend. A second later, he had his lips right where he wanted them to be. He gave Jonghyun's left nipple a few licks, loving how hard the dark nub already felt against his tongue.

'' Nng- '' Jonghyun chewed on his bottom lip again, not wanting to cry out just yet. Jinki knew how sensitive he was there so he never lost an opportunity to gave his nipples some attention. A few light bites followed the licking, before his teeth sunk in more sharply. Jonghyun couldn't help the cry that left him in that moment. '' Co-come on, Jinki... '' His protest was soon forgotten as tongue and teeth pursued their teasing on his right nipple. A violent shiver ran down his spine as Jinki hand travelled lower, caressing every parcel of skin along the way, until it reached just below his navel. His fingers ran along the area in a feather-like manner as his mouth still sucked a nipple. '' Jinki... '' Jonghyun's voice dragged shakily, unable to voice anything more.

Jinki laughed in amusement, his breath tickling the other's heated skin. '' I know, sweetie. '' He loved torturing his boyfriend, but he knew he didn't have much control left in him either. His dick was painfully throbbing inside its trap and he needed to release it asap. He moved away from Jonghyun and removed his clothes as fast as he could. There was no time for another sexy striptease. His naked body fell back in its dominating position, his eyes finding the other's gaze naturally. Not breaking eye contact, his hand moved down again, but this time he didn't beat around the bush. He closed his fingers around Jonghyun's cock in a tight grip.

The latter whimpered. His eyes fluttered as the hold became a controlled and firm caress. The tingling sensation in his stomach became stronger, an ominous sign of his demise. '' Stoo-op... '' 

His heavy breathing and the desperation in his voice made his ordeal clear to his torturer. Jinki stopped moving his hand, but didn't let go just yet. He only did after sliding down Jonghyun's body. He was cruel, he knew it, but what was even more cruel was to leave that coat of pre-cum he was now facing unlicked. His tongue ran all over the pink crown of the other's dick, finishing off with a slow lick along its slit. 

'' Aaa-aaah... '' Jonghyun cried out as his body shook even more. His fists grabbed tightly at the sheets under them as he simultaneously tried to grab on to any shred of resistance left inside him. He didn't want to give the other the satisfaction of being spent before he was even penetrated.

Fortunately, Jinki seemed to deem that his job down there was done for now. Their gazes crossed again and Jonghyun finally caught the impatience on the other's face. He was almost tempted to give him a dose of his own medicine, but he knew better than to try. Jinki had made it clear that he wanted him submissive, subservient. And in all honesty, he enjoyed playing that role more than he'd ever care to admit.

Jinki gave a tap on the sides of his thighs, the silent order indicating to him that he needed to bring his knees to his chest. He did just that and waited for the torture to go on. He had a love-hate relationship with the part that was about to follow. He loved how Jinki's fingers stretched his entrance, but he also hated having to wait more for the real deal. He knew it was necessary though; there was no way in hell Jinki's dick would fit in without preparation. The younger one inhaled sharply as a finger traced circles around his puckered hole. His breath then came out with a hissing sound when it suddenly entered him. Before he could even get used to the intrusion, Jinki retracted his hand.

'' Shit... the lube... '' he remembered. Through all their eagerness, neither of them had thought of that essential item. Jonghyun watched Jinki pull out the tube of lube from the drawer in their nightstand. Soon enough, the now lube-coated finger found its way back in, sliding in much more swiftly. Jonghyun writhed under him slightly, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could. His mind lost focus on what was happening inside him as Jinki claimed his lips again. The latter let out a moan of satisfaction as he kissed him softly. Jonghyun felt his body relax for a second, before two other fingers joined in. The tight ring of muscles around them clenched hard, preventing Jinki to go on with his impatient thrusts.

'' Come on, Jjong, relax... '' Jinki pressed as the hardness between his legs reached another height of painful.

Jonghyun closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. '' You can't blame me... '' he said when he felt more composed. '' It's been quite some time... ''

'' Well you've been the most busy so I guess I could blame you. ' The words had already left him before he could think them through. The older one instantly realized how much of a jerk that had made him sound like.

Jonghyun's eyes widened. '' Are you mad at me? '' he inquired.

