#I think everything is fine and this is mostly residual anxiety

[exopelagic]

supervisor was met. god help our souls

[vvakarians]

Ch. 5 of Wolves Without Teeth is now up!

Beginning | Update | Rating: 18+  

Fic Summary:

Voices born of tragedy are always the loudest, and the blast that destroyed the Conclave at Haven birthed thousands. The only survivor --a seemingly insignificant Dalish elf-- proclaims innocence despite the blood staining their hands. They make a lofty promise to the world, an oaken branch planted for every lost life, and justice for all those affected by the newly created rift in the heavens. Nothing will stop them from leading all of Thedas back into the light, even on wings of death.

Chapter Summary: 

With Calliope mostly healed from the fight with the Pride demon, they think all will be well only to find out that their Mark has changed more than just their mindset, which comes at the worst possible time. But somehow they manage to meet with the advisors without too many ill effects.

V.  It’s still days before Calliope is able to slip from their bed and manage to dredge up enough energy to put their armor on. Artemaeus is on his earlier rounds, though it won’t be long before he walks in. Solas has already done his rounds, he mostly comes by at night when he thinks Calliope is asleep. Not one word is ever uttered between the two of them and he seems content for that to continue, confusing as that is to Calliope. The whispers pick at that concept -- perhaps he is avoiding them somehow. Did they upset him that badly on the trail to the Temple? His behavior is puzzling to say the least. Solas appears to be protective of them --as if he knows them but they can’t ever place him-- but when they try to catch his attention, his interest vanishes. 

They hum to themself as they slip on their tattered cloak, too deep in thought to notice the scurrying in the shadows of their quarters. Not until the sticky, wetness of something latching onto their wrist catches their attention. Pinpricks of terror make their hair stand on end and Calliope freezes, not daring to test the strength of whatever wrapped itself about them. Their heartbeat roars in their ears as they hazard a glance down, everything else forgotten but this. Though there is nothing to suggest anything ever touched them. Not a blemish, not even residue from what certainly was a slimy creature. When they push back the long sleeve of their tunic, there is nothing. Just their bare arm and--

What is that?

Ridges of their pale flesh seem to be jutting up slightly, creating a sort of ripple texture along the inside of their wrist. Welts the size of small coins dot along the back of their hand and palm, irritated and discolored. That terror turns into an icy panic as Calliope checks over the rest of their left hand, thrown from the need to stay frozen in place. A mirror was provided some time in the last several days so they could properly braid their hair back --something they had asked for to retain some form of control while regaining the use of their hand-- and they scramble over to it in a frenzy. There’s more than just the welts and ridges in their flesh; when they look into the glass their eyes are no longer a pale blue, they are a sickly, red rimmed green. Like the Breach. That damned thing that scars the sky and taunts them, speaks to them in their nightmares. 

That sticky sensation returns, creeping up the back of their neck while they raise their left arm up to the mirror. In  horror they watch as three of the innumerable welts slowly peel back the skin on heir hand, revealing demonic eyes that look back at them intelligently. Almost in a question. Throughout, the whispers have been silent; no buzz at the edges of their hearing. Now they rise to a scream that echoes and bounces off the inside of their skull. All nonsense, or perhaps every language on the material plane. Calliope does not know. Only that they feel the rush of being swallowed up by it, entirely consumed by whatever has trapped them here in this moment. Something that they can only later describe as other or eldrtich.

 Minutes or seconds tick by --even hours, for all they can tell-- before the door opens and startles Calliope back from the mirror. They don’t register who enters, glancing wildly at the figure and then back into the glass. Yet the eyes are no longer there. The sickly green of their own irises are however, as are the ridges and welts. Confusion replaces Calliope’s anxiety while they stare and try  hard to comprehend what the hell just happened. 

“Ser Lavellan?” 

Again, Calliope looks to the ill timed guest. There’s a face they recognize; chest length red hair that falls from beneath a deep purple hood, chainmail clinks on the outside of her robes. Leliana. It’s just Leliana. 

“I-- yes? Apologies, I think I must have spooked myself,” they murmur, still distracted but not enough to ignore her presence. 

“Do you need a healer? That arm doesn’t look good.” 

Self conscious, Calliope slips the thick woolen sleeve back over their arm and they shake their head numbly, “No. I--will speak to someone later about it. There’s no pain. It--seems that the Mark has made changes without my permission.” 

There’s a long, heavy silence between the two of them. It’s obvious Leliana is at a loss for words and Calliope is too in shock to say much, not even as they move towards the door. Stiff and unsure of themself. Perhaps Solas or Artemaeus will know more. For now they need  to not think of it and are grateful that the whispers fade to a soft white noise. 

“I came to see if you wanted to meet with the others in the Chantry. Do you think you can manage that?” Leliana asks, stepping to the side briefly for Calliope. 

“I will try. That is all I can do.” 

At least the cold is a welcome distraction this time around. Soothes rather than stabs them, though Calliope is sure that will change if they spend too long outside. The sun is high and bright in the pale blue green sky, the rift sealed but still puffed and raw --like an infected wound. They merely glance at it before narrowing their eyes back down at the muddy ground, careful not to sink too deep into the muck. Suddenly they are very thankful for the boots they were encouraged to take with them. Nice and soft on the inside, perfect to combat the freezing temperatures; wrapped with some cords that jingle with wooden and bone charms. A bit of home to carry with them. The sound comforts Calliope while they follow Leliana off to the large building just beyond the trail.

It’s a short walk, just a few minutes up a long dirt path that winds around a fire pit and various tents. Calliope prepares themself for another round of vitriol, unable to forget the guard who threw that rock. But nothing comes. In fact the people that do gather whisper amongst themselves in awe, or perhaps even reverence. Though that unsettles Calliope as much --if not more-- than the hate spewed days before. Why the change in tone? 

One of the group is another familiar face -- Varric. Laughter lines crease his cheeks as he watches Calliope approach; how he can be so jovial they’re not entirely sure. But it is a comfort to see, and even makes their mouth twitch into a small smile. Or a semblance of one. He doesn’t stop with the others and in fact begins walking in line with two of them; Leliana gives him a nod of recognition as he does so. It quickly crosses Calliope’s mind that he’s wearing a coat that seems much too large for him -- the puffs of dense wool obscures much of his face, and the blocky shape of the leather makes his movements stiff. A complete wonder how he can even walk in it. 

“Spin a story that convinced them?” he asks with a wink. 

“I think so. They found my tales of a nug tripping me and slaying a dragon in the process very compelling,” they respond tiredly, “I managed to slip in a bit about your gorgeous chest hair as well.” 

Varric laughter is a deep, resounding bellow that brightens Calliope’s smile by a fraction. Though they note a slight change when he fully looks them over, his unobscured eyes taking in the changes from when they last saw each other. 

“Kid, are you feeling alright?” 

“That seems to be the question of the day,” Calliope sighs. Their breath comes in clouds before them, “The Mark has made changes. I wish I could say I knew what was happening, but for now I think I’ll be fine.” 

“You should let Chuckles know, if he hasn’t found out already.” 

That gives them pause, it’s a good suggestion and begs the question--does he? Why has he not alerted anyone if he does? 

A frown spreads across Calliope’s face and they give a short nod, “I’ll let him know after the meeting. Though I’m not sure what can be done about it.” 

“Who knows, but for all his oddness he’s pretty good at keeping it in check.” 

Another comment that makes them think too hard. What does Solas know? If the Mark and the Voice are connected, he should know of that but has never said a word about them. Did he...know this would happen as well? Calliope swallows hard and pushes those thoughts out of their mind, thankful that the large doors of the Chantry have finally come into full view. It’s harder to worry about hypotheticals when something so big is looming over you. 

“I’ll keep you posted, how does that sound?” Calliope asks, glancing his way. 

“Yeah, sure. Long as you take care of yourself, kid, that’s all that matters.”

His voice is too soft when he responds, as if a great sadness has settled in his bones-- but Calliope doesn’t draw attention to it. Not yet. Instead they try on a bigger smile for him and gesture to his much too large coat. Throngs of people start to gather around them but Calliope is too busy with Varric, the others --and their growing anxiety-- can wait. He’s been nothing but kind to them. 

“If you promise to find a better coat then I promise to do as you ask. How about that?” 

Another bellowing laugh escapes Varric, so much so there’s a jingle from the golden ringed necklace that rests on his chest. Warmth floods Calliope when they hear that, their anxiety melts away for the moment. Though they can’t help but notice the large group around them in their periphery, ever whispering, looking. 

“Does it really look that bad?” 

“Oh yes, it makes you look like a walking box,” Leliana interjects with a smirk. Calliope startles when she speaks, having forgotten she was there. She’s always so quiet.  

Calliope’s smile widens at her response, however, “Someone had to have given it to him as a joke, right?” 

“I think it was a gift from Cassandra, so something like that.” 

“Ah, that would explain it.” 

“Alright, alright! I’m sure there’s a tailor around here somewhere. You two do your important meeting and I’ll fix this disaster of a coat,” Varric snorts, rolling his eyes with affection. A welcome sight as the throng stares and Calliope’s anxiety spikes to another unimaginable height. Both Leliana and Varric take notice quickly; the one ushering Calliope into the warmer, darker Chantry, while the other bustles through the crowd, breaking some of it up. 

Inside the old, creaking building there’s a sort of calm you only find among places of worship. Though it doesn’t feel nearly as ancient of a peace as Calliope is used to. It makes their chest ache, thinking back to the sprawling temple to Falon’Din that sat deep within the Graves. How much that single ruin felt like home. Here in the torchlight, hundreds of miles from their home, Calliope brushes their fingers along the stone walls of the Chantry and wishes to be back in that flooded sanctuary, surrounded by statues of their gods that have stood against the test of time. 

The once rich but faded golds and reds of Andrastian tapestries feel familiar but foreign at the same time.  Moldy furniture and dusty books surround them, old stained glass still shining brightly in the mid morning sun. Casting rays of colors all across the muddy floor. Their mother once spoke of these places, how they brought her comfort when the world was at its worst. Not because of the religion itself, but how gentle it was in those moments where no one noticed her and she could slip off without alerting anyone. There is a remnant of that here while Leliana and Calliope slowly walk across to another pair of large, ornate doors. Symbols of the religion embossed into the dark wood, a sunburst set into the seam where you would pull them open. Familiar but still foreign. They feel like they shouldn’t be here, even in the momentary peace.

That nasally voice from days before pierces right through the calm the moment the doors swing open and Calliope can’t help but make a face of disgust. This man again? Another shemlen who thinks he knows what is right and what is wrong, Creators forbid you tell him otherwise. Chancellor Roderick stands in his white, gold, and crimson red robes to the side of a large wooden table covered in maps, and what looks like small figurines. Curious, Calliope focuses on what that could possibly mean before looking around to the others flanking the Chantry man. All humans, it seems. Another man and two women, one of which is Cassandra. 

The other man has curly blonde hair, in a slicked back style that interests Calliope --they wonder briefly how he can keep it so neat and tidy in this weather. His armor bears the many sunbursts that can be found through the building, a mix of gold and cold steel. Rich red fabric and dark furs hang around his tall, muscular form. Though his complexion and under eye bags speak of illness, sunken cheeks and a listless gaze. Perhaps he has the Blight? 

“...Roderick, save your breath,” the man murmurs, catching Calliope staring as they enter the room. 

“Why is the prisoner continuously not restrained?” 

Roderick does not waste any time on saving his breath. 

“I’m afraid chains would not do you any good, Chancellor. Has Cassandra not told you I practice magic? I could simply look at you and you’d be a crispy husk,” Calliope rolls their eyes, eliciting a snort from both the new man and the aforementioned Seeker. Though the latter seems to think that much funnier than the ill human. 

“Andaran atish’an, Ser Lavellan,” another voice cuts through the Chancellors rebuttal. 

This time it’s the new woman, dressed in swatches of golden fabric lined with thick, lightly colored and patterned furs. Necklaces hang from her soft, tan neck and glint just as her brilliant smile does. Long, dark hair frames her face in perfectly set curls that are then braided to be kept out of her eyes. Honestly, she seems much too warm and gentle to be in this situation at all, but that is exactly why Calliope assumes she is. Never underestimate the sweet ones. 

They smile back at her when greeted in elven, and bow their head respectively, “Pleased to meet you, even under these circumstances.” 

There is a sound of derision from Roderick that has both Calliope and Cassandra looking his way with annoyance, the former feeling a coil of anger build in their chest. 

“What, do I offend you?” Calliope asks, raising a pale eyebrow at him. 

“These circumstances are of your own doing, of course you have offended me! The Divine is dead and here you stand, still alive.” 

“Shocking as it may seem, Chancellor, I did not kill your Divine. In fact I have been exonerated of all charges. Cassandra told me as much several days ago as I was recovering. While I don’t remember what made her change her mind, I’m inclined to think it was compelling evidence.” 

This time there’s another amused snort from the ill man and he looks up at Calliope, dark eyes sparkling a bit in the lamp light. 

“Careful, you keep prodding him and he might  explode.” 

Roderick once again opens his mouth, but quickly shuts it when Cassandra steps in with a scowl his way and a glance at Calliope. There is a brief moment where her expression turns from irritation to concern when she makes note of the change of Calliope’s eye color, which does make them wonder if they should wander about with their eyes shut from now on. 

“I believe we have some introductions to get out of the way,” the Seeker says, shaking the worry off expertly, “You know Sister Leliana, our Spymaster.” 

Leliana bows her head at the mention, smiling just a touch for Calliope who manages one in return. It’s the least they can do after her friendliness towards them. 

“Our Ambassador, Josephine Montilyet. She is an expert in keeping the peace,” Cassandra gestures to the woman full of warmth, and then finally at the ill seeming man, “This is Commander Cullen Rutherford, you would have met him at the Temple but we know how that went.” 

“I was nearly decapitated, apparently. Which I’m sure Roderick would have been pleased by,” they scoff, glancing away from Cassandra to watch the priest. He does nothing but stare right back, wrinkling his nose. 

“We are lucky you weren’t, otherwise we would not be able to do what we’re doing now,” Cassandra responds, cutting in before Roderick can get a word out. 

Something about that comment unsettles Calliope, makes them seriously consider the Seeker. She had said something about wanting them to stay, that there was danger following them possibly and they didn’t have anything on the Mark yet. Yet this doesn’t seem to be what she’s talking about. 

“I’m assuming we found something when we closed the Breach? What are we doing now?” 

A heavy silence descends upon the room like a thick blanket, extinguishing all sound so much so that the whispers come in loud bursts and Calliope’s pointed ears flutter uncomfortably. They wait for someone to say something, anything at all; nerves standing on end. 

“We saw a vision in the middle of a field of red lyrium that was at the center of the Temple,” Leliana finally speaks, looking from Cassandra to Calliope with a sharp gaze, “Someone or something was there doing a ritual, said that the Divine was meant as a sacrifice. Then you came out of the shadows to ask what was going on. That was when the Rift broke open.” 

A chill runs down Calliope’s spine, that familiar build up of anxious energy. Their eyes dart to the candles flickering just beyond the table, and one of them forms a tall pillar of fire before simmering back down again. No one seems to notice, not even Roderick who is barely paying attention to anything at all. 

“That’s good to know but that doesn’t answer my question. What are we doing now?” Calliope repeats, their gaze hardening. The whispers buzz in anticipation, shadows dancing in their peripheral vision. Once again there’s silence but it’s short lived. 

“The Divine created a writ in case her plan failed to restore peace between the mages and the templars,” Cassandra responds quietly, and taps a book on the table with a gloved hand. It is thick and old, filled with secrets Calliope assumes. 

“What does that mean?” they ask, shifting their weight nervously. 

“We are going to rebuild a group called the Inquisition, to find the Divine’s killer and end the conflict that led to her death. We could also use it to clean up after what happened with the Breach,” the Commander answers for her, and Calliope raises an eyebrow at those gathered around the table. 

“It must be invoked by both of the Divine’s Hands, and will be with or without Chantry approval,” Cassandra says, shooting a withering glance at Roderick who sighs. 

“You know how I feel about this Seeker-” 

“And I don’t care. This is the only way, you know that!” 

“We need to find a replacement for the Divine and quickly! None of this Inquisition nonsense will help us now.” The room descends into arguments and raised voices as everyone attempts to speak over the priest, who in turn raises his whine of a voice to disgustingly new levels. Anxiety and rage make the air thick, too hard to breathe, too hard to move in. From their spot at the other side of the space, Calliope watches that candle flicker once, twice, three times before it erupts into a roaring fire. All of their despair and nervousness centered on one singular wick that burns so brightly it lights up the entire room, banishing the shadows back to where they came. It’s certainly one way to get everyone’s attention. 

Their arguments dwindle into nothing as they scramble to get away from the fire just as it starts to fizzle out and become a smoking ember. Consumed, wax and all, by Calliope’s magical presence. Embarrassment washes over them at the sight but they manage to hold it together while each pair of eyes comes back to settle on them. Calliope finally breaks the silence, that slimy sensation threading through their skin as they say in almost a snarl, pointedly at Roderick --who had decided to argue.

“Create your Inquisition, we replace the Divine and find her Killer. Maybe get answers about what the fuck happened to my hand. Does that sound good?” 

There’s only a beat of silence before Roderick mumbles what could be a ‘yes’, easing Calliope’s volatile mood but not that horrific feeling of otherness wrapped around their wrist. 

“We--should get you in touch with a proper Enchanter, I think,” Cullen comments in shock. A blurting out of words, really. 

“There are mages here I can learn from, if it will soothe your fears, Commander Rutherford.”

“Perhaps we should take a recess? Cool down before we talk about our next steps.” 

It’s Josephine who speaks, light and airy. Unperturbed on the outside by what just happened but the tremble in her hands as she grips her important parchments says otherwise. Calliope doesn’t blame her. 

There’s a note of tiredness and defeat to their tone when they speak again, “I will get my magic under control, it’s been harder since the Mark. I’m sorry for scaring anyone. A recess would be good.” 

[callmeblake]

Frank Iero, New York, NY, June 2019 (X)

Aug 29, 2019, 09:10am

Frank Iero May Just Be His Own Puppet Master

Photo Credit: Audrey Lew

Interview below the cut

Derek Scancarelli

Contributor

Hollywood & Entertainment

I am a music journalist living in New York City.

Frank Iero is breathing deeply and fighting off nausea. This isn’t uncommon for the 37-year-old guitarist and vocalist, given his predilection for debilitating anxiety. But on this occasion, it isn’t pre-show jitters.

“Oh my god, I hate this f*cking boat,” Iero says, as the docked vessel on which he sits knocks against a pier in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Iero and his band, The Future Violents, just finished an intimate Saturday matinee show as fans sweat, sang and caught a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty.

It had been about 16 years since Iero and his now defunct band, My Chemical Romance (the band broke up in 2013), first performed on water. In July of 2002, the band released its debut album, I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. In October of 2003, the soon-to-be emo heroes performed alongside New York Hardcore legends Sick Of It All at an aquatic gig booked by New Jersey college radio station WSOU. And in June of 2004, My Chemical Romance released Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, the band’s platinum-selling breakthrough record. In a matter of two years, Iero’s life changed dramatically.

In 2019, Iero still hasn’t found his sea legs, but a lot more has changed. He’s fathered three children, released three full-length solo records (including 2019’s Barriers), and survived a near-death experience. And as he gets older, he finds truth in life’s greatest clichés.

“Time flies, it just screams by,” Iero says. “You think you’re appreciating the time, but it’s easy to take it for granted. It’s a shame.”

But Iero is trying his hardest to pay attention to the little things, especially when it comes to family. He and his wife, Jamia, have three children together: nine-year-old twin daughters, Cherry and Lily, and a seven-year-old son named Miles.

“It’s wonderful to see them evolve and come into their own,” Iero says. “But it’s funny how personalities are innate. We shape the way they experience things or teach them the ropes, but for the most part, I’ve found that we are who we are when we’re born.”

From the start, Iero has seen an even split in the twins’ personalities. Cherry, he says, most behaves like her mother, whereas Lily possesses her father’s attitude.

“Some of the sh*t I hear coming out of my daughter's mouth,” Iero says laughing. “My God! It’s stuff I think but never say — they don't know to be ashamed yet! It's amazing and honest and pure. And I know exactly where she's coming from because I feel the same way.”

As part of fostering a relationship of trust and honesty, Iero has been age-appropriately transparent with his kids about the 2016 accident that almost killed him, his brother-in-law and guitarist Evan Nestor and his manager Paul Clegg.

While unloading gear from their van in Sydney, Australia, a city bus crashed into the group and their vehicle. In a 2017 interview with MTV, Iero recounted, in vivid detail, the moment he was dragged underneath the bumper of the bus, the screams of his brother-in-law, and the blood pooling from his manager.

Although Iero was able to walk into an ambulance carrying one of his friends, the scene was a spectacle overrun with emergency personnel — they even landed a rescue helicopter in nearby Hyde Park. Despite serious injuries, amazingly, there were no fatalities.

When Iero returned home from the hospital, he explained to his children that he was in a car accident, but that it was a singular freak incident.

“You don't want to lie,” he says. “They're getting older. Their friends and their parents are on the internet. They're asking questions. It does get back to them.”

Iero was as honest as possible, but avoided any gory details. He was also conscious that it wouldn’t be long before he would travel for work again — and he didn’t want to scare his kids any further.

Almost four years later, residual damage from the crash is impossible to ignore. Nestor has nerve damage in his leg that may never be corrected. Clegg’s leg and knee have undergone multiple surgeries, but are in poor shape. And Iero still has a tear in his shoulder that hurts every time he plays the guitar. Despite the pain, he’s afraid to undergo surgery.

“I was lucky enough to walk away and still play,” Iero says. “If I were to test fate again and go under the knife, if something were to go wrong… to let that be taken from me … no, I can't.”

On some days, the emotional toll of surviving such a traumatic accident weighs more heavily. Iero describes his recovery as non-linear: some days he feels collected and in control, other days the memory rushes back into his mind.

