#like the neighborhood is in the middle of an industrial park with nothing around but offices

[asundine]

X

#so ive spent the past several days moving from my apartment to a new townhouse and tbh literally everything is as bad as i was worried about #like first of all its kind of in the middle of nowhere #like the neighborhood is in the middle of an industrial park with nothing around but offices #which is great for my roommate who now has a 5 minute commute. but not great for me who has to commute 30 minutes on the highway #its also a lot smaller #like the house itself is bigger and all of the spaces that are my roommates are bigger #but my bedroom and bathroom are a lot smaller and theres no storage #so ive had to go through everything i moved here just to see how much i can get rid of just so i can have space to live #like i asked my roommate if i could store some of my yarn and fabric stash in the office #and she technically said yes but i know she really meant shed rather i not #so ive spent the past several days panicking because i dont know what to do about any of it #the worst part is that the day we move out i leave for a cruise which should be fun but instead its just another thing to be stressed about #i hate this place already and i wish i had a choice to go somewhere else #i wish id at least been able to see it before coming in to get the keys #cause the pics online were really shitty and i had to dig to even find a shitty walkthrough video #it doesnt help that theres been a bunch of drama with my guild that might mean i end up leaving and quitting the game #im just so tired of it all and i just wish that i had *anything* to look forward to right now

[freehawaii]

HOW THE PANDEMIC SHOOK HAWAIIAN TOURISM

SeattleMet - March 22, 2022

Waikiki was like a ghost town in the middle of 2020. Instead of sunburned bodies sardined on the Hawaiian beach or the high-pitched squeals from tourists as their feet touched the warm ocean, there was just the sound of the wind and waves crashing on the shore. For Starr Kalahiki, Native Hawaiian jazz singer and activist, those early quarantine days fostered healing—for both the land and the locals. “The response was immediate. The land was so, so happy,” she says from her blue-walled bedroom in Moanalua, about 10 miles northwest of Honolulu’s famous beach. “In Waikiki, you could smell the lipoa, you could smell the seaweed. You didn’t smell suntan lotion.” Two hundred miles away, on Hawai’i Island, photographer Kapulei Flores felt the same: “It was so nice to be able to go to the beach and not have to worry about if it’s gonna be crowded. Just being able to freely walk around your own community, your own ’āina, was the best part.” But for others, the change felt apocalyptic. Airports had no traffic; neither did the freeways. Streets weren’t flooded with people, hotels and restaurants were desolate. With tourism as the state’s biggest industry, Covid threw Hawai’i for a loop—and the islands already struggle with the effects of visitors. A 1973 Seattle Daily Times article proclaimed the 50th state an ideal travel spot for Washingtonians: “Hawai’i is a destination that has just about everything for the vacationer, from the high-rise finery of bustling Waikiki to the quiet scenery of the neighborhood islands.” In 2019, Hawai’i had a record year, bringing in 10.4 million tourists from around the globe—two million of those from Washington. Pre-pandemic, 170,000, on average, left Sea-Tac Airport for the islands every month. But when Covid hit, Hawai’i governor David Ige proclaimed a 14-day quarantine for all incoming travelers. The slightest violation of his restrictions would be met with a pricey fine or up to a year in prison. For those first 10 months of 2020, total visitor arrivals in Hawai’i dropped 75 percent, from 30,000 to less than 1,000 per day. Travel from Washington to the islands declined only 35 percent to about 730,000 for the entirety of the year. Though the pause in travel kept Hawai’i as one of the lowest Covid-infected states in the U.S., its unemployment skyrocketed, going from two percent to 20: “We went from the lowest unemployment to the highest in the whole United States in one month,” says Jerry Agrusa, travel industry management professor at the University of Hawai’i. Then quarantine exceptions expanded, allowing visitors to bypass it with a negative test. The pre-travel testing program led to the highest number of visitors since before Covid in just the first month, and nearly half of those travelers flew out of Sea-Tac. By the time 2021 came around, talk of a “hot-vaxxed summer” lingered in the air. Although Seattle logged record-breaking temperatures in June, nothing stopped Washingtonians from trading Golden Gardens for the North Shore. Yet visitors cheated isolation requirements, ignored mask mandates, and even falsified vaccination cards—one forger was arrested with a fake card that read “Maderna” instead of Moderna. As delta spiked, the state saw some of the highest case numbers they’d seen all pandemic and Ige pleaded, “Now is not a good time to travel to Hawai’i.” Covid cases and hospitalizations can be tallied and the number of tourists that entered each island can be counted, but it’s harder to determine a diminishing land. “How do you quantify ’āina that is eroding because there’s too many hikers?” says O’ahu singer Pōmaika’i Keawe. At Diamond Head State Park near Honolulu, a park coordinator counted more than 500 people on the trail one day last summer, despite Hawai’i’s social distancing measures. In 2020, Hawai’i Tourism Authority tried to remedy the tourist problem, announcing a six-year plan that consists of reservation requirements for state parks, conservation fees, and even educational videos that spread cultural and environmental awareness. The plan hopes to change the stigma surrounding tourism and challenge visitors, giving them a more authentic experience. Agrusa thinks the real problem is there are just too many tourists. Tourism has never been a black-and-white issue for Hawai’i. For many, the hospitality industry is their main source of income and is the main driving force for the state economy. But its effects are complicated. “Everyone equates Hawai’i with tourism,” says Agrusa, “but our real problem is housing.” It started with short-term vacation rentals. During the 1980s, O’ahu was littered with STRs. Visitors intruded residential neighborhoods and by 1989, the island made them illegal. But in 2019, there were still an estimated 33,118 STRs statewide, and they contributed to the shortage of affordable full-time rental homes. Some renters in Hawai’i spend more than 30 percent of their income on housing costs. Home value and property taxes continue to rise, pricing out many local residents who already struggle to stay in their homes. Still, out-of-state investors continue to buy up houses, condos, and apartments, especially in Waikiki. “We’re being uprooted for corporate foreign entities and companies who do not care about the land or the people or the effects,” says photographer Kapulei Flores. Struggles over land are nothing new in Hawai’i, nor are how they intersect with its tourism. Mauna Kea, the globe’s largest mountain, is a premier site for astronomical observatories—and a popular visitor attraction. It is home to more telescopes than any other peak. When plans for another observatory were announced, Native Hawaiians protested the additional intrusion on a sacred space. Kia’i mauna, mountain protectors, have been protesting the installation since 2014. “We are doing our best to preserve what we can so you can continue to come back,” says Keawe. “But you’re not going to have the same Hawai’i to come back to if you’re not helping us care for this place, and learn who we are, and why these places are important to us.” In late 2021, locals in the state’s biggest city were dealt another blow. As tourists worried about restaurants being open for indoor dining, 93,000 people couldn’t even drink their own water—it was laced with petroleum from the nearby Navy fuel farm on O’ahu. This isn’t the first occurrence either. Since its creation in the 1940s, the well has leaked 180,000 gallons of gasoline into Hawai’i’s drinking water. As mask mandates fell across the country, Hawai’i has remained the sole holdout with a statewide rule ending March 25. Two years into the pandemic, singer and activist Starr Kalahiki still has hope for a change in how outsiders affect life in Hawai’i; she imagines a world for both outsiders and Natives. “What I wish is that it would be understood how sacred this place is and that it would be honored as such,” Kalahiki says, crying. “I don’t blame the world for not knowing how Hawai’i should be seen. I want to share the beauty of this place with the world, but in a safe way.”

#free hawaii #hawaiian kingdom #pandemic #covid #tourism

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Misread Details, Part Two

CW: Described death of whumper, BBU, implications of pet whump, references to noncon, dehumanization, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Unsolved Murder of Henry “Brute” Hanlon and the Box Boy Killer

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

2 weeks ago

I’m back, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime! I really appreciated the questions and discussion under my last write-up, and a few of you really encouraged me to keep working to provide a part two to my Serial Killer Box Boy series, so here it is!

In Part One, we looked at the mysterious death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, who died of cardiac arrest due to an undiagnosed heart defect (and likely head trauma played a part) and was found at the bottom of the stairs inside his California home. The only valuable possession missing from his property was his legally-purchased Box Boy, who fled the city wearing Nathaniel Benson’s shoes and using his money to buy a bus and then train ticket. 

The last confirmed sighting of the runaway Box Boy (and Benson’s possible killer?) was in Red Hills, California, a large-ish city a couple hours south of Benson’s house by train. 

Questions remain around Benson’s death: did he suffer cardiac arrest and fall down the stairs? Did the Box Boy push him, with the shock of the trauma and injury leading to the heart attack that killed him?

Is the Box Boy merely a witness to a tragic but natural death, or the prime murder suspect?

And most importantly: If he wasn’t guilty, why did he run?

Less than a full calendar year after Benson’s death, the question of where the Boxie went after Benson died was answered… but even that answer only opened up more questions, and the sudden death of a second man places even more uncertainty into the story of a Boxie who might simply be an innocent victim - or who could be a serial killer whose makes a victim out of those who give him shelter.

Which leads us to the story of Henry James Hanlon, known to nearly everyone - including his wife - as “Brute”.

Henry Hanlon was born in a small town in Texas, but moved to Red Hills, California after finishing a stint in the Air Force. 

His parents, James Hanlon and Estella Hanlon, maiden name Brickers, had had their first child, Henry’s older brother William “Bill”, right out of high school, born six months after their wedding day. Henry came three years later, and his sister Roberta “Bobbie” one year after that.

Henry was a perfectly normal, cheerful little boy, always toddling after his older brother and trying to join in the games of the older kids in town. His parents recalled him as the quintessential “middle child”, always resolving disputes and quietly getting things done. He received his nickname of “Brute” in fifth grade, when a classroom bully was harassing a female friend of Henry’s and Henry decided to take action. The only information I could really hunt down on this was some old school records that I found on a message board, and I can’t really verify if they’re real, but they suggest that the bully was sent home injured and Henry received a three-day suspension.

After that, it seems, anyone and everyone - even teachers - called Henry Hanlon “Brute”, and he never seemed to mind.

He received perfectly average grades, enlisted in the Air Force, served without distinction but without any significant incidents, and afterwards he moved out to California, where he settled into Red Hills (then a city with a thriving industrial district that was slowly beginning its slide into something rougher) and took a job with a manufacturing company, working in their warehouse.

“Brute” dated around a bit, but it wasn’t until three years after his move that he met the woman he would marry, Ellen Patricia Barry. She was a few years younger than him, and they met at a local bar that both were known to frequent. One of Brute’s former coworkers told police that Brute was big into pool and poker, both of which he would engage in when he went to the bar, and that he met Ellen during one of the poker nights, and that Brute stated that how easily she beat him was one of the reasons he was interested in her romantically.

Ellen claims they first spoke while playing pool, not poker, and also claims she’s never played poker in her life. Why Brute would have told his coworkers a different story is unclear. 

They dated for about a year before they wed at Grace Baptist Church on a sunny summer day in 20XX. Ellen’s father gave her away while Brute’s little sister was the maid of honor. A year later, Brute’s daughter Elizabeth was born, and a couple years after that, their son Daniel.

The Hanlons lived a charmed life - they owned a cute three-bedroom cottage home (bought and given to them by Ellen’s parents as a wedding gift) in a good part of town with a little white fence around the property and a yard big enough for the children and dog to play in. Ellen was part of the local PTA and active in her church, and Brute himself had the appearance of a man totally content with everything he had.

But Brute Hanlon had a secret.

Ellen continued to believe he was employed by the manufacturing company, but he actually left his employment there years before his death. Instead, he seems to have transitioned into making his money “under the table”. Ellen wouldn’t discover any of this until after his body was located… in a secret house he’d never told her about, in one of the roughest parts of Red Hills.

Without her knowledge, Brute purchased a two-bedroom home with cash directly from its previous owner that was badly in need of repair in the Pauls Mill neighborhood. Once a “company town” from the 1930’s - 1950’s that was absorbed into Red Hills as it grew in the 60’s, Pauls Mill today is the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows if you belong there, or don’t, and it’s best if you belong.

Brute performed a few very cursory repairs to keep it livable, laid down some new carpet, and then used it as a kind of secret base for the unsavory activities he didn’t want Ellen or the children to know about.

While his family believed he was at work at the factory, Hanlon was in fact hosting poker games, selling illicit narcotics and unlicensed firearms, and generally making quite a bit more money than he had with legal employment entirely under-the-table. He would spend his day making connections (and money) through these activities, then go home right at 5 pm sharp to his loving family, eat dinner at 6 pm, help his kids with their homework and hear about their day, and settle in for an evening playing the loving husband and doting dad.