'' No, Jjong.... '' Jinki slowly pulled back his fingers before giving another forceful thrust inside him. He relished the gasp that provoked. He lowered himself on the other to hover just a few inches from his face. ' I just missed you... '' he softly admitted against him. 

Jonghyun looked away, a pang of guilt hitting his stomach. '' I'm sorry... ''

Jinki pressed his lips quickly to the other's forehead. '' Don't be... I'm sorry I said that, it's not your fault, '' he reassured before straightening up again.

He went on to give a few more lazy thrusts before he removed his fingers completely from the tight space. He wasn't sure he had done the best job at preparing his boyfriend for him, but he couldn't wait anymore. He needed Jonghyun to be his now. A second later, his hand was working up and down his own shaft to slick it with a generous amount of lube. Then came the fun part. He let the tip of his dick run along the crack of his boyfriend's ass, unable to stop himself from teasing. But then any more thought of stalling went out the window when the other pushed his cheeks apart to invite him in. Jinki watched as his hole clenched and unclenched. The thought of having that tightness squeezing his dick was enough to make him groan. '' Fuck... Jjong, I want you so bad... ''.

'' I want you too, baby. Fuck me... '' Jonghyun said in the most lewd voice that had ever crossed his lips.

It was now Jinki's turn to oblige. Soon enough, he was pressing against his entrance, trying to break through the still tight ring of muscles that guarded his ass. They were both panting heavily by the time Jinki finally buried himself to the hilt. He paused there, not only to let Jonghyun get accustomed to his girth, but also to gather himself. Jonghyun had been squeezing his dick so tight as he pushed in that he had felt like he had been about to cum at any moment. He needed to show that he had more stamina than this. He needed to make his lover remember this night. Just when his breathing went back to normal again did he started moving inside him slowly, trying to drag out the pleasure of pulling out and pushing back in.

'' Uugh, Jinki... '' Jonghyun moaned as his eyes shut tight again. He fisted the sheets as the other pushed back in again, more roughly this time.

'' Jonghyun, look at me, '' Jinki ordered. When he got the other's attention, his hips snapped back and forth sharply, making the other's body shift slightly on the mattress. He kept on with that harsh, but incredibly satisfying rhythm until he was stilled by a loud cry underneath him. His eyes met Jonghyun's beautifully flushed face and slack jaw and it took him everything not to release right then and there.

'' Do that again... Right there... '' Jonghyun pleaded hoarsely.

Jinki blinked a few times, surprised. Jonghyun's voice always reached a higher pitch when he was aroused; never had he heard it dip so low. '' You mean... right here? '' he said as he punctuated his last words with a thrust towards the same spot he had hit previously.

He knew he had done good as a loud moan left Jonghyun's pink lips. He kept at it eagerly, fucking his boyfriend to oblivion. He, himself, was losing all composure with each passing thrust. He didn't even know what sounds were coming out of him anymore. Pleasure was pooling hot and low in his stomach, arousal wrenching itself tightly inside of him. That pool was going to overflow any second and he was now ready for it.

He had just enough presence of mind to give Jonghyun's dick some attention again, trying his best to work the same magic on him than inside of him. His caresses seemed to do the trick just fine. '' Aaa-ah... '' Jonghyun's hips jerked up as he came all over his hand. '' Jinki... '' He breathed as the last rope of cum spurted from him.

After witnessing such a sight, Jinki only needed one more thrust to finally tip over the edge. He stilled inside Jonghyun as he came hard, filling his hole with his warm and thick seed. He then dropped heavily on top of his boyfriend's body, his own sweaty skin sticking with his. Their chests heaved in unison as they tried to catch their breath.

'' You're heavy, '' Jonghyun whined as he playfully tried to push him away.

'' Tsk. '' Jinki moved back, but a hand instantly gripped his arm. '' No, not yet. '' Jonghyun pulled him back down before wrapping his arms around his neck. '' I like feeling like we are one, '' he went on as they locked eyes.

That oneness was currently a sweaty and sticky mess of limbs, but that's just what they had been craving. To be with each other fully, no barriers between them.

Jinki's lips stretched into a soft smile. '' I love you, Jonghyun. '' More than you could ever imagine.