After his new band finished recording Barriers, Iero and his team went back to Australia for appointments pertaining to the accident and corresponding litigation. As soon as he exited the plane, Iero felt like he’d returned to the horrific scene. For the following week, he was barraged by an unending state of panic.

“You go through these instances of PTSD,” he says. “You never know what's going to trigger and send you all the way back to the beginning with recovery.”

Iero greatly underestimated how difficult his return to Australia would be. When navigating to a doctor’s office near where the accident occurred, he couldn’t bring himself to walk down the street. And suddenly, he felt surrounded by buses.

“I don't know if this is true,” he says. “But it felt like every other car on the street was one of these f*cking buses. They were everywhere. It was frightening. I couldn't do anything. I was shaking like a leaf.”

Despite the traumatic flashbacks, Iero continues to reflect on that day. In the promotional run for Barriers, he discussed the accident at length. And on the record itself, he addresses the complicated ripple effect it’s had on his entire sense of self.

“I don't think it needs to define me,” Iero says. “But it was something I needed to talk about on this record. It's not something I could sweep under the rug. But do I want to dwell on it every day and relive it? No. But I think about it constantly. I feel the pain constantly. It's on my mind.”

In recent interviews, Iero has tended to frame a few philosophical takeaways from his ordeal. In simple terms, the first idea is that he’s found a new lease on life — that everything happens for a reason and he’s been given an opportunity to seize the day. The second philosophy is much darker, a sort of survivor’s guilt compounded with fear and existential dread. The third and most abstract consideration is closest to Simulation Theory — where Iero has the ability to control his own artificial timeline.

Sometimes, Iero questions if actually died that day. He wonders: Is this all real?

“It’s hard. No one can tell you what to believe,” he says. “But you come to this realization, ‘Well, this is real to me, the hand I was dealt, so I have to make the best of it!’”

Through the acceptance of uncertainty, Iero surmises that he just may be his own puppet master.

“If this is a figment of my imagination,” Iero says. “If this is all in my head, then I am the master of my own destiny. If I want to do something, I can manufacture it. And if it's not the case, then at least it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe putting positive vibes out into the universe is beneficial. If we didn't make it and we're just going through this weird labyrinth in my mind, I can do anything I want.”

And lately, he’s been doing just that. Call it sorcery or the power of positive thinking, but Iero is motivated. For Barriers, he was able to assemble a dream band, The Future Violents (different lineups of his backing band have previously gone by The Cellabration and The Patience), featuring his brother-in-law Nestor on guitar, Thursday’s Tucker Rule on drums, Murder by Death’s Matt Armstrong on bass, and Kayleigh Goldsworthy on keyboard.

The theme of the album — and his own internal dialogue — mostly relates to tragedy and timing. Did the universe have a course set out for him? Or was he just some random victim?

“The crazy thing is that you didn't do anything wrong,” Iero says of the accident. “Yet, all of this stuff was taken from you and you have to make these decisions. You get angry a lot.”

He continues: “These random, abrupt, violent actions. Do they happen to us? Or for us? I wouldn't have been able to make this record if it didn't happen. And it made me realize a lot of things about myself. Am I happy it happened? No. But I'm happy where I am right now.”

Iero views Barriers as an exercise in vulnerability. If the aftermath of his accident taught him anything, it’s that success was meaningless to his character, but adversity helped him grow. For the first time, addressing childhood trauma helped Iero expose himself in a way that felt freeing.

“When you put something to song, it gives that memory weight,” Iero explains. “If you never talk about it, it's almost like it didn't happen. There's a fine line between relinquishing that power to this memory, situation or trauma, or holding that power over it and creating your own narrative from it.”

Barriers also intertwines Iero’s childhood experiences with his current perspective as a father. This go around, he felt comfortable writing about his parents’ divorce — the couple split when he was three and divorced when he was seven.

He looks back on the unpleasantness of the process and his consequential understanding of his mother’s issues with addiction, depression and mental illness. On his 2016 record, Parachutes, Iero first referenced his mother’s struggles and his own liability to inherit her traits. He’s still horrified by the idea of predeterminism.

“When you're a young kid being surrounded with it, it doesn't feel right,” Iero says. “You're not happy. You're scared. You're constantly concerned for your parent. It’s almost as if you become the caregiver.”

He continues: “Then you see yourself falling into these patterns that you were witness to and maybe in a roundabout way were taught. That addiction, that depression, runs through you. It's easy to fall off that cliff. I don't want that for my kids and I need to stop this cycle. Like this sh*t stops with me. Whether it be I get okay, or I f*cking turn my lights out.”

It’s this sort of tongue-in-cheek use of concerning language that keeps Iero’s fanbase enthralled, yet somewhat on edge. Take for example, in the comment section for his video “Young & Doomed,” some diehard fans are troubled by his repeated use of the words “hurt myself again.” While he’s surprised to hear about the response, he counters that the record is ultimately meant to feel uplifting and positive, even if addressing dark topics.

“I don't think that we should strive for perfection,” Iero says. “This idea that we should all have this perfect life and be pretty and purse our lips to post a picture on social media is bullsh*t. The things that make us unique are important.”

He continues: “Sometimes we're our own worst enemies and we hurt ourselves. Those scars, though, are important. They're beautiful. ‘Young And Doomed’ is a call to arms to celebrate the things people think are wrong with us.”

Now, Iero just hopes his story and music inspire fans to try, fail and try again.

“You don't find out who you are unless you get a scar and get hurt,” Iero says. “You should be hurt, hurt other people, and learn that it feels terrible to hurt someone else. You should feel sorry for it and make amends for it. These are important lessons to be a better person. You find out who you truly are by attacking things that scare you the most.”

Frank Iero is currently touring Europe with Laura Jane Grace & The Devouring Mothers.

[spiridakos]

i’ll be your umbrella

Storms had been in the forecast all day, so it was no shock to Liam when the rumbles started making their presence know in the distance, before the seemed to get louder and stronger with each passing second. The humidity came rolling in with the storm, heavy air filling their room quickly and unpleasantly, surfaces becoming damp with the dew; a heatwave set to settle in after the weather passed.

Dark grey clouds had come barreling in from the west early in the evening, covering the otherwise cloudless blue sky as everything around them turned dark. When the rain started dripping from the sky, little droplets dancing on the pavement and pooling in small puddles on the pavement, it had been minuscule enough and gave him no reason to believe that the storm would turn worse than it’s current state, no reason to keep a closer eye on Fallon if this was all the storm was going to produce. Although, he’d always keep a closer eye on her during a storm, no matter how small and unthreatening it may have been.

She seems mostly unbothered, sitting against their sheets and typing away quickly and steadily on her laptop. A little light rain never spooked her that bad, although he knew her better than that by now; he knew that despite the brave face she was putting on for him and herself, that she was scared underneath that all. That she was already thinking ahead in that brilliant mind of hers, wondering if this was all about to get worse and send her into the inevitable panic she always faced when it came to bad weather.

It’s not until after the first flash of lightening appears in the night that he lets himself focus on her actions a little more carefully, keep a little bit of a closer watch on the way she’s fidgeting. The bright white light illuminates the sky in a flash right before the loud rumble shakes her so much that she jumps in her place from the bed. He can tell she’s trying to still focus on the MacBook placed in her lap but clearly so unfocused on anything but this storm; her eyes are glossed over and wide in a way that only happens when she’s feeling anxiety.

“Fal.”

“I’m fine,” she mutters, typing away frantically, but it’s shaky and he just knows that despite her tough tone, she’s well aware that he’s seeing right through her actions.

The rumbles in the sky only become louder and louder, the center of the storm moving over their exact location now; bright red and orange coloring moving over the greater Atlanta area on the radar when he takes a peak at the weather app on his phone. He looks up again at her, her eyes closed together tightly with a desperate look of agony painted on her face, the sounds and lights in the sky haunting her.

“Fallon.”

Her head only shakes from left to right, stubborn as always. “I’ll be okay.”

He’s already making his way towards her when the lightening crackles in the sky, thunder booming so loudly that it feels like their whole home shakes from beneath them. And then, just as he’s imagining the storm couldn’t possibly get worse than it is, all the lights in their room flicker out in a wink. The television flutters off with a static, and all of their electronic devices that were turned out shut off in an instant.

And that’s when he hears her tiny voice speak up, her frame is outlined only by the LCD light of her computer screen amongst the complete darkness that surrounds them.

“Liam,” her voice is weak, filled with agony and despair.

“I’m here.” He’s at her side immediately, pulling her small body into his as her hands grab at his shirt, scrunching it together in her fingers with a weak grasp. He rubs his hand up and down the bare skin of her arm, trying to sooth her in anyway that he possibly can; trying to calm the way she shakes against him in a way he’d become used to with these kinds of thunderstorms. “I’m right here.”

He feels her breath tickle against his neck when she speaks again. “My pills.”

He reaches around her, still keeping her tucked into his side to grab the prescription she had for Ativan sitting in her nightstand, the prescription she’d had since she was only a teenager. After her mother had left and made her question everything she’d done and said, leaving her to blame herself for her moms decision to walk away from the entire family. He still resents Alexis for that, for putting this woman he’d loved so fully and deeply through something like that at such a young age. Despite her trying to better herself and her relationship with her daughter now, it was still hard for him to imagine all that Fallon had been through in her life.

There’s a bolt of lightening that cracks outside, her hand squeezing onto his at the sharp sound it makes. He hands her the small white pill, watching as she washes it down with a swig of water before quickly leaning her head back against his chest just as the next loud bang scuffled across the sky.

He presses his lips against her forehead, a lingering kiss settling right against her warm skin that he hopes brings her a slight feeling of comfort. “You should have taken those earlier like I told you to.”

“I just want to be able to do it without them, Liam.”

“I know,” he says. “But it’s okay you know? It doesn’t make you any less of who you are to rely on them during these storms.”

Her grip tightens against his t-shirt when there’s another vivid and dazzling blaze, but its softer and duller than the previous ones; a sign the storm was moving east and moving out of their range. He feels her scooting closer to his warm, her forehead nestled into this crevice of his neck. “Yeah, I guess.”

“C’mon let’s just lay back, okay?” He pulls her down with him against their pillows, her arm weaved tightly around his stomach and squeezing against him tightly. The next rumble takes longer to come, already indicating it’d started heading east. “It sounds like it’s starting to move away.”

“Not fast enough.”

His thumb brushes against her shoulder, keeping her body tight in his grip - a gentle reminder so she knew he was there and wouldn’t be going anywhere. “Just try to get some sleep, okay?”

“Hmm,” she mumbles incoherently.

Liam only presses his kiss to the crown of her head in response, tracing small patterns against the small of her back as he tries to lull her to sleep even amongst the lingering storm. The flashes become weaker and more spaced out, the loud rumbles of thunder become soft in the distance, only the residual remnants of the storm hanging over their heads now. Her staggering breathing and heart rate start to even out, beginning to match his in a much more normal rhythm, before he finally feels her succumb to the sleep her body so desperately craved.

The calm after the storm.

[legendofzeldaalinktothepast]

Opalescent Tides - Chapter 8

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter 

(tw for drowning in the beginning) 

Pale fog surrounded Pearl. Her ears were clogged, her body suspended and light; she held her breath for an unknown reason, but feared what'd happen if she found out why. The fog thickened until she was surrounded in nothing but solid white. Pearl’s body trembled. Before she knew it, she could no longer hold her breath. She gasped for air and salty water filled her lungs.

Pearl clutched her chest and cried out in pain, but the water muffled her voice. With each passing second, Pearl’s consciousness slipped away until everything went dark.

Pearl bolted upright with a gasp. Her body clammy and drenched in sweat, it took her a moment to process where she was. She gripped the bed sheets tight, grounding herself as she steadied her breath, slowly returning to reality and assuring herself that, yes, she was in her room, and could breathe.

Once her breath was back to a steady pace, she flopped down onto the pillows and glanced at the clock on her dresser. 6:32. She had a couple hours until she actually needed to get up. Normally Pearl would take advantage of that… but the sweat covering her body made her feel sticky and disgusting, and the sickness from her nightmare lingered in her stomach, so she reluctantly pulled herself out of bed.

Pearl made her way across the hall, making sure to tread carefully in case Garnet was still asleep; but she heard footsteps in the kitchen and relaxed, continuing at her usual gait until she reached the bathroom.

As Pearl brushed her teeth, she refused to look at her reflection in the mirror. She knew she'd have those hideous bags under her eyes. It'd taken hours to fall asleep that night; at most, she'd gotten four hours of proper rest. Even without her sleep deprivation, she never found herself a beautiful sight to look at; with her nose too big for her face, a body so formless and flat chested she looked like a brick, it only soured her mood. Only once she’d finished brushing and rinsed her mouth did she look at the mirror, and even then, she merely glanced long enough to smooth out her hair.

Pearl grabbed a little silver box on the edge of the sink. Removing the lid, she retrieved a small, brown ring and slipped it onto her thumb. She stroked the smooth material with her index finger; Garnet had once told her it was made of solid tumbled sardonyx.

It had been a birthday gift from many years back, when Pearl was still recovering from her amnesia... Ever since then, a day hadn't passed where Pearl didn't wear the ring. The thought of forgetting Garnet again made Pearl sick to her stomach; but as long as that ring was on her thumb, she felt safe.

Pearl made her way back down the hallway. She could smell coffee brewing in the kitchen; as someone who preferred tea, she was never a fan of it, but the scent always made her feel right at home. Her mood immediately brightened just a touch as she spotted Garnet at the counter.

"Morning." Garnet said. Pearl opened the fridge and looked to see what she had to work with: not much, but they did have some fresh blueberries that Rose had given them the other day.

"Good morning." Pearl finally responded. "Do you want me to make pancakes?" The thought of food made her stomach turn… Normally she was bright and ready to eat breakfast upon waking up, but after that little nightmare -- even if it had mostly faded from her memory, and she could only remember the strange sense of anxiety that accompanied it -- food was the last thing she wanted. Still, Garnet was never good in the kitchen, and Pearl knew she’d probably enjoy a change from her usual routine of jam and toast.

"Always." Garnet said with a wink. She lifted herself up onto the counter and crossed her legs, taking a sip of her coffee. "I can't believe it's already Saturday. This week went by pretty quickly.”

"I think so, too." Pearl lied; in all honesty, this week had felt more like a month. She searched the fridge for pancake ingredients; blueberries, eggs, butter... 'I hope we have enough flour.' she thought, closing the fridge and heading over to the cabinet.

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" Garnet asked, setting her mug aside. "I want to go to the mall. Our sales have been decent this week, and I'd like to splurge on something nice..."

Pearl bit her lip. Throughout the week, she'd debated telling Garnet about her plans to meet with Amethyst... But every time she tried, a mixture of shame and guilt welled up in her chest. After how much Garnet had comforted Pearl these past few weeks, she’d started to worry she was asking a little too much. Besides, she had no way to even explain the situation without it sounding sketchy and incredibly vague -- which it absolutely was.

"I was planning to visit Amethyst, actually." Pearl responded as she stirred the pancake ingredients together. "But I won't be offended if you go to the mall without me. Maybe you could invite Bismuth?”

"That’s true… Or maybe all four of us could hang out together. I think Amethyst and Bismuth would get along pretty well." Garnet suggested.

"Hm, I think I'd prefer if it was just the two of us tonight." Pearl said, turning on the stove and greasing a frying pan with some butter.

"Ah, I understand." Garnet smiled knowingly, and Pearl’s cheeks flushed. Still, Garnet’s assumption was less embarrassing than the reality of the situation, so she let it be.

"D-do you want two or three pancakes?" Pearl hoped to change the subject.

"Just two." Garnet said. Once she'd finished her coffee, she slipped down from the counter and made her way into the living room. Garnet retrieved her comb and a couple of neon scrunchies, and stood in front of the body length mirror as she parted her hair into two sections.

Pearl poured a ladle of pancake mix onto the sizzling pan. With a spatula in hand, she leaned against the counter and watched as Garnet styled her hair in two puffy little pigtails. Pearl smiled; she always found it charming when she did cutesy hair styles like that. She normally kept her hair in a ponytail for convenience, but every now and then she'd do pigtails or braids, and would always decorate it with colorful hair clips, scrunchies, or bows.

Pearl remembered the pancake and quickly flipped it; thankfully, it was the perfect golden brown color she always aimed for. The more time that passed, the more the residue of her nightmare began to fade. By then, she’d almost forgotten about it altogether. 'Maybe I'll have some pancakes after all...'

* 

The sun descended over the ocean; as she waited, Pearl periodically checked the leather watch on her wrist. It was a few minutes past seven already. The more time her mind had to wander, the more her anxiety bubbled up in her chest, and she began to regret not bringing Garnet along.

"Hey, girly-girl!" a familiar voice called, snapping Pearl away from her thoughts.

"Good evening!" Pearl responded, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Where's Garnet?" Amethyst asked, shoving her hands into her skirt pockets.

"I decided not to bring her along..." Pearl fidgeted with the collar of her shirt. "She's had a lot on her plate lately, and she wanted to spend tonight with one of her friends, anyway."

Amethyst smiled in a way that made Pearl's heart flutter. "That's fine with me. Do you wanna go for a swim?"

Pearl glanced down at her purse. “Oh, uh, I hadn't considered that! I didn't bring a swimsuit or a towel, so..."

’Oh, right.’ Amethyst thought. She’d forgotten humans had special clothing intended specifically for swimming. Why exactly they were so particular about these things, she failed to understand. "No biggie. I was just gonna go for a quick dip. But I won't swim too far or anything.”

"That's fine with me." Pearl relaxed her shoulders. "Perhaps I’ll dip my feet in, though…”

“Nice!" Amethyst said. And with that, she waded into the shallow water, clothes and all.

Pearl gave her a puzzled expression. "You're swimming in your clothes?"

Amethyst snorted. "You want me to take them off?"

Pearl cupped her hands over her mouth. "No! Goodness no, I just -- don't normally see people swim in their clothes, that's all. But there's nothing wrong with it, I suppose... it's just... a bit strange?"

"Alrighty then. I'm fine with being strange." Amethyst smirked, continuing into the water until the surface reached her chin. She let out a sigh of content; maybe her transformation would be a little less painful this time around, now that she was surrounded by plenty of chlorine-free water.

“So…” Pearl removed her shoes and stepped into the water. It was quite warm, and far more pleasant than she’d expected. Rolling her jeans up as high as they could go, she stepped forward until the tides just barely grazed her knees. “There was something you wanted to talk to me about?”

Amethyst’s expression softened. “Yeah…” she said, scratching the back of her head. Amethyst glanced up at the dimming sky before she continued. “So… You remember what you told me about the other day? How you lost your memory a few years ago, and how last month, you saw something that wasn’t real?”

Pearl swallowed a lump in her throat. “I do.” she responded after a moment of hesitation.

“Well…” Amethyst paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out her own words. Pearl’s anxiety rose with each passing second.

"You... you aren’t the only one." Amethyst began. "I also lost my memory. Something happened around a month ago, and I can’t remember anything before then. Not who I am, or where I come from, or why I’m here… Just my name.” Amethyst said. Pearl’s eyes widened.

“But that’s not the important thing…” she continued. “What I really wanted to say is… What you saw last month was real. It wasn’t in your head.”

Pearl’s expression fell. “What on earth are you talking about?”

Amethyst glanced up at the sky once more. ’Why does she keep doing that…?’ Pearl wondered. It almost seemed as if she was waiting for something... She looked up, too, and spotted the full moon hanging in the golden summer sky.

“Fuck -- !” Amethyst yelped out, causing Pearl to jump. Before she could ask if she was alright, Amethyst fell backwards into the water with a splash.

“Amethyst?” she called. No response. ’Oh no…’ Her heart pounded. She’d never been confident in her swimming abilities -- so for a moment, all she could do was pray that Amethyst would return to the surface… But the longer she waited, the more certain it seemed that something wasn’t right.

“Amethyst!” Pearl called out again. Fearing what’d happen if she waited any longer, she plunged herself into the water.

It didn’t take long for Pearl to spot that head of lavender hair. Swimming closer, Pearl gripped her by the shoulders and tugged her upright and towards the surface. Once Amethyst’s head was above the water, she took in a gasp of air.

“Are you alright?” Pearl urged, cupping Amethyst’s cheeks. “What happened?”

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Amethyst said, brushing a strand of seaweed away from her forehead. “It caught me by surprise, and once I went under, the water felt so nice that I didn’t wanna come back up, heh…” Amethyst blushed, glancing aside. “Didn't mean to scare ya."

“What caught you by surprise?” Pearl urged. “Did you step on...” Pearl trailed off as she caught a glimpse of Amethyst’s hands, and her heart nearly stopped in her chest. Her fingers were webbed together, her nails resembling something more like talons; and as she cast her gaze downward, she spotted a very familiar, very beautiful, shimmering and opalescent tail.

Amethyst wasn’t sure what to make of Pearl’s expression; her skin turned pale, her eyes were wide, and her mouth was slightly ajar. Pearl looked at her hand and fidgeted with the brown ring on her thumb before turning her gaze back towards Amethyst.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” she whispered.

Amethyst’s heart dropped down to her stomach. “No - no no no no no, it’s not! I mean, it is, but it isn’t what you think.” Amethyst cupped Pearl’s cheeks, but the latter immediately jerked away from her. Amethyst clasped a hand over her mouth as she saw a slight claw mark on Pearl’s face. “I’m sorry…” she whimpered.

“T-this is some sort of joke, isn’t it?” Pearl backed away, balling her fists at her sides. “I-I’m not sure how you did it, but--”

“It’s not a joke! I swear on my life, Pearl!” Amethyst insisted, tugging on her hair. “I don’t know why I’m like this… I don’t remember anything. I don’t even remember what I used to be. All I know is that… I lost my memory like you did. So I thought… Maybe…” Tears welled up in Amethyst’s eyes. “I thought maybe you were… I thought you were a mermaid, too, okay?" Her voice cracked, and she buried her face into her hands. "I know that's stupid of me. A-and I think I knew deep down that you'd react like this... I really just wanted it to be true. So this is my fault."

