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another-blog-bites-the-dust · 5 years

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Lap of the gods.

Summary: Two gods from different worlds prove that opposites really do attract.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, fluff

A/N: This is the enddddddd 😭 I have loved this series and I'm so glad that so many of you have enjoyed it too! Thank you all so so much for your comments and support! Enjoy! 💖

Part 7.

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In the palm of your hand you had six pomegranate seeds, the dark liquid that clung to them stained your skin. Roger was staring at the seeds in your hand. "There's isn't much to the process," you began to explain. "Eat the six seeds by chewing each one six times, then wait six seconds before eating another."

"666- the devils number." He lowly spoke and looked up to you with the faintest glimmer of worry in his eyes.

"I'll understand if you do not want to do this..." you whispered and soothingly rubbed his arm with your free hand. He had already done so much for you- more than anyone else. He had shown you so much love and compassion already. He owed you nothing.

Roger shook his head "No. I want to do this. I want to be with you." He smiled and gently kissed you. "I want to stand by your side for the rest of my immortal life."

You sent him a small grin before becoming serious. "Once you start you cannot stop- you must all eat all six pomegranate seeds." He nodded as he absorbed the information. "After the first, the pain of your decaying soul will ease with each one you take and then you will be bound to the underworld...and me...for all eternity"

"Will my soul be gone for good?" He asked with the slightest bit of concern.

"No you'll have one, only it will be half claimed by the kingdom of the doomed deceased." He let out a small sigh of relief. "You will be able to live and travel freely between worlds. One part of your soul shall remain pure, the other...dead."

"Okay, okay I'm ready." He went to reach for a seed but you closed over your hand.

He raised a confused brow. "Roger, you really don't have to do this if you don't want to. You have nothing to prove to me." You wanted to double check with him before he signed half his soul away.

He softly pried open your hands to reveal the seeds again and he took one between his fingers. "My queen," he spoke so gently it sounded like a purr "This is all I want." He placed the seed in his mouth and followed your instructions, chewing six times. He let out a pained groan and rubbed his chest, staggering sightly when he felt his knees go weak.

You caught him before he fell "It's alright, my love. I've got you." You soothingly murmured.

He groaned in agony as he braced himself for the next seed. "It's okay," he tried to reassure you but he didn't sound okay at all. "Just hurts a little." It hurt a lot.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way," you softly cooed and scooped him up in your arms, slowly sitting down on the floor with him. He lay against you and delicately stroked your cheek with his soft fingers.

"It's worth it for you. No matter how challenging or painful the hurdles may be- in the end it's always worth it if it means I'm with you." He cracked a smile before taking the next one, the pain gradually easing off. When it came to the sixth and final seed, he felt almost no pain at all.

When he finished eating it, he didn't feel any different. He thought he would feel a little more gloomy or feel some sort of emptiness- but he never. He was still himself. He was still your Roger. You smiled down at him and gave him a kiss. "Long live the king of the underworld..." you cupped his face. Roger liked the sound of that. He sat upright and felt a weight on his head. A crown that had roses made from blood red rubies and leaves made from bright green emeralds, all entangled in pure gold. It was a nod to his godly gifts that blossomed in his flowery, immortal bones.

Cerberus barked with delight and threw himself at the pair of you. "Yes! Yes!" Roger giggled as Cerberus licked his face "You'll see me a lot more often!"

"We're both very happy about that," you smiled and Roger pecked your lips with a wide grin.

Your happiness was short lived for the moment- you had something to do and you'd need their help. "What's the matter?" Roger asked noticing your troubled look.

"I have to go to earth, I have to speak with John and Brian. News will get back that you're now bound to the underworld and a lot of gods will not be happy- my father in particular." You stood up and pulled him up with you. "You need to stay here and out of sight. I'll make sure Charon doesn't bring anyone to the palace once I'm gone." With a snap of your fingers, you changed into a pair jeans and a top to try and blend in on Earth.

Roger's brows furrowed and he held both your hands. "But I want to help you. I'll come with you." He shook them slightly, you could see the look of worry and determination battle in his sapphire eyes.

You almost melted at his kindness and his thoughtfulness to show you how loyal he was to you because he knew how others betrayed your trust. Roger always put you first. "You can help me by staying here. I'll know you'll be safe in my palace." You smiled, trying to assure him that everything was going to be alright before sending Cerberus a small glare as if to silently say: 'Make sure he stays here and keep him safe'. You pressed your forehead to Persephone's "I'll be back soon." You were about to pull back but Roger gripped onto your waist.

"Wait," he whispered and ghosted his 'sweeter than strawberry' lips over yours "My Queen." He passionately kissed you and you moaned against his skin "My love." He brushed his nose against yours with a smile on his face. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and conjured a tiny daisy to rest just behind it. A reminder that he was always with you.

"My king." You traced your fingers over his crown and down his jawline before running the pads of them across his soft, kiss-stained lips. "My love." With one final kiss, you left and made your way to earth.

•••

You were standing on a beach, the weather began to turn worse and crows began to caw upon your arrival. A simple charm made you undetected from gods who looked down on earth. You approached the sea and stopped just before the water hit your shoes. With a deep breath you held out a hand in the air, allowing the wind to flow between your fingers. You then kneeled down and placed your other hand in the cold sea.

You shut your eyes over and summoned your brothers. Wether they would turn up or not was another thing. "I call forth my brothers of the sea and sky. My brothers. One of the depths and the other the breeze- I call on you both to stand beside me." You opened your eyes a few minutes later and sighed with disappointment. They hadn't come. You stood up and turned your back to the sea, ready to return to your underworld when you heard sloshing. Swiftly turning on your heel, you saw John emerge from the water. Drops of the salty seawater fell from his noise and clung to his hair. "John..." you whispered with a smile forming.

"Y/N?"

You turned hearing another voice and saw Brian standing on the sandy beach just behind you. You glanced between them both, feeling overwhelmed with their presence. "You both came."

"You called for us," John spoke up "You are still our sister. We will always answer your call." You smiled at him and Poseidon almost burst into tears of joy at the sight. It had been far too long since he saw you genuinely smile.

"Why did you call for us?" Brian asked, getting right to the point.

You bit of your bottom lip and twiddled your fingers. Despite being the eldest, you knew they were going to give you the biggest scolding of your life. "Roger...Persephone...he has..." you drew out what you were trying to say before huffing and spitting it out. "He has let half his soul die. He ate six pomegranate seeds, thus binding him to the underworld. And to me." Brian loudly groaned and placed his head in his hands whereas John took a moment to absorb the information.

"Oh you've really done it this time, Hades!" Brian snapped "Are you both that stupid to carry out something like this?! Father will attempt to burn you in your own hellfire himself!"

"If I were to meet my end in hellfire then I'd hope we would all burn together by his hand!" You loudly retorted. "I called you both here to let you know what had happened first! And I also called on you because I need your help!" That made your two brothers blink in shock. You had never asked for help. You weren't the type to need help.

"What do you need help with?" Brian asked a little warily and walked to stand beside John with his arms folded.

"I-" you sighed and shook your head, looking away from your brothers. "I can't. It's too much to ask of you both."

You began to walk away but stopped on the spot feeling a hand wrap around your wrist. Despite it burning him, he never pulled away. "Y/N, I'd part the seas for you if you asked." John softly smiled.

"And I'd split the sky in half if you wanted." Brian stood beside you and placed his hand on your shoulder.

You looked between them with a growing smile and tears in your eyes. "I'd freeze hell for the both of you." They felt themselves welling up, especially when they saw a dark line stream down your face. They couldn't recall ever seeing you cry. Taking in a deep breath, you took their hands. "Why were we so angry at each other for so many years? Why did father put us against each other?" You questioned them but they looked to their feet. You were right- your father always pinned you against each other and in the end you always ended up fighting and falling out with one antler. "Perhaps he always wanted that- for us all to fight. Less of a guilty conscious I suppose, then he wouldn't have had to do the deed himself if one of us killed the other."