Jonghyun's heart rate instantly quickened. Those words would never get old. '' I love you too, Jinki. ''

They sealed those words with a kiss before Jonghyun finally decided to let go of his hold on Jinki. The latter immediately rolled out of the bed. Jonghyun cocked an eyebrow as he watched him leave the room. He couldn't help the feeling of worry that grew inside him. Fortunately, he had nothing to worry about.

Jinki came back in the matter of seconds with two moist towels. As soon as Jonghyun also had his in hand, they both cleaned themselves up as best as they possibly could. Then Jinki retrieved his rightful place by his side, turning his body towards his. '' So what about that bedtime story, huh? '' Jinki reminded with a frank laugh.

Jonghyun rolled his eyes, but still decided to play along. '' Okay, here it goes. Once upon a time there was a man who loved another man. So one day, that man confessed his feelings to the one he loved... And do you know what happened after that? ''

'' No, tell me,'' Jinki feigned for the purpose of their little game.

'' The other man confessed that he had been feeling that way too all along. They shared a kiss and from that day forward, they lived happily ever after. The end. ''

Jinki's lips curled into a pout. '' That's it? ''

'' Of course. I've told you the best love story I know. And it's a true one, might I add, '' Jonghyun deliberately pointed out.

'' It is a lovely story. I'm glad things worked out perfectly for them, '' Jinki acknowledged.

Jonghyun caressed the other's cheek on a sudden impulse. '' Yes, their love was stronger than anything. ''

Jinki smiled briefly. '' Thanks for the story. '' His tone was sincere. He appreciated all the efforts Jonghyun was deploying to make him feel at peace.

'' My pleasure, '' Jonghyun said with a smile of his own. '' We should get some sleep now, '' he indicated.

'' Yes, let's sleep. ''

The lights were turned off a second later, plunging them into darkness. Jinki wrapped an arm around Jonghyun's body right before closing his eyes. Negative thoughts immediately tried to fill his mind, but he pushed them away the best he could. He had the one he loved against him and right now that's all he wanted to care about.

��-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonghyun's eyes slowly opened as a ray of sunlight landed on his face. He groaned from the suddenness of his return to the real world. He would've enjoyed a little more rest after having been so fatigued by his boyfriend, but at least now he could consciously cuddle with him some more. Jonghyun turned his body over, expecting to see Jinki's face, but there was no Jinki there. A pang of panic hit him in the stomach. He's probably making breakfast or something, he instantly reasoned to calm his nerves. Still, his state of acute alertness had him on his feet in a second and out of their bedroom by the next. 

The apartment was alarmingly silent. '' Jinki '', he cried out as he walked into the kitchen. No answer. Jonghyun went through all the rooms nonetheless, even looking in the closets and cupboards for extra safety. Dammit, Jinki... Jonghyun went back to their bedroom and picked up his phone on the dresser. When he unlocked the screen, a little envelope appeared at the top. He clicked on it without further thought, feeling his heart thrum in his chest with anticipation.

'' Jonghyun... '' the text message started. '' One of my clients needed to see me for an emergency. I'll be back in a few days. Please don't worry. I love you. ''

'' Ugh '', Jonghyun groaned in anger as his knuckles turned white from squeezing his phone too hard. That was the worst lie the other could've come up with; the timing was just too convenient. Jonghyun was tempted to throw his phone against a wall, but instead, he forced himself to take a few deep breaths. He wasn't going to let Jinki get off so easily. 

He looked at his phone again and started typing. '' Jinki, I'm not stupid. Come back right now. '' He sent it immediately and tensely waited for an answer. Each passing minute felt like an hour, so by the time ten minutes had gone by, Jonghyun felt like he had been waiting a whole day. Maybe I need to make myself more clear. He typed again.

'' If you're not home by tonight, I don't know if I'll be able to forgive you. '' He stared at his screen a few seconds before hitting the send button this time. He knew his ultimatum was harsh, but he would be damned if he ever let Jinki slip through his fingers again. He finally sent it, uneasiness coiling in his stomach as he thought about what could follow.

But what followed was even worse than what he'd expected. Nothing happened. Jonghyun went about his day as best as he could, struggling with battling emotions of worry and anger. He couldn't believe Jinki had run away again and had lied to him about why he had left. 