Somewhere during this time period, Brute told Ellen he was setting up a “poker night” with his friends again, now that the kids were school-aged. 

What he did instead was drive down to the corner of Holt and McCormick streets, known to all locals as the Red Hills “red light district”, and pick up prostitutes, usually simply meeting with them in his car, but occasionally taking them to a nearby motel.

After his body was found, police showed his picture around to a variety of the individuals who make their living at Holt and McCormick, and more than a dozen locals immediately recognized him. 

Some described him as a regular customer who wasn’t particularly special or notable beyond the simple fact that he never tried to renege on payment and could be relied on to always be looking for someone on a particular night of the week… but others, almost entirely male, said he could be violent. A few described being injured enough that they had to seek medical treatment after meeting him. The same individuals stated that he insisted on using dehumanizing and insulting language to speak to them during these encounters, and that he was often unable to perform unless he did so.

One individual, who gave his name as “Mix”, mentioned that the last few times Brute had engaged his services, he had brought along a collar and insisted Mix pretend to be a Box Boy. 

During this time period, Brute continued to be an active, involved, and loving parent. 

He was home right on time every night except “poker night”, attended his chlidrens’ recitals and baseball games on the weekends. He often took them to the Red Hills Zoo, local parks, and even did a weekend trip to Berras to see the Berras Aquarium, stay overnight in a hotel as a family, and then visit a redwoods park before returning home.

Six months before his death, Brute’s visits to the red light district abruptly stopped. Instead, he apparently met with a local prostitute, engaged his services, and took him home… for good. 

The best record we have is that one woman, Needie Brandt, remembered seeing Brute leading a shorter, angular young man to his car one night, and described the young man as “one of those runaway Boxies, collar and all. Poor thing was half-starved”. 

Runaways, especially Romantics, are picked up by police from time to time in Red Hills. Most Romantics don’t really know any other way to survive, so prostitution is a common way to make ends meet. Needie said the young man had been seen around the area for a couple of weeks, right alongside the rest of the working people in the red light district, and that after this one night she saw Brute Hanlon lead him into the car, she didn’t see him again.

Asked if she remembered a name, Needie only shrugged and said that even if she did, it wouldn’t be a real one. Which is probably a good point. 

Somewhere in here, Brute began to date outside of his marriage while his family believed he was out with friends playing poker. He took dancing lessons with one Susan Krieger, had a serious relationship with a Lucy Graham, and was apparently occasionally taking a Natalie Dorn out for dinner.

Ellen was never informed about these out-of-wedlock interests. 

Brute’s family knew nothing. When his eldest son went to state with marching band his freshman year of high school, Brute Hanlon was right there cheering him on.

Then, just two days later, he presumably went right back to brutalizing the Box Boy he was keeping in his secret second home.

We don’t have a record of what exactly transpired within the house after Brute took the runaway Box Boy in. What we do know is what the police found later on.

On October 18th, 20XX, around midnight, Ellen Hanlon called police to report her husband missing after he did not return from his regular poker night. His car was located in the parking lot of an abandoned FoodMart, but a friend of Brute’s came forward to say he often parked there and carpooled with friends when going out.

None of Brute’s possessions were inside, and it didn’t appear the car had been touched by anyone but Brute himself when it was dusted for fingerprints or signs of DNA. Brute’s friends who knew about his secret activities weren’t telling, and Ellen and the children didn’t know anything about their seemingly loving husband and father’s double-life. 

At first, the trail seemed like it would go cold, and investigators were frustrated that they had so little to go on.

Then, on October 29th, 20XX, Brute’s neighbor (who apparently asked that his name not be given) called the police department complaining about how the small two-bedroom house next door had begun to smell “like something died in there”, and that he hadn’t seen his neighbor leave or return in days, which was very unusual.

When police arrived, the front door was unlocked. Officer William Keys, the first one inside, later described the smell as “unmistakable. I knew exactly what we’d find the second we walked in that door.”

He was right.

What they found was the bloodied and decomposing body of Henry “Brute” Hanlon, lying on his back in the middle of a small unremarkable living room, on a dirty and stained carpet. He had been viciously stabbed more than fifty times. One even went so far into Brute that there was an exit wound through his back. Medical examiners would later state that at least seven of his wounds would have been directly fatal, but that he had died within the first few and most of the wounds were technically post-mortem.

The murder had been committed by someone who had a very personal reason for the killing. Investigators believe this individual was “absolutely enraged”.  

Next to his body was the murder weapon, along with a set of buckles and strips of leather that mystified the officers. These were eventually identified as modified leg braces, but rather than straightening bent or injured legs, they forced the wearer to keep their legs at nearly right angles, which would ensure they had to crawl rather than walk. They appeared to be homemade.

Bloodied smears and footprints led the officers down a hallway and to the bathroom, where there was evidence someone had showered, changed clothes, and then left.

The same neighbor who informed police about the smell also remembered seeing, on October 16th or 17th (later determined that it was likely the 17th, the day that Brute did not return home from “work”), a young man wearing an oversized coat, sweatpants, and a too-large t-shirt walk out of Hanlon’s house and down the street. The young man was on the short side, the neighbor said, had an angular face, and a visible scar at the corner of his mouth and another along the side of his face. He had the collar of the coat flipped up, and the neighbor doesn’t recall if he wore a collar or not.

He had dark eyes, and short but shaggy dark hair that seemed to have been cut hurriedly and unevenly, and he waved at Hanlon’s neighbor without pausing or speaking as he walked past.

Tests on fingerprints and DNA located within Brute Hanlon’s secret second home would reveal that the Box Boy who once ran from Nathaniel Benson after his death was the exact same one who ran from Brute Hanlon after murdering him. The Boxie’s fingerprints were all over the murder weapon… and everywhere else, too.

Within Brute’s home, more knives were found, along with what looked like a badly-crafted homemade whip and some other supplies. A few of the things investigators found appeared to be essentially identical to what was found in Nathaniel Benson’s home. Other things were different (“animalization” was mentioned in some of the reports, but what I’ve been able to find is seriously vague for some reason). 

Possibly related, a series of dog leashes purchased from a local pet-supply store were found throughout the home, but there was no evidence of an actual dog. In the home’s main bedroom was a perfectly normal queen-sized bed that was clearly Brute’s, with a small side table, a large dresser, and an attached bathroom. 

There was absolutely nothing outwardly out of the ordinary, besides the room being very plain and impersonal. Makes sense, since Brute almost never slept there. 

In the second bedroom, however, there was army-style cot with a thin blanket and sheet, three folded shirts on the floor, two sets of bloody metal handcuffs hanging off the cot’s frame at the top and bottom, and a bucket next to the bed. Two metal bowls, clearly of a style meant to be a dog’s food and water bowls, were next to the door. One still had water in it. The window was painted and nailed shut, and bars had been installed over the windows.

Investigators determined the bars were on the house when Brute Hanlon purchased it and had been installed by the previous owner. No reason for that installation was ever given.

Investigation revealed trace amounts of evidence of blood, but nothing much. However, the living room and dining area both showed poorly-cleaned bloodstains that were much older than Hanlon’s murder, including discolored patches on the walls.

A contract for a 24/7 “master/slave” style relationship was found in the top drawer of the dresser, signed ‘Pet’ at the bottom, and with Brute’s name alongside it. However, both signatures match Hanlon’s handwriting, and the Boxie is not believed to have actively signed it, as he would be illiterate at best. Plus, Box Boys are not legally allowed to enter into any contract, anyway, since they can’t understand obligations at that level, so even if he had signed it, it wouldn’t have been considered remotely valid.

I mean, not that those contracts are legal, but... you get my point.

Also located in that drawer were more than one hundred photographs showing the Boxie in a variety of compromising situations and positions. Several of these photos had Brute himself clearly visible in them, and a few had other individuals who have since been identified as Brute’s associates in his more illicit activities.

Interrogations of those associates led to more than seven further arrests for illegal gambling, the production and sale of illicit drugs, and illegal weapons sales. Those interrogations are also how we know about what Brute Hanlon was up to in-between Little League games and Girl Scout meetings.

Those associates claim that Brute kept a “secondhand Box Boy”, muzzled him so he couldn’t speak whenever guests were over, and that often ‘poker night’ simply turned into a game where the assorted guests and Brute himself repeatedly assaulted the Boxie. The associates claimed they thought the entire thing was consensual, but frankly… given the overwhelming evidence that the Boxie had to be kept restrained and was often seriously injured by these assaults... that’s doubtful.

Ellen and her children, who had previously been very visible and spoke often to local news stations about Henry’s disappearance, withdrew after his body was found and his second, secret life revealed - and have never given a single public statement or made a public appearance since. 

Ellen moved her children out of Red Hills, moving back in with her own parents, briefly, in northern California. Where they went after that is unknown, but they appear to have left the state and Ellen may have changed her surname. Investigators are firm in their belief that Ellen knew nothing about her husband’s secret life.

I would give my right arm to know what his son and daughter think about it, and if they ever suspected what their devoted dad was up to when he wasn’t at home.

So, what happened to the Boxie after he left the house and disappeared down the block from the witness who saw him?

In short… no one knows for sure.

After murdering Brute Hanlon and cleaning off the evidence that must have been all over him, the Boxie simply fades away. He could have been anywhere, doing anything at all. There is a brief sighting of him on CCTV footage at the local bus station, where he is in line to buy a ticket… and then abruptly looks up, apparently noticing the camera and looking directly into it, then turns and walks quickly away.

The footage is grainy, but the Boxie does appear to be wearing his collar.

He isn’t seen in Red Hills again.

Instead, he reappears one more time before his final murder and disappearance… more than a year later, in a little town right along the border with Nevada.

Part 3 will go into how the investigation into the death of a quiet little oddball named Robert Weber reveals a basement full of skeletal bodies. But our Boxie isn’t the cause.

Instead, Robert Weber’s murder solves a series of related murders police had been stymied by for more than a decade, and a Box Boy who may have been meant to be Weber’s next victim instead turned accidental vigilante with a final killing of his own.

Or maybe I should say, his final killing so far.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary 

#whump #jameson bb #box boy #box boy universe #sadistic whumper #pet whump #pet whump tw #dehumanization #dehumanization tw #prostitution mention #referenced non con #non con tw #bbu #epistolary #epistolary fiction #horror fiction #horror writing #original writing #death of whumper #intimate whumper #restrained #captivity #epistolary writing #oh my god this is so fun to do you guys #whump writing #whumpblr

[toontails]

Toon Quest|| Reader Insert

Chapter 1: Like an Open Book

Ah...yes. A quiet, quiet neighborhood--oh, hello! I didn't see you all there. Haha, hello. I am your narrator, yes. I know, every convenient film or novel needs one, am I annoying you? Sorry, just getting into the groove, because I have a story for you all today. 

The birds chirped, singing a melody that could repeat in anyone's head hours on end, the warmth of the sun on a summer morning, the dew on the grass waiting to greet people from their sleep, the crisp air that gave that comforting chill to start everyone's morning off. 

A blue bird--a toon bird at that. It's simple look would seem out of place for anyone that doesn't live in this world. You would find it odd to see a dainty blue bird with its blue eyes standing out from any other ordinary bird. Simply--because it's a cartoon, or a Toon as we like to call these guys. 

The bluebird delicately flapped its wings, its eyes closed with a calm expression on its face, soaring over to a house. Where it slowly yet softly placed its talons on a sill of a window, which was closed. The blue bird peered into the window, it could see a girl laying in her bed, asleep. Her back turned from the window and her breathing ever so softly inhaling and exhaling. Sound asleep. 

Ah, it seems little blue birds want to sing a song to wake up our friend. Go ahead little birdie, give us a song.

The bluebird gave an excited expression. Taking in a big inhale, it's chest becoming larger before it lets out a nice melodic loud;

"COCKLEDOODLEDOOOO---!!"

Y/n flinched quickly and shot up, snorting abruptly from her sleep she was so deep into. Her eyes wide open and heart beating in her chest, the sudden noise scared the poor soul!

The bluebird lifted a wing to its beak to hide its from and muffle and snickered mischievously at the reaction. 

Oh, you sneaky little rascal. Well. Now that she's up. Let's get this show on the rode shall we?

-

"Okay. We have 3 tickets for 2PM. But I want to go and get gas first, your dad drained the gas yesterday--" 

Y/n sat in the passenger seat of the car, her mother talking on and on of the 103 things she had accomplished in the day, a busy woman, but she got things done. Music blared through the speakers as she spoke, but Y/n busy scrolling through her phone to pay the woman any mind, which her mother noticed. Glancing at her daughter,  the lady gently jabbed Y/n's ribs, causing Y/n to tense up at the sudden jab and made a small noise at the sudden feeling. 