"We were much stronger than that." Brian said in a low tone.

"We are much stronger than that." John corrected him. "What do you need from us Y/N?"

You looked between them both, they could see the plan in your eyes. It was a mad one but had the outcome they both wanted- even though they would never admit it. "I need you to bring father to the underworld before news of Persephone gets back to him. Make father think he's won and that I've given up before I deliver the news. Then we shall join forces and finish him for good and reclaim our right as rulers. Reclaim our right and everyone else's to be free from his ruthless grip."

The two brothers looked at one another and nodded before taking your hand in theirs, forming a silent pact with you.

Brian was a little nervous about it, he was standing in between the devil and the deep blue sea making a deal to end thier father. "Zeus?" John spoke up when he noticed him spaced out. "You okay?"

"Yeah I...I can't believe this is going to happen." He admitted "I'm hoping that it'll all go to plan."

You could hear the worrying undertone in his voice. "It will Brian." You smiled at your brothers. "Because we are strong. Stronger than he will ever be."

•••

Hermes arrived as soon as you called him when you were back in the confides of your palace walls. Roger was sleeping off the exhausting effects he felt from the pomegranate seeds in your bed. You ordered Cerberus to guard outside your chambers.

"It happened."

Hermes wasn't the slightest bit shocked at the revelation- he knew you and Persephone would eventually defy the gods above and rebel against them in order to be together. "Where is he now?" Hermes asked.

"He's sleeping. He was so tired." You looked to your feet, legs crossed as you sat on your throne. "It was a shock to his system- the process. I think Roger expected it to be less painful." You swallowed the lump in your throat "I hated seeing him in pain."

Hermes remained in the same position "What do you need from me?" He asked, knowing you always called on him for a favour of some sorts. But your request shocked him.

"An ally." You stood up "Hermes, in a matter of moments my brothers will bring my father here." Hermes' jaw dropped and was about to speak before you stopped them. "I asked Zeus and Poseidon to bring him."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Hermes hissed "You're signing a death wish! Especially when he finds out about what Persephone's done!"

You shook your head with a smile "My dear Hermes, I will be signing nothing." You looked up in front of you and now saw three gods standing in a line in your throne room. You flashed a forced smile "So you've come to see for yourself my demise?" You asked looking at your father who was all too pleased to be hearing that. "My downfall."

"I knew the day would come." Even when he spoke normally his voice still boomed. "I only wish it came sooner." You could see that hit a nerve with both your brothers who kept thier cool for now but nevertheless, you kept a smile on your face.

"You want it over quick, don't you?" You slowly approached your father "For me to vanish and then you can go on as if I never existed." You walked further forward to your father with a sinister grin on your lips. Hermes, Zeus and Poseidon suddenly became very uneasy with the close proximity. "You never saw me as your daughter, you always failed to acknowledge that. You didn't want your first born to be me- that was the biggest disappointment of them all wasn't it? You wanted to burn the thought of me being your blood from your memory so you decided to let me burn down here!" You screamed, unleashing aeons of unreleased anger. "You hated me- you still do!" You saw a flicker of uncertainty and panic in his eyes. He could feel his powers getting weaker the longer he stayed in your domain. "And yet, you're also afraid...afraid that I'll become stronger than you'll ever be!"

"Enough!" He roared and the three other gods flinched. "You could never be as powerful as me!"

You cocked your head to the side slightly "You're right. Only because I am more powerful than you!" You spat with burning fingertips and ears. Standing back a little you walked around on the spot, shooting a look to Hermes who almost knew what to do and snuck away to fetch Roger. "You paid with blood to get in here. You will certainly pay it to leave...should I let you."

Your father intently furrowed a brow and then laughed incredulously. "You can't fight a titan!" He sounded far too sure of himself for your liking.

You let out a puff of amused air "I can and I will...because I am one." You looked to your brothers "We all are titians." Brian and John moved and stood beside you and the smile fell from your fathers face. "They were born to be princes of the universe and you denied them that to use that power for yourself!" You could see him becoming increasingly more angry seeing Zeus and Poseidon beside you. "Tell me father...do we get what we deserve?" You jibbed seeing him overthrown by his sons that were now going against him.

"You all deserve nothing but pain and unhappiness!" He angrily hissed before pointing in your direction. "You especially!"

"Oh...but I will never feel those things." You looked over your shoulder and saw Roger standing there in dark clothes and that ornate crown on his head with Cerberus by his side. "Not with my king by my side." You turned back to your father who had clenched his fists together and tensed his jaw seeing Roger walking over to stand by you and then lace his fingers between yours.

Your father shook his head "I give you the gift of life and this is how you repay me, Hades?" He bellowed "You all will never be as great as me!"

You let go of Roger's hand and walked forward smiling. "Well, I didn't gift you with your life...but I can gift you with death." Your voice became dark and out of nowhere, a figure in a black hooded cloak who was also shrouded with thick smoke appeared and stood next to you. The four gods behind you felt a chill run through their souls despite being in the heat of hell. You turned your head to the gloomy figure and sincerely smiled, death reached out its hand and you let them place it on top of your own. The simple touch would have took the soul of anyone else. But not you. You and death were close friends and ally's. You both looked back to your father who was now on his knees in defeat. "I think you forget, father dearest," you spat "That death is my closest, most trusted ally and friend." You dropped your hand and turned your back to your father who was pleading you to spare him.

Death placed its morbid grip on your fathers shoulder. It was as simple as that.

The feeling of freedom and relief was almost instantaneous for you and your brothers.

"Is that it?" John asked, cautiously eyeing up the hooded figure that was now standing on its own with hands softly clasped together.

You nodded and let out a sigh of relief. "That's it. He's gone. We're free." You widely smiled and turned to death. "You received what you always wanted. The soul of a god." Death bowed slightly and you did the same. "Thank you." The figure slowly wandered out of your throne room, disappearing once again.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned, Roger scooped you up in his arms with an ecstatic grin and kissed your cheek. You giggled and wrapped yourself around him before he put you down. You both faced your brothers and Hermes holding hands with a toothy smile.

John and Brian were over the moon to see you happy, as was Hermes. They had always wanted you to find joy and they were glad you had found it with Roger. "We can now all live in harmony." Brian said up and walked towards the two of you with John beside him.

You let go of Roger's hand to hold your brothers hands. "I'm so thankful for the two of you- I'm sorry if I haven't shown it the past few decades....or millenniums." The corners of your lips tugged upwards and your brothers cracked a smile.

"We should be off to tell the other gods," John said before giving you a hug, one which you happily returned. "We love you."

"I love you both too," you smiled and pulled back before hugging Brian "Come visit anytime. Cerberus will be much nicer to the pair of you." You winked and the two gods laughed. You stepped back and looked over to Hermes who was standing looking at you with a smile. "Hermes," you outstretched your hand and motioned him over. "You're as much a part of this as any of us." The messenger felt your arms wrap around him the first time ever. He effortlessly eased into the hug.

"I'm so happy for you," he whispered into your ear with a tight voice and glossy eyes.

You felt a tear stream down your face. "Thank you, Jim." He hugged you even tighter hearing you say his name. You pulled back and gently pat his cheek. "You best be off to see Fred." You winked, his cheeks flushed and he wore a bashful smile. You and Roger waved the three gods away, when they had gone Roger passionately kissed you.

"Together at last." He cupped your cheek and gently rubbed his nose against yours.

"Together for all eternity."

•••

"Cerberus!" You and Roger shrieked while laughing when your hound shook off water on the both of you. The fact that he was three dogs made it worse.

You and Roger were on a beach on earth- the one where you first met and started something magical. The sun was shining down on the two of you instead of overhanging dull, grey clouds. It was now spring.