Pearl’s expression softened. Her fear, and a small hint of anger, still lingered in her chest… Yet at the same time, seeing Amethyst like this broke her heart. Extending a hand, she cautiously approached her and grasped her shoulder. Her soft skin now had a slick, scaly texture. She fidgeted with the ring on her finger for a moment, taking in a long, deep breath.

“Well… I can tell you for certain that I’m not a mermaid.” Pearl began. “But… Perhaps there’s more to my story than I’d initially considered.” She sighed again. “You don't have to be sorry about this, though... I'm just more confused than ever, and a little shaken up, but... I think I'll survive."

Amethyst didn't respond. She feared that if she spoke, she'd be unable to hold back her tears anymore. Pearl seemed to pick up on this; she reached for Amethyst’s hands and gave them a squeeze, running her fingers across those sharp talons and webbed skin. It simultaneously intrigued and disturbed her. But the more she looked at Amethyst’s shimmering tail, the more her fear dissolved away. Pearl turned her gaze up to meet Amethyst’s eyes; only now did that alien look in them begin to make sense. Her heart racing, she suddenly pulled Amethyst into a tight embrace.

At first, Amethyst tensed; but then she allowed herself to close her eyes and melt into the display of affection.

“It's going to be alright.” Pearl whispered. “I promise, your secret will be safe with me.”

Another silence fell between the two. They simply held each other tight, listening to the lapping of waves and chirping of crickets.

“This is gonna sound stupid…” Amethyst finally spoke up. “But like… are you sure you’re not a mermaid?”

Pearl giggled against Amethyst’s hair. “I have no reason to believe that. I mean, I clearly have two legs now, don’t I?”

“Yeah, but…” Amethyst began, but decided against it. She wasn’t sure how to explain a lack of monthly transformation without bringing up Rose… “I guess I'm still holding on to that stupid idea that it might be true... I still don’t know what the hell’s going on, you know? I don’t know why I became a human… I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“At least you’re not the only one.” Pearl said, squeezing Amethyst even tighter. “Sometimes, I feel the same way. Even if it’s for a slightly less… mythical reason.”

Amethyst chuckled. “Yeah, guess so.”

“But now I can’t help but wonder…” Pearl pulled away from the hug and looked Amethyst in the eyes. “Rose knows about your secret, doesn’t she? Do you think you can trust her with it…?”

Amethyst blushed. “Oh, yeah, totally, pfft.” Amethyst waved a hand dismissively. Just talking about Rose right now was making her feel guilty. “Like, she was kinda freaked out when she found me, and I had a lot of explaining to do, but uh, she’s doing a good job keeping my secret. Greg and Steven, too. I actually kinda snuck out tonight. She didn’t want me getting myself in danger, but… I wanted to keep my promise to you.”

Pearl chuckled softly. “You know you could have just told me about this, right? You didn’t have to put yourself in so much danger… I might have believed you if you told me the truth in a convincing way.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” Amethyst stuck her tongue out.

Pearl rolled her eyes. “Anyway.” she continued with a sigh, gesturing to her wet clothes. “I would like to head home before I develop hypothermia. Would you like me to take you back to Rose’s house?”

In all honesty, the thought of facing Rose right now made Amethyst’s stomach turn. “No, I uh, might spend the night here. Rose is gonna be pissed that I snuck out, and I’m not ready to deal with that.”

“Nonsense. I won’t let you stay out here where you could be seen!” Pearl shook her head. “If you don’t want to see Rose tonight, I could take you back to my apartment. Garnet is out for the night, so it’ll just be the two of us.”

Amethyst blushed. “Aw, geez… You sure? I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“I’ll worry far more if you stay out here overnight.” Pearl said. “I insist. Should I carry you to my car? Or are you able to… Grow your legs back?”

Amethyst snorted. “Man, if only. You gotta carry me if you really wanna take me home with you.”

“That’s alright.” Pearl said. And just like that, she scooped Amethyst up into her arms. With a grunt, she carried her out of the water and onto the beach, making her way through the woods and into the clearing where her car was parked.

As skinny as Pearl was, Amethyst had honestly expected her to struggle carrying a heavier woman like herself… Of course, the slight strain on Pearl’s face didn’t make it look easy, either, but they made it all the way to the car without stopping once.

She placed Amethyst in the front seat, adjusting her scaly fin so that it lay comfortably on the ground -- pausing for a moment to admire the way it shimmered in the moonlight -- and then buckled her seatbelt for her.

“Damn, you’re stronger than you look.” Amethyst remarked.

“I do a lot of lifting at my job.” Pearl winked. “I’ve lifted antiques far heavier than you.”

“I can tell.” Amethyst blushed a little.

Pearl shut the door and walked around to the other side of the car; after climbing into the driver’s seat, she shoved the key into the ignition and started it up. They made their way out of the woods and back to the road.

As Pearl drove, Amethyst noticed a little door in front of her. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s the glove compartment.” Pearl said.

Amethyst tugged it open and saw that it was filled to the brim with papers, tiny bottles of various liquids, and dozens of stray bandages… but not gloves. ’Weird.’

After she grew bored of her newest discovery, she closed it back up. Her attention shifted over to the little cardboard shape hanging from the mirror; it had a strong, floral scent, and was shaped like a cat’s head.

“Oh, do you like my air freshener?” Pearl said. “Garnet found it at Hot Topic last week. She really loves Hello Kitty.”

Amethyst only understood a fraction of that sentence. “Yeah, I like it. It smells pretty nice.” she said, leaning back against the seat again. That uncomfortable, slightly painful sense of thirst began to tingle at her throat… Hopefully the ride wouldn’t be too long. If she didn’t get herself in some water soon, she feared it’d be just as painful as her first transformation.

Soon enough, they reached the thrift store-apartment, and Pearl pulled into the parking lot. “Alright…” Pearl glanced outside to make sure nobody was nearby before she took her keys out. “It doesn’t look like too many people are out right now, so we can probably make it inside without getting caught…”

“Worst case scenario, we tell them I got stuck in a costume.” Amethyst snorted.

Pearl gave a huff of amusement. “True, but I’d rather avoid confrontation altogether. I’m a terrible liar.”

She slipped out of the driver’s side, hurrying over to Amethyst’s side and lifting her out of the passenger seat. She nudged the door shut with her hip, making her way across the parking lot as quickly as she could -- which wasn’t very quick, at least while carrying Amethyst -- and fumbled with the key in the door for a moment before it clicked.

“Thank goodness…” Pearl whispered. She pushed the door open and hurried inside, locking it behind them once they were both safe.

“Alright...” Pearl let out a sigh of relief, setting Amethyst down on the floor so she could catch her breath. “I don’t think anyone saw us.”

“I hope not.” Amethyst rubbed her neck as she felt a twinge of pain in her gills. She really needed to get some water soon. “So uh, not to rush you or anything, but where’s the bathtub?”

“Upstairs, unfortunately.” Pearl said.

“You don’t have to carry me anymore. I know you’re strong, but still.” Amethyst smiled reassuringly. “I can drag myself up while you get the water started, ‘kay?”

“Are you sure?” Pearl said.

“Positive. It’ll be faster than making you carry me up the stairs.”

“Well… Just call for me if you change your mind.” Pearl headed straight for the bathroom. Bracing herself, Amethyst gripped the edge of the stairs and began to heave herself up, step-by-step. It was, admittedly, more difficult than she’d thought it’d be… But soon enough she had reached the top, and could hear the distant sound of running water. Gritting her teeth, she made her way down the hallway and towards the bathroom. Once she was there, she lifted herself straight into the bathtub and flopped right in.

“Is the water warm enough?” Pearl asked.

“It’s perfect.” Amethyst slouched down as much as she could, and let the water run against the gills on her neck. The faucet had only been running for a minute or two, so she had to shift around to get her body completely damp. And like magic, the aches in her body began to fade. “Ahh… Thanks so much, girlie.”

“Of course.” Pearl said with a smile. “Is there anything else you need? Anything to eat or drink?”

“Nah, this tub of water is all I needed.” Amethyst groaned happily, flapping her tail against the side of the tub.

“Alright, alright…” Pearl sat down on the floor, tucking her legs beneath herself. She let out a long, deep sigh of relief, letting her head fall back against the grey tiled wall. “What a long day…”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Amethyst said, resting her elbows on the side of the tub.

The two of them sat together in silence, listening to the sound of the running water. Amethyst noticed Pearl chewing her nails down to the nub. It was something she’d often caught Greg doing when he was nervous… Another weird human habit. Hoping to calm her down, she rested a hand on her shoulder -- making sure to keep her claws retracted.

Pearl glanced back at her. “Hm?”

“It’s all gonna be okay, girlie.” Amethyst whispered. “I promise. I’m gonna go back to being human tomorrow, so you’ll only have to deal with this for one night… And even then, we’re gonna try and find out more about… Whatever’s going on.”

Pearl smiled warmly. “Thank you, Amethyst…” She reached for one of her hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know I seemed pretty shaken up earlier, but… I truly am glad I--”

Pearl tensed mid-sentence as she heard footsteps down the hallway. “Shit…” she whispered, rising to her feet. “I think Garnet’s home.”

“You home, Pearlie?” an unfamiliar voice called.

“...And Bismuth’s with her.” A blush spread across Pearl’s cheeks.

“Oh, shit.” Amethyst slouched down in the tub until the water reached her nose.

“Here, just -- ” Pearl grabbed the shower curtain and pulled it shut. “There. If anyone comes in, keep this closed and don’t make a sound.”

“You sure that’ll work?” Amethyst raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not.” Pearl huffed. “But what else can we do?”

“Good point.” Amethyst mumbled.

“Regardless, I’m going to say hi to Garnet and our guest. Hopefully neither of them need to use the bathroom…” Pearl wrung her hands nervously. She glanced back at Amethyst one last time before heading out and pulling the door shut.

[hidge-resource]

submitted by remadra!

Hidge and Stardew Valley (1 of 2)

She had glanced up and down the hall before shutting herself away in her room. No one had seen her. There was no one there. It was clear.

Pidge pulled out her laptop, curling up on her bed and sliding on the headphones to hear a jaunty tune. Finally, she had finished modding the game to have… well… her friends, albeit in a quieter, digital form.

Stardew Valley offered her to pick her new farm. She picked the forest, ready to relax with easy foraging. Pidge happily picked out hair and glasses to match her own, going for overalls and a green shirt with a smile. Cat person. She wanted to name it Green, just like her lion. Bebe was already in the game anyways. Green gave a soft purr of endearment, and her heart swelled. Even with Green in the hangar and Pidge all the way in her room, the girl often talked out loud to her lion when she was alone.

"Green, did you think I'd forget about you? I thought you were the smartest lion."

She skipped the intro, getting right to greeting the townsfolk. to see if her mod was working as well as she hoped.

One of the first people to greet her was in-game Keith, with a stiff 'hey' in front of Pierre's shop. Unknowingly, her friends had provided the information she needed to assess, place, and type responses for her game. The more she got to know Keith, the friendlier and more open he became. His counterpart would start a little rude, pushing others away, but he was set to come out of his shell by autumn if she kept talking to him.

Next was Shiro, who was always a few steps behind his brother when Keith was making friends. A normal big brother would probably embarrass his little sibling, but then again, Shiro and Matt were two very different squares on the alignment chart.

Speaking of Matt, she found her brother in the Stardrop Saloon, greeting her "cousin" and being invited over to his house to meet his dog. She found Lance at the arcade games, complaining about Keith beating his high score again, and spun through the rest of the greeting spiels of the game's base NPCs. Finally, she turned home to rest before little Pidge sprite passed out.

Green rumbled.

“No, I’m not going to see him yet. This game isn’t just about the progress. There’s things to do besides quests. It’s like a little ideal simple life sim. There’s a storyline and everything.”

*

After the scheduled earthquake, Pidge had her sprite run to the bathhouse and greet Allura and Coran. The in-game Alteans told her all about their friend just outside of town, who didn't come out often but was really a great cook.

His favorites were mostly artisan goods like coffee and the home cooked meals Pidge could make. The only downside to her mod was that it took longer to build up hearts with the characters she programmed in, and therefore it would take longer to become his friend. Allura handed her a package with the request to please deliver it to her friend, and Pidge felt her heart skip.

Ugh.

It's just a game.

Nevertheless, she sped back to her farm, skipping through to the lake, where she had added a little house in her mod. Finally, a message popped up, different than the previous 'nobody seems to be home'.

"Hello?"

Pidge jumped as the door slid open, slamming her laptop shut and spinning around.

"Hey, Hunk! What's up? I thought you were making cookies?"

He laughed, deep and full and relaxed.

"They've been done for hours. You missed dinner, so I thought I'd bring you something."

Even though her stomach grumbled, Pidge pulled a face. "Yay, food goo. Always a good meal to be had. Tasteless but nutritious."

That laugh again.

"No, it's actually a sandwich. I figured you'd had enough of the goo, with all the missed meal times and late nights in the lab. Are you getting enough sleep, Pidge? You look kind of tired." Hunk tilted his head, brows drawing together.

Her breath caught. He noticed? That meant that he might force her to go to bed now, but she was so close to her first real milestone in the game.

"Thanks, Hunk. You don't need to worry, I'm fine. I'll take a nap after I eat, okay?"

"Okay. See you later, Pidge."

He set the food down and stepped out with a wave.

That was close.

Shut up, Green.

*

Pidge was playing Stardew Valley. Hunk could recognize that melody anywhere. As soon as she left for the lab to check on her equipment after her nap, he guiltily snuck in to peek at her laptop, bringing his own. There had to be a reason she wasn't sleeping, and lately it had to do with the mods she made.

Yes, he could ask Pidge for the game, but the last time he did that, he spent three days debugging and optimizing both her Subnautica and Minecraft mods.

All because she gave him the puppy eyes.

An adapter, a cable, a few clicks, and Hunk copied the game over to his laptop.

Mission accomplished.

He'd solve this, and Pidge could get some real sleep.

*

Something was definitely off about the game. Maybe it was meeting his real life friends in a 32 bit world. Maybe it was the confusion on why Pidge didn't add him. He couldn't think of anything he did to upset her and be excluded. Was it a bug? Was this what she had been working on all night? He could fix that for her. Computers might be her forte, but a fresh set of eyes could help.

Hunk opened the game files, beginning to take notes on her crazy ideas and perfect scripting.

*

Hunk stared at his notepad.

He checked it at least three times.

The mod indeed had a character named Hunk.

He could only meet his in-game self, Allura, and Coran after the earthquake opened the bathhouse path.

All of Team Voltron was in the mod, even Pidge's brother. Keith and Lance had an on-going feud about the arcade games. Shiro always volunteered to help at events. Matt had his own farm with a dog. Coran and Allura owned the bathhouse. Pidge was obviously meant to be the new farmer who moved into town.

Hunk lived by the lake south of the player farm, running a small bakery where the player could buy all sorts of dishes.

He was romanceable.

No other added character had the option.

Maybe it was to keep the game steady. Maybe she tried to add him as a regular character, but she ran into a bug and this was the best fix for now. Maybe he read it wrong again. Maybe he read it wrong for the fifth time.

Nope.

It was completely intentional. There wasn't even a residual REM statement from where she might have backtracked. He was written as romanceable for Pidge.

That was... new.

*

Pidge dropped in front of her laptop, leg bouncing. She made it to year three with steady progress, Keith was her gamesprite's best friend, and Hunk was at 8 out of 10 hearts.

Stardew Valley loaded up happily and-

The screen turned black.

She froze, panicking.

It had been working so well, what could have-

The Hunk sprite walked on screen. The text box opened up once he reached the middle.

'Hi Pidge!'

She didn't program this.

'I know you mod games for fun. But you've been staying up really late and looked frustrated. I wanted to see if I could help you if you had a problem with the code. You don't. It's perfect, as always. I noticed you were frustrated because you couldn't find any topaz. You lowered the spawn rate of cave drops to keep the game running efficiently. I raised it and made cuts elsewhere that won't mess with your experience.'

Pidge squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that this was just a nightmare. Hunk read her coding. He knew what this mod was for. This was him letting her down gently.

The computer chimed and she automatically looked to read.

'I have a problem. Maybe you can help me. There's someone I really like, but it's hard to tell how she feels about me. I've been really confused. I found out last night while I was working on her code that she might like me too. I really hope I'm not wrong, or this is going to be awkward.'

Someone knocked on her door and it slid open.

Pidge turned around, eyes wide.

Hunk stood, a tray of six cookies with frosting decorating each one, cheeks ruddy with a blush and not quite meeting her eyes.

Will

You

Be

My

Girl

Friend?

She got up quickly, stepping over to the other paladin, picking up a cookie and smearing frosting with a grin, turning it around to face him.

Yes.

"Oh thank god! I thought you might turn me down? I'm not sure why, I mean, I like you and I'm pretty sure you like me after seeing the script and I guess it's just anxiety really but there was a chance you really like me back and I'm pretty sure I shouldn't waste my chance and at least try to-"

Pidge pulled his collar to make him lean down, planting a kiss on his cheek. Hunk's mouth snapped shut and his ears turned red to match his cheeks. Cookies fell to the floor as frosting turned crumbs to a thick paste. The pan clanged as it met the ground soon after.

"Hey, Hunk?"

"Yeah, Pidge?"

"I think your confession with cookies was really sweet, but there's frosting in my socks and I want to get them off before I kiss you for real."

[mvssmallow]

Cloudy With A Chance

Chapter 30 Part IV: …of bloodlines.

Masterlist

Soundtrack for this chapter: The Luckiest 

Barely two weeks into the new year and he’s almost over it already. His dad makes it out of the ICU but then spends another week in rehab because of the residual numbness in his hand and big holes in his memory from the brain hypoxia. There were moderate changes to his dad’s personality too, it waxes and wanes depending on the day but at least that unpredictability is something they were all used to.

Hanbyul deals with everything better than expected. She was scared of the IV lines and cardiac monitors for the first few days but by the end of the week, she’d taken to hospital life like a duck to water. It was unexpected but he’s relieved, feeling maybe slightly guilty for ever underestimating her resilience.

He deals with things as best as he can: with fake resolve on the surface but anxiety deep down in his gut. His mom carries on with quiet eloquence and a bulletproof grace that he just didn’t inherit.

They stop allowing Jiwon to come, despite his protests, because the BeatBox schedules started early and even though it was only preliminary meetings to discuss concepts and finalise the recording team, he didn’t want Jiwon to miss any of it. Jiwon’s life had to move forward. One of them had to have the better future. They had fought over it but eventually, Jiwon surrendered when he realised that maybe this wasn’t the best time for Hanbyul to meet a strange new face.

And really.

It’s fine.

It’s okay.

He waits for the World to come crashing down again but it doesn’t.

Things settle down.

They get into a routine.

They wake up, pick a cereal, he nags Jiwon to add fruit, Jiwon nags him to eat more, they call a truce and leave separately, only reuniting again at the end of the day for a late supper unless he’s having it with his family or Jiwon has a dinner meeting with BeatBox.

But it’s good.

It’s good.

He’s thankful his dad survived with only a few residual deficits. He’s grateful there’s still a chance to prove himself, to fix the family, to show his parents that Jiwon’s existence doesn’t mean the end of any dreams they had for him. Yeah, there’s nothing like the threat of death to help you sort out your priorities. When you almost died, surely having a gay son is now the Second Worst Thing in the world. Surely.

“When are you back at work?” His dad’s question cuts through his inner thoughts.

“Oh, um next week.”

“Why do you insist on doing that job Hanbin? At least negotiate a raise. You’ve been there for years.”

It’s a Thursday. His old dad was back. But this time, instead of arguing and defending himself, he finds he can’t exactly disagree.

“Maybe I will, I’ll think about when I get back.”

“Good.”

The answer seems to satisfy his dad for now. It’s weird not to argue, like hearing a new language or eating something you’ve never tried before. This must be what it’s like to have a normal conversation with your parents. If only it was always like this.

“What did you get up to on your break from work? Don’t tell me you’ve been here the whole time?”

He shakes his head even though it’s the truth. “We did a few things but we just like staying home mostly.”

It’s only after the words leave his mouth that he realises his mistake.

We.

Not I.

Or she.

Or me.

We.

Post stroke or not, his dad doesn’t miss it.

“We? Who is this we?” The question is directed at him but his dad turns to his mom, confused. “Do you know anything about this? Did he get engaged while I’ve been under? Or is this another hole in my memory?”

“I’m not engaged dad.” He says with a weary sigh because some things never change.

“Oh. So who is this We you’re talking about? Not Hyungwon’s daughter is it? She seems a little bit bland for you Hanbin. Bit low on the IQ front.”

The irony of their conversation makes him want to laugh out loud. “No, dad. It’s not Eunji. She’s nice though. I thought you liked her.”

“I said nothing of the sort.” His dad sniffs. “So who is it? What’s her name?”

He looks cautiously at his mother but all she does is give him a small shrug, neither of them knowing how to broach the topic at a time like this.

“Um, it’s Jiwon. Kim Jiwon.”

He gets the name out. Then holds his breath.

His dad looks squarely into his eyes, intense as he is during a board meeting or the business end of a long scolding session. For a few seconds he thinks that this might be it, this might be the time that his dad remembers who Kim Jiwon might be…

…but he doesn’t.

“Kim Jiwon? Oh. Like that actress your mother likes. What show was it…..we watched it but I can’t remember it now. What was it again?” His dad asks, face grimacing in frustration when he can’t find the memory he is searching for.

The doctors had told them to let his dad try to remember things on his own but that’s easier said than done, the reality of it is watching a brilliant mind fighting itself because there are so many holes in its memory. They let it go for too long today and his dad is already sitting forward in bed, distressed by something that seems so trivial.

“What’s that show? You’ve both watched it! What is it? What is it?!! What’s the show?! You watched it!”

His mom places a tentative hand on his dad’s shoulder, alleviating some of the distress but not the deep frustrated frown.

“Yes, I watched it.” His mom says patiently and gently. “It was Descendants of the Sun.”

“Oh! Descendants of the Sun!” His dad says victoriously, relief spreading on his face as the tension leaves his shoulders is one fast swoop. “Has she come to visit here?”

“The actress?”

“No, silly boy. Not that Kim Jiwon, your Kim Jiwon.”