"Hey-Hey, are you even listening to me?" Her mother smiled at Y/n. Y/n turned her phone off and nodded. "Yes, You were ranting about errands. And your lottery tickets." She said. Her mother had her focus on the road, but the smile was still glued to her face, being able to drag her daughter with her, was a way to spend time with Y/n. The highschool graduate had been busy in the house for most of the time...well...basically relaxing, of course she did things around the house, but the mother wanted to take her daughter to her to work, to experience mother and daughter time. 

"So. What exactly are we going to do today?" Y/n asked. Sitting up in her seat as she watched the builds pass by. 

"Well. I was thinking, maybe a movie? Walk in the park maybe? But, before anything. I have to drop off some paperwork at the studio."

Ah, yes. Y/n's mother worked as a secretary at a studio, not such a big role, nevertheless, it was a job with the big leagues...in a way!

In this particular area, she worked for a company named JoeyDrew, years ago it was formerly known as MeatlyStudios, the company had history, Joey Drew, who was originally the owner, but with many cases on his back for various reasons, that was not classified to the public, but within his arrest the company was given to better hands and care, a man named Henry Stein. 

Y/n had never really stepped foot into the building her mother worked at, of course she knew what shows were produced there as she saw some of them play on television countless times as any other film out there. Living with a world of toons, you were born into a world with Toons and humans and things are normal, so, heating about going to her job didn't raise too much excitement. 

But, it didn't hurt to get a glimpse at the workplace her mother works in. 

"Well, would  look at that--she looks just like you!" 

Starting at the middle aged woman that circled from around the counter with a joyful smile. Y/n's mother gives a welcoming smile to her co-worker and she grabs Y/n's hands and shakes it. The silver name tag, which had the woman's name engraved in the silver with a cartoon horns coming from the bottom read; 'Annie'

"Hey, Annie, I'm just stopping by to drop off these files." Y/n's mother placed a beige portfolio on the counter as Annie gently grabbed Y/n's hand, giving her a firm welcoming shake. Y/n gave a close lipped smile to Annie as the woman mostly had her focus on her. 

"Hi, nice to meet you." Y/n spoke, the lady smiled and nodded. Her hand slipping from Y/n's grasp before placing her hands behind her back, looking at the simplistic formal uniform, Y/n took in the attire, a black blouse and dress pants, but Y/n wasn't paying too much attention to that, she looked at the white pearls that formed a necklace. Annie had turned to look at Y/n's mother as she then started to speak, not paying much attention to their conversation. Instead, she observed her surroundings in the lobby of the studio. Beige carpet, and clear windows to show the parking lot that was being filled by the minute for many interns, animators and other people that work for the industry. 

On the walls were some posters of the many shorts and animated films of Bendy the devil. The main protagonists of the many shorts, and from what Y/n could remember, one of the first characters introduced by Joey Drew and Henry Stein. The fluorescent light made the posters look more alive and exciting. Her optics danced around the studio, before landing on a cardboard cut out--she assumed it was a cardboard cutout. Of Bendy. Not finding much interest in the cutout, she decided to look back over to her mother to see if she was about ready to leave, but seeing Annie and her mother speaking, going over the paperwork in the portfolio. A sudden moment from the corner of her eye caused her to look back over, her eyes landing on the Bendy cutout. The black and white demon only stood there with its famous grin and pie cut black eyes. 

"..." Y/n's slowly looked back at her mother, yet again, and once again. She saw movement. Looking back over to the cut out again, she was astonished to see it was gone. With much confusion, she would have suspected someone for moving it, though, no one seemed to be paying attention to her general direction as it was the early morning and people were too busy doing work. 

A white gloved hand rose from behind Y/n's back and tapped her shoulder twice. Causing her to whip around in the direction to see the person, only to find nothing. 

"What?" She finally spoke up in utter confusion, once again, a white glove rose and tapped her shoulder yet again, repeating the action by turning around, she was once again met with nothing. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She suddenly heard a tsk, glancing to her right. A few inches away from her, stood the all knowing black and white demon, Bendy. Though, living in a world with Toons where obviously Humans and Toons Co-exists. On any other day, or any other everyday toon, seeing one wouldn't be such a surprise, but seeing the star of the company, in the building, as Bendy and the the rest of the cast  weren't exactly in the studio as often as anyone would think, more so being out for the most part--well. Doing their job. Starring as a cartoon in films. 

"Whoa--how did..?" Y/n felt a smile form on her face. She never met Bendy. Or, any of the cast, yes, her mother worked for the studio, but that didn't mean she had the free will and access to meeting anyone she desired that worked with JoeyDree Studios. 

Bendy rose a finger to shush Y/n, his grin expanding her so slightly. 

"Well! I don't see why you're surprised, you're M/n daughter, huh?" He asked. Y/n was still busy looking at the toon, her reply was delayed for a moment, but she replied. Nodding she gave him a toothy smile. 

"Yes. I am."

Bendy gasped, placing his gloved fingers on his mouth. "Well--why I outta--c'mere you!" Bendy extended his arms and pulled Y/n in a hug. Y/n lets out a short laugh before wrapping her arms around the room, feeling him pat her back. After a moment he pulled away, still with the smile on his face. 

"Now, I can say I've met everyone's family." He said. Y/n took a moment to understand what he meant. Putting things together, she assumed he met everyone who worked in the studio building children or other relatives. 

"I'm assuming you were going around to try and meet everyone's family members?" Y/n asked. Motioning towards the people in the lobby--but still motioning forward every one that worked in the studio. Bendy nods. 

"Yes! You see I've met Jacob's 4 sons, Alex, Zachary, Matthew, Isaac, I've met Bethany's 6 nieces, such cute little dolls. I must say so myself, Amy, Sam, Debbie and Anna--" He ranted and went on and on about the many family members he had met, counting on his fingers, so many people he had met that were family members of the workers in the studios, so many, in fact, he already counted his 4 cartoonish fingers and grew a 7th one countings on them!

"--And then there was Mary, her uncle's fathers 3rd cousin who owned a diner down the street. Which he soon gave to her, and there I met her two sons and 2 daughters. Crazy thing is--they're quadruplets!" He tugged at his horns out of excitement that he couldn't seem to contain. Y/n held a smile on her face, listening to him rant, one thing about toons was that some acted exactly how they did on screen. Happy, go lucky, enthusiastic. Of course Bendy more was a mischievous character. But regardless, toons were very animated people--no pun intended. But they were very lively, really, they could bring a smile to anyone's face. 

"And then, I met you. I believe. Is it?" He took a moment to think, tapping his chin in thought as he tapped his foot on the ground. But he quickly regained his original posture. "Yes! The last of it." He answered for himself. 

"Well, it's nice to meet you too." Y/n said. Walking through the double glass door, which got Bendy's attention as he looked over, as well as Y/n. A middle aged man, formally dressed, speaking on a phone walks through the doors. He seemed to be in a busy call as he spoke in a low voice. It was Henry. Who also wasn't exactly seen around the studio as often as he was a busy many running a company, and a studio isn't the only place a businessman needs to be. Usually being in tons of board meetings for different ideas, financial things and much more that was needed for the company to work smoothly. Henry noticed Annie and Y/n's mother. He smiled and waved at them as he pressed a button on the elevator, the two waved back with graceful smiles and went back to their small meeting for...whatever it was they were talking about for the portfolio. 

"Who's that?" Y/n asked. Bendy looked away from the elevator and to Y/n. "Well, Henry of course. He runs this place." Bendy answered. Nodding, Y/n knew of Henry, but never really met him--well she never met him, only heard about him occasionally in her mother's conversation about work. 

"Don't tell him--but I actually run this place." Bendy said, cupping a hand over his mouth as if he were telling the most classified secret ever. But it did cause Y/n to snicker. Suddenly, with the sudden voice of the news lady on the TV that hung from the ceiling stole the two attention. Looking over, the screen showed a lady sitting in the news studio, giving a report. 

"This just in. The book of vida has been reportedly stolen from a storage facility down in Manhattan, this ancient book was supposedly attended to be sent off overseas to the France Museum of Natural History, but unfortunately has been stolen, 2 security guards were guarding the building last night. When at approximately 3AM, a broken glass was heard in the North side of the building, upon investigation, the glass box was broken into and the book of vida was gone. An investigator, Detective Droopy, is now on charge and at the scene."

The screen soon switched to a Toon, which was Droopy the Detective, many interviews where there taking photos, the clicking of the cameras and the bright flashes didn't seem to faze him. Droopy was a notorious detective around town, being one of the first toons to have such an important role as a--'human' job, which would be working in the officer department--a detective. But, he was good at his job regardless...maybe because he was a dog?

He was standing in front of the building that allegedly was robbed, as in any other invertivew, he held a nonchalant expression. 

"Yes, we all know how important this is, the good news is that we have a lead, and I feel that this can quickly give us all our answers on who, what, when and where." He said. From behind him, he pulled out one singular red feather, the auburn frigid plume, the color of the feather similar to the reddish hues of an Autumn season. 

"I can say that this will help us out tremendously, and that's detective talk."

The interview went on in the background as Y/n lost interest in it, recently cases have been occurring around time, with homicides and robberies, for example, the arrest of Joey Drew was one case out of plethora of them. It seemed for the most part, Toons were the ones making these sudden flux of incidents, and lately some people didn't take good eye on how the Toons were portraying themselves. And some still stood beside toons regardless. Bendy had looked away from the TV screen as well, holding his arms behind his back. 

"Well, I didn't expect things like this to go too far." He said. 

"What's a book of Vida?" Y/n asked him, she rarely paid attention to any...politics? Well shouldn't really say the book had anything to do with politics, just simply not really paying too much attention with all the news had been going around specifically case wise, of course she knew the sudden rise and tension that was growing between Toons and humans. It was like a brick wall. 

"It's a book. Or as people that are archeologists would look at is, as a book of prophecy. What's in it? I don't know, it's mostly been transported from different museums. I have heard that it has information about life--which--" he paused for a moment. Tapping his shoe on the floor in thought. 

"It is about life in fact. It's called The Book of Life. Basically I've heard that it holds a prophecy, hero's or whatever, I dunno. I think that's really far fetched if you ask me." He said. Waving a gloved hand as if dismissing the idea. Y/n could understand him. A book speaking about future heros? Yes, far fetched. And...very fantasy like. 

"Alright, that should be all for now." Y/n's mother spoke as she walked over. Looking in her purse for her car keys, obviously making it known it was time to leave. When she looked up and noticed Bendy standing next to Y/n, she smiled. 

"Oh hey, I didn't know you were here too, did you tag along with Henry?" She asked. Bendy once again smiled brightly and nodded at her question. 

"Yes, he's upstairs in a meeting and I decided to stop by with him, glad I did, because I was finally able to meet Y/n!" He motioned towards Y/n. 

"Oh yes, I've tried getting her in here plenty of times, but I'm so busy, I can barely remember anything." 

The two shared a laugh, obviously it wasn't the first time the two met, which would be understandable as Y/n's mother worked in the study and was bound to run into anyone major, like Bendy himself at times.

"Well, I'll leave you two be now!" Bendy smiled and waved goodbye. 

-

Walking out of the studio, and once again feeling the heat of the sun spreading its welcoming warmth to the world after being in the AC for some time. Y/n and her mother walked to the car that was parked, the clouds were making themselves known, making it vaguely obvious that later it might rain. 

"Alright, I'm hungry. Are you?" M/n said, unlocking the car doors with a click of a button, Y/n opened the door to the passenger side and slid in the car. 

"I've been hungry since I woke up." Y/n said. Causing a chuckle to come from her mother. 

"Don't worry, I'll find us something to eat." 

-

The chattering of people in the restaurant was incoherent, plates clattering together, it wasn't as busy seeing it was still in the early morning. Staring down at the menu, as if Y/n didn't know what she was going to order, when really she did. Her mother spoke up. 

"I would bring your dad something to eat when we get back, but I'll let him suffer since he didn't do the Landry last week." M/n said, staring at the menu with squinted eyes. Y/n cracked a small smile. 

"Not even an appetizer?" she asked. 

"Nope, he's good. There's food at home for him."

Y/n could practically hear the crying of her father with no food when they got back home with take out boxes. But she knew she wasn't going to change her mothers mind. 

For a brief second she heard the people in the booth in front of her and her mother, talk about the news segment from this morning--which was barely even an hour ago. 

"I can't believe that a toon went out of their way to steal a book"

"I know right, it's like there are more cases of toons committing crimes than humans."