Towards the end of the day, Jonghyun finally allowed himself a good cry on their bed. The sun had now disappeared and Jinki still hadn't come home.

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

AFF Link~

[theboykingofhell]

would you by any chance be up to just answer all of them rn

sjdnflskjdsnfdgsdfg this is gonna kill me and i’m so excited

READ MORE FOR ONCE to spare yalls dashboards

and i took out the ones i answered already tbh OK LET’S GO

1 : What age-group do you write?

YA!!!! i have always always wanted to write for teens. since i’ve gotten older, i do also wanna write for young adults but definitely like anything between 13-25 is the people i rly dedicate my stories to

2 : What genre do you write?

again, the closest thing i’d subscribe to genre-wise is YA... i get bored only doing the same thing over and over, but atm i have the most scifis (the most being two) so i guess that! i do fucking LOVE horror and realistic fiction tho

3 : Do you outline according to big ideas or small details?

how small are we talking... i do rly obsessively outline tho, i get the main big plot points down and then i like to know what those lil details in between are.. so...

5 : Do you write better with or without deadlines?

DON’T GIVE ME A DEADLINEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE..................

like, sure, i’ll DO it, but will i LIKE IT.. NAH... PROBABLY NOT... i did nanowrimo once, it was a great experience but was the final product good? nah... so... nnnnnah

6 : What would be the biggest compliment you could hope to receive on your current WIP?

GOSH I DONT KNOW.... JUST... ASKING FOR MORE, I GUESS??????? actually the biggest compliment is people building on my ideas or asking me questions about it tbh, anything that shows how engaged they rly got is NICE... i also do rly like when people compliment my prose tho kfgsdfgs

7 : How long is your current WIP?

tsg is 9449 words as of rn! i am far too lazy to open up the other documents and check but they are FAR shorter! 

10 : Do you brain-storm story ideas alone or with others?

bothhhhh... i do have way more fun with other people though, and i think other people help more cuz they can make connections and ask questions i wouldn’t think of. most importantly, if there are plot holes, maybe they’ll find them for me.. or maybe even solve them!!! eee the best

11 : Do you base your characters off of real people?

y e s yes yes i do i have so many... like, there’s a cara in every story, there’s a maeve and britt in every story, if i know you for long enough, you’ll def appear SOMEwhere.

12 : Is your writing space clean or cluttered?

what is this ‘clean’ you speak of

13 : Do you write character-driven or plot-driven stories?

def characters, man, i wouldn’t even write a plot if you’d let me... i literally have so many stories where the plot IS just the characters kind of just. living. yes. so good

14 : Do you have a favorite writing-related quote?

if i DID i forgot it

15 : If you transport your original characters into another author’s world, which world would you choose?

imma be honest, if i had to pick any author in the world it would be britt @mmementommori‘s verse. i absolutely fucking ADORE everything that went into that story, the verse is fascinating and perfect and my characters would fit in so well and also would be tortured for all of eternity. what could be better???

19 : Would you rather live in your characters’ world, or have your characters come live in our world?

i wanna live in tsg cuz then vampires would be real and i could finally be one, y es

20 : What book would you love to see adapted for the big or small screen?

i’ve been watching a lot of... rly... gay... amazing movies... like, beautifully made and SO grand and larger than life and so CAREFULLY LOVINGLY made... like the handmaiden or moonlight.. and because of that, i would LOVE to see tsg as a movie. i think it’d fit right in and the idea of a lgbt horror movie hitting the scren is... g o d

21 : Do you finish most of the stories you start?

yyyees and nnnoooo....more no than yes... the furthest i get usually is the first draft and onto revising and then i get bored and move on but i’m getting better

22 : Has your own writing ever made you cry?

what is this ‘cry’ you speak of

actually once i did this rp scene with @mvgitek and... imma be real... there might’ve been a tear or two

23 : Are you proud or anxious to show off your writing?

anxious the first couple of seconds, proud the rest of the time. i don’t doubt that my writing is good but also... WILL THEY THINK MY WRITING IS GOOD???