Your Kim Jiwon.

It’s only a small thing, and he knows it’s because his dad’s personality and mind are both a little erratic right now, but it makes him smile anyway.

“No, Jiwon hasn’t come to visit you yet. We weren’t sure if you’d be okay with it.”

“What does she do?”

“Jiwon….is a musician.” He replies, trying to keep his panicked nausea at bay.

“A musician? Still committed to those starving artist types are you?” His dad asks with a resigned sigh. “Maybe your mother and I should set you-”

“No, dad. Not again! Those don’t work. They think I’m too weird.”

“Weird? Who said that? Which ones?”

And so it goes, back and forth, for days on end. Some days his dad remembers Jiwon and some days he doesn’t. Some days he is questioned about his orientation, some days he isn’t. It’s all over the place.

Some days they talk business and his mom has to repeat her speech about how a deputy manager has been assigned to his dad’s position now but the company are prepared to accept him back once he’s well. It won’t be the same job anymore though. He still remembers the first time they had to break the bad news; his dad took it badly, lashing out, ranting furiously, wanting to make bitter phone calls “to those ungrateful bastards” but after awhile, a long long while, anger eventually gave way to a reluctant kind of acceptance.

It happened sooner than he expected. His old dad, pre-heart attack, would’ve made those bitter phone calls and threatening demands. His new dad, post-heart attack, was a walking contradiction: less angry but also more blunt. Complete acceptance of the whole situation hasn’t happened yet but progress is progress and they’ll take any small victory at this point.

Maybe there’s a special place in hell for him for thinking this way; as if he’s happy that his dad suffered a major neurological event that changed some aspects of his personality. His dad was the same but different. They all had to show more patience but somehow, everything was also a whole lot easier to deal with.

The last few weeks is the most time he’s spent with his family, especially his dad, for years. It’s the most they’ve talked without arguing. In the worst of settings, it’s the happiest he’s seen his sister in a long time and he knows that’s because they’ve haven’t really been a family like this since he moved out of home.

So yeah, he’s probably going to hell and satan will ask him why he’s okay with the fact that his dad suffered two major health events on the same day. He’s going to hell and he’ll just reply that there’s a price to pay for everything. This was the Universes way of recalibrating their family and of forcibly stopping his dad from killing himself due to overworking and bad dieting. It’s the Universe’s way of forcing the entire family to glue itself together again.

Ahh yeah, nothing like the threat of death to sort out your priorities.

He’ll go to hell for this and he doesn’t care. It might be worth it. If the entire family is happier, was it really all a bad thing?

“You’re in a good mood today, things going pretty well with your dad huh?” Jiwon asks later in bed. It’s nearly midnight, he stayed up answering work emails as Jiwon abandoned his BeatBox homework to read the rest of Life of Pi.

“Yeah, they’re alright. He’s better and the physio was happy with him this afternoon. He’s got a bit of minor weakness in a few fingers but it’s nothing he can’t deal with.”

“Oh, good. That’s good.” Jiwon says with a grin. “What about…”

“His head?”

“Yeah.”

He sends the last email to Donghyuk then slides his laptop onto the bedside table to shut down.

“Well. He’s a little erratic, some days he’s the same dad I had growing up, some days his behaviour is completely different. There are huge holes in his memory but sometimes he can remember ridiculous details about the most specific things. He doesn’t remember you but he’s remembering your name now.”

“My name?”

“Yeah, Kim Jiwon from Descendants of the Sun.” He replies with a sheepish smile that slowly fades into a frown. “I….I didn’t tell him you were a guy. I didn’t know how to and I didn’t know if it’d set him off, so-”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Well, it’s not really.” He says with a sigh. “I told myself that the whole near-death thing was a wake-up call. That I should stop being so scared of him but he’s just gone through rehab, so now I don’t know if it’s selfish or-”

“It’s not. You dating a dude is not exactly gonna help his recovery. He literally just got over his heart attack.”

“Yeah I know but it’s like I keep waiting to introduce you to him and it never happens.”

Jiwon pats his leg under the blanket, eyes already back on the book. “It’ll happen when it happens. Don’t worry so much about that.”

He flops down on his pillow in a frustrated and dramatic huff. The sudden puff of air ruffling Jiwon’s hair and a few pages on Life of Pi.

“Why are you so chill about this? Doesn’t it bother you that my dad still doesn’t really know you?”

Jiwon sighs, dog-ears the page he’s reading then drops the book onto their bedside table. That’s his chance to snuggle right up against one of those hard muscled arms, hiding his face in the sleeve of Jiwon’s t-shirt until some firm fingers coaxes his jaw away.

“It doesn’t bother me. I’m fine with it. Don’t worry about us, worry about your dad. We’ll meet when the time is right.”

The fingers against his jaw slacken and move up his cheek in a soft gentle caress. Sometimes Jiwon’s sweet, rational pragmatism infuriates him, it’s in a good way but it’s still infuriating.

He pushes the hand away and buries his face back against Jiwon’s arm. “You’re supposed to be irrational with me! How am I supposed to be pissed off when you’re being all nice and chill? It’s annoying.”

Jiwon rolls his eyes. “Oh you want me to be irrational with you? Okay, how’s this: I can’t believe I still haven’t met your dad! I can’t believe he hates me! I can’t believe he hates the gays. How will we move on from this? I guess we’ll just pretend I’m a girl forever and be miserable until we die.”

He kicks at Jiwon’s ankles but he’s laughing too. “Don’t make fun of my problems!”

“You’re laughing!”

“I’m not!” He giggles.

“Come here, loser.” Jiwon says, enveloping him so completely and securely in those strong arms that it feels like the World will never touch him. “You’re a big ridiculous baby with big ridiculous problems.”

There’s a wet kiss on his cheek that makes him squirm.

“You are the most pessimistic person I know. You didn’t think we’d work out and we did. You thought your mom would hate me and she doesn’t. You thought your dad wouldn’t make it and he did.”

“What’s your point?”

Jiwon kisses his other cheek. “My point is that whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. I mean, if nothing else works out, what we got so far is pretty good don’t you think?”

He looks up at the earnest face above him. There are replies that float around his mind and his mouth opens and closes so many times that Jiwon gives him a curious look. In the end, he just hooks a finger into the collar of Jiwon’s t-shirt and tugs it downwards so their lips are just touching.

“Yeah, this is pretty good.”

****

“I just realised something else.” Hanbin says at breakfast the next day.

“What?”

“You still haven’t met Hanbyul either.”

“There’s plenty of time for that, let your old man settle at home first.” He says, going back to his berry waffles.

“Maybe we should have a dinner and you can meet them both at the same-”

“No.”

“Why not!” Hanbin cries indignantly.

He doesn’t like to do it a lot but sometimes he just has to put his foot down.

“Hanbin. Baby. I love you. I do. But I’m not meeting them when your dad has barely gotten out of hospital. It’s too much and too soon. You know it. This should be a time for you and your family.”

“Not 3 months ago and you said that you were my family so-”

He gives Hanbin a withering look. “Are you really calling me out on a technicality? Really?”

Hanbin has the decency to hide sheepishly behind his morning cup of tea. “I’m just saying that I don’t want to waste any more time. Who knows how long we’ve got with him. Did you know the that chances of having another heart attack is-”

“Not this again. It’s too early for this.” He groans, looking at the clock on the wall and getting up to wash their plates and mug. He doesn’t exactly respond to Hanbin’s morning rants, because it’s almost identical to the one yesterday and the one last week, but he knows not to interrupt either.

Hanbin follows him from room to room and they fall into a rhythm getting ready beside each other.

“Maybe we can take Hanbyul out for lunch or something. So she’s not around my parents when she meets you. She’ll probably act more like herself without them hovering.” Hanbin muses at the sink as they brush their teeth.

“Uh-huh.” He responds casually, sometimes it’s just easier to agree and let Hanbin talk it all out. He read that in a book once.

“It’ll be good for her to do something besides being in the hospital.”

“Yeah.”

“And maybe when dad’s better, you can come over. Then at least we’ll know if he likes you or not.”

“Sure thing.”

“Are you even listening to me?”

He laughs and ruffles Hanbin’s hair on the way out of the bathroom. “Always.”

They kiss at the front door and he’s glad that the ribs under his fingers don’t stick out as much as they did before and the bony hips are a little less bony now.

“He’s coming home today so I’ll be having dinner at the house again.” Hanbin says when they pull away. “What time do you think you’ll be done tonight?”

He adjusts the zipper on his jacket and shrugs. “It’s another long ass meeting about my demos so it might run late. I’ll get dinner with the team, don’t worry about it.”

“One day, we should actually have dinner with each other. Last time I checked, you were still my boyfriend.” Hanbin says, fixing the collar of his jacket with a soft dimple smile. That one gets him every single time.

“Whatever you want baby.” He smiles, leaning in for another kiss that they definitely don’t have time for. It’s always like this, he knows. He gets into certain moods where he can’t let Hanbin go.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

“No.” He replies right into Hanbin’s mouth.

There’s a laugh right back into his and then it’s followed by a soft push against his chest. “Go to work. I’ll see you tonight.”

“But I could just see you right now.” He murmurs against Hanbin’s ear and can feel the way the smaller body shivers against him. It’s not so one-sided after all.

“Okay, no!” Hanbin replies in exasperation. “We really don’t have time for that.”

He’s not proud to say that he might have pouted and whined like a kicked puppy but it’s been so long since they’ve done anything remotely nasty and he’s been so patient. He wonders if his wounded puppy look still works on Hanbin but as soon as he turns it on, there’s a hand pushing his face away.

“Don’t even try it! You are not screwing up your career again because you want to get laid.”

“My career will be fine.” He says, dragging Hanbin’s body even closer. “It can wait.”

Hanbin grabs his wrist and holds up the Winnie The Pooh watch. “No it can’t. Winnie says it’s 5 past 8. You have to drive through peak hour traffic.”

He groans dramatically in frustration because it always seems to make Hanbin laugh. “Fine! Fine! I’ll go to my meeting but I just want you to know that I’ll probably be hard and thinking about your mouth-”

“Oh my god! Get out!” Hanbin screeches and laughs at the same time. “Get out of here!”

He doesn’t actually make it that far outside the door before a hand grabs his jacket and pulls him back with surprising strength. Before he can think, Hanbin’s mouth is on him again. It’s not really a kiss, it’s more like a punch in the face; deep, insistent, hard and fast. It’s the kind of kiss that knocks the air out of him. It’s the kind of kiss where he can taste everything Hanbin wants to say.

Listen to yourself, you’re a godamm poet at 8 in the morning.

When Hanbin lets him go, they’re both a little breathless and pink in the face.

“Have a good day at work?” Hanbin says, voice quieter and a little shy all the sudden. It’s something he’ll never understand; how Hanbin can go from this sweet awkward guy to a hungry animal. It gives him whiplash every time.

“Yeah, I will. You have a good day too okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye loser.”

“Bye Bambi.”

There’s a bright laugh and two deep dimples on Hanbin’s face.

He’s lucky. He knows he is. Even if nothing else works out, this is enough. More than enough. It was enough from the day they got together. It’s these kinds of thoughts that always gets him out of bed in the morning when he really doesn’t want to. And it’s these kinds of thoughts that makes him want to succeed and work hard at his new career. It’s these kinds of thoughts that makes him want to be a better person.

“So. The team likes the Trap-Rap from the demo tape.” Tablo says as soon as the BeatBox meeting starts. “It’s a bit rough and raw but it’s different. The backing needs some work but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. I’ve got some ideas on how to clean it up.”

Jin is sitting beside him, sipping on his coffee and watching everything with eagle-eye vigilance. He used to find it so off-putting and claustrophobic but now, after a Japan trip and countless meetings, he barely notices it. Jin might be the world’s smallest bulldog but man, he’s grateful the bulldog is in his corner.

“The Bonnie and Clyde revision is what management want you to release first, it’s more typical and radio friendly so it’ll be easier to promote. Needs some work with the verses though and we need to rethink some of the lyrics.”

“Okay.” He nods, even though he’s always been proud of those verses and getting him to change the lyrics will probably end up in an argument. He wrote some of those lyrics for Hanbin, BeatBox can change the lyrics over his dead body.  

“As for the Beethoven,” Tablo starts ominously, “We’re not really sure what to do with that one. Personally, I like it. I think it has a lot of potential and the sampling and looping is refreshing and different. Management think it’s a bit of a gamble. I know it’s something of a love song, maybe we can make it a B side or something to rework and release later once you get some traction in the industry.”

He opens his mouth to ask a question, but then realising how rude it must sound, closes it quickly again. Jin raises an eyebrow. That guy never misses anything.

“What it is?”

“Nothing….it’s just that, well. I don’t mean to offend anyone but if BeatBox is an independent label then why are the releases controlled by GlobalKore’s management?”

Tablo sighs and Jin closes his eyes briefly before answering. “Because you’re still a rookie. GlobalKore controls all new releases but as long as we can demonstrate that we’re making feasible business decisions with our artists after debut they’ll get off our backs about the creative side of things.”

Feasible business decisions?

Those words have no place in music at all but at the same time he tells himself to stop being so naive. Of course it has its place. Music is a business. He is in the music business. And it’s all a necessary evil. You need both aspects to survive, as much as he’d like see it differently. His first advance paycheck won’t be for another fortnight but that money has to come from somewhere and he needs to be smart about what he says or else he’s gonna lose more than just one paycheck. There’s a game to play. That’s what Hanbin had said so it’s probably the right thing to do.

“Well, I’d rather save Beethoven till later. Till the album.” He says, voice uneven because he has no idea how decisions like these really get made and if he has any say in it at all. “I think I kinda agree about Bonnie and Clyde. That’s my most developed track and the easiest to perform live. So yeah, I don’t really have a problem with that being the first release.”

He feels completely out of his depth, not knowing if he should be this frank or not. God, where was Hanbin when you needed him.

“Excellent!” Tablo exclaims suddenly, reaching over to thump his back heartily a few times. “Glad we don’t have to spend the next 2 hours convincing you of the game plan. So we’ll go ahead with Bonnie and Clyde as the title track and the Trap-Rap as a B side. Save Beethoven and the rest for the album. Doc McKinney won’t be free until the later half of the year anyhow.”

He nods. Jin nods.

That’s good, right?

That everyone agrees?

Is everyone supposed to agree? Is it supposed to be this straight forward?

Jin must sense his unease and reaches over to tell him that he can speak up at any time because BeatBox “aren’t really in the business of keeping unhappy artists on their roster.”

He takes the advice, chiming in whenever he can but holding back that 1% that might get him fired. The rest of the meeting isn’t as difficult now that they’ve made clear decisions on what they’re all doing. They begin to discuss aspects of the song, what to change, what to keep. They like some of the lyrics but not everything. He asks them if he can look at it again and “revise” the rhymes. There will have to be a compromise, he can see it coming, but he doesn’t really want to argue about it today. Not when everything was going so well.

The rest of the day is spent going through his proposed schedule for the year. It’s long, tedious and incredibly boring. They barely need his input but as Jin puts it sympathetically, “legally you have to sit there and agree to it.”

It’s past 8pm by the time they wrap up another day, this time with pizza because they all suddenly had a hankering for cheese. There’s only one item left on the agenda: contract negotiations. He saw it written there and wondered why there needed to be negotiations at all. Hanbin had read and gone through the requests already. The contract had already been signed.

He swallows the lump in his throat as Jin opens his mouth to speak.  

“One last thing Jiwon, GlobalKore decided to revise your contract. There are minor changes to the terms and touring obligations. I marked out the changes but I suggest you take the time to go through it all just to be sure.”

There are yellow Post-It notes sticking out of the familiar looking contract document. He tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut but what if they make him tour forever after all? Maybe 7 months ago it would’ve sounded like the dream job but well, his life is different now and he needs to think about that.

“Don’t look so pale Jiwon.” Jin says reassuringly. “It’s nothing you can’t handle. Go through it with someone, a lawyer if you need to, and we’ll talk more next Tuesday. I want you to be happy about it. Nobody puts in their best work under duress.”

He trusts Jin to manage him but BeatBox is still part to GlobalKore and at the end of the day, Jin still works for them. The financial backing and power of GlobalKore can’t be denied. The creative meddling and scheduling conflicts are slightly harder to get used to.

He comes home to an empty apartment, knowing that Hanbin will probably stay late to help settle his dad back home. The revised contract feels heavy in his hands, maybe heavier than it did before, but he knows that’s just some crazy psychology messing with his head.

There are proposed changes to the touring section. He will be expected to participate in group tours as part of promotions. It’s just around South Korea so that’s not so bad. There are some changes to his album cuts and the percentages he’ll take. Those revisions are a little harder to make sense of so he’ll have to go through it all with Hanbin at some point this weekend.

He spends the rest of the night going through the Bonnie and Clyde rap lyrics, giving up some time after 10pm because no, he doesn’t want to change anything at all. Why do compromises have to come from him and not Management?

Hanbin comes home just before 10:30pm, looking exhausted but smiling. That’s always a good sign.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Hanbin flops down next to him on the couch and snuggles against his arm. “Good day?”

“Yeah, pretty good.” He replies, cradling Hanbin’s head so he can place a kiss against his temple. “Gonna start recording soon.”

“Really? Already?”

“Yeah, they got this crazy schedule planned and they want to get the music recorded early.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess.” Hanbin muses, before sitting upright again, lines of concern on his face now. “It’s so weird that it’s starting so soon.”

“I know.”

He can feel it, the beginnings of Hanbin’s anxieties rolling in like a storm in the distance. But he knows how to handle these things by now. He read about that in a book too.

“So hey, how was your day? Your dad settle at home okay?”

There’s subtle waves of worry on Hanbin’s face but at the change in topic, they’re abruptly diverted and transform into a hopeful smile. It’ll only be a temporary fix, he knows this, but temporary fixes get them through the day.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. He’s doing fine. Complained a lot about the fact we’ve only got salt-reduced soy sauce in the house and substitute butter. I just hope he doesn’t drive mom and Hanbyul crazy.”

“Salt-reduced soy sauce is not real soy sauce and fake butter sounds nasty.”

Hanbin turns to him with a look of betrayal. “Don’t you start with that! Whose side are you on? You sound just like him.”

“I do not.”

“You do!”

“Whatever.”

“Anyways, he asked about you today. Well, the girl Kim Jiwon he thinks I’m dating.” Hanbin says with a weary sigh. “I haven’t told him yet and now it’s too late to correct him and I knew I should’ve just done it the first time he got it wrong.”

“Well, it’s not like you lied.” He points out, trying to be helpful. “You just didn’t correct him. Maybe I don’t like pronouns? You never know.”

Hanbin shoots him the same withering look that he remembers giving this morning. “If I’m not allowed to catch you out on a technicality then you can’t use that either.”

“It’s all gonna turn out fine.” He declares.

“You always just say that.” Hanbin grumbles. “Do you even believe it?”

“One of us should.” He stands up and hold his hand out. “So are you gonna mope out here or come shower with me?”

Hanbin’s misery fades at the suggestion, a small smirk taking it’s place and eventually he lets himself be lead to the bathroom. “Are we saving water again?”

“Yep.”

“You just like the economics of it right?”

He laughs, spinning Hanbin around to pin him against the wall. “Yeah I love the economics of saving water. The hot wet naked guy is okay too I guess.”

“Oh really? Just okay?”

“Yeah, I mean, I wouldn’t write a song for him or anything but he’s alright.”

Hanbin leans forward to kiss him. “But you did write a song for me.”

“Yeah I did and they’re gonna release it one day.”

Hanbin’s eyes widen like well, like Bambi in headlights. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” He kisses the prominent nose in front of him, then each dimpled cheek. Bambi is still there when he looks up again. “Why are you so shocked? What do you think I write about? Cars, money and girls?”

“And getting gold teeth.”

“And you.”

“You need more hobbies.” Hanbin says gravely.

It always makes him laugh, the way their weird conversations go but he doesn’t mind being the punchline if it means his neurotically anxious boyfriend gets through the day in one piece.

“Come on.” He says, letting go to Hanbin’s wrists. “Shower time. Then sleep. I’m so fucking tired.”

Hanbin eyes the Winnie The Pooh watch on his wrist before taking it off. “Winnie says it’s 1050 pm. You’re officially geriatric if you’re ready for bed now.”

“We’ve been up since 7am. I don’t care what you wanna call me. Sleep is more important than life right now.” He says, leaning into the shower to turn on the water. “Sleep is more important that you right now. Don’t mess with my sleep.”

He moves to take off his shirt and jeans and by the time he turns back, Hanbin is already shouldering past him into the shower. It’s a little cold but he finds himself just standing there watching the warm streams of water run down Hanbin’s skin, from his long neck down past the Pi tattoo on his chest and over all the ridges of his ribs.

Yep, saving water is the best idea he’s had all day.

“Stop staring like a creep and get in here.”

When he says this is the best idea, he really means that it’s the worst idea. Maybe they take turns washing their hair and rinsing out the conditioner but when it comes time for the rest of it, he realises that they’re not going to be saving water at all.  

He scrubs Hanbin’s back, listening to the soft satisfied noises and trying not to let it get to him. No such luck because he’s got a primitive brain when he’s tired. All the noises get to him. In one specific place.

“Here, turn around. I’ll do your back.” Hanbin says.

Firm fingers knead the tension out of his muscles and fuck, it feels so amazing. Why don’t they do this every night? They’ve wasted so many showers not doing this.

“You are so good at that.” He murmurs, mostly to himself but Hanbin hears it in the small confines of their bathroom. “That’s so nice.”

“Better than sleep?”

“Nothing’s better than sleep.” He replies, just to be annoying.

The hands on shoulders slide down the front of his chest, not stopping until they rest on the lowest groove of his hip. He’s already half hard from all the noises Hanbin was making before but by the time those fingers curl around him, he just gives up trying to restrain himself.

“What about this?” Hanbin says softly into his ear. “Is this better than sleep?”

“Mhhhhhmmm, maybe…”He replies, already leaning back into the body behind him and just wanting to focus on how Hanbin’s fingers glide slowly up and down the length of his cock.