Roger had to leave you in the spring to bless the earth with his gifts but some nights when the planet became cool and dark- he returned to the underworld to be with you. His Queen.

He often encouraged you to come with him and he'd show you everything he was doing and had done. It showed you just how much nature rested on Roger's shoulders.

As Cerberus ran off to splash in the salty water, Roger rolled on top of you and your giggle hitched in your throat. "I love you." He lovingly declared. As he so often did.

He sat up and pulled you up with him so you were both sitting on your knees watching Cerberus in the sea. A gust of cool wind took you both off guard but you laughed it off, especially when a flurry of petals whirled passed you both. John could hear you laughter being carried by the current while Brian heard it in the wind. A smile appeared on thier faces. They were overjoyed you were finally happy.

Roger had a soft, amazed, smile on his face as he watched the pink and white petals from the cherry blossom trees that he had created fall onto your head. They fell in such a fashion that they created a band across your hair. As if nature itself was crowning you it's Queen.

💀The End 🌸

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•All parts •

Tags- (Tags for this series are CLOSED!! But if you'd like to be on my permanent tags for other fics just let me know! Also sorry if I've accidently forgot to tag you!)

@rrrogah-tayluhh @rogerofmylife @phantom-fangirl-stuff @pyrotechnic789 @deacytits @mercurys-bike @happy-at-home @mhftrs @dannydelay @queenismylifenow @whitequeen-blackqueen @stateofloveandvedder @blondyfel @wolverinesbeer @11mb0 @the-tales-of-ck @mespetitestortues @dearestdeacy @wingardiumlevidonewithlife @sweetdayme4427 @maiauniversetime @the-garnet-rain @obsessedwithrogertaylor @marequeenii @gizellexxi @chromealchemist @truthdaze @xtrashmammalstefx @killerqueenbucky @trickster-may @annemanzano @mydogisthebest @makapaka11 @silvver-rose @stielchewi @hodgepodge-of-rog @fredthelegend @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @bowiequeen @princessleiaqueen @okdeaky @larrryyyisinloveee @taylorroger-s @mizzallfandomz @fangirlofeverythingme @ellee677 @the-killer-queenie @bucket-of-kittens @jamiethewallflower @rogernroll @queen-irl-af @spreadymercury @itsametaphorbriansblog

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mysticsparklewings · 5 years

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Once a Killjoy, Always a Killjoy

I may be a few days late in honoring March 22, the saddest day for My Chemical Romance fans everywhere, but rest assured I did not forget. I've had the idea of drawing myself as/making a Danger Days/Killjoy OC since sometime in either late January or early February, but I put it on the back burner because I didn't want to draw it and not be able to post it for like a month. Then precalc started in early March and I've had other projects in the works, so time just got away from me. I did start concepts about four days in advance, and I was sketching the day before, but I got to a stopping point and wanted to put it away for the day. So I was working on this on the day-of, I just didn't finish it that day. (I went pretty far into the night to finish it.) And then I had some more schoolwork to do, so I figured since I had already missed the actual day, a few more wouldn't make that much of a difference. At the very least, I could say I had worked on it and got it done. Anyway, the idea has roots in the studying of the band's outfits I did for my Killjoys, Make Some Noise! piece last year to be able to draw them. I had picked up on common traits between the outfits and the "basic construction" if you will, of the character designs. Key points include: • Leather vest/jacket/outerwear • Bold shirt underneath • Jeans with decorative stitching across the thighs • Boots • fingerless gloves and/or bracelets/wrist cuffs • noticeable weapon carrier Additionally, each Killjoy seems to have one small head accessory and one mask/large accessory. I went with a scarf tied around the head for the small one, and though it isn't pictured here, the large accessory I'm thinking would be a cat mask outright or maybe a helmet made to look like a cat skull with deer antlers. Also, the original Killjoys align with one of red, blue, yellow, or green in a given situation, so I decided purple would be my Killjoy's color. In this vein, they also each have a symbol associated with them, based off of their names. After trying a Killjoy Name quiz twice and not feeling like either option (Cyanide Diamond or Thrill-Killer) was right or that they fit with the original Killjoy names (Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, Kobra Kid, and Jet Star), I toyed around with some word association until I came up with Neon Haze, and I think that fits in with the Killjoy names pretty well and suits me personally. And it would illustrate in a symbol fairly well; I didn't fit it into the drawing, but I did design a sparkle with some "cloud lines" to indicate "haze" around it, and I like that. Beyond all of that, I borrowed the design of the hand gloves she's wearing and the knee-high converse for boots from my attempt to pull things out of my closet to dress like a Killjoy last year. The main difference is my converse probably look more-Killjoy-esque in person, as mine have velcro straps with studs crisscrossed down the front. But I really was not into the idea of trying to draw all of that. The hair was a mixture of deciding that she needed to be another Killjoy with wild hair (Party Poison being the other one), going with the "Neon" part of her name, and this being the next color I have planned for my hair IRL when I go to get it done again. (Which will hopefully be sometime soon.) Also, originally I was going to use some washi tape for the pattern on her shirt, but I couldn't figure out exactly how to do what I wanted, so I just colored & shade it and went back in with my Gelly Roll Moonlight pens to make some kind of flowery-thing. And while we're talking about things I had planned that didn't pan out; She was going to be slinging her weapon over her shoulder, and I was going to use my favorite weapon design from Splatoon 2 (the Sploosh-o-Matic, if anyone's wondering) for it. I sketched the thing out (which was an interesting task to attempt) at about what I think to-scale proportions would be, but then I started trying to figure out placement using my lightbox and it just wasn't working. It looked either weird, or dumb, or both. So I just decided to leave the weapon out. The other thing is the letter behind her. Originally, the o in Neon was going to be the same "haze lines" as in her symbol, but I couldn't get it to not look like a flower, and the a in Haze was going to be the sparkle. Same problem. And originally I didn't plan on having the letters slanted, but that turned out to be the best way to fit the letters into the 6 inches of space I had to work with without making the letter super fat. (The drawing of Neon Haze herself is nearly an exact 6 inches from her hair to her shoe soles), and I wanted the words to line up on either side of her as you see here.) And I did not plan what color they were going to be. I decided that one I had her all colored in. I ended up doing one layer of the same orange as her headband. Then I went in with my "Permanent Green Tint" and "Hansa Yellow Tint" Pan Pastels to make a nice haze over the background. Since I haven't used those two colors much and I thought they'd look nice here. They just kinda fit. Also, I went back to outline her with my white Gelly Roll and learned that Pan Pastel does not really like having gel pen put on top of it. Who knew? I had fun and I think she looks good. (Sassy too, Her expression got about 50% sassier from sketch to line art) Someone remind me if I ever get to sit down to lunch with Gerard Way to ask him what he thinks. (Not that that's ever going to happen. But on the highly unlikely chance it does...!) ____ Artwork/Character (c) me, MysticSparkleWings I do not own My Chemical Romance or the associated concepts that inspired this artwork ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble | Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

#oc #mcr #mychemicalromance #thetruelivesofthefabulouskilljoys

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promiscuous-jalapeno · 6 years

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MC bringing home RFA (and V &Saeran) S.O. to meet their family over the holidays?

Tis the season!! ⋆ᗰદ૨૨ʏ⋆ᐠ₍⁽˚⑅̆˚⁾₎ᐟ⋆ᘓમ૨ıડτന੨ડ⋆

~I’ll base some of the things on Christmas since it is the holiday I know the most about

◉ Yoosung

Not nervous at all?

Just suuuper excited to meet them, honestly

The week before you guys left, he was dragging you through the mall asking a billion questions about what your family likes and what to buy each of them

Took almost a whole day making sure he wrapped them beautifully and was so excited when everyone opened and loved their gifts

WILL GO THROUGH ALL YOUR BABY PHOTO ALBUMS AND FAWN OVER EVERY PICTURE WITH YOUR FAMILY

Fits in like he’s known your family for years

“You guys know you can’t trade me for Yoosung, right?”