"Hey mom." Y/n abruptly looked over to her mom and away from the two people talking. Her mother looked away from the menu and to Y/n. Raising an eyebrow. 

"What's the Book of Vida? I've seen it on TV today." She said. Her mother set her menu down before speaking. 

"It's a history book basically, a book of toons and humans, some people around the world see it as a prophecy book, it depends on who you ask." She replied. 

"Why is it so important for someone to steal it?"

She was only replied with a shrug. 

It seemed not many people knew the exact reason for the book, other than it being some sort of history book. 

"There's a woman at work, she used to be a history teacher in High Schools, she told me that the reason why it's important is because it only opens when--I believe she said, a time comes, and when the right person that is part of the prophecy can open it."

Y/n quickly stopped fiddling with the straw for her drink. Perking up slightly in interest. 

"Whoa, so it..only opens for people that are a part of the book?" she asked. Her mother took a moment to think, before she nodded. 

"Yes. But, some people don't believe it. I can't give you too much detail in the book, I don't know much of it myself."  The woman chuckled slightly at the smile on Y/n's face. 

"Bendy told me he heard from someone that the book was about heros."

"Hell, maybe it might be." 

Placing the straw back into the cup, Y/n took a moment to think, information on that book was nice to hear, but, with the sudden tension of Toons and Non-Toons. It was evident now. 

"How do you feel about the toons and some cases revolving around them?" Y/n asked her mother. Her mother gave her an expression, well. More of a dissatisfied one. 

"Y/n. I work with Toons. Anyone that starts going against a toon for making a crime when humans did it for years on end are just dumb as hell, even toons have breaking points." She chuckled. Y/n smiled at her and looked at her drink. 

Her mother went back to looking at the menu for the 5th time they spent that time in the restaurant. 

-

After hours being out, Which needed with M/n having to take a visit to the bank, the two made it home, the sun on the verge of setting, the clouds overtaking the sky, with its various shades of gray, walking into the house, Y/n's mother was on the phone, more likely for it being something that had to deal with work, so she walked off upstairs to her room, to have the call in there. 

Y/n placed the take out bags on the counter, her father was upstairs most likely asleep. Walking over to the couch in the living room, Y/n sat down on the couch and sighed in relief to finally sit down. Feeling the tension in her leg be put at ease from standing and walking around with her mother for hours. Removing her phone from her pocket, and not even a second later, both of her parents came down stairs. Her mother was still dressed in her clothes, and her father was lazily slipping on a shirt. 

"Um--where are you guys going?" Y/n asked. Her father motioned towards her mother. "She's going to work, they just called her in. I'm tagging along, because your mom says so."

"I sure did." Her mother said as she dug through her purse. Taking out another set of keys she placed them on the kitchen counter. "If you're going out to get anything. Here's the keys to your dad's car. Be careful though, it's going to start raining soon--"

"Oh man! What the hell, you guys didn't bring any food for me?!" Y/n's father was searching through the bags, but to avail. Only finding two take out boxes for Y/n and M/n. 

"You'll be fine. Get to the car." M/n ushered her husband out the door in a hurry, who groaned heavily. Y/n only smiled and shook her head slowly. 

"Oh, and take the trash out. We'll be back soon!"

And with the closing of the door, the two left out. Y/n leaned back into the couch, letting the silence engulf her. Too silent.

Her parents were always busy, working that is. For the most part it was only Y/n at home for half the time, filling most of her days with just herself, her neighborhood was small, and mostly filled with kids, as Y/n was 18, and didn't exactly want to spend half her day with 8 and 15 year olds. Not that she had anything against them. 

Slipping off her shoes, Y/n decided to take out the trash later, instead, feeling a familiar fatigue start to rush through her. Taking her shoes, she stood up and walked upstairs towards her room. Once opening her door and closing it. She tossed her shoes to the side and sat down on her bed where she placed her phone on the nightstand. Crawling onto the bed, she finally laid down and pulled the blankets over her to sleep. 

Or. Try to sleep. The sudden shuffle from the side of her room caused her to open her eyes. Sitting up, she looked over to her shoes to see if they had maybe fallen over. But they were still in the same tossed position. One upside down and the other upright. 

"..."

Shuffle shuffle

This caused Y/n to quickly hop from the bed with a gasp. Standing next to her night stand where she quickly grabbed a dictionary she used in English back in high school. Holding it tightly to use it as some sort of weapon, she looked around the room, and finally over to her window, where she found the little blue bird from this morning trying to get out of the room. But the window pane was too low for him to escape. 

"Oh...it's just you.." Y/n muttered. The blue bird looked at her with its big eyes before looking back at the window. Obviously signalling her for help, which Y/n took heed of. She walked over to the window, and slid it open for the bird. It was already raining outside. The bird must have gotten in a while ago out of curiosity. The bird chirped in happiness before flying through the window, turning back to Y/n to look at her through the window. It waved one wing at her before flying off. Y/n waved back as well. Closing the window to not let the now cool air in. Y/n turned around to return the book back to her nightstand. But she came nose to beak with a toon. 

"AAAAH!"

"AH!"

Y/n quickly tossed the dictionary onto the intruder, causing it to fall on the toon's face. Who fell backwards and onto the floor. Y/n quickly back into the wall. Glueing her back to the corner as she watches the person. The toon had its hands on its beak. 

"AH-ow-ow--Ah! ¡¿Qué te pasa mujer?!" He spoke...spanish. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, her heart beating in her chest. What?? What was going on? 

"Who are you?! Why are you in my room?!" Y/n shouts. But the toon didn't answer. Instead, stayed still on the ground. Hands covering its beak, which was mostly its face. 

Taking a longer look, Y/n took note of it's auburn feathers, its beige sombrero was large, it resembled a rooster, a mexican rooster. He wore a red barlo jacket, with golden lining, and red charlo pants with spurs. He had on a belt, and what took Y/n by surprise were the gun holsters on his sides , packed with two 8 caliber pistols. This caused Y/n to gasp lightly and further take a step back. Taking caution of the Toon. The rooster removed his hand from his beak. Leaning back on his elbows as he looked around the room and soon his eyes landed on Y/n. 

"I know this s-"

"Why are you in my house? Who are you?!" Y/n watched as the rooster slowly heaved himself off the floor, he took off his sombrero and dusted it off before placing it back on his head. He raised his hands to show he didn't have anything dangerous on him, though he didn't seem to notice the pistols in his holster. 

"Mi señora, I mean no harm. You see my name is Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero González IIl." He then raised a finger. 

"But, you can just call me Panchito, or Francisco! Either is fine, but I am here because this--" he pulled off the red book bag that Y/n didn't know he was wearing until then. Opening the bag. He pulled out a book. Black leather book. With golden lining. With words engraved on it in gold. 

'Libro de la vida'

Under it, it was small, it was embralled into the book, in white. 

'Book of Life'

Wait...it made sense. Y/n looked back at Panchito, the color of his feathers. Red. He stole the book. 

"You're the one who stole it?" Y/n said quietly. But enough for him to hear. He slightly lowered the book. 

"Yo no diría robar...I simply took something that will save mankind." He defends. 

"You see. Libro De La Vida, is a book of the present. It picks who will make a right change! Ah,No puedo explicarlo, excuse my English, I am not very good at it, but. This Book--" he lifts it up once again. 

"Is powerful. It has the answers for all sorts of bad things that people want to get their hands on. Genocide!"

"I-what? Genocide?" Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. And Panchito took that as a bad sign that he used the wrong term. 

"AH, lo siento, I think I have used the wrong term, what is the term you use for when someone wants to wipe out an entire species?" He asks. Y/n blinked slowly. 

"That's...that's genocide."

"Well then yes! Genocide!" He snapped his fingers with a smile. 

"Wait-wait-wait. So you're meaning to tell me. You stole a book--broke into my house, to tell me about a fantasy book--"

"It is no fantasy book. This book leads us to people--people that are..chosen to help us, mi amigo! No other person can open this book. But me, and you, and whoever else says it is worth opening it. I know it sounds fantical--but you have to believe me, see. Look." He opened the book quickly, and almost immediately, it shot out of his hands and flew towards Y/n's direction, jabbing her in the torso. Knocking the wind from her. 

 "Ow!" Y/n wheezed and held onto her torso, now seated on the ground from the impact. The book was now on the ground as well. It flipped through the pages as if wind was circling in the room. It landed on a page. It's blank yellowish paper soon filmed with a name in cursive. 

'Y/n L/n'

Y/n stared at the page. In..awe. Astonished. Confused. Excited? Mixed emotions turning into inner turmoil, this was real. The page gave a faint glow. Soon. Panchito slowly walked over. Cautious of Y/n not to scare her. He soon sat down beside her. 

"Look." He said. He grabbed her wrist and pressed her palm into the page. Removing her hand, her hand print was seen in ink.

"You are the only human that has access to the book of Vida."

"Why the only? There aren't other people?" She asked. 

"The book is a story, of history, of the past, present and future. It spoke about 8 hero's, or warriors, one of these 8 hero's, was a human. And in this--"

He motioned around the two.

"Generation. You. Are that human."

Eight, heros in total. That includes Panchito and Y/n. 

"So...if it opens for you and me..where are the other 6?" She asked. Panchito hummed before tapping his finger to his beak. 

"No tengo ni idea, I do not know. The book has led me to you, I will think that as time passes, it will collect energy to track down the rest." He says. Y/n was thinking of 101 things, questioning everything. Staying silent for a moment she found the most reasonable question. 

"How did you know you were a part of the book?" She asked him. Panchito perked up slightly. 

"A dream, more of a vision, but It was a reoccurring vision I've had for years, I've always dreamed of various people, but they were.." He tried to think of a best term for his analogy. 

"Shadows! And, the book. Right here.  When I found out it sailed here to America, I traveled here." He seemed to pride in his short adventure safely to America, Panchito felt that he never really had done anything as important as to seek out a book that could have not given him answers all along. His adventure was purely based on a vision that he had, he didn't seem to see the problem, but Y/n did. A vision? Making an entire trip to another country, just because of a vision. If the book was just a fib and nothing more than an actual history book. The trip would have been for nothing. 

She was about to open her mouth to speak, but Panchito quickly stood up and took a hold of her hand to shake. 

"But! It's a pleasure to meet the first person in this group mi amigo! Tú y yo formaremos un buen equipo cuando trabajemos juntos para encontrar a los demás!" Y/n let's put a small laugh that sounds wobbly from the hasty hand shake. Panchito soon pulled her off the floor to stand her up next to him. Both around the same height, the toon only inches taller than her. 

Y/n picked up the book and opened it once again. Flipping through the pages, some were blank and others were filled with different languages, and odd pictures, that Y/n  was pretty sure could explain something. 

"You were on the news this morning Panchito." Y/n closed the book and looked over at the rooster. He looked at her for a moment in confusion, before understanding what she said. 

"Oh yes! Ah. My poor feather." He turned his lower part to the side slightly to show her two of his auburn feathers. "One of the guards almost grabbed onto me. And they pulled my feather." He said. But he didn't seem too worried about the fact that he..indeed committed a crime. Or he probably did and he didn't seem to really care. 

"No. This is serious. They are looking for this book, for whatever reason." Y/n paced the room. Staring down at the leather black book. Panchito watched her with his arms by his side. 

"This doesn't make any sense. What is it that's in danger, and why does the government want this book so badly. It can't be just to put up in a museum." 

"We should find the others!" Panchito said, more of an announcement. Y/n turned back to him, he picked up the book once again, and grabbed Y/n's wrist before he started over to her room door to exit. But Y/n tugged her arm away. "Whoa--no."

He turned around with a puzzled expression as he looked at her. 

"No?"

"If you came from a different country, entirely different from where I am. What makes you think any other person would be in the same area here?" She asked. 

"Aha! Mi señora, I've sailed here. You can come with me, surely it's better than sitting here all day." He said. Y/n ignored the fact he assumed she slouched around all day, but she shook her head. 

"I can't just up and leave. Not out of state or the country-"

"Well maybe around town?"

"At 7PM? It's raining."

"Ah...you are very good with excuses!"

"I'm not m--no. We can't go anywhere. You're a fugitive now."

"But they don't know my face!"

"They have your feather. They can easily track you down with that simple thing of evidence called DNA. Or whatever they'll use to know who you are. But whatever it is. You're wanted. A wanted bird--"

"Oooh. I wonder if a bounty hunter will put money on my name. Son of a gun! I've always wanted that to happen to me, it'll be a brawl till we see gore!"

Y/n placed a hand on her face and rubbed her temple. 

"We. Can't. go--"

"Oh please. The rest are Toons! The rest of the team should be fairly simple to find. You were the hardest to track down, my friend."