It’s too slow and too perfect, slightly tighter grip than usual, which is how he likes it. He wants Hanbin to go faster but at the same time, he doesn’t want it to end.

“Wait, wait…I wanna see you.” He gasps, turning around and wasting no time connecting their mouths in a rush of heat, spit and water. Hanbin whines against him, tongue sliding so heavily against his that a growl escapes from somewhere deep in his throat. There’s a surprised gasp when he takes Hanbin into his hand and starts stroking at the same time.

“Cum with me, I want to hear you.” He says against Hanbin’s swollen lips.

The slick and wet sounds echoes even louder in their bathroom and soon there are no words, just water hitting the tiles, skin on skin and desperate whimpers next to his own heavy breathing.

Hanbin cums first, all long drawn out moans and teeth digging into his bottom lip. He loves that sounds, it goes straight to this cock and a few seconds later, he spills over Hanbin’s fingers with a blissful laugh.

“Ah, fuck.”

It’s silent after that, just breathing and water again. He presses tiny kisses against a wet shoulder and waits for them both to come down from the high.

“You know this was a total waste of water right?” Hanbin says eventually, now leaning heavily against his body like a dead weight.

“Worth it.” He shrugs, feeling lethargic and floaty at the same time.

Hanbin hums some kind of sleepy response and yawns. “I’m tired.”

“Me too. Waters getting cold. Let’s get you outta here and into bed.” He nudges at the body slumped all over him and it takes about three attempts before Hanbin grumbles, rinses the mess off and makes his way out of the shower.

They dry off quickly and don’t bother to get dressed before crashing into bed. He’s two seconds from falling asleep when Hanbin reaches over and touches his arm.

“You’re right though, sleep is more important than everything.”

He chuckles into the pillow. “Night, Bambi.”

“Night, Loser.”

****

It’s a Saturday the next day. Thank God.

There’s a chill beyond the sheets but underneath it he’s warm, toasty and never wants to leave. It takes him a few moments to realise that: he’s awake, it’s probably early and his phone is buzzing at him. The panic kicks in a few seconds later.

“Mom? What is it? Is something wrong?”

Jiwon shifts beside him, waking up at the worried tone in his voice.

“No, no. Everything’s fine.” She reassures him. “Sorry that I woke you so early but can you pick Hanbyul up from her classes this afternoon? My car is still getting serviced and dad’s car suddenly decided not to start this morning. Mrs Lee next door was kind enough to drive her there.”

He breathes out the anxiety.

“Yeah yeah, I can pick her up.” He replies, rubbing Jiwon’s arm softly to let him know everything’s okay and to go back to sleep. “You could’ve called me earlier. I could’ve taken her this morning.”

“We were already late. She went with the Lee kids, you remember them? The really noisy ones who do taekwondo.” His mom says with a chuckle. It’s good to hear her laugh now and he tries not to think of how long it’s been.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen them for awhile.” He smiles into the phone. He hated those kids growing up, they were always so loud with their backyard basketball and soccer games. He’s not exactly proud to admit that he refused to return one of their balls that flew over the fence but in his defence, he was 14 and trying to study for a science test dammit.

It’s good that Hanbyul has kids her own age to hang out with in the neighbourhood though. And he never actually failed a single test at school so those Lee kids can be forgiven.

“It’s only temporary. The garage says it won’t take more than 2 days.”

“Wait, so you have no car right now? What happened to dad’s? Why didn’t Lexus give you a rental?

“I didn’t take it though because we had your father’s car. I have no idea why it didn’t start this morning. I’m waiting for the weekend mechanics to open so they can take a look at it.”

“Well, you need to have a car, just in case something happens. Do you want to just take mine?”

“What are you going to drive?”

“We’ve got Jiwon’s car. It’s fine.”

He misses his mom’s replies because there’s a persistent tap against his arm. Jiwon looks at him blearily, not fully asleep but not fully awake either.

“Does she want me to come look at it?”

“What?”

“They got a car that’s not working? Want me to look at it?”

He can hear his mom saying his name through the phone.

“No mom, I’m still here. Sorry. Um….Jiwon wants to know if you want him to come over to look at dad’s car? Figure out what’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, that’s right. He was a mechanic in a previous life wasn’t he?”

“Yeah. So do you want him to? I mean, we don’t have to say anything to dad if you think it’s too soon…” He trails off, feeling guilty Jiwon has to hear that when he just offered to help his parents out.

“Well, it would be helpful, as long as it won’t inconvenience him?”

“It’s fine mom. We’ll come over after breakfast?”

“Alright. I’ll prepare you father.” His mom chuckles again, the nerves can be heard in her voice but well, if they’re all going to finally meet, it’s a good thing that she’s already half on Jiwon’s side. “See you soon.”

“Okay, bye.”

He drops his phone back on the bedside table and sighs into the pillow.

“So, we going over there?” Jiwon asks, voice still rough from sleep.

“Yes.” He mumbles into the sheets. “Do you feel like meeting my dad today?”

“Sure, why not.” Jiwon replies with faux over-enthusiasm. “I’ll fix his car and he’ll tell me to fix the gay and leave you the hell alone”

He looks over but Jiwon isn’t angry. He’s smiling dopily, still not fully awake yet. Some higher being put this guy on the Earth just for him. He knows it. People like this don’t exist in real life.

“What if he does though? What if he remembers everything about my fight with him? What if he still hates that I’m gay? What if-”

“Are you planning on breaking up with me?” Jiwon interrupts.

“What? No?”

“Good. Then don’t worry about it. We’ll deal with it like we deal with everything else, I guess.” Jiwon replies with a yawn, eyes already closing again. “Can I sleep for 5 more minutes though?”

I love you.

I love you and that’s all.

He leans down to press a kiss against Jiwon’s cheek. “Yeah, I’ll wake you up in half an hour.”

****

He doesn’t breathe the whole time they’re at his parent’s house.

His dad’s memory might be glitchy but his brain was functioning as usual.

It was fine at first; they pull up, his mom handed over the car keys and they leave Jiwon to try and work out what was wrong with his dad’s C200. It’s nice watching Jiwon work again, not just with music and lyrics but physically and with his hands. A small part of him misses the time when they were just writer-Hanbin and mechanic-Jiwon, that’s the first Jiwon he fell in love with and no matter where Jiwon ends up, nothing will ever change that fact.

His dad shuffles out after awhile wearing his thick dressing gown even though there’s only a slight breeze, it’s no doubt enforced by the vigilant woman beside him.

His heart is in his throat as he watches the two men talk to each other.

“Good morning.”

“Oh, good…good morning Mr Kim, sir.” Jiwon stutters, nervously bowing too many times for good measure.

“You’re the mechanic?”

“Um, yes sir.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jiwon.”

“Alright, so Jiwon, what do you think is wrong with it today?”

There’s no recognition in his dad’s face but then again, why would there be? He’s never met Jiwon. The only thing that might trigger anything is the name but there’s not much of a reaction after that either. He can see Jiwon trying to school his nervous face and can only shrug helplessly whenever those eyes flick his way. What can he even do anyway? Anything he says will make it worse.

But he underestimates Jiwon’s abilities.

He overhypes him and underestimates him at the same time.

“Well, um. I think it’s just a dead battery because one of your doors doesn’t lock properly anymore. I’ve seen it happen with similar models before.” Jiwon says, voice more confident when he can talk about something he’s well versed in. “The central locking doesn’t work on the passenger side door so it’s sending out alerts on your dashboard and that really draining your battery every time.”

“Oh.” His dad nods, clearly expecting something more convoluted and harder to understand. “Can you fix it?”

Jiwon wipes his hands on his jeans and nods. “I can recharge your battery now but the central locking is going to take a few hours. I don’t have all the right equipment with me today if you want a full check up, it’ll be better to take your car to the garage for that.”

And then.

Weirdly enough.

That’s that.

There’s some hesitation but eventually, Jiwon rolls up his sleeves (revealing all the tattoos with it) and recharges the battery. Then he’s kneeling somewhere under the steering wheel to poke at some wiring, hair a bit of a mess, face dead serious in concentration and teeth biting that pouty bottom lip.

There he is. The teenage dream.

Mechanic-Jiwon is everything he’s ever had a crush on, past, present and probably future.

There’s a tug on his sleeve which drags him back to reality, it’s his mom’s subtle way of trying to lead him inside the house but there’s no way he’s leaving Jiwon and his dad out here unsupervised. She sighs and lets him be.

It’s surreal watching the scene in front of him: both of the men in his life are now standing in front of the car, the hood is propped open and for whatever reason, his dad is asking Jiwon so many questions about oil changes, unleaded petrol and grit in the carburettors. He has no idea what any of it means but at least Jiwon does. Thank God he does.

“No Mr Kim. Spending the extra money on that isn’t worth it. Personally, I think you’re just paying for a brand name with no added benefits. My garage used to fit the generic brands and they’re still holding on after 3-4 years. The engine is where your money should be going if you want longevity and performance.”

“I knew it! We’ve been swindled for years!” His dad mutters bitterly, looking every bit like a cartoon in his bright orange dressing gown.

His mom comes back out and rolls her eyes when she notices that he hasn’t moved from the position she left him in before. “Come help me with the morning snacks, Hanbin. You can leave them for five minutes.”

“No, I really can’t.”

“Darling, you’re going to have to trust him at some point.”

“It’s not Jiwon I can’t trust. It’s dad.”

“Hanbin.”

It’s that stern Mom-Voice. He hates that voice. It almost always works. Dammit.

“Alright alright….” He grumbles, rising from the planter box and following his mom back inside the house. He looks over his shoulder, Jiwon has a smear of grease across his check and his dad still looks ridiculous in his orange dressing gown. But they’re not arguing, so there’s that.

There’s coffee to prepare, some fresh fruit and a yellow cake he’s never seen his mom make before.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s a semolina cake. The nurses gave me the recipe. It’s a little healthier than regular cake but it’s still a cake so your father will hopefully complain less.”

“Is he allowed to drink coffee?”

“It’s decaf.”

He laughs. “He’s going to hate the next few months isn’t he?”

His mom purses her lips, clearly in restraint. “He will just have to deal with it won’t he? He’s had his chance. Now he eats healthy and he’ll learn that fruit won’t kill him.”

He doesn’t believe it but if there’s anyone who can sort out his dad, it’s her.

There’s a comfortable silence as they gather the plates and cups but he notices his mom is watching him closely out the corner of her eyes.

“What?”

“He’s….a nice boy. I’m not sure about those tattoos though.”

Warmth explodes inside his chest, it’s followed quickly by the feeling of overwhelming pride and then, finally, relief. Long overdue relief. The smile on his mom’s face might be a little strained but it’s a smile and it’s a compliment and at the end of the day, those are the facts. He knew she tolerated Jiwon but he never expected her to like him, not for a long time anyway.

“He must really care about you to do this.” His mom says with a serious but soft expression.

“Do what?”

“Meet your father unprepared.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, Mom.” He replies, not missing the irony of his statement at all.

“You know what your father is like. He wants facts and honesty and 10 year management plans. He’ll see through anyone remotely fake.”

He frowns deeply and stares at the floor. “I don’t think he realises who Jiwon is yet.”

“Oh, you didn’t introduce them?”

“No, I didn’t have the chance.”

That’s a lie. He did but he paused for so long that his dad just shuffled past and ignored the silence.

“I don’t even know what to say.” He mutters miserably. “I can’t just drop the bomb on him now. What if he gets another heart attack?”

“Oh rubbish!” His mom scoffs daintily. “There’s no need to treat him with kid gloves Hanbin. You keep forgetting who he is and what he’s been through in his business life. He might not remember all of it but he’s dealt with much worse than all this.”

He blinks at his mom, finding it surreal that they were even having this conversation at all. He never thought he’d get here. Ever.

“So. Do you think I should tell him? About me and Jiwon?”

“I can’t make that decision for you.” His mom replies. “But I might suggest that you just let it happen naturally. If it comes out in conversation then so be it. He’ll come to whichever conclusion he will. Some things are out of your hands and you’ve got to learn to deal with it”

He sighs and stares even harder at the floor.

“Oh, don’t look so pale. Have faith in him, Hanbin. In them.” His mom squeezes his shoulder before picking up a tray and motioning him to do the same. “Come on, it’s time to give Jiwon a break now.”

It’s weird. Strange. Bizaare. Completely uncomfortable. One minute they’re pouring decaf coffee and the next, he realises that they’re all sitting around the planter boxes and eating healthy cake. There’s small talk but it’s mostly his dad grilling Jiwon about all the other ways luxury car garages scam people into paying for things they don’t need. For a few blissful moments he thinks this is probably what it’d be like if his dad ever accepted his relationship with Jiwon. Maybe they could be this kind of family one day and sit around other tables, drinking fake coffee and eating fake cake…but with the truth all out in the open.

It’d be nice.

It is nice.

He wishes it could last longer but they need to leave to pick up Hanbyul. His dad’s car might be working now but he insists on doing his big brother duties. So caught up in the weird events of the day, he hadn’t actually prepared for how they were going to say goodbye.

“We better get going-” He starts, dusting off his pants and motioning Jiwon towards their car.

“Wait a minute, what do we owe you Jiwon? Do you take cheque or-”

“Oh it’s okay, Mr Kim. It’s fine.” Jiwon stammers uncomfortably, realising that this is the part where the truth might actually come out.

“What do you mean it’s fine? Of course we’ll pay you! Don’t be silly.”

“It’s really okay. I’m happy to help out.”

There’s a tense silence as his dad looks between them. “Help out?”

“Don’t worry about it, dad. I’ll take care of it.” He interjects quickly, unable to hold back any longer.

“But this is ridiculous.” His dad turns to his mom, confused as ever and not used to having mechanics giving him a discount. “What’s he talking about?”

It can’t come out like this. Not now. It feels forced and wrong. Jiwon and his mom were right and all he can think to do is send her pleading looks to help bail them out of this awkward situation.

“Let Hanbin sort this out.” His mom says, already gently guiding his dad back inside. “They’ve got to go pick up Hanbyul anyhow. You know how she is when she has to wait too long.”

“Right right.” His dad nods, skepticism still all over his face but not arguing (a miracle in itself). “Well, thank you for your help then Jiwon. My wife and I appreciate you coming over.”

“It’s no trouble Mr Kim.”

“Okay, we really need to get going now.” He says, hurrying things along. There are too many opportunities for questions and they’re pathetically unprepared.

Safely inside Jiwon’s BMW, they just sit in silence for a few moments.

“That was…..”

“…weird.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Well, I stopped breathing 2 hours ago.”

Jiwon laughs and starts the engine. “Let’s get outta here. They might be watching from the windows.”

“Getting paranoid?”  

“Yeah, been hanging around this cute neurotic guy for too long.”

It’s not until they’re driving out the neighbourhood that he can finally relax. He knows it must be the same for Jiwon too because the further they get from his parent’s house, the less tense those shoulders are.

“You think he knows?”

“No. I mean, he’ll probably call me later wondering why we came and left in the same car. Or why your name rings a bell. But hey, then again, he didn’t threaten to kill you so he probably still thinks you’re just Jiwon the Friendly Mechanic.”

“Can I say something crazy?”

“What?”

“Maybe we don’t tell him? About you and me, I mean.” Jiwon says cautiously. “He doesn’t hate me as the mechanic. So there’s no real rush to just tell him I’m sleeping with his son right?”

He groans at the choice of words. “Can you not say it like that, geez!”

“How do you want me to say it?” Jiwon cackles. “Hey nice to meet you. I’m banging your only son.”

“Jiwon!” He cringes, blushing bright red instantly.

“You’re fucking adorable! Why are you even blushing?” Jiwon laughs, reaching over to poke at his dimple.

“Just don’t ever say that to them! Or to anyone!”

“Fine fine.” Jiwon smiles, “What about if I just say, “Hi Mr and Mrs Kim, I’m Jiwon and I love you son”. Is that better?”

“NO! That’s even worse!” He scowls.

“How is that worse?!”

“I don’t know! But it’s the same!”

“Oh my god.”

“Stop talking. Just drive.” He pleads.

“Oh hey.” Jiwon says suddenly after a moment, “I’m gonna meet your sister today.”

They’ve been so distracted with his dad they they completely forgot to prepare for that.

Oh.

God.

No.

“Geez, don’t look so sad. Maybe I’ll win her over with my cool big brother jokes. You never know.”

He shakes his head in misery again. This is too much stress for one day and he’s going to get a headache any second now.

“Just don’t….freak her out too much. And don’t get too touchy with me. I don’t really want her telling dad anything.”

As soon as he says it, he feels guilty. Who does he think he is to instruct Jiwon like this? Why does he care? He said he wouldn’t care anymore. Life is short. People can be gay. Who cares?

But he does.

He can’t help it.

“Sorry. I just mean….I’d rather we tell him about us. I don’t want you to keep pretend you’re something you’re not. That’s not how I meant that.” He says. “It’s just that she’s a kid. She’ll say anything and everything to my parents and it might come out all wrong.”

“I know, baby. I get it. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” He says quietly.

It’s not okay. It won’t be okay until the truth is all out in the open. He just has to hang on till then.

“You wanna go with the roommate story?”

He shakes his head, staring out the window instead of looking inward. “No. Just tell her we’re friends and you’re a mechanic. Maybe she’ll think it’s cool. I mean, she kinda already likes you because of what you got her from Japan.”

“Okay.” Jiwon shrugs, looking frustratingly unbothered by the events of the day.  

“Okay.” He echoes, feeling like he’s about to have a stroke of his own.

Hanbyul has dance in the morning, followed by Saturday school for maths and English. It’s a lot for a 9 year old but he remembers his childhood Saturdays in classrooms too. The only saving grace was the piano lessons afterwards.

When they pull into the parking lot of the school, his anxiety surges up his chest. The whole place was filled with mom and dads in SUVs and family sized sedans. Jiwon’s black BMW isn’t anything to be embarrassed about but it does stick out like a sore thumb. Even if they could sneak into the corner parking spot, the growl and grunt of the engine has everyone turning to look at them.

Jiwon laughs at the curious and mildly disapproving glances, clearly used to the way his car announces his arrival.

“They probably think we’re here to rob them or sell drugs.”

He’s supposed to be nervous but suddenly the thought of Jiwon robbing anyone just makes him chuckle under his breath.

“I’ll go get her.” He says.

“I’ll try not to steal anything.” Jiwon replies.

There are kids everywhere. All sizes, all ages, all really really loud and shrill. There’s a small area near the front entrance where the parents gather to wait and gossip. He wonders if anyone is talking about him.

He waves to a few familiar faces that he recognises from before but it’s a little strange every time he’s standing there. A good kind of strange but strange nonetheless. There’s always a small flicker of paternal pride, of curiosity and wishful thinking that maybe one day he’ll be standing right here picking up his own kids from Saturday school and gossiping with other parents about school fees and unfair soccer referees.

Well. Maybe one day.

He spots his sister, walking out with her spikey backpack, ballet bun neatly pinned on the top of her head and chatting to a few similar looking girls. Seeing her with friends makes him smile, at least she still has some.

When she finally sees him across the parking lot, standing next to all the other parents, her face lights up and there’s a quick “bye guys!” to her friends before she’s running towards him, looking closer to 5 years old than her actual 9.

“Hanbin! Are you picking me up today!?” His sister half-yells in excitement.

“Yep.” He replies, hugging her with one arm because God forbid he embarrasses her by being too affectionate. “Had a good day, Peanut?”

“It was okay. I hate maths.” Hanbyul grimaces.

“Who doesn’t?” He says, patting her sympathetically on the back. “Hey, listen. I’ve got a friend with me. He’s here with his car actually-”

“The big loud one?”

“Oh. You heard that huh?”

Hanbyul rolls her eyes at him in dramatic disappointment. “Everybody heard it, Hanbin! Minhyung said it was a street racing car but he’s stupid.”

“Minhyung? The kid next door? Thought you liked him?”

“NO!” Hanbyul glares at him venomously. “Minhyung is dumb.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sorry. You hate him, got it.”

“Is he driving us home?” His sister asks, motioning towards the familiar dirty blonde leaning against the black shiny BMW.

His mouth goes dry. The other parents are definitely seeing and talking about them now. Part of him cares too much what they think. The other part of him doesn’t give a shit because Jiwon….well, when his hair is messy like that and he’s in a loose shirt which engine oil stains on it, just casually leaning against the car, Jiwon is still his Teenage Dream, the type of guy he never thought he’d ever have a chance with.

Hanbyul is pulling at his sleeve now, eyes wide with curiousity. “Hanbin?”

“Yeah yeah, that’s him. Be nice to him okay?” He says in a rushed breath. There must’ve been something on his face and in his voice because his sister doesn’t argue or give him a snotty reply, she just nods and holds his hand like she used to when she was a toddler.

Jiwon breaks out into a grin when he sees them approaching. They should’ve prepared for this. Why didn’t they prepare for this?

Calm down, Hanbin. Calm down.

“Okay, Peanut. This is my friend Jiwon. He’s the one that got you your backpack from Japan.” He says. “Jiwon, this is my sister, Hanbyul.”

“Hey, how are you. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Jiwon says, lifting his hand to do an awkward wave that he’s never seen Jiwon do once in the last 8 months.

To his surprise, his sister mirrors the action and waves back. “Hi.”

“I like your backpack.” Jiwon winks. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Hanbyul is selective in who she will talk to. She’s always been that way since she learned her words and he knows it’s due to the way his own behaviour rubbed off on her growing up. It surprises him that Jiwon gets a reply at all.

“Minhyung said it was spikey so I could put rocks in it and use it as a weapon.” Hanbyul blurts out.

He’s vaguely horrified but Jiwon just laughs. “Who’s Minhyung? Is he your friend? He sounds a bit crazy.”

“He’s SO crazy!” His sister confirms melodramatically. “And he’s NOT my friend!”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry, he’s not your friend.” Jiwon apologises, serious but amused. “Hey, thanks for picking out my watch. How did you know I liked Winnie the Pooh?”

“I like Winnie the Pooh too!”

As soon as Jiwon pulls up his shirt sleeves to reveal the watch, his sister’s eyes double in size. It’s all the ink and colours across Jiwon’s skin that’s shocking to a 9 year old who has probably never seen a tattoo up close before.