They urge you both to kiss underneath the mistletoe and then take pictures when you finally do

You both are blushing like crazy

Yoosung always making sure to help with dishes and even gets up early to start breakfast for everyone

(they’re so shocked and happy about that)

Your family is so sad when it’s time for you both to leave

◉ Jumin

Laughs when you ask if he is nervous

“Should I be? I think I’m actually quite likable, wouldn’t you agree?”

He still makes sure you both are dressed in very nice clothes and he has expensive gifts from his company to give to everyone

Can’t stop talking about how much he absolutely loves you??????

It’s honestly embarrassing but your family is eating it up because he is saying all these lovey-dovey things with the upmost seriousness

EVERYONE LOVES ELIZABETH 3RD AND SHE LOVES THEM

She is LIVING for all of the attention she is getting

Is already planning family trips around the world

Tries to show your parents photos of your guys’ travels but they’re all terrible and blurry and your family just has to smile and nod

Asking questions like crazyyy

“What are these…socks, hanging here for? What is their purpose?”

“What is this eggnog? Quite the peculiar taste, but not disagreeable.”

“I don’t understand the origin of the tree, but Elizabeth 3rd seems to enjoy playing in it. We should get one for the penthouse.”

It actually became a new family game where everyone picks something and bets on whether Jumin will know what it is or not

And Jumin loves the game so much

◉ Zen

BALL of NERVES

He changes outfits like 17 times before he finds something he is comfortable wearing in front of your family

Praying like hell they have never seen any of his stuff/don’t know who he is, he wants to meet your family as someone they don’t have preconceived notions about

Holds your hand the whole trip there, for comfort

When you arrive, he is the pinnacle of calm and polite (but you can tell he is nervous by the random, almost undetectable fidgeting he does)

Mostly he just tries to be himself, and your family adores him

He is taking photos with EVERYONE

Christmas filters with antlers and santa hats and you all are laughing so hard

King of playing charades when it’s family game time

How many times can you hear the joke “What’s such a handsome man like that doing with someone like you??” they probably broke the record for it

But Zen is at your side every time, explaining how HE is the lucky one

And everyone just goes “Awwwwww” when he kisses the top of your head

Everyone is blown away when he sings along to the holiday songs on the radio and even more blown away that he could play piano and lead everyone in the songs

“You didn’t tell them we ride a motorcycle….right?”

“Zen, for the 100th time, no. They’d kill us both.”

◉ Jaehee

A bit nervous but for the most part, collected

She’s planned the entire trip, packed the correct number and type of outfits for you both, looked at the weather forecast, and grabbed appropriate gifts for everybody

Okay maybe she’s a bit more nervous than you thought because that’s when she starts planning like a crazy person

LOOKS SO CUTE IN UGLY CHRISTMAS SWEATERS IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL

Your family loves her, she is so intelligent and can have a conversation with anyone on just about anything

Offers to bake christmas cookies as a thank you and your family decides she is never allowed to leave because they are SO GOOD

Shows your family self defense moves

It’s such a relief that they can feel safe that you’re with someone so capable as her after seeing her throw your dad across the room LOL

Ends up baking all of the desserts for the entirety of your stay because everyone loves them so much

You guys decorate ornaments together and get embarrassed when your family keeps making remarks on how cute you two are together

◉ Saeyoung

Says he is totally fine but on the inside he’s screaming

He has NO CLUE how to act in family environments and he wants to make a good impression

On top of the fact that he’s never been a fan of holidays

Gets strangely reserved and you have to kinda pull him out of it

When he first meets them he is so not like himself

Quiet, awkward

As time goes on he starts to warm up and get comfortable

Gets really teary-eyed when he sees his name on presents under the tree and a stocking for him next to yours

“They…did this for me?”

“Well, of course! You’re family now,” you smile and grab his hand

After that he starts to really dig the whole holiday tradition thing

eats SO MANY COOKIES

“I wonder if we can bake honey buddha chip cookies and dip them into PHD Pep-”

“Saeyoung NO”

Surprises everyone by dressing up as Santa and handing out the presents on Christmas Morning

◉ V

All he wants is to meet your family, so he is thrilled when he finally gets the chance

Right away he thanks your family for raising such an amazing and beautiful person

FAMILY PORTRAITS TAKEN BY V

Captures everyones hearts with his flowery way of speaking and plethora of life experiences

AND with how much he adores you

So observant and attentive, he is grabbing things for your family members before they even ask or cleaning up before they can even notice

No matter how much you try to stop it, this boy is getting every single story about you growing up and what you were like

Also asks to borrow photos and videos of you as a child so he can make copies because he loves you so much and he loves them so much

You didn’t even know he snuck in gifts for everybody but he did and somehow they’re all perfect??? How??

Over Christmas dinner he brings out several bottles of champagne and offers a wonderful toast to your families hospitality and again thanks them for bringing the love of his life into this world

He blends in so well

And he wishes he could just sit there forever around all the people you hold closest to your heart, listening to them laugh and talk about old times

◉ Saeran

Much like Saeyoung, he is crazy nervous

But also crazy stubborn and doesn’t want it to show

Puts on a Christmas sweater before you head over

“I look stupid.”

“Nooo! You look so cute and handsome! They’re going to love it, and they’re going to love you.”

When you first arrive he’s a lot like a lost puppy and he doesn’t quite understand what to do and how tradition works

B-lines it to the sweets

He is literally never without a cookie or candy cane in his hand

So much so that he becomes the honorary family taste-tester for the baked goods

Will NOT share the bowl or spoon when he gets to lick them and only sticks his tongue at you when you call him rude

“Honey, leave Saeran alone. Let him enjoy his treats, it’s Christmas!”

Saeran: ;P

Can’t decide if he likes eggnog but he hasn’t stopped drinking it since you got there so that must be a good sign

Brought Poinsettias as a gift

Your family kinda loves that he doesn’t really speak much

Laughs at your old embarrassing photos and you have to smack his arm playfully

“Tell me more about that time you peed your pants”

“Saeran I swear to god.”

———–

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Thank you for reading!

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messenger imagines #mystic messenger scenario #mystic messenger christmas

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nakateleeli · 6 years

Text

100 questions about Miss Naka

Y’all probably get tired of me talking about her, but I’ve had this post in the back of my head for a while and wanted to answer them because I like talking about Miss Naka and Welgaea and stuff! So hold on for a ride.

Since things change over the course of the story, all questions will be answered as though we’re at the beginning of the first game unless stated otherwise. I did change one question, as the removed question felt redundant and I could have sworn the added question was in there already.

1. What is your OC’s race? Human

2. Does your OC have any powers beyond what is normal for their race? She’s pretty good at a few things, but nothing abnormal for a human. She’s very agile and has strong legs. She’s got a pretty good resistance to cold, too.

3. What is their gender? Female

4. What is your OC’s favorite color? Pink

5. Are they religious? Not very. She does for sure believe in the goddesses, but she’s not the kind to pray to them for salvation or for a bountiful harvest or whatever.

6. Do they have a favorite outfit? If so what? The same red and white outfit she always wears!

7. Do they have a spirit animal? Not really into that sort of thing. Deer, maybe, if she had to. There aren’t really deer in Welgaea. Something with antlers.

8. Does your OC have a favorite time of year? Spring! Everything is pretty and just beginning with the year’s possibilities still ahead of us.

9. How does your OC travel around? By foot or a passenger caravan usually.

10. Does your OC have a best friend? Dis guy once they meet.

11. What is your OC’s biggest secret? She’s not really one to hold onto secrets, but she’s not exactly blatant about herself being a lesbian.