"I'm the only person you tracked d-"

The book abruptly flew from Panchito's grips. Causing him to look down at his hands in surprisement. The book flew past Y/n. She quickly turned around and saw the book shot straight through the window. Shards of glass broke, the sound of glass breaking echoed. Cutting the two from their back and forth of bickering on what they should do next.

CRASSH--CRACK!

the book floated in the dark of night. A golden glow illuminated from the book. Panchito and Y/n stared at the book in awe and utter disbelief. What? What is it doing?

Soon. The book quickly dashed off, the only thing being seen was the erradecents of the glow, trailing down the street. It was a trail. 

"It's a trail…"  Y/n muttered slowly. 

"A trail! It's leading us somewhere!" Y/n grabbed her shoes and ran past Panchito. 

"Let's go!"

She stomped down the stairs, jogging over to the kitchen counter, she took the car keys her mother gave her, Y/n unlocked the front door and ran outside. Panchito followed in suit--obviously not forgetting to close the door behind him. 

The rain pelted at the two, but Y/n slipped in the car as well as Panchito--who took the passenger side. 

"See, things are working well in our favor." Panchito said with a smile. 

"Let's hope it actually leads us somewhere." Y/n said. Turning the keys in the ignition. And backing out of the driveway, before safely driving down the road. 

Unbeknownst of the two. A silhouette watched the car descent down the street. It's gaze looking over and landing on the window that was broken that the book had caused. 

-

The black double doors opened up to reveal Henry, who walked in the lobby, Annie was still on Duty, she gave a small nod to Henry with a smile, M/n was standing at the desk filling out paperwork. Too busy to really pay much attention to Henry. 

Over up on the 3rd floor. Was Bendy. He was still waiting for Henry to finish his work. Much to his luck. He was nowhere near finished. Sitting in one of the smaller meeting rooms to look out the window, he was sitting in a chair when he noticed. A glowing spark in the distance. He assumed it was a bright star despite the clouds covering up the majority of the stars in the sky. But, nevertheless. He opened up the window to take in the view of the odd star. But it got closer and closer. But the devil didn't seem to take much heed on it. 

He picked up noise at the bottom of the building. Causing him to gaze down and see figures hopping out of the car and into the building. But due to the lack of light because of the nightfall and being 2 stories up. He pushed that aside. 

But, almost immediately, something slammed into his face. He flew off the seat and onto the floor, rolling over in a few summersaults before landing on his back. A book pressed into his face. 

"...."

His tail twitched as he let out a painful wheeze from the harsh impact. He slowly raised a wobbly hand. And took the book off of his face. His dark eyes squinted at the leatherback book. 

"What….?"

-

Meanwhile, Panchito and Y/n were about to barge into the building. But Y/n skidded to a stop. Placing a hand out in front of Panchito, thankfully he stopped as well. He took a moment to examine the 5 storey building. The glass, the gray and black color scale, he was pulling from his examination by looking back at Y/n when she started to speak. 

"We can't just barge in. My mom works here. Plus. That'll give away we have the book." She said. Before quickly adding. "We also can't have you out in the opening, cops knowing your face now or not, we can't risk any thing.." Y/n stared at the glass door once moving over to the side where they wouldn't be seen. Panchito and Y/n stood under a lamp post. 

"We sneak." He gave out the idea with a grin slowly forming on his beak. Y/n stared at him for a moment. "Sneak in? There's at least 10 or so people in the lobby, this is a studio. We can't just walk in whenever we want." Y/n tried to dismiss the idea, she was rarely ever in the studio. Today was her first day, she didn't know the layout nor the where any room was located, it would be noticeably harder to navigate around the building to find the book. 

"Ah, every building has an emergency exit, chica."  He moved his eyebrows up and down, as if sending a hint towards the idea, even though basically stated it. 

She looked back at him. Well...of course! The backdoor!

"Oh. I forgot about the emergency exit."

"Thank me later, now, ¡Adelante!"

-

The exit sound that illuminated the dim area glistened and glamored, basically calling out the two to its glow. Panchito lifted a foot and shook his talon. The water from the puddle he stepped in. Flickered everywhere. Causing some of the water droplets to land on Y/n. She shielded her face and a small laugh came from her. 

"Now." He walked over to the door, and with swift motion, pushed it open, he walked in the building and held the door open for Y/n, who walked in. 

"Thank you." She said. Slowly trailing off, Y/n looked at their surroundings. Panchito did as well. The door slowly closed behind the two, it echoed down the hallway. A black carpet under their feet, soaking up the water and white walls. Though Panchito wasn't facing the direction Y/n was. He placed his hands on his hips. 

"Hm, odd. Muy extraño…" he muttered under his breath, looking at the emergency exit door. Y/n looked over her shoulder to Panchito before turning around to face the door as well. 

"What?" She asks him. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong. But--Is this door not supposed to work as an emergency system? Should it not have an alarm system?" He asks. Y/n stared at the door for a mere moment. 

"Now that you said something about it y-"

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

The two jumped at the sudden sound of the alarm going off. Three beeps would omit before going silent for a split second, before the 3 beeps would occur once again. 

"God-lee! I thought I fixed this damn thing!" A voice echoed from the hallway and set of footsteps. Y/n quickly turned around towards the stairwell where she saw a shadow of someone ascending down. 

"Here--" Panchito grabbed Y/n's wrist and quickly ushered her and himself over behind the staircase. Y/n quickly pressed her back towards the corner. Behind the stairwell, as Panchito stood in front of her. Though, curiously. He peeked from behind the staircase. Y/n didn't notice as she was busy dusting away her shirt from the dust invading the air. Obviously the emergency stairwell was neglected for cleaning. When she spotted Panchito peeking to look at the man. Y/n shuffled over as well. Peering under Panchito to look at the man. His back was turned. But he wore a gray button down, a few ink spots painted on the shirt. Jeans and boots. In his free hand, he held a mop. He obviously was the janitor. A head of brown slick hair, it only took a couple of smacks to the panel that operated the fire alarm for the emergency exit to stop abruptly with its beeping. 

Once the hallway went silent. He turned around, the two ducking back behind thr stairwell before they could be seen. Y/n couldn't get a glimpse of the man's name tag. Not that she really cared too. 

"I swear if that thing goes off one more time this week, I'm outta here.." He muttered back up to floor level. Listening to his footsteps ascend further away, and soon another door closing, echoing throughout the hall. The sound of water droplets hitting the concrete floor in the distance wherever in the hallway. As well as the AC that filled the odd ambience of the hallway. 

Soon Panchito and Y/n exited from behind the stairwell. 

"So much for a discreet plan." Y/n said before giving Panchito a sarcastic expression. But nevertheless, he only smiled. 

"We've made it inside the building, have we not?" He gave her a smile, which. He was right. At the end of the day, the two still made it in the building without getting caught. 

Y/n turned and started walking up the stairwell, Panchito following behind her. 

"Now we need to locate the book. It could be anywhere in this place. I saw it fly through a window but I couldn't catch what floor it was." Y/n went on, reaching the 3rd floor. Hearing Panchito's footsteps near her as she peered through the small window into the hallway, seeing a few doors were closed on the other side of the hallway, a few people walked down the hall to wherever they were going. The sound of muffled music emitted from down the hall, a tune that was vaguely from the early 40's. The room must have not been too far if the two could hear the cheers and singing. 

"Ooh--I love parties." Panchito pushed up the door, and immediately walked out of. Y/n quickly grabbed his tail feather and tugged on it to pull him back. 

"No! You'll get us caught!" She whispered to him hastily, Panchito cringed in pain at the tug, he whipped around and grabbed at her wrist. 

"¡Ah, cuidado con las plumas de la cola, chica!" Y/n couldn't understand what Panchito said, but she was glad it stopped him from wandering off. The two stood in the doorway of the now opened door in the empty hallway. 

"We can't just wander everywhere." She said. Panchito shuffled on his feet, he wanted to explore where the cheering was coming from,  but he stayed glued next to Y/n.

"Can we at least take a peek at the gathering?" He asks. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. "That's not giving us any answers--"

Just as she was about to more than likely prove Panchito wrong. A voice from the room a few doors down spoke up. 

"Hey! Henry, you finally made it. Where's Bendy?"

"He's in one of the meeting rooms, last I checked on him, he was reading. Oddly. He should be down soon."

Y/n and Panchito stared at each other, both seemingly trying to put two and two together. 

"Are you..?"

"I think we may be on the same page." Y/n finished, turning in the opposite direction to peer down the hall. "I'm taking a safe guess Bendy found the book, we just need to find him." Y/n said. Panchito hummed in thought. Placing a hand on his hip. 

"Bendy...you mean the--" he lifted his hands to the side of his head, lifting his index fingers to form two horns on the side of his head. Y/n looked at him, and the silly interpretation of the cartoon demon.  With a smile. She nods.

"Yes, him. Though, I don't know how many rooms are on this floor. So he'll be a bit tough to fi-"

The door from across from them opened. Revealing the demon, his eyebrows stitched together in a more perplexed and irritated expression. In his hand he held a book, the book! That was their book! Bendy was muttering under his breath, but abruptly stopped in his tracks and when he spotted Y/n and Panchito in the emergency exit. His slanted black pie cut eyes that were one resembling an angry and irritated expression. Immediately widened in surprise when he saw the two. Mostly towards Panchito as he had never seen him before. 

Y/n didn't expect to be seen so quick--which...wasn't much of a surprise as she wasn't an expert in sneaking in areas she wasn't supposed to be in. 

"Oh...Hey...Bendy.." Y/n smiled and lifted a waved. Panchito looked between the two.  

"Ah. A demon? I was thinking he was more of a bull." Panchito said. 

"I didn't know you were here today, I thought you went home." Bendy walked over to the two, but Y/n didn't want anyone to walk out and spot the two--mostly for Panchito's sake. 

"It's a long story, but. We need that--" Y/n pointed towards the book in his gloved hands. Bendy looked down at it. "Oh! This? I was just about to toss this away, it hit me in the face and--"

"Ah! It hit you? Well that--" Panchito was cut off when Y/n grabbed Panchito's jacket, pulling him back into the emergency stairwell. And closing the door quickly. Bendy looked at the two through the door in confusion. 

"Y/n! Can you believe it? We found the other, a bit less intimidating if you ask me, but nevertheless, he is a part of our equipo." Panchito hopped from one foot to the other, a small cheer. Y/n ran a hand through her hair and sighed. Bendy? Out of all people the book could have chosen. It chose the one person that worked in the same facility as her mother. What if he didn't take it well? What if he destroyed the book? What if he tells the cops about who had the book, which would not only get Panchito in trouble but also herself as she was literally helping the rooster out! 

Things she should have thought over, biting off more than what she could chew. 

Panchito noticed Y/n's distressed expression. He took a few steps towards her and placed a hand on her arm. 

"Ah, cariño, don't be stressed, all will work out fine, okay? Things are a bit sudden and bumpy,  but look! Two in one day!" He extended his arms and smiled. Y/n felt the corner of her lips stretch in a smile. Calming down and melting away the problems...for now. 

Looking over. Bendy was still standing outside the door. 

"Alright. We need a meeting then."

-

The three stared down at the leather book that was laying on the meeting table, it seemed now lifeless after flying through the neighborhood. 

“So…” Bendy removed his gaze from the book and to Y/n and Panchito. 

“Explain to me, what’s going on?” 

“I mean...I thought it would be self explanatory, a book just hit you in the face and you’re coming to me for answers?” Y/n muttered under her breath. Bendy only looked at her, at first with a blank expression, until he seemingly furrowed his ‘eyebrows’ 

Deciding on to stop fooling around and actually try to get to the bottom of the raising questions, Y/n glanced over at Panchito. Who was looking at Bendy, more curiously than anything else. 

“This book, we talked about it this morning.” Y/n said, turning to look back at Bendy. Bendy’s expression softened before a look of realization appeared on his face, his black pie-cut shaped eyes looked over at Panchito, who noticed the demon looking at him, Panchtio smiled and waved. 

“He had the book--or--stole it.” Y/n said, motionion towards Panchito, he only frowned, turning to face towards Y/n and crossing his arms. 

“No! Why must you say I steal? I never steal, I simply took something that didn’t belong where it was.” Panchito dropped the last sentence to a mumble, almost as if sleepily saying it. Y/n only turned her gaze back to Bendy. 

“Either way, that’s the book, it flew away, because it’s looking for people that revolve around the book, or the..prophecy. I know this sounds far fetched and crazy, and...illegal? Bu-”

“I’ve been hit in the face by a flying book, I don’t think anything we’re about to discuss is too out of this world.” Bendy said. He picked the book up and once again examined it. His gloved fingers feeling the texture of the leather book against his fingers. 