“How come you have a tiger drawing?” Hanbyul asks, finger hovering hesitantly over the inky lines on Jiwon’s skin, probably wanting to check if it’ll rub off like a pen mark or if it was there permanently.

“It’s a famous tiger. You should ask your brother to tell you the story one day.”

Shyness takes over and his sister withdraws her hand but he can tell by the wistful look on her face that Jiwon and his tattoos are going to be an endless source of fascination for her.

“It’s cool.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

“Minhyung said he will get drawings too but I think he’s lying.”

“He’s probably a bit too young to get them right now.” Jiwon says in Minhyung’s defence.

“He said he wants to get a Pokemon drawing but that’s lame.”

Jiwon pretends to be offended. “Pokemon are cool though! Pikachu, Evee and Charizard…”

“…and Jigglypuff!”

“Yeah, can’t forget about that guy.” Jiwon laughs.  

He looks at them like they’ve both gone crazy. They’re really going to bond over Winnie the Pooh and Pokemon? Really? What the hell was going on here?

“Come on, let’s get you home.” He says, interrupting the ridiculous conversation.

Jiwon moves to open the back cardoor with a dramatic gesture. “Lady first.”

He can tell by the way his sister giggles that she’s completely won over already. Jesus. His sister rarely opens up to anyone new and this must be some kind of record. Maybe he should be more worried about how good Jiwon is with charming everyone. What if it’s even worse when he’s famous?

“Woah, your car is cool!” Hanbyul gushes in awe. “Jiwon’s car is better than yours, Hanbin.”

“Thanks Peanut.” He replies flatly. “Maybe you can get Jiwon to drive you everywhere then.”

“Yeah!”

“Oh my god.” He mutters under his breath. “I think she just demoted me.”

“Everyone in your family loves my car. Admit it.” Jiwon smirks. “Worked on you too, don’t forget.”

“Yeah Yeah. Just shut up and drive.” He mutters, unable to hide the small smile that sneaks across his face.

The Beast wakes up with another deep menacing growl and he knows Jiwon did that on purpose because Hanbyul’s face is wildly enthusiastic in the rear view mirror.

Everyone in the parking lot is looking at them now.

His parents will hear about this.

So much for being careful and discreet. There’s a small voice inside his head that wants to nag Jiwon for being so reckless and ostentatious and drawing attention to them but his sister is bouncing in her seat and giggling every time Jiwon accelerates on the freeway. If this is what it takes for her to be happy, then who is he to get pissed off about it?

And she is definitely happier now. It just makes him feel more guilty about all those times when he came to the house to visit and she would hide in the corner, a withdrawn and quiet shell of a girl, because all the adults in her life were arguing with each other for the hundredth time.

He’s deep inside his head but he vaguely registers the animated conversation between Jiwon and his sister. Something about Pikachu, chocolate waffles, this poor Minhyung kid and if she could come over to see their apartment. Jiwon is patient with her. It makes him feel warm and so completely….grateful right now.

When they drop Hanbyul off at home, she hugs him quickly and throws a chirpy “Bye Jiwon!” in their direction before running inside. Their mom is at the front door, slightly surprised by Hanbyul’s cheerfulness.

“Did you buy her ice-cream?” She asks him with a quirk of an eyebrow.

He shakes his head with the same amount of disbelief. “No, I think she just really likes Jiwon.”

“Maybe she’ll be able to sway your father.”

“Maybe.”

There’s some shuffling and soon enough, his dad joins them at the front door with a notepad in his hand.

“Oh is he still out there?”

“Who? Jiwon?”

“Yes, I need to ask him about your mother’s Lexus.”

He gives his dad a confused look. “What? Why? Isn’t it getting serviced right now?”

“They could be ripping us off. I want to know if the recommendations they gave were legitimately or a scam.” His dad replies earnestly and shuffles further out the door and down the driveway towards Jiwon’s BMW.

He watches for a few seconds before turning back to his mom. “What just happened?”

“Perhaps you underestimated him.” His mom replies.

“Who? Dad?”

She shakes her head. “No. Jiwon.”

He watches the scene unfold; his dad shaking Jiwon’s hand, showing him the list on the notepad, pointing to something on the BMW and talking animately about it. Jiwon keeps looking over to him in some silent pleading, “What do I do?!”

But Kim Hanbin is useless. Again. Frozen in his spot and only offering a weak shrug when Jiwon looks at him very pointedly again.

I don’t know what to do.

Eventually, they watch both men walk up the driveway. They’re not exactly arguing, so there’s that, but it does nothing to calm his nerves. When they’re all inside the house, he pulls Jiwon back, whispering a panicked, “What the hell happened?!”

“He told me to stay for lunch.” Jiwon whispers back, a little shellshocked and mystified. “What do we do?!”

He squeezes his eyes shut. The migraine should be hitting any second now. “Just…..just….don’t say anything about us yet. I was thinking….that maybe you’re right. He likes you as a Jiwon the Mechanic so-”

“-so we’ll just pretend we’re friends?”

“Yeah. Let’s just go with that.” He nods, relieved that they’re on the same page about this.

Jiwon looks up and down the empty corridor before lean forward to give him the lightest of kisses on his lips. “Ready?”

He shakes his head.”No.”

“Do it anyway?”

“Yeah.”

****

He’s having lunch with Hanbin’s parents and sister.

It’s unexpected and nerve wracking and just plain weird.

Hanbin’s dad doesn’t actually hate him but then again, he’s probably still Jiwon-The-Friendly-Mechanic-Who-Will-Save-You-From-Scams. Who wouldn’t like that guy?

Hanbin’s mom is sort of nice to him. And Hanbyul, well, she insisted on sitting next to him and asking him 20 questions about Pokemon Go!

It felt too easy. So easy that he’s just waiting for it all to come to a car crash stop any minute now. It’s crazy that he’s been optimistic his whole life but when it comes to Hanbin’s family, all his doubts and insecurities just come out of the woodwork.

It’s easy because it’s a lie.

As he passes the black bean noodles around the table, he can’t help wondering how different this would all be if Hanbin’s dad knew what about the relationship or Hanbyul realised that her brother was gay. What then?

“How long have you been a mechanic Jiwon? You seem to know an awful lot about luxury cars.” Hanbin’s dad asks, regarding him with a look that’s half way between interest and interview. He’s met plenty of parents before and there’s always a point where they stop looking at him like he’s a threat. It’s the moment when they let their guard down and (sometimes relunctantly) allow him to date their son or daughter. But he’s not exactly sure what’s going to happen here.

“Uh, it’s been about 5 years.” He replies truthfully. “I used to work on a lot of the luxury models.”

“Used to? What is your area of expertise now?”

“Uhmm, I like vintage cars actually and some of the Japanese custom builds. They’re more interesting.”

Hanbin’s dad nods a few times and hums like it all makes sense. He has no idea of anyone around the table knows what the hell he’s talking about. He glances quickly in Hanbin’s direction and frowns at how pale and green his boyfriend looks.

Jesus, his anxiety must be off the charts right now.

Right on cue, a hand lands on his leg under the table. He squeezes it tight, knowing they both understand each other.

For the entire day, Hanbin’s dad has never once been suspicious of ‘Mechanic Jiwon’ and his intention. He hasn’t been threatened or treated as something dangerous that has to disappear. But right now, as scrutinising eyes focus on him, he’s wondering if his insanely good luck is finally running out.

“So, how do you know Hanbin?”

The fingers on his leg dig painfully into the flesh. Hanbin is freaking out, maybe not on the outside but definitely in his head. He’s got to fix this and steer the conversation somewhere safer somehow…

“We’re-”

“-he fixed my car.” Hanbin interjects suddenly, voice too loud and too sharp. “We started hanging out after that.”

Hanbyul barely reacts and continues to eat, completely unfazed by the elephant sized drama that’s playing out in front of her.

Hanbin’s mom keeps her poker face but he catches the way those eyes widen with for a split second, as if expecting an entirely different lie.

They must all be holding their breaths because there’s a collective rush of relief when Hanbin’s dad finally speaks again.

“That ridiculous Nissan? Haven’t you thought about upgrading it by now?”

He smiles, not really because anything is funny, but because he’s so fucking relieved for some reason.

“That car is a lost cause.” He says then, earning him a chuckle or two. Well, it’s better than nothing.

“You said you used to work on luxury cars. Have you moved to specialised models or have you moved on from cars altogether?”

There it is. He almost wants to laugh at the question because he was waiting for it, waiting for the moment when Hanbin’s dad would throw him the most perceptive of questions, the stroke and heart attack clearly didn’t do as much damage as everybody thought.

It’s funny really, the way he’s sitting around a table having lunch with all the people that shaped Hanbin. He can see exactly where all his genes and personality came from. He can see how all three of them shaped the guy he’s crazy about. He can’t hate anyone that important, no matter how difficult things have been or will get.

And with that thought, or maybe it’s the misjudged sense of security, he suddenly feels brazen and brave. He suddenly wants to tell the truth but well, he doesn’t want two heart attacks on his hands so he goes for something slightly less reckless.

“I still remember how to fix cars but um, well, lately I’ve been getting into recording music.”

The hand on his leg freezes in shock then digs into his skin again. Okay, so it was still a reckless thing to say. If it all goes to shit, he’ll never hear the end of it but something inside his heart told him to take the gamble.

“Recording music? Like a recording artist or hobby?” Hanbin’s dad asks, always cutting right to the chase.  

“Recording artist.” He can feel Hanbin’s tense stare on his face probably screaming, “shut the hell up!” in silence. But it’s too late to back down now.

“Which company have you signed with? Who represents them?”

Business questions. This is what he wanted. Hanbin had told him that business questions were always somehow neutral grounds for them, even in the heat of an argument.

“It’s BeatBox, a subsidary of GlobalKore. The legal team is from Lee and Koh.”

“Have you signed a contract? Did you get Hanbin to read it?”

“I signed one but they recently revised it so I-”

Hanbin’s dad ignores him for a moment, turning to focus on his son instead.

“Have you read it yet? Make sure you read it. Revisions are almost never a good sign. You know that.” The stern order has Hanbin bristling beside him, the claw on his leg more painful as the seconds tick by before leaving altogether.

“I’ll read it when we get home.” Hanbin replies through gritted teeth. “He only got the revision yesterday.”

Well, shit. He’s mad.  

It’s kinda justified. He forgot to tell Hanbin about the new contract revision. It’s still sitting on the kitchen table.

“Maybe you should bring it over here, Jiwon. I’ll go through it. You’ve saved me some scam money today, the least I can do is return the favour.”

Hanbin exhales beside him. “Dad, I can read it when I get home. It’s fine.”

There’s a (unfairly) disappointed look thrown in Hanbin’s direction, it’s dismissive and patronising and everything he hates in a parent.

“If you had read it properly the first time, maybe there wouldn’t have been a need to revise it.”

Oh. Shit.

No, no no. This is not where this conversation should be going.

“Actually, Mr Kim, the revision is just mainly because I said I wanted to tour as early as possible.” He lies. “The first contract was fine.”

He’s not really sure if anybody is convinced, he’s never been good at lying, and he’s praying to every God who might be listening right now to do him a real solid and salvage this situation.

“Hmm. Well, have Hanbin read it anyway. He might be wasting his potential at that magazine but he’s always had a talent for business law.”

“I will.” He replies. “He’s been a big help with all this.”

“Well, he enjoys the arts.” Hanbin’s dad continues. “I’m not entirely sure whose genetics is responsible for that. It’s definitely not mine. He always used to complain that business ruins art but I say-”

“-it’s a necessary evil.” He finishes.

The table is silent, stunned. It takes him a few seconds to process the nauseating fact that he and Hanbin’s dad just said the exact same thing in unison.

Fuck.

So this must be what Hanbin’s mom meant.

Maybe she was right.

And Hanbin is looking at him like he’s gone crazy now.

“Come now, that’s enough shop talk.” She announces, motioning them all to eat. “Hanbyul wants to say something about school today.”

‘Grateful’ doesn’t begin to explain what he feels towards Hanbin’s mom right at that moment. Sometimes, in his delusions, he thinks she might kinda approve of him. Maybe. A little.

Lunch drags on and on but it’s mostly filled with Hanbyul telling them all kinds of stories that nobody really understands but everybody listens to anyway. He’s beginning to think she has some kind of weird personal vendetta against this poor Minhyung kid from next door.

He fields questions about his tattoos, his career, his car, his family. Nobody asks him about his real relationship with Hanbin but once or twice, when he looked up, Hanbin’s dad was looking straight at his face.

He’s gotta know. How can he not know?

Hanbin is quiet but at some point there’s a hand on his leg again, hopefully to tell him he’s forgiven for being so reckless. All in all, he doesn’t mind any of it. It’s not the worst time he’s ever had. It’s about 101% better than he thought the first in-laws meeting would go.

Fuck. In Laws?! Did I just say that….

Don’t freak out Jiwon, don’t freak out.

It’s 2:30pm when they say all their awkward goodbyes. He doesn’t realise how tense he’d been holding his shoulders until they’re in his car, cruising on the freeway home, that he can finally, finally, let out the longest sigh. Hanbin is silent again, preferring just to sit there and stare out the window.  

“Hey? You okay?” He asks quietly.

Hanbin nods but doesn’t turn to look at him. “Yeah.”

“It didn’t go that badly?”

Hanbin shoots him a dirty look, as if to say, “Are you kidding me?”

He sighs apologetically. “I know I know but you’re always going on about not being scared of saying anything so I kinda thought I should just say it. And if he hates me then he hates me.”

“That’s so not the point.” Hanbin grumbles.

“But it worked out okay didn’t it? Isn’t that what matters?”

Hanbin squeezes his eyes shut in frustration but after a few simmering moments, he nods again. “I know.”

“Sorry I didn’t check it with you first….”

"No….you’re right.” Hanbin concededs, “You needed to say what you did because if it was up to me, we’d be waiting for another 2 years.”

“I think we should just let him believe what he wants to. Maybe he hates scammers more than he hates the gays. At least the gays won’t rob him blind.”

Hanbin laughs despite himself.

“You never know!” He says, they’re at a red light and he can’t help reaching over to run his hand through the soft dark strands of hair. “Maybe this year is gonna surprise you.”

Hanbin captures his fingers and hold them between his smaller hands. “I just want….”

“What do you want, baby?”

“I just want to go home now.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The light turns green and the BMW lets out a menancing growl before speeding ahead.

****

Skin.

Tanned and warm and smooth under his fingertips. It’s perfect skin, interrupted by swirls and lines of dark ink which probably all have a story behind them. It’s embarrassing that he doesn’t even know half of it.

It’s only 9pm and they’ve already showered and gotten into bed like the boring couple they’ve turned into. He secretly loves it, this quiet life. It won’t last much longer, especially now that BeatBox has Jiwon on a tight schedule, but at least the weekends were still free (for now). He has to savour it, remember it, lock all the good memories away in his head and heart incase one day, it won’t be there anymore.

Jiwon is laying on his stomach, re-reading the last chapter of Life of Pi with furrowed brows and confusion on his face.

He tries not to sprawl all over that broad back but how can you not? When it’s right there, unobstructed by a shirt, and flexing every time Jiwon shifts to turn a page. He settles besides the bigger body, fingers lightly tracing over all the inky lines.

There’s small dark cross at the base of Jiwon’s neck, it’s small and almost discreet, a total contradiction to the circular religious words in the centre of Jiwon’s upper back.

Hate Only Sin. Fear Only God.

He traces around the words causing the muscles of Jiwon’s back to shift and flex like shadows and valleys in the Grand Canyon.

“Why did you get this one?” He asks.

Jiwon turns a page but pauses to look over his shoulder. “Huh?”

“This tattoo,” He says, tapping on the religious ink, “why did you get it?”

“Ah, I got that with my dad and brother. They liked it and I kinda went along with it.” Jiwon shrugs at the end and goes back to reading his book.

“Do you really fear God?” His voice sounds weird and he wonders why that is. Maybe he’s still scared of the answer, having never really been very religious at all. It’s a little hard going to Sunday Mass when everything and everyone there makes you feel like a dirty, guilty sinner.

“No. Not really.” Jiwon replies after a long pause. “That tattoo is really about my family and trying to stay clean and not being scared of anything. I mean, there are way worse things to be scared of right now.”

“Like what?”

“Like, if this rap thing doesn’t go that well and I fuck up our future. Or if your dad changes his mind about me. Or….if you change your mind about us.”

Jiwon is still holding the book open in front of him but he’s not reading anything on the page anymore.

“None of those things will happen.” He replies firmly and with as much conviction as he can dreg up at at time like this. “Thought you didn’t care what my dad thought?”

“I kinda don’t but I know you do. So kinda gotta care a bit.” Jiwon chuckles before dropping his book on the bedside table and rolling over onto his back. “What’s with all the tattoo questions right now?”

He sprawls over Jiwon’s abdomen and shrugs. “We just never talk about it. Every time I can see them it’s always too serious or well, we’re kinda…”

“-fucking?” Jiwon smirks.

He rolls his eyes. “You are so uncultured.”

Jiwon laughs and ruffles his hair. “I read Life of Pi for you! I’m getting cultured! What more do you want, geez?!”

“Do you like it? The book?” He asks with a grin. “Because you’ve got like 2 pages left right?”

“No, I finished it last night. I just had to re-read the ending again.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Did you like it?”

“You want the honest answer?”

He grins again. “Yeah.”

“It’s so fucking weird.” Jiwon grimaces. “Like, the idea of it and what he’s trying to say is better than the actual story? I got so annoyed reading it.”

He kisses the hard wall of Jiwon’s abdominal muscles and laughs, relieved and a little (okay, a lot) proud.

“What’s funny?” Jiwon asks, confused and irritated that he’s being laughed at for getting a book wrong again.

“I don’t really like that book either.” He says, giving Jiwon a big cheeky smile. “What you just said about it is what I think of it too. It’s a good concept and a bad read.”

Jiwon eyes narrow at him and the hands on his shoulder are now pushing him off, like their proximity is suddenly so offensive. “What?!!! You don’t even like it?! Why did you give it to me? Why did you make me read it!?”

“I didn’t make you read it!” He cackles loudly, thinking how good it feels just to laugh like this. “You decided to read it all by yourself!”

“I read it for you!” Jiwon yells back, just as loud. “You said it was gonna tell me about Richard Parker and he’s hardly even in it. It’s bullshit.”

He stops laugh long enough to try and sprawl all over Jiwon’s chest again. “But you did learn about him right?”

Jiwon lays down beside him, head snuggled into his lap in a show of rare and oddly childlike vulnerability. The dirty blonde hair between his fingers is getting so long now and he knows he will miss it when it gets cut.

“Yeah I did. I know why you wanted me to read it though.”

“Why’s that?”

“To figure out why you got your tattoo, right?”

He smiles to himself. “What did you figure out?”

“It was to see if I’d get through the book too right? Even though it’s bad?” Jiwon laughs. “My tiger is Richard Parker. You’re Pi. The tiger isn’t real though is he? Pi made him real but he made Pi sane for long enough to survive the shipwreck.”

Jiwon pauses then, looking up at him with wide earnest eyes. “Is that right? Because if it isn’t then I don’t know what the hell I just read.”

“Yeah, it’s right.” He says softly, awed that Jiwon figured something out so fast, something that took him months to rationalise himself. He cards his fingers through Jiwon’s soft messy hair again, still wondering how any of this was even happening.

“Why did you say you got Pi for the number then?”

“I got it for both reasons.” He says, feeling vulnerable but somehow, not scared about telling the truth. “They’re both about you anyway. You just wanted me to say it.”

Jiwon’s arms come to hug his waist snuggly. “Yeah maybe.”

He can feel the way Jiwon smiles against his skin. He loves that he knows it’s a smile without even looking. He loves that he can say some of these things now.

But…there still are so many other things he wishes he could tell Jiwon. Like wanting to cry when he read that quote in the Japanese notebook. Does Jiwon realise that it’s just a more eloquent summary of Life of Pi?

And how does he tell Jiwon that he’s never taken anyone home to meet his parents before? That today was one of the best days he’s ever had?  Maybe he was nervous and quiet but he just doesn’t know how to say “I’m so glad you’re in my life” in words so he’s writing it all down on paper. Does he tell Jiwon about that?

He knows what he won’t tell Jiwon though. How he used to drive down to the coast every day for a week, just to stand on the cliff and stare into the ocean. Maybe he thought about Richard Parker keeping Pi sane in that split second before he wanted to throw himself into the cold waters. No, Jiwon can never know about that one.

“Do you ever think about what you’d get if I didn’t have Richard Parker on my arm?”

“I’d still get Pi for you. Or you know, your name on my butt.”

“That’s like the nicest fucking thing anyone has ever said about me.” Jiwon laughs and then, without warning, his t-shirt is pulled up and there’s a sloppy wet kiss across his stomach that has him shrieking and scrambling across the bed.

“Argh! Don’t do that! It’s ticklish!”

Jiwon just looks at him coolly. “I know.”

“I hate you.” He sulks.

“Nah, you love me.”

His face heats up again. “You’re annoying.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jiwon shrugs. “So. You wanna get naked now?”

“What? No!”

“Why not?”

“Because! We were having a moment and now you want to just…”

“-fuck?”

“Can’t you be serious for like 5 seconds?!”

Jiwon rolls them over and hugs him from behind, close enough to press his body and his hard cock rightthere.

“Sorry baby. Finish what you were saying.” Jiwon apologises, lips grazing his ear and sending shivers down his spine. That bastard.

“The one time I try to tell you things and you’re thinking about this.” He scowls, not really angry about anything, just thrown off by all the emotions whizzing around his body.

“Uh-huh. Keep going then.” Jiwon encourages in that low gravelly voice that he has never once been able to keep calm over. The hardness grinding against his ass is not helping. At all.

“Well, it’s just that….that…”

“…that what baby?” Jiwon turns his voice all honeyed and mellow, almost silky against his ear. He grinding back, he knows it, it’s almost involuntary, the way his body responds to Jiwon’s existence.

“That….”

He’s so hard now.