12. How does your OC feel about violence? It’d be swell to avoid, but often times it can’t be avoided.

13. Does your OC have a favorite time of day? Mornings are really nice. When the sun’s just coming up and the world is still sleeping. Very relaxing, lets you get your head straight before tackling the day.

14. Is your OC in a relationship? Not initially, but eventually with her.

15. What does your OC smell like? Probably the wind, or a grassy field, faintly flowery. Maybe a little foresty if she’s been out and about.

16. How old is your OC? 26 years

17. What is your OC’s weaknesses? Physically she’s not very strong. She can be a bit impulsive and will absolutely help people out to a fault.

18. Has your OC ever killed someone? Yes. She avoids it if possible, but sometimes you have to. Mostly just bandits and cultists, which common society doesn’t really treat the murder of much differently than killing a monster.

19. What languages does your OC speak? She speaks common fluently, while speaking bestia, elvish, and abaia good enough to get by, but not well.

20. Can your OC swim? Pretty well, but she’s no olympian.

21. Who is your OC’s biggest hero? Her dad!

22. What social class is your OC from? Lower middle class. She’s had an easy enough time, but they’ve always grown their own food and taken care of themselves.

23. What country was your OC born in? There aren’t really countries in Welgaea, and I haven’t figured out enough about the general geography to place things, but she’s from a pretty average part of common society.

24. How does your OC prefer to have their hair? Twin tails, with the front a stylized messy. She’ll put her hair up in buns if need be though.

25. Is your OC introverted or extroverted? Introverted, but she’s not a recluse.

26. Does your OC enjoy nature? Yes! She spends a lot of time surrounded by it either traveling or exploring.

27. What is your OC’s morning routine? Maybe start by making a warm drink. Or cool if it’s hot out. She’ll put her hair up into her twin tails before actually drinking it and relax for a few. She’ll usually do some reading at this time too. If she has to get dressed she’ll usually do it after this, and regardless will tidy up a little and put a little makeup on. Then make/eat breakfast right afterwards. Other than a bit of relaxing to start she tends to do everything back to back so she can get her day going.

28. Does your OC drink or do drugs? Nope, not at all. Doesn’t see the point for recreational use and she prefers her mind and body in peak condition. She sees performance enhancers as having both bonuses and drawbacks, which remove her from that peak condition, and even if there were zero drawbacks she would still rather rely on her own abilities and not become reliant on something else.

29. What’s your OC’s eye color? Purple, a little brighter than her hair.

30. Does your OC have any extra limbs? Are they missing any? Nope, just the usual.

31. What’s your OC’s sexual orientation? Homosexual/lesbian

32. Does your OC have any scars, moles, etc? Beauty mark under the corner of her right eye.

33. What turns your OC on? A nice person is a must. Someone who makes her feel like they want her is big. Someone who’s very casually open and confident about their body is also a big turn on.

34. Does your OC regret killing anybody? Any time she has to, but there’s nothing that continues to haunt her. Perhaps a botched job at some point that got an innocent killed.

35. Are there any smells your OC really likes? Nothing too strong, but flowers are nice.

36. Are they an honest person? Very much. She’ll only lie if it benefits everyone and isn’t the sort of thing that could come back to bite anybody.

37. What’s your OC’s favorite food? Pastas and meats, mostly.

38. Does your OC like to travel? Absolutely, it’s really all she does if she doesn’t need to do some work for money.

39. What’s the farthest your OC has ever traveled? She’s been all over the world, but has limited experience in the farthest corners.

40. Who is your OC’s favorite family member (if they have any)? Her dad!

41. Does your OC have any siblings? Who? Nope, she’s an only child.

42. What makes your OC angry? Intolerance and generally being a jerk. Active malice. Interruptions, be them verbal or physical, getting worse the more urgent or important the task is that’s being interrupted. She’s not going to go off the wall if it was nothing important anyway.

43. Does your OC have a pet? Nope!

44. Can your OC use magic? Minimally. She can do what’s expected of most people, like recharging a light crystal, but not much more.

45. Does your OC want to use magic? It’d be cool, but she’s not heartbroken about it.

46. Where is your OC’s favorite place to be? Anywhere quiet that’s outdoors. A place she can hear the sounds of nature, like a running stream, but still has a nice expansive view.

47. Has your OC ever destroyed anything sacred? By accident once. She tries not to go back to that town.

48. Would your OC ever use sex to get what they want? Absolutely not.

49. Does your OC care about hygiene? For sure. She doesn’t spend all day on it, but she cleans herself when she wakes up and before going to sleep; and bathes in running water once a day if she’s been out and about, or once every other day if she’s been inactive.

50. Does your OC like to take directions? She likes to figure stuff out on her own but she’s more than happy to take directions if she’s on a time limit or just doesn’t have any idea and the opportunity to ask comes up.

51. How would your OC react to getting lost? Unless she’s on a time limit, no big deal. She’ll camp out and survive for a bit while she works her way back to civilization.

52. What are 3 things your OC always has on them? Her swords and a small bag of holding, though the bag has quite a few items in it. Most importantly are a blanket, some spare change, and a change of underwear.

53. Who is the most important person to your OC? Her dad. Later on likely Ysami.

54. What is your OC’s biggest fear? Death and bugs.

55. How would your OC react to suddenly being told that they are now King/Queen, President, Ruler, etc? She wouldn’t believe them. If they managed to convince her she would take on the roll and its responsibility, helping everybody out as best she could, especially with whatever was lacking without a ruler, but she would try to get someone to replace her as soon as she could.

56. How would your OC react to suddenly having everything materialistic taken away from them? She doesn’t really have a lot to lose, she lives pretty lightly. Her swords would be the only big one. She’d be pretty heartbroken about it, but she’d have to go about making enough money to get another pair made.

57. What does your OC sleep in? She sleeps nude. If sleeping nude is unreasonable she sleeps in only a simple chemise with an unfitted waist. This would be like if she were sleeping at a camp site with others, and each person had their own small tent. If there is no privacy at all she sleeps in her bikini top and fundoshi.

58. What’s your OC’s favorite weapon? Her twin bayonets.

59. How does your OC feel about the government? Given how little government there is everywhere, it’s actually nice having government provided utilities like a police force to settle disputes and for protection, and hazard relief to help put out fires or rebuild. Even just regulations on trade so people can’t rip each other off or pull people into slavery or anything. Living with absolutely nothing to rely on is rough. Some government officials can get corrupt and self-serving though, so be aware.

60. Is your OC able to travel off world? Nope. At present nobody on Welgaea can.

61. How does your OC feel about ships? They’re nice. Be nice if they didn’t get attacked by pirates and monsters so often.

62. Can your OC fly? Funny question, but no.

63. Does your OC have any phobias? Nothing I’d go so far as to list as a phobia.

64. Is there any delicacy your OC hates? She has pretty basic tastes in food, so anything too out there is a turn off.

65. What is your OC’s favorite memory? Muscle posing with her dad.

66. What’s the best way to make your OC happy? Generally being happy yourself. Being around happy people rubs off on her.

67. What’s your OC’s favorite way to relax? Being able to kick back and take in the atmosphere. Even if she were at a party she’d be most relaxed observing to herself and not getting dragged into a conversation or the events.

68. How does your OC feel about being nude? She is very pro nudity. An at-home nudist, if she’s lounging around an inn room all day she’ll be nude for it. She’s very comfortable nude, but she’s not an exhibitionist and has no interest or desire to show off to anybody. In fact she’s rather off-put by the idea of someone oogling her.

69. Is there any trait your OC despises in themselves? In others? Before meeting Ysami she doesn’t really like that she’s a lesbian because of the embarassment that comes with asking people out or revealing feelings for people who aren’t, or end up not being lesbians. While young she was laughed at for it and had nearly sworn off getting into a relationship at all. In others mostly intolerance, especially of sexual preference. Also body shaming and forcing prudishness on others.