24 : When did you start considering yourself a writer?

in the 3rd grade when i started making lil paperback books for all the kids in my class. maybe even a lil bit before that

28 : On a scale of 1-10, how much do you stress about choosing character names?

def a 1 omg. name is usually one of the first things that pop up for me. if it doesn’t pop up immediately when my baby is a lil shyer, i give them a placeholder. no big. it’ll come eventually

29 : Do you tend to underwrite or overwrite in a first draft?

overwrite... in that... i write the first draft like its the only draft, cuz it pretty much will be i hate revising so much jfkgsg

30 : Does writing calm you down or stress you out?

calm, i suppose... i can and have zoned out and just written for hours, like, ten hours straight, more than that... that’s a nice feeling yes

31 : What trope do you actually like?

what’s with the phrasing of this question... as if i’m only pretending to like most tropes...also i can never remember tropes off the top of my head and i still have 20 questions to go sO..SKIPPING...

32 : Do you give your side-characters extensive backstories?

Y E P.... is it really a side-character if you don’t obsess about them more than the mains at times because they’re so complex and you love them so much

33 : Do you flesh-out characters before you write, or let their personalities develop over time?

nah those fuckers jump outta the brain womb fully formed, pretty much. their personalities do develop more as i write but i have a rly good grasp of them before i even start the story

34 : Describe your old writing in one word.

amazingwhatalittlecutieohmygodimisshavingthissymplisticwritingstylelikeyoubitchyoudidntevenrealizewhatyouhadandnowitsGONE

35 : Is it more fun to write villains or heroes? 

VILLAINS... duh....

36 : Do you write with a black and white sense of morality?

nah... largely cuz my own morality is skewed, also because most of the point of the stories is exploring morality and what it means and seeing how it gets corrupted in the protags

37 : What’s one piece of advice you would give to new writers?

you will be so much happier if you stop writing like anyone else and stop writing what people want you to write and just write for you and you only, everything else falls into place after you accept this!! AND PRACTICE

38 : What’s one piece of writing advice you try--but fail--to follow?

i hate almost all writing advice so there isn’t anything i’m attempting that i’m not doing tbh cuz i don’t wanna do any of it i’m a brat haha

39 : How important is positive reinforcement to you as a writer?

it’s important as in i’m narcissistic so anything negative puts me into a blind rage which is a damper on my mood omsfjgsfgs. also it keeps me vibing and keeps me hyped to channel out more work faster

40 : What would you ask your favorite author if given one question?

‘how the fuck’

41 : Do you find it distracting to read while you’re writing a first draft?

NAH i feel it to be absolutely necessary tbh. when i don’t read, i don’t write nearly as often and sometimes not even as well. i find other books to be rly healthy friendly competition, and when i read, immediately after i think ‘why isn’t my stuff published? why isn’t my book on the shelves with this one? i should get to work holy fuck’

42 : Do critiques motivate or discourage you?

depends! again, narcissistic, but i’ve gotten better and i do want to learn more. as long as it’s constructive and, by constructive, i mean that it still compliments me a lot and gives me the good AND the not-so-good then it’s fine, i get motivated. i never get discouraged, i’m either hype or i’m livid, which gives me evil hype and i write more outta spite haha

44 : How do you decide what story idea to work on?

i just get... the vibe... where suddenly i wanna work on a story so i do. sometimes i can tell a story isn’t ready so even if i feel like working on it, i won’t, but otherwise, i just wait for the vibe...

46 : What Hogwarts house would your protagonist(s) be in?

slytherin: red, bert, nora, amara, nathaniel, mal, katherine, tyler, eve and avery

gryffindor: black, nisha, rachel, caleb (unless i’m mean and make him a slytherin), cupid, aurora, frank, nicky, tasha, sinclair

ravenclaw: aaron, andrey, astra, antionette, blair, lucia

hufflepuff: jackie (unless i’m mean and make him a slytherin), cassandra, danny, ezra, emily, skylar, anna, null

47 : Where do you see yourself as a writer in five years?

book or two published, working on another three or so but who knows omfhsjgs

48 : Would you ever co-write?

i wanna co-write something so BAD......!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

49 : Are you a fast and rushed writer or a slow and deliberate writer?

fast and rushed omfg i can’t write slow for shit.. wish i could.. i’m getting better

OH MY GOD I’M DONE WOWWWWWWWWWWWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH ANGEL