Damm this guy.

“Argh! You are so annoying!” He says, pushing the other body away.

“Sorry…” Jiwon says with a smirk.

“You’re not sorry.” He says, hating Jiwon’s arrogance as much as he loves the way it also turns him on.

“I am!”

“What do you want to do to me huh?” He asks, grinding back so hard towards the body behind him that Jiwon makes a noise he’s sure he’s never heard before. “What do you want?”

“Jesus…stop for a second..”Jiwon screws his eyes shut, as if the answer and possibilities are too much to imagine. It must get too overwhelming because there are large hands holding his hips still now and Jiwon is breathing heavily.

“What’s wrong?” He asks innocently. “Don’t you want me anymore?”

Jiwon growls, flipping them over and throwing him back down against the sheets. “You. Are. So. Bad.”

The wet kisses against his neck always make him giggle at the start but the further down they go, the louder his moans get.

“Come on, just do whatever you want Jiwon….just do it…..I don’t care…..” He babbles absentmindedly, lost in the sensation of Jiwon’s mouth on his skin and the hot hard body press down on his. It makes him feel small, precious, wanted….loved.

The kissing stops abruptly then and Jiwon looks at him, worry flitting across his face for a split second. “Wait a sec. Wait a sec. Promise me something?”

“What?”

“Be careful who you say that to. Don’t just say that to anyone.”

He furrows his brows in confusion. “Say what?”

“That you don’t care what they do to you. There are really fucked up people out there who won’t stop when you want them to.”

Oh.

“I won’t say it to anyone else. It’s just you….it’s just you.” He whispers breathlessly, pulling Jiwon’s head down for a deep and slow kiss, the type that makes his toes curl and stomach drop.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He says against Jiwon’s lips, pausing long enough to look into the worried eyes. “It’s just you. I want you. I trust you.”

He’s swallowed back into Jiwon’s mouth with it’s hot tongue and mellow earthy taste. His t-shirt and boxers land on the floor somewhere next to Jiwon’s shorts and he’s turned onto this stomach.

“Tell me to stop. If you don’t want it, just tell me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

There’s a part of him that doesn’t really understand why Jiwon was so worried now. It’s not their first time together, far from it, and even when they get rough (mostly because he asked for it), he’s never once been scared of getting hurt.

Jiwon can be gentle and frustratingly tender with his touches, like the way he is now, just trailing kisses down his spine and kneading his skin softly like they had all the time in the World and everything outside their window was irrelevant.

Sometimes everything is rushed, like a chaotic storm of skin and hands and spit, but sometimes, like right now, everything feels like it happens in slow motion and he doesn’t want any of it to stop.

It starts with a firm hand massaging the skin of his inner thigh before easing them apart, the fingers inching closer and closer towards that spot that makes him whimpers and pleads for more, his legs spreads on their own because whenever they do this, he wants everything.

“Stay still for me okay?” Jiwon says all the sudden, voice hushed but no less commanding.

There’s a flush rising up his chest because he know Jiwon likes looking. He feels exposed, always has and probably always will, no matter how much he wants it. But the silence and waiting stretches on and on….

“Jiwon? Stop looking. Can you just-ughhhhhhh…..” He scrambles up the bed, shocked by the sensation of the heavy warm tongue pressing against his ass. “Oh my god….”

Hands grab at his ankles, gently coaxing him back down the bed until he can feel Jiwon breathing against his skin. He hears his pulse thumping loudly in his ears and the nervous anticipation in the pit of his stomach but as soon as the wetness of a tongue glides across his ass hole again, he slumps down into the sheets, speechless, overwhelmed and a little high.

“Relax babe.” Jiwon murmurs against his skin.

"Okay…okay….” He’s whimpering desperate into the sheets now, hands clenching and unclenching in the sheets, fighting between wanting to get away because it’s Too Much and wanting more more more.  

Jiwon pauses to kiss the soft skin of his inner thigh. “You gonna be a good boy for me today?”

Oh Fuck.

He hates it when Jiwon talks to him like this.

It makes him go crazy and they both know it.

“Answer me, baby.”

“Yes….yes….”

“Okay, turn over. You’re gonna watch me eat you out.”

“What?” He asks, mind reeling and breathless.

There’s a pillow wedged underneath his hips and a hand that pushes him down onto his back.

“Watch me.”

It makes him blush again, the way Jiwon is looking at him and lowering that mouth right down between his legs. The first first glide of tongue across his entrance sends a thousands nerve signals to his brain, like fireworks bursting and setting him on fire over and over again.

“Ahh fuck….I can’t….I can’t….” He cries out, wanting it all to stop but wanting it to never stop.

Fingers dig into his thigh now, lifting his leg up slighting and spreading him out even more. The new angle is even better. He’s moaning all kinds of disgusting words and sounds now, it makes Jiwon smile because he thinks he can feel the way the corners of his mouth curls up against his skin.

But they need to stop.

He’s going to cum in 30 seconds if they keep doing this.

He pushes weakly at Jiwon’s shoulder, almost unable to get his words out.

“Stop, stop. You’re gonna make me cum too fast.”

Jiwon laughs, gets one last taste before lowering his leg back onto the bed. “So you like that huh?”

“Yeah…” It’s the only reply he can manage because the rest of his energy is spent on trying not to cum at the mere thought of Jiwon’s tongue in his ass next time.

“Wanna do the other stuff?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Be back in a second.”

He’s stares into space and waits until Jiwon comes back to kneel between his legs again, only sighing in relief when he hears a plastic cap being flicked open and then, finally, the more familiar pressure of slick fingers instead.

“Mmmmmmmm.”

“That better?”

“Yeah, that’s so good.”

There’s another kiss against his other thigh as Jiwon adds another finger and then another one. He misses being stretched out like this, just laying on his back and taking all of Jiwon’s fingers, one by one, until he’s just a loud imcomprehensible, demanding mess again.

This is true bliss. He can’t even hear his own thoughts anymore, just the sound of his own whimpering and begging mixed in with Jiwon’s sympathetic groans.

“Fuck, you should see yourself.” Jiwon says in awe. “One day I’m gonna get to all five in.”

“I’m ready….it’s enough…..”

“No, babe. Just a bit more so you can fit me.”

“No! I’m ready now!”

He protests with all the swear words he knows but being in this position, he can’t even reach for any part of Jiwon to grab onto, there’s just sheets and pillows.

“You always think you’re ready when you’re not.” Jiwon teases with an amused chuckle. “Begging for it when you’re still tight around a few fingers.”

“Jiwon…” He moans, repeating it over and over. ‘..please…please…Jiwon now…”

“No. We haven’t done this in weeks. You think I’m gonna rush it? Not a chance baby. You’re gonna fuck my fingers until I tell you you’re ready.”

He hates and loves it when Jiwon gets into these moods because those fingers feel amazing but after 5 long minutes he gets restless and twitchy and closer towards being too sensitive.

“Jiwon….now…” He pants, breathing loudly and shakily. “It’s too much….do it now!”

“No. Five more minutes.”

“NO! NOW! DO IT NOW!” He cries out, “I will never talk to you again if you don’t-”

There’s another kiss against his thighs and a soft laugh as Jiwon shifts and withdraws his fingers, one by one.

“So many threats but you’re still gonna spread your legs for me, aren’t you?”

He does it automatically anyway, self consciousness a distant memory now that he can feel the head of a hard cock against his ass hole.

“Want some dick baby?”

“Yes.”

“How you gonna ask for it?”

“Please fuck me….fuck me….I want you in me….” He pleads, muscles tense and aching from the frustration of having all this delayed for so long. He feels like he’s been wound up too tightly now and if Jiwon draws this out any longer, he’s going to either explode or break something.

“You sound so fucking hot like that.” Jiwon groans, pressing forward just a little bit more, it’s not enough to push inside but just enough to make his toes curl. “Say it again.”

He spreads his legs even further apart and reaches down to feel how much Jiwon’s fingers already stretched him out. It’s not that tight but then again, his fingers are a lot smaller.

“Oh fuck. If you keep doing that, I’m gonna blow my entire load on our sheets.”

“Mmmm,” He lets two of his fingers slip inside, just to be mean. “Then fuck me. I want it. Get in here…”

He stretches himself out a little more and that’s really all it takes for Jiwon to growl at him and push in before he has time to pull out his fingers.

“Ahhh ahhhhh wait-”

“No babe, leave them there, fuck…..fuck!” Jiwon says in a strained voice, holding his wrist in place so he can feel the slide of a hard wet cock along his fingers and all the way inside. If it wasn’t a tight fit before, it’s almost unbearable now, but in that same way his tattoo aches a little….it’s a good kind of ache, a good kind of fullness, a good kind of dirty.

“Ahhhhh babe….babe….yeah, fuck…fuck!”

But they can’t go on like this, he’s going to go insane. He pulls his fingers out and collapses heavily against the sheets, just wanting to feel and remember everything.

He loves all the disgusting sounds they make together, that wet slick noise every time Jiwon pulls out and then slams all the way back in, the low rumble and grunts coming from the back of Jiwon’s throat and the way he just wants to cry out, long and loud and without caring if anyone hears it.

Jiwon smacks his hand away when he tries to stroke himself, leaning down to snarl in his ear. “No hands. You’re gonna cum when I tell you to.”

Jiwon leans down now, licking across his Pi tattoo, hard enough to hurt but soft enough that he wants more. But then, without any warning, Jiwon thrusts back into him so hard that he inches up the bed and has to get dragged back down. There’s no more slow and steady pace, when Jiwon starts grunting like an animal and tensing all his muscles into tight knots, he knows he’s in for something uncontrollable.

The build up is always long and drawn out but the sprint towards the finish line is always a blur. He’s always dizzy, mind spinning out of control and body screaming for release as it free falls down a cliff somewhere.

“Let me cum….let me cum…..” He begs, voice now wrecked and scratchy.

Jiwon’s hands grip at his bony hips to pull him even further into his thrusts and the rhythm gets to the point where he just feels like a rag doll being fucked without mercy.

“Let me…let me!” He cries out again, the tension in his balls aching more and more.

“I love it when you beg.” Jiwon whispers hoarsely against his ear, the gravelly timbre of it goes right to his dick. “Cum in my hand, baby.”

He barely registers the firm grip of Jiwon’s hand before he completely lets go and surrenders to his own piercing release. What happens after that, Jiwon will tell him later.

He thinks he remembers watching Jiwon licking the cum off his hand as he slows the thrusting down to something slow and deep, knowing how oversensitive and prickly his skin always feels afterwards.

“You taste so good, baby. You gonna let me eat you out properly next time?”

“Uh-huh….” He murmurs, just agreeing and trying not to go crazy from the pleasure that’s slowly turning into pain.

“You want me to cum in you again?”

“Yeah, do it. Do it inside me.” He slurs, feeling high and out of sorts.

It always amazes him that Jiwon always cums with a growl instead of a shout. There’s always bites against his neck and the scrape of teeth when he gets careless. And then, there’s always that sudden warm wetness inside him, only this time it he can feel it against his fingers too.

“Mmmmmmmmmmm.”

He loves it. All of it. No matter how oversensitive he gets. He loves it when Jiwon demands all of his thoughts and energy and channels everything into one singular animalistic focus where nothing else matters.

“Holy shit.” Jiwon laughs and slumps down next to him on the bed, breathing heavily. “Holy shit, babe….”

“We need another shower.” He says, squirming and sweaty. “We’re wasting so much water this week.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“No!” He replies defensively. “I’m also kinda thinking about how badly I need to wash these sheets.”

“Hanbin….shut up..”

“Okay.”

“Love you though.” Jiwon slurs, foot nudging at his ankle lazily.

“Love you too.” He kicks back.

“Even if you made me read that fucking book.”

He rolls over and laughs into the pillow. It’s not even that funny but for whatever reason, he just can’t stop laughing at how ridiculously everything turned out.

Yeah.

Maybe we’re going to be okay.

Maybe.

[necropsittacus]

answer all the ones you have an interesting answer for, i guess?

i had FAR too much fun with this and it’s horrifically long so. Apologies For That. also thank you friend

2: What’s your dream pet? (Real or not)i really want some finches, when i'm actually in a place to care for an animal? maybe a pigeon3: Do you have a favorite clothing style?in real life i actually Wear button downs and black jeans most of the time for convenience. *ideally* it would be something more like "unholy union of like three different goth aesthetics, and sith fashion, and also Pirate. and spikes/chains/glowy lights." it's probably good for everyone else's eyes that i'm too cheap to redo my entire wardrobe in line with my ideal aesthetic sensibilities. i also have a set color scheme; at most one bright color, which is generally red, blue, or purple, and everything else should be black or grey. 8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic]melancholic with choleric leanings.9: Are you ticklish?nope! im pretty sure i trained myself out of it 12: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa?tea. i like the taste of coffee if it's very heavily creamed and sugared but it does terrible things to my body so i don't drink it. too much chocolate also makes me sick14: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson?VAMPIRE. practically already am. 16: How tall are you?5'7"-5'8". measurements have varied. 17: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to?starscreamthis one is Already a name change? i've been through a few names and honestly i'm pretty happy with "ren." i thought about changing to something people could actually spell right on the first try, but nothing Felt right? 20: Do you like space or the ocean more?ocean! but both are pretty neat21: Are you religious?yes, but it's not remotely clear what i actually believe, just that it's Something  23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal [opposite of nocturnal]?i'm already practically nocturnal tbh and it's fun 30: Favorite movie?i really appreciate the star wars prequels32: How many pets have you own in your lifetime?nine; six fish and three budgies, not all at the same time37: What is your eye color?green38: Introvert or extrovert?i think the whole dichotomy is a bit overhyped and doesn't exactly apply to me. my situation is more that i act like extroverts are "supposed" to with close friends but people i don't already know and like very much are deeply exhausting to be around and i'd rather not40: Hugs or kisses?depends. hand/forehead/cheek/etc kisses are intensely blessed and important to me, but i don't particularly enjoy making out or whatnot, and hugs are Very nice. 42: Who is someone you love deeply?tumblr user @autisticsansa​44: Do you like tattoos and piercings?yeah!45: Do you smoke or have you eiver done so?yeah, occasionally. obligatory disclaimer that it's a terrible habit and you shouldn't start. it's more a "i'm extremely anxious and need to do SOMETHING" thing than a regular habit, though. 57: Have any mental disorders? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!]several. it's just not 100% clear which ones. the most recent Professional Opinion was OCD and CPTSD with probably related anxiety and depression. also autism but i don't think that's quite the same thing58: What does your URL mean?it's a pun on "neurodivergent" that i stole from someone else's post about liches61: What makes you unfollow a blog?if your opinions start pissing me off too much or you post things i consider morally objectionable or dangerous to me. also if we have a sufficiently bad personal fight. i don't really care if a mutual or someone i've been following for a long time stops having common interests with me or anything like that, at that point i'm invested in You as a Person and will stick around for that64: Favorite animal(s):all birds. also cetaceans69: What is your star sign?i'm a fake scorpio. i have been telling people i'm a scorpio and tagging zodiac posts accordingly for literal years, out of a combination of the stereotype applying to me much better than the one for my Actual Birthday and residual influence from homestuck. 76: Do you like birds?i LOVE birds.86: Can you run a mile within ten minutes?i can't run a mile at ALL i'll have an asthma atatck88: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely?no and trying hurts90: If you were an animal, which one would you be?goth cockatoo94: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds?both of those sound fantastic. i want to say fly, though, both because bird thing!!!!, my latest batch of Attachment/Projection Characters has me thinking about the idea a lot, and mind reading seems like it would likely become a burden on me. i struggle enough with other people's feelings about me as it is96: Winter or summer?winter. summer is consistently a miserable time for me101: Favorite type of shoesaesthetically, high heeled black lace up boots. irl i mostly wear combat boots, though103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why?vegetarian. i don't really Know why; it was how i was raised, i have no actual desire to eat meat, and i'm reasonably certain trying to start now would interact disastrously with a lot of my preexisting food issues. also, some of you are incapable of not responding to asshole vegans by acting like eating meat is a moral imperative and it's ok to bully people who don't. so even if i did want to, i wouldn't out of sheer spite106: Do you like bugs?depends on the kind. bees/wasps, dragonflies, and butterfly/moth type things are all fine. i'm deathly afraid of crickets107: Do you like spiders?yeah! i think they're cute109: Can you draw:not very well, but i keep doing it anyway114: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days?cloudy. bright light tends to hurt me115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now:i'm in an odd place right now where i'm either not sure if the people i'm closest to (and/or most want to Become close with) would be comfortable with anything of the sort, or know for a fact that they wouldn't be, so i'm going to refrain from naming anyone, but certain friends129: What would you want written on your tombstone?"túrin turambar dagnir glaurunga." for old times' sake/the sentimental value. i doubt christopher tolkien would give anyone permission for that, though131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself?arrogance, ambition, drive to succeed out of sheer Spite. it's a very good aesthetic, but i don't imagine it's very pleasant to actually *interact* with someone with a complex about being #1 132: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures?nope. i exclusively either smirk or keep my face as blank as possible; i don't think smiling like that looks good on me. 133: Computer or TV?computer. i don't actually know how to operate a television139: What nicknames do you have/have had?a lot. tends to come with changing your name 500 times. atm i don't really have any, to my slight disappointment140: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends?i had imaginary enemies as a kid143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help?depends? it's hard for me to help people, especially to guess what kind of thing actually Is helpful to them, and i absolutely LOVE being given things, but also if i know someone well enough that we're giving each other things i would feel absolutely terrible not reciprocating, and doing it makes me happy. 145: How many languages do you speak fluently?only english, unfortunately. i have like a six year olds level of russian, which i want to improve, and i think i Could get there with japanese eventually if i start taking classes again147: Are you androgynous?honestly i can't really tell? not deliberately so, particularly, but i think i have a very Traditionally Feminine kind of pretty face and the way that combines with mostly masculine presentation and facial hair is pretty androgynous148: Favorite physical thing about yourself:this isn't a Specific Thing per se, but i do think HRT has been taking my appearance in a very "g1 seeker" direction and i am DELIGHTED151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose?hm. viking stuff is a Big Aesthetic, but also i think i deserve to be a sickly victorian gentleman and die of tuberculosis154: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons?YES. this is one of my favorite forms of affection irl. also hand kissing is The Most Valid kind of kissing. 155: Do you like to play with others’ hair?yes!!!157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious:talking to people when i'm not 100% sure where i stand with them or how much they like me. especially if i'm requesting anything.168: Do you like to wear makeup?i used to. i probably still would if i could do it without being read as a woman, but as it is the discomfort of being misgendered outweighs the joy of Having Sparkly Colors on My Face

[lady-divine-writes]

Coldflash one-shot - “The Ring” (Rated PG13)

After an anxiety-fueled dream that Len waves away as time travel sickness, he opts instead to think ahead to what his and Barry's eventual future may be.

But could that dream be a more accurate indicator of what's in store for the two of them? (1471 words)

Notes: So, I wrote this for Valentine's Day, based off of a 'Yuri on Ice' fanart I saw on Instagram. It gives hints on what's to come in the upcoming sequel of Cover Up, which I hope to have done and uploaded before summer.

Read on AO3.

“Bare … Barry?”

Len’s footsteps echo within the confines of his anxiety-riddled brain as he tries to walk in a direction that feels like forward, but only because that’s the way he’s headed. A field of absolute darkness stretches out ahead of him and he struggles to walk straight, tunneled in this direction by a perception of safety that he has no solid evidence exists. If he was safe, he wouldn’t be alone.

Barry would be with him.

“Barry? Are you … are you there?”

Fine filaments of red light flash in the corner of his eye – combustion bright and so blinding, he has to physically turn away from it to keep it from searing his retinas. But when he turns his head, the light changes course, zipping in front of his face as if it’s trying to get his attention.

“Barry?”

The light bounces closer and closer, carrying with it a sharp, zapping noise like a laser …

… or Barry’s tattoo gun.

“Barry?” The light stops its sporadic jumping and swirls around him. It dries out the air, causing his eyes and sinuses to burn, making the hair on his arms stand on end. The ink on his body, put there by Barry, begins to sting; the cover up concealing the scars on his spine aching so powerfully, it bows his back.

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Barry? Where … where are you, Barry?”

“Here,” a voice crackling from within the cyclone replies. “I’m here.”

Len doesn’t answer. He assumes that this electrical phantom is a meta of some sort and it’s taunting him. It can probably read his mind, knows what’s important to him, and it’s using that to bait him into submission.

Playing him like a cat with a mouse.

He clears his mind, refuses to give it any more ammunition than it already has.

But the next, “Len … I’m right here,” sounds sincere.

It sounds sad.

It sounds like Barry. His Barry, not some copycat.

Len has had metas trick him before, but he’s never met one this good. There’s always something underneath the deception that manages to give them away – a tone, a sneer, a thread of malice. But Len doesn’t hear that in this voice. His head knows, and his heart knows, that this is Barry Allen.

“Barry?” Len reaches out a cautious hand to try and touch the red lightning, worried that Barry might be trapped inside. An arc springs out from the mass and winds around his finger. Len’s first instinct is to leap back, but that would launch him into the bulk of the electrical field that’s built up around him. More tendrils of electricity reach out to touch him. They form together and take his hand. Len shivers at the touch, at the heat surging through his skin and up his arm.

At how familiar it feels.

“B---Barry?”

“Len?”

“Barry?” As the cyclone tightens, the light glows a brilliant crimson, like a lost desert sun. Len squints into it, his head pounding as he searches for signs of his missing boyfriend. “Barry? Where are you?”

The light gathers in a single knot … and a face leaps out at him. “Len! I’m right here!”

Len screams, scrambling backward straight into the swirling vortex. The electricity grabs his arm and shakes him. With each nudge, the grip on his bicep feels softer, more corporal, bones and skin palpable underneath. The eyes staring into his are no longer full of red forks, but are the concerned, human eyes of Barry Allen leading Len out of the dark.