70. How far along has technology advanced in your world? Technology is pre-industrial revolution, but supported by magic, which is used for things like lighting and flowing water. Magic technology has advanced fairly far in small pockets, but is reliant on the rarity of advanced mages.

71. Would your OC ever kill a loved one to save the world? She would save both.

72. How does your OC feel about races other than their own? They’re cool.

73. How does your OC feel about their own race? They’re cool.

74. How does your OC feel about religious people? They’re cool, just don’t force your religion on others.

75. Can your OC make a good meal? She’s no professional, but she can cook up a decent meal. She prefers stove-top cooking to oven-based.

76. Can your OC survive in the wild? She does quite often just traveling around.

77. Does your OC prefer the city or the country? Generally the country, but does like visiting the city.

78. Did your OC have any schooling? Did they enjoy it? She was homeschooled by her father, leaving home with the equivalent of an early-highschool education. She enjoys learning and has continued to pursue it.

79. How would your OC feel about being naked in public? She doesn’t go out in public nude but kind of wishes she could, and that casual public nudity were more pervasive. She’s not an exhibitionist after all. She wouldn’t really be embarrassed or anything if someone saw her nude. If she were nude in an inn room and had to answer her door she would likely grab a towel or something to hold in front of her while answering instead of answering completely nude.

80. What are your OC’s feelings regarding sex? That it should be saved for someone you trust with your whole heart and love deeply. If your heart changes later on that’s fine so long as you did at the time.

81. Does your OC play any instruments? Nope, she’s never had any training. String instruments are neat though.

82. Does your OC like music? Sure thing, but she’s no connoisseur. She likes music with energy and a strong melody. Something pop-y. She’d probably like our k-pop and j-pop.

83. Does your OC like art? Sure thing, but she’s no connoisseur. She likes expansive landscapes you can get yourself lost in. She especially likes creative paintings of things you can’t find naturally. The fiction of the painting world, whatever that’s called. She appreciates other mediums, like sculptures, and has seen some neat stuff made, but doesn’t understand it as well.

84. Has your OC ever had a painting or photograph taken of them? She’s modeled a few times for the work. Generally not anything too big or professional, usually just for an art class or something. Though she’s modeled a good few times she’s only modeled nude once or twice for very specific situations. Like once was for a single female sculptor.

85. What is your OC’s favorite thing to talk about? Usually whatever she’s learned about most recently, since when she has down time she’ll read reference books and studies.

86. Has your OC ever made clothes? She makes her own, and has had to several times.

87. What’s the best piece of advice your OC was ever given? “Have fun!” -Her father.

88. Does your OC want to fall in love? Absolutely! Though she was scared it might be a pipe dream.

89. What does your OC want to do with their life? See everything. Learn everything.

90. Does your OC believe in ghosts? She’s been to enough spooked places she doesn’t have to believe any more. In a setting closer to Earth she’d likely not believe in them, but would be willing to entertain the idea if someone could get her actual proof.

91. Does your OC wear any jewelry? Not really, though she’ll occasionally wear earrings.

92. How will your OC die? This is a complicated question. I don’t know. Possibly a spoiler?

93. Does your OC believe in an afterlife? She’s not really sure. Even Kharon has been a bit ambiguous about what happens.

94. What is your OC’s favorite part about being alive? Seeing and learning something every day that shows the world is more complex than we ever expected.

95. Does your OC fear death? Terrified. She tries not to think about it.

96. Does/Will your OC ever have children? I’ve dabbled with the idea of her having a child, but I feel like not. Too complicated.

97. How does your OC feel about traitors? She’s a pretty good judge of character, so I feel like unless they were intentionally duping her from the start they’d have a hard time getting the upper hand on her. Otherwise she’d mostly want to know why. She wouldn’t want them dead, depending on what they did anyway, but she would have a very hard time trusting them again. She likely would eventually trust them again, but never completely.

98. What’s the craziest thing your OC has ever done? She’s helpful to a fault and will put herself at great risk without a second thought if someone needs the help. At some point I would not doubt she’s rushed into a burning building to save someone, or distracted an unreasonably powerful monster so someone else could get away. I’m hard-pressed to say these would be the craziest things she’s done because this is the sort of thing she’d probably do quite often. Though there is that one time she beat up the elf princess without even turning around.

99. How does your OC feel about killing animals? Avoids if possible, but sometimes you need to hunt to survive, and meat is tasty. Don’t be wasteful, be merciful, only do as necessary.

100. What is your OC’s name? Miss Naka “the Honeywhite” Teleeli

#Welgaea #Naka Teleeli #Miss Naka

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iamnotthedog · 6 years

Text

CHICAGO: NOVEMBER 20, 2012

I found a children’s book the other day. It was in a large leather trunk full of dusty old records and CDs being sold for a quarter a piece. The trunk had me contemplating currency inflation—having one of my now-daily panic attacks about the passage of time, and freaking out about how nothing costs a quarter anymore. I mean, you can get a nut or bolt at a hardware store, I guess. Pretty much nothing else. But at this random surplus shop on the north side—with its hip, just-dirty-enough twenty-something owners, its scratchy old albums playing through vintage Radiola speakers from the 1920s, and its entire kitchen furnished with 1960s appliances, dishware, and utensils—you can also choose from hundreds of subpar-to-terrible albums: The Spice Girls’ Forever, Billy Idol’s Cyberpunk, Dylan and the Dead, Billy Ray Cyrus’ Some Gave All, David Bowie’s Never Let Me Down, Christmas in the Stars: the Star Wars Christmas Album, The Rolling Stones’ Dirty Work, Milli Vanilli’s All or Nothing, Stevie Wonder’s Woman in Red, Limp Bizkit’s Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water, Mariah Carey’s Glitter.

The children’s book was nestled between Oasis’s Standing on the Shoulders of Giants and Alanis Morissette’s Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie. It was about ten inches tall and a foot wide, and it was thin—maybe thirty pages with a cardboard cover. The picture on the cover was a full-color drawing of an old dog sitting on a sidewalk in front of some evergreen bushes. He was some kind of adorable slate-colored Catahoula Leopard Dog mix with floppy ears, huge, icy blue eyes, and a long, skinny snout, and he was sitting facing forward, with his head tilted to the left and his ears cocked as if someone had just asked him, “Do you want a treat?” in that voice that dog owners use when trying to get a rise out of their precious little beasts. In an arch of yellow bubble letters over the dog’s head, the cover read, So Long, Buddy.

I stood there over that trunk of records, in the far corner of the back room of the store, under a big velvet painting of Abe Lincoln and some Mahogany-mounted deer antlers, and I read So Long, Buddy. The story goes something like this:

Buddy is a fourteen year-old dog who has been a part of the Smith family since he was a pup. The Smith family also has a boy named Charlie—a short and skinny six year-old with a mop of blonde hair and cheeks so rosy that it looks like he spends his mornings digging around in Mom’s makeup cabinet. Charlie has always known an existence with Buddy at his side. He knows nothing else. When the story begins, it is a blue Sunday morning at the scrambled egg-laden breakfast table, and Charlie has just been told by his obviously intelligent parents (who look like caricatures of the parents in the Happy Days sitcom from the ‘70s) that Buddy is going to go away tomorrow, and he is never coming back. When Charlie cries and asks, “Why?!” the parents don’t hide from the truth, or make up any fairy tales about there being a dog heaven and all of that kind of bullshit antiquated talk that I’m frankly quite sick of. No, Charlie’s parents tell him that Buddy has a heart, just like all of them, and that Buddy’s heart isn’t working so well, and is going to stop soon. But then, before the thought even crosses Charlie’s mind, they also assure him that THEIR hearts are still working GREAT, and so is his. It will be a long time before any of them have to go away forever, they tell him. And they tell him that this is a day for them to celebrate Buddy. They have set aside the whole day to do nothing but play with Buddy—to do all of his favorite things. Then, that evening, they will all have to say goodbye.