“Well, apparently...the book only opens up to people that are a part of the book, it opened for me and Panchito, and I’m assuming that if it flew to you and tracked you down, you’re the next member to...whatever..this is.” She motions towards the three of them. Panchito then nods, raising a hand to interject. 

“Indeed! Y/n, is the only human that can access the book, as it says in the wordings of the book, the rest are toons. In all. There are eight of us.”

“8?” Bendy repeats, he seemed surprised by the number, his tail slowly lifting up. Panchito nods once again. 

“Sí, señor--”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Bendy interrupts Panchito. Waving a hand slightly, Bendy closes his eyes to think for a mere moment. He raises a pointer finger before looking between Y/n and Panchito. 

“Why..exactly is the book looking for people, how would we find the rest of the team? I would ask why exactly us specifically are involved around this, but I can tell, I won’t get a good answer from that, but that’s besides the point,  but why is Y/n the only human involved in this, and what exactly is it that’s...bad for this thing to try and suddenly wake up and choose heroes for whatever reason?” Bendy lifts up the book slightly. Y/n listened to him, but she had no answer on her because...well she didn’t know, for the most part, those were the same questions she was internally asking herself! 

So, she turned her head to look over at Panchito. Who with no problem, took the lead in asking. 

“The book leads us to the people it is looking for, why and what it is that it’s warning us about, I do not know! Why us specifically? I also can not tell you, because I don’t know.” He said. Bendy looked back at the book. Y/n motioned towards it, having a small hunch of one of the questions.

“When I touched the book...I guess in a way, signed it, as if taking my signature, which I guess signaled it that I was found, maybe if you touch the book as well it’ll do the same for you.” Y/n said. Bendy opened the book, the golden light that was one seen before escaped from the crevices of the book, The debri sparkles floating from the pages. Bendy’s eyes widen in bewilderment and surprisement. The three stared down at the book, the golden glow illuminating from their faces. 

Bendy had opened up on a blank paper, soon, his eyebrows furrowed yet again.

“It’s blank. I don’t---I don’t think it works for me.” He said before deadpanning. Looking between the two as if they were pulling his leg. Y/n could only shrug slowly. Panchito waved his hand and spoke. “Nonsense. As said, the book only opens for people that are chosen, it’s like a safe, and only the chosen people are the code to it, my friend, if it opened up for you, you are with us.” Panchito then rose his gloved hand, showing his palm. 

“Ahora, place your hand on the page.” He told Bendy, Bendy did as told, holding the book with his left hand, and placing his right palm on the blank paper, soon, the golden light traced around his hand, similar to what it did for Y/n’s. Bendy soon lifted a hand up, seeing his hand printed labeled the paper in ink. The same ink soon scrawled a name above the hand print. 

‘Bendy’ 

“Dear me…” Bendy whispered slowly, flipped a page quickly to the next, One that Y/n had yet to discover, though it was written all in a language she couldn’t understand, but pictures were drawn in what seemed to be red and black pigment paint on the beige paintings. Similar to how cave paintings were drawn. Panchito and Y/n moved closer to get a better look at the pictures, Bendy tilting the book so the three of them could examine it. 

On the first page was a picture of 12 people in all, they all seemed to be jumping towards the 8 black figures, the black figures had white thin slanted angles, as if resembling resentful and angry eyes.  Looking over to the next page, it showed the 8 black figures once again, One stood out from the 8, standing in front of the group, a lanky figure, but...really considering the fact that it was in all black, the features weren’t exactly too noticeable. But the picture had a lot going on, the 8 figures were hovering above what seemed to be a city, with figures of red pigment running away  in fear, it seemed the 8 black figures were terrorizing the people, Bendy turned to yet another page, on the page the 12 blue figures were standing next to each other, one vaguely similar to a human and the rest had the exaggerated details of toons. 

“I think you two have the wrong idea.” Bendy said, it took Y/n a moment to look away from the book. Glancing at Bendy who looked between Panchito and Y/n.  

“There aren’t 8 of us, there’s 12 of us.” He said. Y/n scoffed. 

“Twelve?! That will take years to find twelve different people. He--” She jabbed a thumb over to Panchito, pointing at him.

“Came from Mexico to find us, god knows wherever the others are located, we’re basically split apart. Eight people? Yeah, that seemed like a reasonable number, but twelve? No. I’m out.” Y/n crossed her arms, a scavenger hunt for now, 9 other people? Who were the even up against, it pretty much seemed like a suicicde job already, a stolen book, a wanted rooster, a telltale book that’s some sort of warning for some odd future armageddon. Red flags were everywhere! 

Bendy closed the book and straightened his posture. 

“Whoa, whoa. What do ya’ mean you’re out? This--” He lifts up the book slightly.

“This is our guide, our time to do right and-gosh. I assume it will stop something from happening that will be a problem to--oh, I don’t know. All of mankind! You’re a part of this as much as Panchito and I.” Bendy says. Panchito nods firmly in agreement, taking a step forward and standing next to the demon.

 “¡Sí! He is right, chica! We all have to stick together.” 

Y/n looked between the two, her eyebrow twitched slightly before furrowing. 

“Are you serious? Do we look like the Justice League or something?” 

Panchito actually took a moment to think.

“I was thinking more along the lines of--” 

Y/n shook her head, dismissing Panchito’s thought to her rhetorical question. “It doesn't matter. But think about the danger we could be in, Bendy, you have shows to star in, you can’t just go missing to play superhero for...lord knows how long, and Panchito--”

“Actually.” Bendy cut her off, taking a few steps towards her before standing next to her.

“I’ve been meaning to take a vacation off, toots. Thanks for that advice though,  real sweet of ya. But, we have things to do, now I don’t mind dragging you around if need be.” He smiled sweetly at her. Y/n deadpanned. 

“That’s not funny.” 

“This is serious talk Y/n, the world as we know it might be at stake.” Bendy motions around their area. 

“Might be. It’s more than likely not a serious call, this stupid old book is probably broken.” Y/n flicks the book with the tip of her fingers in Bendy’s hand. Panchito suddenly appeared behind the two, wrapping an arm around Bendy’s and Y/n’s shoulders. Pulling them flushed against his sides.

“My friends! Think of this this way, endless possibilities and adventures, don’t you all want to feel the rush of the wind as we take off to go solve this mystery?” He looks between the two, letting the two go. A bright yet determined smile on his beak, he seemed to run from adrenaline, a wild hearted toon that yearned for wild things, to him this was exciting, brand new. Exhilarating! 

Bendy looks at Panchito and then to Y/n. “See? He’s in, and I am too.” Bendy placed his gloved hand in the middle, his palm facing downward. Panchito hopped up and down quickly.

“Ay caramba! ¡Yo también quiero participar! I am certainly in!” He placed a hand on top of Bendy’s, Bendy’s smile widened before both he and Panchito looked at Y/n, who had her arms crossed, a sour expression written on her face, although it was much of a facade, she did...want to join. Not only was it a chance to finally do something productive--if she would even call it that. But she would break down the mystery of all that’s going on. As detective Droopy would say. The why, the when, and the where? She thinks it...it..wouldn’t hurt, they technically aren't breaking the law by wielding a book that is being searched for, not when it was for a good reason? Right? 

“Come on...you know you want to.” Bendy mischievous tone interrupts her. Y/n sighed slowly. Placing a hand on top of Panchito’s who once again excitedly smiled at her. 

“Fine. I’m in too. If one of us is wanted, then we all are.” She said. Bendy smiled and let out a boisterous. 

“And if one of us dies, we all die together! Oath!” 

“Oath!”

“Oa-wait no--” 

But the three already tossed their hands up, taking the oath that Y/n was too late to decline for. Bendy could tell she was about to say something, but he only smiled and walked back over to the meeting table. 

“Now, let’s see where the next one is!” 

-

Annie was back at the front desk, seated in the chair scrolling through her phone to pass the time as the studio would be running late since Henry was back in the building. Soon, a figure walked through the door. Wearing a heavy black trench coat, the finest coat in town it seemed, the water droplets from the rain stuck to the trench coat, the black boots tapping yet squeaking on the linoleum floor, A black fedora tilted down, covering the face of the man, who stopped directly in front of the receptionist desk. Annie took notice, and she gazed up, turning off her phone and placing it on the desk, she stood up and smiled. 

“Hello, what may I do for you today?” She asks. The man was silent for a moment.

“It’s me you dingus, I just sent you in here.” The voice was a husky yet deep voice. The blue eyes piercing at the lady.  Soon Annie lost her posture, slouching slightly. Her voice changed, turning several octaves, a shrill and jagged voice emitted from her. 

“Oh right, I don’t see why ya’  didn’t just walk in, the broad wasn’t even around, no one woulda’ suspect a thing.” Annie’s body morphed in and quickly dropped to the ground, only leaving a shadow that quickly zipped out of the receptionist desk, stopping right next to the man. Soon a short figure morphed into what could assemble a toon shadow. Only standing around half the height of the man. 

“Go find the book. And take it.” The man ordered the shadow. The shadow stood stiff as a board before quickly saluting the man.

“Yes sir!” And soon, it zipped away, only seeming like a shadow on the floor zipping across the room. The man looked forward, only to look back over to his side when he saw the shadow zipped right back to him. The shadow sheepishly nudging the tip of its foot to the ground.

“Ah, who has the book again?” 

“The girl and those two other idiots you fool!” 

“Ah! On it!” 

And once again the shadow zipped away. The man muttered under his breath shaking his head in annoyance,

“I don’t even know why I even deal with those two idiots…” He muttered. Soon, lifting a hand and pressing a hidden black button on the color of his trench coat jacket. 

“Zot, come in. Zip just left to find the book. Is the toon still with you?” The man spoke into the two way radio. 

-

From outside the two way radio reached to a black van, from inside thumping was heard, as if someone was hitting the inside of the van. Sitting in the driver seat was another stout shadow like toon, it’s blank eyes were closed, feet propped up on the steering wheel, he was asleep. Snoring ever so slightly, until he heard his commander speak on the radio. The static picking up the man in the trench coats voice. 

“Zot, come in. Zip just left to find the book. Is the toon still with you?”

Zot--as he was referred to. Flinched quickly got up once hearing the voice. Quickly taking the walkie talkie, as it almost slipped from his hands multiple times. Zot soon spoke. 

“Yes sir! The lil’ guy is still back there.”  Zot stood up in his seat, placing a hand on the metal peephole slider, sliding it over and revealing a black abyss that was the back of the van. 

“Hey...where’d he go…?” Zot muttered. Clenching the eye he wasn’t using as his blank white optic stare hardened to try and find the toon. 

PPPPPFFFT!!

The droplets of saliva fell in his eye, causing Zot to flinch back and his head to hit the steering wheel. 

Honk!

The air horn went off at the touch of the shadow toons head on the wheel. Zot quickly got up. Lifting a hand and flicking a button on the roof of the van. The lights came on in the back of the vam, where the hostage toon was located. 

“Nice try, bunny.” Zot scoffed. 

From the other side of the van. Sat a black and white rabbit, with blue trousers. His pie cut shaped eyes slanted, his arms crossed tighty. 

“I’m a rabbit! For your information.” 

“Same thing.” 

This rabbit was known as Oswald the Lucky rabbit. A peculiar and mischievous character. Zot laughed and then sat back down in his seat. 

“What’s the matter rabbit boy? Your luck is not much of a help? Seems like you’re runnin’ out of it.” Zot placed his feet back onto the steering wheel. Oswald got up. His ears slowly rose as he stared at the peephole. 

“My luck is very much accurate, and good. Thank you very much..” He said. Zot only hummed in acknowledgment. 

“Whatever you say. Boss’ll get that book, and the next thing you know, his plan will be in full action.”

“Where’s the book?” Oswald asks, leaning near the peephole. Zot motioned towards the building, that Oswald couldn’t see.

“The building. Don’t get your tail in a twist, you’ll see it soon.” 

-

“Okay, let’s see what this bad boy will do…” Bendy places the book on the table. And opened it yet again. The book once again opened, the golden glow escaping from the pages, illuminating the room with its warm glow. Soon, the pages started to flip quickly, turning towards the middle of the book, a world map was located on the page. 

“A map?” Y/n squints at the paper. 

“Well, amigos. It is a map, perhaps it will help lead us to our next destination.” Panchito said, reaching over and flipping the page. At first the next page was blank, until an ink sketch of the U.S. was drawn. The ink splitting up to draw down the states in the country. 