Len blinks and the electricity dissipates, dissolves into the cool room around them, chased by floating lights - the remnants of a dream that felt so real, the skin on Len’s arms still prickles with its static. But it wasn’t real. It was just a nightmare - the dark tunnel simply Barry’s bedroom; the electricity - the tripping bulb in the street lamp outside that stutters and pops as night transforms into day, hours before preparing to switch off.

“Len …” Barry relinquishes his hold on sleep when it becomes clear how much his boyfriend needs him “… are you all right?”

“Ye-yeah.” Len breathes in deep and pauses before he answers again, taking a moment to make sure he’s not lying. “Yeah, I’m all right.”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yeah.” Len turns his face away, running the back of his hand over his cheeks to banish a few obnoxious tears. “I guess I did. But it’s over now.”

Barry scoots up a few inches, trying to sit up. “You haven’t had one of those in a while.”

“I know. It’s all right. Just some residual time travel sickness. Nothing major.”

“Do you … want to talk about it?”

Len smiles - a weak smile at best. “Nah. It’s not worth it.” He puts a trembling hand on Barry’s shoulder and pushes him gently down the mattress, then tucks him in under the blankets. He doesn’t mind discussing his nightmares with Barry when they’re easy, about the things Barry already knows – his father’s abuse; his fears over leaving his sister alone and vulnerable for long periods of time and what that might be doing to her mentally; the idea that he may never truly be able to leave his past behind him; that without the Waverider, he might fall back into old habits and become an even worse criminal than he was before.

That he might lose everything he’s fought hard for, that he’s come to hold dear … Barry included.

“Are you sure?” Barry asks, slipping obediently underneath the blankets, but only so he can get closer to his boyfriend. “Should we contact your team? Like Dr. Stein? Maybe he can …”

“I’ll be seeing my team sooner than I want,” Len interrupts, running his fingers over Barry’s scalp and through his hair, knowing it’s a surefire way to get him snoozing again. “Go back to sleep. We only have the one more day together, and I need you all good and rested for what I have planned.”

“Hmmm …” Barry mutters, heavy eyelids drifting closed with little persuasion necessary. “Sounds fun. Athletic.”

“You know it. I need to work off all that pizza we’ve been eating.” Len leans over and kisses Barry on the temple, pressing his lips down his cheek to his neck until he hears the soft whisper of Barry’s breath as he begins to sleep again. Len nuzzles the line of Barry’s jaw with his nose and sighs. He looks Barry over, from his disheveled hair to his naked shoulders, his muscular body wrapped in the thick, red comforter on his bed. Nearly his entire body is covered by the thing except for his head, his neck, and his left hand. On that hand, balled slightly, he wears a single ring.

The pinkie ring Len gave him.

Barry wears it on his index finger. Funny that a ring that fits Len’s pinkie fits Barry’s forefinger, but Barry’s fingers are so thin compared to Len’s. Aside from that, it was almost as if the ring stretched to fit Barry’s finger. Len couldn’t explain it. Then again, when it comes to Barry, he’s stopped trying to explain anything. That vibrating habit of Barry’s? It still bugs Len, but mostly for what it might mean for Barry’s future, the implications if a meta, Rip, or any other Time Master finds out. But as long as Len is a part of that future, he’s going to make sure that nothing bad happens to Barry; that Barry lives a long, safe, and happy life.

Even if it’s in exchange for his own.

But there’s more than one way which that may go, and the one that Len’s thinking, the one that could ensure everyone’s happiness all the way around, requires that ring to be on a very different finger.

Calling back on his skills as a second-rate pickpocket, Len grasps the ring with his fingertips and tugs it up Barry’s finger. The ring takes its sweet time sliding off, resisting like it doesn’t want to go, but Len manages to slip it off without waking Barry. Len looks at the ring in the dim, sputtering light from outside. As far as rings go, it’s nothing special – just a plain old silver band. But Barry wears it incessantly, like it means the world to him.

Fitting since Barry means the world, and several timelines, to Len.

Len switches the band to Barry’s ring finger. Again, there’s no way it should fit, but it does, sliding down easily over his knuckle and resting at the base.

‘There,’ Len thinks, curling around Barry’s body, his left hand over Barry’s, his thumb resting against the ring. ‘That looks better.’

In his sleep, Barry smiles.

[volatilehearted]

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒  .

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐃𝐎  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋  𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄  ?

Old Spice for all his toiletries. He varies a little on which scent he actually buys for himself, but because he’s a huge nerd it’s usually Wolfthorn, Foxcrest, or Nightpanther. (I know. I didn’t name them.) This means he usually smells of pine, sandalwood, bergamot and/or patchouli. Basically, earthy, foresty smells. Beneath that, it’s largely just the scent of his own sweat and the slightly acrid element that the werewolves in his life report as being partly due to his rampant anxiety and partly due to the Adderall itself changing the way his sweat smells. Every once in a while he’ll smell like oil and machine grease because he’s been ‘working’ on the Jeep, and once he starts working for the Sheriff’s Department, he will also occasionally smell of gunpowder residue and, on really bad work days, powdered mountain ash.

𝐇𝐎𝐖  𝐃𝐎  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏  ?

Chaotically, like he does everything else. Bedsharing with Stiles is a hazard to one’s health. He doesn’t have one set position; instead, each night is a new adventure, a surprise regarding where any of his limbs are going to end up. He’s legitimately slept upside-down, face up, face down, on his side, with his head where his feet should be, on his face and knees with his ass up in the air, on a row of hospital chairs with his legs woven between the arms. He doesn’t fall asleep easily, but if he can get to sleep, Stiles can legitimately sleep anywhere and in just about any position without any seeming trouble.

When sharing a bed with a lover, he prefers to at least start out as the little spoon, but he’s a bit loathe to admit that, and regardless they both (ought to) know he sure isn’t going to end up in that position when they wake.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂  𝐃𝐎  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘  ?

Pop Punk and Alt Rock, mostly. He canonically has an All Time Low poster in his room, so presumably them. I also have a 30-hour long playlist on Spotify for him (lol) which features a lot of Mother Mother, Fall Out Boy, and Panic! At The Disco. He also has a super soft spot for old 80′s classics for some reason, so there’s a fair share of stuff like Tears for Fears and a-Ha on that list too. The band that is “the Stiles band” in my mind is definitely Mother Mother, though.

𝐇𝐎𝐖  𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇  𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄  𝐃𝐎  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐃  𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘  𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆?

Not much. Roll out of bed, run the brush and gel through his hair, shower if he has time, deodorant. He doesn’t so anything special to his hair and he doesn’t wear makeup or anything like that. The most he’ll do on any given day is shave his beard, and now that he’s out of high school that’s really a craps shoot too. IF he eats breakfast, it’s only because someone else reminded him to.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐈𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑  𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐎  𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓  ?

Keys. Not really because he has any particular fondness for them, but because he does not like being locked out of places, especially if he thinks it’s important for him to get into said places. If he has a chance to palm a key for an important locale in town, or have a copy made, he will. He has an absolutely ridiculous amount of keys, and somehow remembers what each one is for.

𝐀𝐑𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓  𝐎𝐑  𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓  𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃  ?

Stiles is right-handed. He isn’t above trying to use his left hand for things if he needs to, but he’s pretty miserable with it if the task requires any kind of fine dexterity at all. 

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐈𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑  𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐍  ?

Stiles himself is not religious. He’s honestly pretty sure that if he even thought there WAS a God, he’d be pissed as hell at them given the absolute bullshit he’s had to put up in his life so far. He is culturally Jewish via Claudia, but since her side of the family arrived in America some generations ago, they haven’t really practiced so Stiles wasn’t raised with any awareness of his own Jewishness. As an adult he has started trying to reconnect to that part of his heritage as a way to strengthen his good memories of his mother.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐈𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑  𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄  𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓  ?

You think I’m gonna say lacrosse but I am Not. It is clearly baseball, because Dylan’s love for the Mets is so freaking strong it crossed the barrier into Stiles. Stiles’ mother was from New York, which is where he gets his loyalty to the Mets specifically from. He would watch baseball games with his Mom before she got sick. He still watches them with his Dad sometimes. He could really take or leave most other sports; the lacrosse thing was just the latest in a growing chain of try-outs he and Scott had gone to because of Scott’s drive to play sports. Stiles really only played it to be with his bestie.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐈𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑  𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄  𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐘  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐎  𝐃𝐎  𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍  𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆  ?

Travel? What’s that? Stiles has no time for travel, he’s either working or running for his life. He doesn’t think running for his life counts as a tourist activity, and honestly he fucking hates running anyway. Maybe trying local food?

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐈𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑  𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄  𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃  𝐎𝐅  𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑  ?

Stiles doesn’t really think about the weather much, except for when he hates it. His favorite is probably honestly when it’s mild and sunny out, but he doesn’t think of it that way. He mostly just thinks about how much he hates being too cold or too hot or if it’s pouring rain and he’s soaked or...

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐈𝐒  𝐀  𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐃  /  𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄  𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄  ?

All of Stiles’ fears are very grounded in reality, thank you, it’s just that his reality is absolute bullshit. He’s afraid of being forgotten or left behind, which honestly between the schism Theo caused and the Wild fucking Hunt, Stiles feels that was absolutely reasonable. He also hates losing time or memories, and apparently he’s afraid of spontaneously going blind, thank you deus ex machina.

tagged by:    @khozmoh

tagging:    whoever wants to!

[redrosella]

Avarice - Chapter 5

Summary: Roman hasn’t been feeling well lately. He’s been waking up at random times in the middle of the night, is perpetually exhausted, and he can’t seem to get rid of this damn headache.

…If only that was all it was.

Series Warnings: Mind Control, Brainwashing, Dark Sides, Corruption

Word Count: 1742

Tagged: @sanderstalker​ @rosie-the-bi 

Chapter 1  Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

It didn’t pass over in a week. It had been a month since Roman had barricaded himself in his room, and he wasn’t planning on coming out soon. It was almost like he was Thomas back in middle school.

It’s not like he had much of a reason to leave, anyway. The other sides didn’t want to talk to him, and that was fine. They just didn’t understand his creative genius. They didn’t understand that he knew what was best for Thomas, and this was how he had to achieve it. He realized that now.

It was simple, really. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen it before.

The other sides were holding Thomas back. They all had their own agenda, and none of them would look at the bigger picture. Roman on the other hand didn’t have an agenda. He just wanted Thomas to be happy. He wanted him to flourish, and get everything he deserved. The others only got in the way of that.

He should never have entertained them before. That just gave them power. Power that only he should have, because only he knew what was best. Only he deserved to hold the reigns.

Roman frowned as he looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t been looking like his usual glittery self recently, and it was starting to bother him a bit. It must have been from the added pressure he had valiantly put upon himself in his quest to save Thomas, but that still didn’t make it any more unsightly. Even if he wasn’t talking the the others anymore, he still thought he should look good for himself. Besides, he did need to talk to Thomas soon, and showing up looking like a train wreck would do no good for his image.

He pulled his makeup kit from off the floor, ignoring the layer of green mist covering it. The mist was a new addition to his room, showing up just before his new revelation and covering his floor, but he didn’t think much of it. It was no big deal. Probably just some residual stuff hanging around. He had bigger things to worry about.

He began by covering the dark bags under his eyes, not wanting to accidentally resemble Virgil in his sleeplessness. His sleeping schedule had gotten all kinds of messed up recently, and it was showing. There was simply no time to sleep when he could be drafting ideas, coming up with new and exciting innovations, and figuring out the best way to propel Thomas to the top.

Plus, he really didn’t want to have that one dream again. Just the thought of seeing Thomas that decrepit and lost again sent a shiver down his spine.

Once that mess was covered up, he moved on to his eyes. In his room, with the glow of the green mist coating the floor, he could almost swear that they looked green rather than their usual brown. It was off putting to him in a way he couldn’t explain, but he quickly forgot about it, moving on from his eyes and to his outfit.

The princely attire was not looking so good. He hadn’t done laundry in forever, not wanting to risk running into anyone. He might be able to fix it with a wave of his hand, but his summoning abilities recently had been… lacking.

Again, he attributed it to his activities wearing him thin.

He didn’t entertain the thought that maybe he should cut back and focus on himself for a little bit. That’s what lazy people did. You take one break and then you’ve fallen behind and soon you begin making all kinds of excuses for why you can’t do something. Roman wasn’t going to fall into that trap.

In the end, Roman decided to not bother with his outfit. So what if it was a little wrinkled? No one would even notice.

He pushed himself away from his vanity, sighing. His bed was looking very alluring right now, but the niggling in his mind was telling him that he still needed to do more. Perhaps talk to Thomas. He hadn’t done that since the Morning video, instead taking the more subtle approach. It wasn’t his usual style, but everything told him that it was better to stay on the down low for a little while before.

So far it was working brilliantly. Thomas had gotten quite a few videos out recently, and they all seemed to be getting quite a bit more clicks than usual. Still not as much as he could be, but they were getting there.

Maybe now would be a good time to speed things up, though.

He had so many ideas he wanted to run by Thomas. So many new ideas and tactics to elevate his videos to the next level. It was astounding to him that he’d never thought of them before. It was like a mental barrier had suddenly been lifted, and now he knew exactly what to do to better Thomas!

He had never felt more liberated! And tired... But mostly liberated!

Roman took a deep breath, focusing in on Thomas to figure out what he was doing currently. It seemed he was just sitting in bed scrolling through tumblr, not doing anything productive. Perfect! That gave Roman ample time to talk with him.

He sunk out of his room, appearing in Thomas’ own. It was a bit tougher when he wasn’t being actively summoned there by Thomas’ accord, but it was worth it.

“Thomas!”

“Oh, Roman!” Thomas startled, putting down his phone. “I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been meaning to summon you but have never had the time.”

“But you were just browsing tumblr?”

“Yes, very important work. Anyway, what was the reason you came up? Was it to also talk about the videos recently?” Thomas stood up from his bed, moving closer to Roman so that he wasn’t awkwardly sitting in bed while his fanciful side was towering over him and monologuing.

“Exactly!” Roman exclaimed. “I’m glad we’re on the same wavelength here, Thomas! I think that what we have been doing recently has been working well, however there is a lot more that we could be doing and I wanted to talk to you about these ideas and begin implementing them.”

Thomas frowned, scrunching his face up. “Roman… I’ve been feeling the exact opposite. I don’t think my videos have been all that great recently... I’ve been feeling really burnout lately, and I think all of our fans are noticing it as well. I’ve been pulling a lot of long nights trying to get them right, but all the videos seem a bit… gimmicky, in a way? People have been saying that they don’t have that usual soul put into them.”

“And you’re just going to believe all them? Who cares what they think.” Roman waved a hand dismissively.

“Roman, they’re our fans! Shouldn’t we be listening to them and giving them what they want?”

“We are! What do you think I’ve been doing? All these videos are what the fans want! They want a consistent upload schedule. They want a person who can be onboard with the most recent trends. Sure, your other videos are fine, but to really get your numbers up you need to be more in line with what others want.”

Thomas bit his lip. “Roman, that doesn’t sound like you. Is everything okay?” He made a motion like he was about to reach out to the creative side before stopping halfway through, lamely putting his hand back down.

“Of course everything is okay, Thomas. I’ve just come to a realization recently. You need to apply your creativity in different ways, or else your channel is going to fail. It’s just common sense. Youtubers who refuse to adapt and change with the times will inevitably become less popular. We don’t want that, Thomas. We want to become better, reach more people, be famous!”

“...Is that what I want, or what you want?”

“It’s what we want, Thomas. I am you. We’re in this together, and I know what is best for us.”

“And what’s best for us is doing what everyone else is already doing? What happened to wanting to be original?”

“Original doesn’t pay the bills, Thomas. Vincent Van Gogh was original, and everyone hated him until he died broke and alone missing an ear!”

“Pay the bills- what? Roman, what are you talking about? We’re fine. I’m not about to be evicted out onto the streets.”

“But for how long? How long will you stay relevant if you refuse to change? Just listen to me, Thomas. I know what I’m doing. I’m your creativity. You should be listening to me. So what if no one else agrees? This is what’s best for us.”

Thomas shifted back slightly. “Roman… Maybe I should call the others in here-” He made a move to summon them.

“Don’t call them,” Roman snarled, stopping Thomas in his tracks. “They’re using you, Thomas. I’m the one helping you here. All they want is for you to do things that will inevitably kill your channel. Logic doesn’t want you to spend more time on your videos. Morality wants you to waste your time doing whatever you want without any regards to your passions. Anxiety doesn’t even want you to make videos at all! And they all want you to spend more time with your friends.” He spat out the last word.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Thomas took a few steps back.

“Remember what I said, Thomas? Only spend time with specific friends who can help you achieve your dreams. Everyone else is just holding you back.”

“Roman, that’s not-”

“I can see you’re not going to listen to reason, Thomas, so I’m going to do this. I didn’t want to, but if I must, I must. I won’t be giving you any more ideas if you won’t listen to me. I’m not going to give you the tools you needs to make yourself a failure.”

“Roman-”

“Call me when you’re ready to actually go somewhere with your life, Thomas.”

Roman sunk out.

That did not go according to plan, but it was fine. He would just have to make Thomas understand using some tough love. After a few days of being creatively dead he’d come crawling back to Roman, begging to implement his ideas.

Then it’d be his time to shine.

[kendallgirlnation]

i’m sitting back and reminiscing on the past seven months of my life. and what’s happened between those seven months may seem insignificant to most. but, to me, it was a lot. maybe it’s because i’m a somewhat emotional person.

 i was so immature to things that i thought i was completely informed about, but i guess being informed is worthless when you are new to something.

i had never been in love before. i was in the middle of coming to terms with the fact that love isn’t supposed to be exactly how it is portrayed in media. and, i was fine with this because i never expected myself to fall in love with anyone. that being said, i never did fall in love with anyone. i still have never been in love before and i’m not sure if i ever will be. 

i knew a boy who i thought was nice and cool. he was one of the few boys who i considered a friend. he was pretty likable. everyone liked him. but, most importantly, i thought that he was woke. 

i think that my personality led him on. i considered him a really good friend at one point in my life, but what i forgot is that “girls and boys can’t be good friends”. so, i guess he thought that i liked him. we were alone. he kissed me. it felt weird. i didn’t care. i didn’t like it, but i didn’t hate it. i had more a “why not?” reaction to it. the one part about it all that ended up nagging me months later was my best friend saying “you can’t” after i told her that he kissed me. and, i wish that i had listened to her. i wish that i shared those parts of myself, both emotional and physical, with someone who really deserved it.

he wanted to date me. i was conflicted. though i did have a slightly disillusioned perspective of love, i was still battling with my obsession with love. to me, love was the epitome of true happiness and beautiful. and, maybe it is. i don’t really know. but, at the time, i would do anything to experience that. i wanted to be loved and to love someone. i wanted to kiss someone and actually feel something. i wanted to touch someone and to make them smile. i wanted to feel the strains of the heart, the tremble of the strings, the passion contained within all of those love songs. i did everything i could. but, it just wasn’t there for me. but, i think it was there for him. he could feel everything and i couldn’t feel any of it. when i was with him, i would often find myself feeling guilty for leading him on up to this point. i’d feel regret building up and running through my veins, tainting my blood with full-body discomfort. i wished that i could take everything back. it came to a point where when he touched me, i wanted to melt it off. melt off the cell exchange between our skin. melt off the residue of his emotions for other people. i just felt disgusted with myself that i would allow him to see me and feel me when i had held so much respect and value in love. 

i knew he wasn’t treating me right. he would get mad at me if i couldn’t see him everyday. and, i let him be mean to me. i let him look at other people. i let him consider me anyway that he wanted to. i wasn’t whatever he thought i was. 

by the end of our period together, i was so glad to be rid of the obligation to never see him again. i had severed the connection by not talking to him for weeks. and, he understood exactly why and, yet, in his anger towards my neutrality, he looked towards a past “thing”. and, though i had no claim over him, i couldn’t help but feel hurt. i could never do something like that to someone i was connected to in such a way. my body was filled with so much anxiety and disappointment and self-disgust. it’s such a surprise to find out that the person you thought you understood was actually a complete hypocrite.

but, i knew that i had to let it go. he wasn’t my boyfriend. and i was so unsure about it at all. so i forgave him without actually speaking about it. 

i saw him three times a few months after that. the first time was when i went out with my friend who goes to the college next to mine. she didn’t tell me that she had invited him but she warned me when she came to get me. and, i, thinking that everything was fine, went out with her and all of her friends (including him). and he treated me like i was his girlfriend. i think he thought that i was drunk. i was tipsy but still completely self-aware. he kept trying to touch me and speak to me in that way that he used to. and it made me feel ick to my stomach so ignored him for the rest of the night. i slept over and he kept trying to sleep by me and get alone with me so i asked my friend to make him go elsewhere and he certainly did. (lol i hope i embarrassed btw).

the second time was when i was at the young thug x 21 savage concert. he was beyond annoying. he ignored me and only payed attention to me when i took my jacket off and he made me, once again, sick to my stomach as he looked over my body like i was a piece of meat. i ignored it all, until i heard say the n-word. a white person saying the n-word with no shame. flashbacks muddled my head of his hate for republicans, conservatives, non-black people who say the n-word, homophobes, his own conservative family, basically a large basis of white people. he even said himself that he hates white people, which is actually such a pet peeve of mine. if you are white, don’t say that you hate white people. stop trying to disassociate yourself from white people. you may be “woke” but you are still white. after that, i stopped talking to him forever. i got rid of every trace of him from my life.

the last time that i saw him was at target. he looked like shit. he called my name, but i never turned around. 

after writing all of this, i have no idea what the point was in writing this. i think i just needed to vent. i have two good friends who i talk about this to, but it is so hard to describe to people. it sounds like i was in love with him. but i really was not. i was just disappointed that i let someone know things about me that i would never tell anyone. i let someone see the parts of me that no one had ever seen before. i let someone touch me (which was actually really sucky). and that someone mostly likely fetishized me. and i really never thought that i would be in that kind of position. so that is why i am hurt. not because the person i fell in love with hurt me. 

honestly this shit was stupid. i’m just really happy right now. and i want to remind myself that not every aspect of life is perfect. and it is not supposed to. i’m proud of myself for moving on from all of it. and i’m so happy that my life is where it at right now. i hope it all continues on in a positive stream.