Charlie gets really upset, of course. He runs up to his room and dives face down onto his blue race car bed, where he cries into his pillow. But then Buddy comes upstairs and lies down with Charlie, and Charlie snuggles with him and asks him why he has to leave. Buddy licks his face, and Charlie wipes away his tears and laughs. Then Buddy rolls over on his back, and Charlie rubs his belly. This calms Charlie down, and his mom comes upstairs and helps Charlie puts his jacket and boots on, because they are all leaving to take Buddy to the park.

In the backseat of the car, Charlie pets Buddy and lets him climb over him to stick his nose out the window and sniff at the rush of air in his face, as first the city then a flowery countryside roll by in the window. Charlie has a memory of himself as a much younger boy, riding in the same backseat with Buddy. Buddy pulled off his little baby boots and licked his feet. Charlie also remembers the time he fed a whole cheeseburger to Buddy in the backseat, and then his dad got mad and yelled at him, but then said, “Well, we can’t have a full dog and a hungry boy!” and took them back to the drive-thru to get another cheeseburger for Charlie.

The whole family goes to the park and plays fetch with a stick for a while, and then they go to a river and it seems a lot warmer all of a sudden—there’s lots of sun and people are in short sleeves. Charlie was wearing a coat and boots before, remember? But it doesn’t matter. The story and images are still tugging at the ol’ heartstrings with all they’ve got. Then—after hours of playing, which we realize have passed because of the red sun lying low on the horizon—Buddy lays down in the green grass, and he looks tired, and Charlie can tell that he’s not feeling to good, and Charlie leaves his parents and walks over to Buddy and lays down next to him and tells him that it’s okay. That he’s been a great dog. And that he can go away now if it’ll make him feel better.

A couple nights after I read that book, Jim and I had just played a show, after which we went out for some drinks with a few friends from Schubas.1 We were in a 4 o’clock bar over on Western, just north of Belmont.2 Jim was talking to some of our friends from Schubas, and the band we had played with—three guys from Cleveland—were entertaining themselves by flirting with some women down at the other end of the bar, trying to find themselves some nice warm beds to sleep in for the night. I was watching the boys do their thing, reminiscing about the days when I used to spend nearly every night doing the same, and talking to a co-worker about dogs. I was drunk and, despite all the action that night, I was feeling a bit sad, as most people in 4 o’clock bars are most of the time. My co-worker, Kirsten, was telling me about her latest foster dog that she had taken in from the pit bull rescue shelter she volunteered for.

“He’s amazing. He’s really smart and loyal and nice and well-behaved. Such a sweet boy. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him,” she said. She was smiling, but looked like she wanted to cry, anyway. She put her face in her hands. “Not only does he need a home, but I need him to find a home. Having three dogs has already pretty much eliminated my chances of ever getting laid again,” she said. “I can’t keep taking more.”

I put down my empty bottle of beer and ordered another. “What’s wrong with him?” I asked. “Why was he given up in the first place?”

She lifted her face from her hands and sipped her pint. “Nothing is wrong with him,” she said. “He was born at the shelter. My dog Anna is actually his littermate—his sister. She was the runt of the litter. She looks just like him, but she’s half his size, and gray instead of blonde. So when I adopted Anna, I also volunteered to take him for the first three months. Then we found a woman to adopt him who we thought was going to be great, but she ended up being a total bitch.”

A huge man in a cigar-scented flannel shirt moved in between us and loudly ordered a Corona and four shots of Patron. I waited for him to get the drinks, pay, squeeze a lime into his beer, dole out the shots to a few perfume-soaked girls in low-cut dresses, propose a toast, clink glasses, take the shot, return the shot glasses to the bar, apologize to Kirsten, try starting a conversation with the bartender, and finally retreat when the bartender pretended not to hear him.

When he moved and Kirsten finally reappeared, I asked her, “What’d she do?”

“Who?”

“The woman.”

“Oh.” Kirsten sipped her pint again. “Well, the first thing she did was lose him. She lost him for a whole week. Then the shelter helped her find him, and then she went to San Francisco and left him with a friend for weeks, and when she got back he had an ear infection. Then after THAT, she took him to the vet with a broken toe. The vet asked, ‘How’d he break his toe?’ And she said, ‘I don’t know, I wasn’t watching him.’”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. So finally, when the woman called the shelter and said she wanted to move into a condo that didn’t allow dogs, the shelter was like, ‘Great! Please give him back!’ None of us wanted her to have him any more. We want him to go to a home that will actually pay attention to him and love him so he doesn’t turn into a trouble dog.”

I took another long pull from my beer and quickly ran through my income and monthly expenses in my head. “How old is he?” I asked.

Kirsten looked at me and smiled. “He’ll be a year old on December 10.”

And now I have a dog. He’s a sandy blonde American Staffordshire Terrier—fifty-seven pounds and twenty inches tall at the withers—with a white chest and throat, a pink belly, and white front paws up to the wrists. His entire body is solidly built, with a short, shiny coat and a well-defined musculature—he often reminds me of a horse in that you can literally see each muscle on his body, and his upper thighs and arms ripple like well-toned biceps when he gets worked up about something and starts pulling on his leash. His head is topped with floppy ears that pull backwards when he is excited, and it is broad at the skull—very broad—with a wrinkly forehead that makes it look like he’s always concerned about something. On either side of those wrinkles are large, bright eyes with copper-ringed, bluish-green irises. His round cheeks are each accented by one fluffy little bump with two long white whiskers coming from them. Between those big cheeks, his muzzle is about as long as a regular ol’ coffee cup is tall, and tipped with a pink nose that is always wet and cold. Two maybe three-inch long white whiskers hang down from his chin, giving him the air of Confucius (though I am possibly the only one that thinks this), and his huge mouth of evenly-spaced white teeth and pink everything else is always smiling when open, and locked in a tight, cute little frown under his floppy jowls when closed.

I named the dog Willie, which is a tribute to my uncle, who passed away back on May 28. Memorial Day. Uncle John was a Navy man—he had served as an electronic technician on two Western Pacific tours during the Vietnam War. He returned from the war to get married and have three handsome sons, then get divorced and spend the rest of his life working his ass off and drinking. A lot. Then he went and died alone in his apartment in Kenosha, Wisconsin, on Memorial Day. Jim and Adam and I were attending a Memorial Day barbecue, and we were stuffed full of barbecued brisket and potato salad and macaroni and cheese and beer and happiness when Mom called and told us that Uncle John died alone in his living room, sitting in his favorite chair, watching Comedy Central on television.

Uncle John was Mom’s younger brother—only 64 years old. He was a father of three, a brother of six, an uncle to many, a husband, a son. He was also an electrician, a gardener, a freelance frog hunter, a golf caddy, and even a butcher for a time. But more impressive than all of those things were his skills at the almighty karaoke. Uncle John was an unabashed Willie Nelson fan, through and through. He had the hair to prove it. He had a big gray beard and this long, grayish brown hair that he would part down the middle and weave into two thick braids, and he would tie a red bandana around his head and let the braids fall over his shoulders and over his flannel shirt down to his belly. He would dress up in that outfit and go to karaoke nights at the local pubs to sing Willie Nelson songs, and he did it so much that he actually got a bit of a reputation around town—enough of a reputation that he was invited to sing a Willie Nelson song on public access television. They played that video in the middle of the night all over southeastern Wisconsin. And now Uncle John lives on forever not only in his three handsome young sons, but also in a video on YouTube in which he sings an off-key version of “Blue Skies” into a microphone with a hilariously stern look on his face, and a video of strippers and kabuki dancers spliced with stock scenic footage playing behind him as he croons his big ol’ heart out.