One state was completely covered in blank, as it marked. Or, targeted. 

“Oregon?” Y/n whispered. Bendy looked closer to the paper with squinted eyes. Near the coast of Oregon, a red down bled through, as if marked by a dot. Bendy could mesmerize exactly where exactly to go.

“Duckburg.” He said. Y/n and Panchito looked at him. Though, Y/n hadn’t said anything yet. A quick look of realization quickly took over his face.

“Ah!  ¡Oh, sí! ¡Oh, sí! ¡Oh, sí! ¡Qué buen trato! ¡Estoy muy emocionado! ¡Mi amigo, mi honorable amigo! Donal'” He screamed and yelled in passion of excitement. Hopping up and down, his arms wrapping around Y/n, causing her to hop around with him. But she placed her arms on his forearms.

“Wait! Wait! Panchito, calm down!” She said. Which he listened to her, coming to a halt, he removed himself from her. His tail feathers frantically frizzing up.  

Bendy turned away from the book and turned to look at Panchito.

“I’m assuming you know someone from down there?” He asks. Panchito quickly nods.

“Yes! My blood! My friend! A true gentleman he is! His name is Donal’ A bit of a stubborn bull, but--by god, isn’t he one adventurous duck!” Panchito said. He spoke with such passion about his friend. Bendy pie cut shape eyes were slanted slightly, he was thinking who Panchito could be referring to by the name of...Donal’. Until Panchito finished his sentence with ‘duck’

Bendy quickly perked up.

“Duck? As in, Donald Duck? Sailor wearing, Donald Duck?” Bendy asks. Panchito nods quickly with a smile. Y/n heard of the duck. Obviously. He wouldn’t. But oddly enough, he didn’t live in the city of Hollywood L.A. like most notorious toons did, such as Bendy. And hearing Panchito knew and was friends with Donald Duck, made her curious. 

“You know Donald Duck?” Y/n asks Panchito--who once again nods.

“Yes! We are very close friends, we have been friends for years! I also have another friend, that sly malandro he is! His name is José Carioca! A-”

“Perfect! This is perfect!” Bendy extended his arms and looked at the two. 

“A much easier way to get to the toon, all we need is to leave for Oregon, Duckburg, and that’ll be 4 of us when we get Donald.” He says. Panchito tails quickly ruffled as he shuffled on his feet in excitement. 

“I can’t just leave home and tell my mom, ‘hey, I’m leaving to a state that’s 10 hours away, to save the world.’ Plus, how will we get there?” She asks. Bendy chuckles, pointing a thumb to his bow tie. 

“Leave it to Bendy, I got a plan that’ll let you go, plus. You have a car don’t you? How’d you get here? Or did you walk all the way in the rain?” 

“I drove my dad's car, and no. We’re not using his car to drive.” She then looked over at Panchito, who still was a bit excited with the mention of his friend.  

“And we can’t ride a plane. Not with him and knowing he’ll be on the lookout for, we need to be as inconspicuous as possible. We can’t risk getting caught in a way.” Y/n said. 

“I hear ya’ loud and clear sweetheart, We’ll just take Henry’s car, he rarely uses it anyway, and usually hands it to me and Boris whenever we need places to go.” He said. Y/n nods with a small smile.

“Well we have that, I need to find a way to influence my mom to let me go..”

“Like I said. I got it, I gots the talks, looks and…” Bendy tried to think of another attribute before Panchito butted in.

“Style.” He said. Bendy smiled in gratitude at Panchito. 

“Indeed, Thank you.”

“Ahahaha! Yeah! But you don’t have the brains!” A shrilly voice cackled. Y/n, Bendy, and Panchito looked at eachother, puzzled expressions etched on their faces. Soon, the voice spoke up yet again.

“Over here you idiots!” The three quickly looked over to the opened window that Bendy left open when the book collided into his face. Zip--the shadow was standing in the frame, holding the book above his head as if showcasing a trophy. 

“Oh mamá..” Panchito muttered. Bendy quickly patted himself down and looked around to see if the book they had was still present, making sure that the book wasn’t actually taken. Once seeing it was indeed the book the shadow had in its hand, his tail dropped to the ground. 

“Well, I think I can confess where I went wrong--” 

“Hey! Give it back!” Y/n ran towards the window, once getting closed she outretcted her arms in an attempt to grab at the book, but the shadow quickly ducked down and zipped down the building, with the book in town, down straight to the first level. 

“No!--”

“Who was that?!” Bendy looked at Panchito, to see if he had any answers, but the mexican rooster only shrugged frantically. “¡No lo sé!” Panchito said. Bendy quickly ran over to the door and opened it, revealing Henry standing at the doorway, but he was busy looking towards the side--talking someone pass by to notice, Y/n and Panchito in the room. Bendy’s tail stiffened, he quickly slammed the door with a loud.

‘SLAM!’

Henry flinched at the sudden door slamming, the wind from the door slamming slightly moved his hair. He gave the door a questioning look. 

“Bendy? Are you okay in there? We all heard you shouting.” 

Henry’s worried muffled voice emitted from the door. Bendy pushed Panchito into a nearby filing cabinet storage, slamming the door in his face and quickly locking it with the spare key that was in the room. Hiding the key in his glove before he turned over to Y/n who was quickly trying to find a place to hide, but there weren't many places to hide in a meeting room that only had a table and chairs. With the adrenaline rushing from the fact someone stole the book and getting caught to Henry Stein himself only made her overwhelmed. She peeked out the window once again, and noticed a black van. The shadow that took the book was standing next to two others, a man in a trench coat was opening the back of the van. 

“Yeah! I am completely fine, you know, I’ve been losing my voice lately, so--I was doing voice exercise and whatever--”  Bendy said, grinning at the door.

“I smell a lie, maybe he’s destroying stuff again.” Stated a new voice from behind the door, another worker from in the studio. Bendy seemed offended by the accusation--which was partially true, but still! 

“Shut up, Sammy.” a female voice piped up. Ah, Alice Angel. From what it seemed, most of the main coworkers were in front of the door. 

Y/n was still peering through the window. Watching. Soon, the man in the trenchcoat pulled out a toon from the van, a rabbit--gripping him by his ears. The rabbit flailed his feet in anger and irritation, distant shouts  from the rabbit, clearly showed distress. 

-

“Hey! Let me go! Hey--watch the ears!” Oswald shouts, flailing his feet. The man in the trench coat ignored Oswald, before looking over at Zip, Zip lifted up the book to Oswald’s heights due to the man having a grip on the rabbits ears. 

“Open the book.” The man ordered. Oswald crossed his arms. 

“No.” 

“Open it. Now.” 

“Do it, yourself.”

“We can’t, duh. That’s why we have you.” Zot said. Oswald only swung and his foot hit Zot square in his face. Sending the shadow toon back and hitting the ground, falling into a puddle. Luckily, the rain had subsided. 

“I.Said.No!!!” 

The man in the trench coat, slowly looked up, over towards the building. Locking eyes with Y/n. 

“Get that girl.” He ordered. Zip looked up once again towards Y/n, who was still looking, not breaking down...or what they thought. Zip dropped the book on Zot, causing the shadow toon to groan yet again. 

Zip soon zipped off yet again towards the building. 

-

“Are you going to join the party with us?” Henry asks through the door. Standing beside him was, Sammy Lawrewnce, the well kept yet stubborn and easily aggravated music composer, head director in the studio, next to him was M/n, Alice Angel. Everyone’s favorite sweet angel, and Boris, Bendy’s loving best friend, standing next to Bendy, was Normon Polk the southern worker in the studio. Normon chuckled and nudged Sammy. 

“He’s hidin’ somethin’.” Norman said. Sammy rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, I bet. Bendy, stop joking. Come on, we breaked our ass putting this party together, let’s go or I’m busting in.” He said.

On the other side of the door, Bendy only laughed through his teeth. 

“Oh, Sammy you tease! You get me everytime, would you hide already?” Bendy turned to Y/n, muttering the last part to her, Y/n quickly turned around towards Bendy.

“There’s a person, with a coat--and-he-and--he had a toon, th-”

“Surprise!” Zip suddenly appeared in the frame of the window yet again, grabbing the hood of Y/n’s jacket, snatching her out of the room, the girl didn’t have enough time to react, as she was suddenly dragged out the window. Feeling the floor below her disappear. She could see Bendy quickly try to grab onto her foot, but by an inch he missed.

“Y/n!” He shouts. 

“Y/n?” M/n said from the other side of the door. Bendy realized his error and quickly slammed the door closed, cursing under his breath before and rushed over to the door.

“I mean! I-Yes! Y/n, oh--I miss her so much, our meeting today was just so wonderful--you know, M/n, I miss her so much, I believe both me and Y/n should go on a trip--” He started, he took the key back out of his glove, frantically crawling over the meeting table, sliding papers out of the way and almost falling onto the floor, but, he made it back over to the filing cabinet, where he quickly pulled Panchito back out. 

“A trip?” M/n said. Sammy nudged her. 

“Don’t even buy into it.” Sammy said. Annie suddenly appeared once hearing the conversation about a trip. “I love trips, the young lady should get out of the house more.” Annie said. This actually made M/n think for a moment. Well..yes, Y/n was 18, able to do what she pleased. 

Back on the other side of the door, Bendy turned Panchito around and grabbed the lasso that was hidden behind his feathers that he almost hadn’t noticed--luckily earlier he did. As doing so, he reached into the filing cabinet and took another set of rope---that oddly was in the cabinet, but he took it and lifted it to his horn, cutting off a small amount to make the lasso longer. He spoke as he did so; “Yes, I was thinking Oregon, you know. Tomorrow, me and her. I promise that nothing bad will happen, you know I myself needed a break too, and Y/n is such a great person! Though M/n I think maybe I should talk to you first about it.”  

“You know, Y/n does need some time out away from home! I’ll tell her when I get home!” M/n smiled. Sammy scoffed. “What? Are you serious?” 

“Who’s Y/n?” Alice muttered to Boris. Boris only shrugged in response. 

“Well, we’ll be in the next room where the party is, join us whenever--come on guys.” Henry ushered everyone away from the door. Sammy scolded M/n, as Annie was defending why Y/n should leave the house. Once Bendy knew they were away, he quickly rushed over to the window window and flung it open. Panchito looked around frantically. 

“Where is Y/n?”

“That thing took her.” Bendy said, he soon heard a shout, looking off across the parking lot--which was empty--it was an old parking lot, that was never used, and he could see the van that Y/n was talking about, Y/n was dangling in the air, the shadow toon held her by her hood. 

Panchito noticed, and was the first to speak up.

“Hey! Put her down you scoundrel!” He shouts. 

Oswald looked up and saw Zip had a hold of the girl he saw peeking from the window.  The man in the trenchcoat growled.

“Zip! Take the girl away and get rid of her!” He shouts. Zip looked down at the man, Zot looked up at Zip, they were distracted. Oswald quickly swung his body, and flipped, his feet ramming right in the man's face, the man in the trench coat lost grip of the rabbit's ears. Causing Oswald to land on his feet perfectly. Zot quickie looked over at Oswald, his white eyes widening at the fact the rabbit got loose from his boss. Oswald quickly rammed into Zot, causing the shadow to fall to the ground back into the puddle. Oswald grabbed the book and with all his strength tossed it towards Zip, the book hit the flying shadow toon, causing him to drop Y/n, who yelped and felt her body freefall towards the concrete. Oswald quickly ran over towards where he suspected she would fall. 

“I gotcha sweetheart!” Soon, Y/n landed in his arms. Oswald smiled at Y/n, who was shivering from almost thinking she was about to die. 

“Thank you.” Y/n quickly said. Oswald smiled in return and nodded before placing her on the ground. The book started to fall towards the ground once again, in the building. Panchito grabbed the lasso and hopped onto the frame of the window. 

“¡Sube, amigo!” Pancito said. He swung a loop of the lasso and tossed it out the window where it wrapped around a nearby lamppost.Tightening his grip, Bendy hopped on the window as well, grabbing to the rope as well, and without hesitation Panchito pushed off the building, sending the two swinging across the parking lot, growing closer to the book, Panchtio spoke to Bendy, shouting above the wind.

“The book! Grab the book!” He shouts. Bendy took notice of the book that was nearing the ground, and just with the nick of time, he grabbed the book. 

“Get them!” The man in the trench coat shouts in anger.

“Y/n!” Panchito extends an arm for Y/n to grab onto. Y/n looked at Oswald and quickly took his arm. 