So my new dog’s name is Willie, and I think of Uncle John and his sad, beautiful life any time Willie does anything. And Willie does a lot of things. Willie snores in his sleep. He grunts like an old man, and sighs heavily when he lies down. He stretches in the Downward Dog yoga position until his back cracks, which I tell him might give him back problems one day, but he doesn’t care. He always wants to cuddle—to be touched, even if that touching is just his back pressing against your leg. If Willie starts out the night sleeping spread out on the floor or on a couch in the living room, he will nevertheless end it sleeping curled up like a cat at the foot of your bed, usually with his head resting in the crook of your ankle or knee. In the morning when you first begin to stir, he’ll work his way up from the foot of the bed—crawling slowly on his belly until his whole body is up by your head, where he will proceed to lick your face and push at your shoulders and back with his big paws.

When you are finally up and walking around and Willie has eaten his bowl of salmon kibble and wants to go outside, he will trot up to you, looking up at your face with those big, sad eyes of his, and he will reach out his right leg and put his paw on your shin. If you are brewing coffee or looking at your computer or brushing your teeth or doing anything else that is distracting you from him, he’ll try this paw-on-the-shin technique several times before he abandons it and begins jumping up to put both his paws on your midsection, pushing at you with all of his fifty-seven pounds.

When you get Willie’s harness down from the coat rack, he will sit until you drape it over his head, then stand so you can easily clip it under his arms. And when you grab his leash, he will already be at the door, wagging his tail and moving around, and it may be difficult for you to clip the leash to the harness because the poor guy is so excited, and now he really needs to pee. Or poo. Or smell another dog’s pee or poo. Or just run and pull and get out that energy that has been pent up in him for the past several hours, as he laid around and huffed and whimpered and chased rabbits in his sleep.

On walks, Willie will pull you from smell to smell, occasionally stopping to look back up at you over his left shoulder just to make sure you are having as much fun as he is. If it is raining, he will stop every half block or so to shake off the wetness. If it is cold, he will stop every block or so to shake off the cold, after which he will lift each paw, one at a time, off of the frozen pavement. He likes the smell of pine. He likes stuffing his nose down into the wider cracks in the sidewalk and sniffing and huffing and making a lot of noise. He also likes the rat that was hit by a car in the alley, and has now been frozen and thawed and run over and thawed and frozen again so many times that it no longer looks like a rat, or anything, for that matter. It has become a part of the pavement.

If you tug upwards on his leash when approaching a puddle, Willie will jump over it as if he’s been doing that his whole life. If you don’t tug upwards on his leash, Willie will walk directly through the puddle, splashing through the mud, and he’ll maybe even stoop to smell it or try taking a drink before you pull him away.

Willie knows the street that takes you south, down across Belmont and over to the dog park, and if your walk takes you by that street, he’ll try to pull you that direction. He always wants to go to the dog park. Sometimes you’ll give in, and you’ll walk him there and walk across the baseball diamond and past the tennis courts and you’ll stand inside that tall black fence in the frozen gravel, and the steam from your breath will fog up your glasses under your hood while he runs circles around the trees with the other dogs and sometimes chases the tennis ball you throw. Willie will never bring the ball all the way back to where you stand, but will try to make you take a few steps to get it, and when you bend over and are just about to pick it up, he’ll snatch it up in his jaws and run away with it. He’ll do this until you punish him by ignoring him, when he will finally approach you as if to say, “Okay, okay. You win.” So you’ll pat him on the head and throw the disgusting, drool-soaked ball for him again, and if another dog gets to it before he does, he’ll growl a bit, but his wagging tail will show that he’s really just messing around, and then he’ll wait for the other dog to drop the ball, when he will snatch it up and chase the other dog around for a while before stopping to smell his or her crotch and maybe trying to mount him or her and tighten up his muscular little butt cheeks for a good ten seconds of humping before you and/or the other dog’s owner can get yourself over there—both of you laughing—to pull them apart. And he’ll do all of this—the running, the sniffing, the humping—with that tennis ball in his mouth.

When your fingers are tingling with the cold and your feet hurt and it is time to go so you get Willie’s leash ready, he’ll see what’s coming and immediately run over to the one bench in the park, which he will lay under. He knows when it’s time to go, and he never wants to go. And he’ll work that tennis ball in his mouth—he’ll get it deep down in his throat where it will get covered with a thick lather of white spit—and to get him to drop it you’ll try saying “Drop it!” a good twenty times before you finally have to resort to tricking him into thinking that you are going to throw another ball, then quickly putting both balls where he can’t get them, clipping the leash on him, and getting him out from under the bench and out of the fenced area quickly and efficiently before he even realizes what you’ve done or has time to react. You’ll say, “Good boy!” and he’ll look up at you and smile with his tongue hanging out the left side of his mouth, and he’ll wag his tail, but really you know that he’s still just thinking of that damned ball—that standard, optic yellow tennis ball, approximately 6.7 centimeters in diameter, rubber, covered in that distinctive fluffy fibrous felt and soaked in dog spit. He loves that damned ball.

I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t thinking of old Bronco Bill and his good ol’ dog Kojak when I decided to adopt Willie. I mean, I was obviously also thinking of So Long, Buddy, which I had just read a couple days previous, and I was thinking of my family’s first dog, Aggie, and of my Uncle John dying alone while watching Comedy Central in his living room, and of the fact that I’m about to be alone again most of the time. But sitting there in that dark 4 o’clock bar, coming down from the adrenaline rush of playing a raucous and meaningless rock show, feeling sort of low and being presented with the idea of a companion to ride with me through the next fourteen-to-sixteen years or so, I can definitely say that I saw Bronco Bill’s face shining in those dashboard lights back in June of 2001, and I could smell the weed in the Chevy Cavalier and feel the sunburn on my neck and ears and the dirt in my socks, feel the intense loneliness and dreamlike sense of un-being, and I could hear Bronco Bill slap the dashboard—BOOM—and hear him say those words:

“And now, whenever I get worried about my health, I just put my hand on Kojak’s big ol’ chest, and I feel his weird, irregular heartbeat—the long spaces, the heavy pounds, the quick pumps—and I look into his eyes—calm as ever—and I think, ‘Shit, he’s not worried about anything. I’ve got nothin’ to be afraid of.’”

Jim and I formed a two-piece garage rock band when I moved to Chicago a little more than six years ago. Playing in a band with my big brother—my big brother who brought that first acoustic guitar into my life, and who was the first person to introduce me to music other than pop radio—playing in a band with him was actually one of my main motivations for moving to Chicago in the first place. I had a couple dozen songs that I had written over the course of the previous several years out in California, where I had been playing them in coffee shops and in front of friends on an old acoustic guitar—just for kicks, really. When I first came to Chicago and was crashing at Jim’s, I played him a few of the songs at an open mike at the Innertown Pub one night and he liked what he heard, so he came up with the idea that we should get me on an electric, turn it up loud, and he’d lay down some drums and we could play a few shows. Maybe record an album or two. Be a band. It’s been several years now, and we’ve worked the band into our routines. We practice once a week, play a show once a month, and record an album once a year. It’s a good release, and we keep it fun and relaxed because we have no delusions of grandeur. We don’t see fame or fortune in either of our futures. We just enjoy playing together. It gets us in a room with each other on a regular basis, and that is a good thing, because we genuinely like each other. ↩︎

Most of Chicago’s bars close at 2 o’clock Sunday through Friday and 3 o’clock on Saturday, but several stay open until 4 o’clock Sunday through Friday (and 5 o’clock on Saturday). These bars usually get very little business until all the other bars call last call at around 1:30, when they fill with drunks who just want to get drunker, kids that are high and only want to get higher, and lonely types making a last ditch effort at finding a one night stand. No one enters a 4 o’clock bar devoid of desire. Ever. There’s no reason to. ↩︎

#thriftstores #surplus #compactdiscs #chidrensbooks #dogs #death #loss #adoption #pitbulls #uncles #willienelson #blueskies #karaoke #tennisballs #dogparks #rockshows

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