“Grab on.” She told the rabbit. Once the two grew closer, Oswald jumped up and grabbed onto the rope near Bendy, and Y/n hopped up, Panchito grabbed onto Y/n, wrapping an arm around her waist, as Y/n tightly held onto the rope, the wind traveling and hitting the 4 of them, Y/n couldn’t help but smile, feeling the bits of rain hit her face and the wind made her feel as if she were on a coaster, the rope was so long, and they had so much momentum that they made it out of the parking lot, the many lights of the cars driving down the street of L.A. caused Y/n to watch in awe. 

“Wow! You’re good at this!” Bendy shouts to Panchito over the wind. Panchito only smiles. 

“Oh no, this is my first time! I lasso bulls and horses.”

“Wait what?” 

Soon, the four were abruptly jerked back, the rope ran out and Panchito lost his grip on the rope, seeing he was the main support, everyone abruptly fell, luckily they were above a building that was across the street.

“Oof!” Y/n fell onto her side, her hip hitting the ground harshly. Bendy had fallen on top of a vent, the cage breaking and he soon fell into the vent.

“Aah!” The bumping and the echoing of his sudden scream trailed down the vent wherever he was heading. 

“Bendy!” Y/n groaned, she quickly got up the stinging pain of her side itched in irritation. Panchito fell somewhere near her. But he quickly shot up, looking around for his sombrero, once he found it behind him, he dusted it off and placed it back on his head. 

“Ahaha! Ay caramba! That was amazing, chica,  mi amor, you might be better at adventuring than Donal’, not many people can perfect hopping onto an ongoing rope!” 

Soon, a scream was heard and then a loud; THUD! CRASH!

The two quickly turned around and saw Oswald, who quickly stood up in a hurry to take buket off from his face. Angry slurs emitted from the bucket, but they were incoherent. Oswald finally took off the buck and almost immediately hurled it off the roof. Another crash was heard and then the sound of a car alarm going off.

“I have had enough! This can’t be!” He shouts at the top of his lungs. His ears flattening against his head. 

“My luck! It’s gone! It’s gone! It’s gone! IT’S GONE!” He hurled a foot back and kicked another bucket away. 

Y/n and Panchito stared at Oswald. Panchito looked at Y/n and with his index finger, twirled a finger around the side of his head. 

“Loco.”  He whispered to her. Y/n didn’t utter a word to the rabbit...maybe..there was a reason he was in that van. No, that’s crazy. Those...shadow toons, the man in the trench coat, they wanted to book, they had to be some sort of bad guy to them, but why did they want the rabbit? 

Oswald had his clinched closed, suddenly, his hostile demeanor diminished rather quickly before he turned around and looked at the two with a smile.

“I’m sorry, I’ve-You see I’ve been held hostage for about...four. Five days now.”  He said, walking over to the two and then standing in front of them.  

“Why?” Y/n asked.

“Trench Coat, fella’ wants to use me as a key to open the book for him for..whatever plan he has, I was his key basically after he figured that I was--as he claimed--one of the chosen people for the book that will only open for select people.” He said. He...he was the 4th one. 

“We...have the book because it opens for us.” Y/n said, pointing to herself and Panchito. Oswald's eyes widened.

“Wh-I’ve been searching for at least one person high and low for years and you two found each other how long ago?” 

“Oh, we all met each other today! Ah, and we met you, the new addition,” Panchito said. Oswald seemed astonished. Panchito smiled.

“I know, crazy, I guess you don’t have much luck huh?” He blindly said...but it seemed to Y/n, Panchito purposely said it. Nudging him, Y/n spoke up. 

“Yes, there’s actually 3 of us a---oh fu---Bendy fell in the building, I forgot!” Y/n looked at the two.

“He has the book, we have to get in there.”

“Oh-wait wait, My name is Oswald, I was thinking since we’ll be working together from now on I would introduce myself.” He said, reaching a hand out. Panchito was the first to grab onto the rabbits hand and shake quickly.

“Hello, friend! My name is Panchito.” Panchtio then looked over at Y/n. 

“And my name is Y/n.” 

“Very well, now. Let’s go.”

-

Pushing open the double doors opened, two black boots stepped into the room that was filled with the smell of cigarettes, booze, the sound of biker rock music echoing through the establishment of the bar, the dim golden lights brought a warm glow. The people in the bar paid no mind to the newcomer. The man in the trenchcoat walked passed the table of the two men arm wrestling the man on the left lost, his hand hitting the table, the bear glass cups fell to the floor and shattered due to the sudden impact, the man who won laughed and cheered in victory. The man in the trench coat clicked his tongue and shook his head. 

Bendy hid behind a wooden pillar that the man walked by, gripping the book close to his chest. 

“Hello sir, what can I get for ya.” The bartender said. The man in the trench coat sat down on a stool Placing his forearms on the table. 

“Whisky on rocks.” He replied. The man nodded before turning away to make the drink. Bendy had peered from around the pillar, seeing the man was seemingly distracted. He turned around slowly and with all his might, tried to sneakily sneak through the front door.  But the man with the trench coat quickly, with the speed of lightning, tossed something to his side without batting Bendy an eye. 

THUNK!

The sound of a knife wedging into wood caused Bendy to immediately stop walking. Above him, between his horns, a pocket knife was embedded in the wood of the pillar. Bendy’s tail immediately dropped to the floor, before he turned around to face the man. A strained smile pulled onto his face. 

Soon, the two doors burst open, Panchito rolled through the doors somersaulting, landing on his right knee as he supported himself with his left foot. He pulled out the two pistols from his holster and aimed them towards no one in particular.

“Alright, hands in the air, now!” He shouts. Bendy noticed a red bandanna wrapped around Panchito’s face. The people in the bar immediately stopped speaking and looked over towards the door towards Panchito. Bendy looked at Panchito as well. Oswald walked through the door as well, and soon, Y/n entered as well. Mostly hesitantly. 

It was a part of the plan, creating a distraction. Soon, the man with the trenchcoat only squinted his eyes at the odd group. And soon, he snapped his fingers, and the two shadow toons jolted from a shadow of another person from the bar, creating two lanky and stout toon, Zip and Zot that the four saw several minutes ago. 

Panchito finally got a good glimpse of the two components, and stood up straight.

“Ah, what short fellows! So cute.”

“Cute!?” Zip exclaims, he soon shot towards Oswald quickly and tackled him to the ground. Scratching at the rabbits face like a rabid dog.

“Ow! Oh my--why me! Ow! Get it off!!!” Oswald screams. Y/n cupped her face from anyone, as if not wanting to seem like she was associated with the three toons. Soon, Oswald yelps to Panchito.

“Get on with the plan already! Oh dear!!” 

“Right! Hey you!” Panchito looked over at the two arm wrestlers. One man placed a hand on his chest as if saying; ‘Who me?’

“Yes, you. Your friend hates the way you compete with him, he said you smell like a bag of rotten onions.” Panchito said. The man gasped and looked at his arm wrestling component.

“Oh yeah?! Well how about this!” The man hurled a punch towards the man, the man fell to the ground, blood spraying from his nose, he lifted a hand up to feel the blood on his fingers, before looking at the man that hit him. 

“...”

“AAAAAH!” Soon the bar started fighting, tossing glass, chairs, tables, and all. A bar fight! Immediately Oswald pushed Zip off of him, the rabbit got up quickly, Bendy rushed over, holding the book in his hands. 

“What’s up with the guns?”

“Dramatic effect.” Panchito says. 

“Let’s get out of here, guys.” Y/n said, turning around to open the door, but the door was immediately opened up, standing in the doorway, were three toons, the three wore the same shirt, cap and pants.

“Beagle Boys..” Oswald hissed as he held his eye closed that was scratched. 

“Oh please. No need to worry about them,  excuse us sirs, we will be on our way.” Panchito stood in front of the group protectively.

But, they didn’t listen to him. Instead they pushed Oswald and Panchito over slightly. Looking over at Bendy, who was holding the book. One of the beagle boys rose a buff arm, Y/n almost a; ‘cl clink’ as if they were cocking a gun, and with all their might, sent a punch to Bendy, hitting him in the face, and like in any other cartoon and the toon he was, sent him flying across the room, loud crashes and shouts echoed, Y/n yelped and turned around and saw Bendy’s feet hanging out of a wall that he broke through from the strong impact. 

Steam emitted from the beagle toons fist, and all it took was one blow, to blow away the steam as if it were a gun. 

“Bendy!” Y/n shouts. She watched him shakily and slowly remove himself from the wall, she saw stars and birds flying around his head as he stumbled back and forth, a dazed look on his face as he held a finger up as if he were about to speak, but he soon fell to the ground. 

Panchito, Oswald and Y/n looked back at the beagle boys, Panchito’s narrowed his eyes and immediately got into a stance to fight. 

“¡¿Pusiste tus manos sobre mi amigo?!” He shouts. 

“Let’s get 'em all.” Said one beagle boy. But a new voice piped in. 

“Leave the girl to me, boys.” a female sultry voice emits, the beagle boys stepped to the side to reveal...a duck toon. Short silky black hair, a black blouse and black pants. Her dark eyes pierced into Y/n’s e/c eyes. 

“Eliminate them. We have what we need.” The man in the trench coat stood behind them all, holding the book. 

“And don’t kill the rabbit, we still need him. Bring him to me when you all finish them off.” He said as he turned and walked off, waving a hand the emergency door opened before he left the building with the book! No one in the bar cared for the fact off the man in the coat, but much rather they were still fighting. 

“No, the book!” Oswald tugged his ears in stress. Soon, the female duck walked closer to the group. Panchito moved his gaze to her. 

“Magica..” Oswald said yet another name. Y/n was...who was that? Who were the beagle boys?! Were they working for that odd man in the trench coat?! 

“Sorry, not hear to talk, have to do my job.”  

Immediately, one of the beagle boys launched at Panchito, Panchito was quick to back away, grabbing onto broken wooden plank and swinging it, hitting the beagle’s face, Oswald did the same, instead he picked up a beer bottle hitting the beagle boy with the glass, which broke into shards from the compact.

Y/n had her focus on the Magica women. 

“Alright, show me what you got.” Magica said. Y/n quickly found a stance, her gaze focusing on the duck. Magica threw a punch towards Y/n, with surprising good speed, Y/n moved away from the fist, in an attempt to throw a punch as well, Magica quickly raised a hand and Y/n’s hand froze in midair. 

“Wha-” Y/n tried to throw another punch with the other arm, but Magica did the same with that arm, Y/n finally took notice, the duck was more than likely wielding some sort of powers...hinting towards her name..

Magica lifted a foot, and immediately kicked Y/n in her torso, the girl fell down, hitting the wood floor, falling on top of glass shards and other debris. Groaning at the impact, Y/n made a painful expression, feeling the sore on her torso, the wind knocked from her. Magica took a knife from the counter, she grabbed Y/n by the collar of her shirt, lifting her up with ease.

“You know, it’s nice to see one of the few heros, didn’t expect to kill you guys off so quick,” She said. Y/n reached behind her as Magica examined Y/n’s expression, Y/n felt the beer bottle on the counter. Grabbing the neck of the beer bottle, she felt the adrenaline pump through her, no, she was not going to let some random person hit and beat on her, they needed that book, the burning feeling of determination was firing up, and with quick speed, Y/n swung her arm, and smashed the glass bottle across Magica’s head, the duck gasped in surprise, along with a small yelp, she dropped Y/n, and Y/n quickly.  Threw yet another punch, Magica fell to the ground, holding her beak with closed eyes and a pained yet furious expression, Y/n spotted Panchitio striking a punch to one of the beagle boys, Oswald did the same to the last two of them, Panchito whistled across the room to Oswald, tossing the rope to him, Oswald grabbed the end of the rope that was tossed, and the two ran, Panchito running around clockwise, as Oswald did the same, counter clockwise. The rose wrapping the beagle boys up. 

“Ahah!” Panchito laughed as the beagle boys fell to the ground as the rope tightened. Y/n didn’t notice Magica get back up. The sudden feeling of someone on her caused Y/n to fall and roll across the ground, it was Oswald. Soon, a chair was seen falling in the position that Y/n was in, Magica must have thrown it. 

Oswald got off Y/n with a smile and helped her up. 

“Thanks I didn--watch out!” Y/n noticed the array of knives and forks flying towards the  two, both Oswald and Y/n  split and ran towards different directions. Y/n hopped over a table, landing on the dishes that were still there, the feeling of foot plastering on her clothes, she rolled off the table and onto the floor. The knives hit the table as if it were raining. She quickly scattered across the floor, pushing past people that were still fighting, like any other bar fight. 

Y/n grabbed a ceramic plate and quickly tossed it as if it were a frisbee, but it didn’t hit Magica, instead she hopped from out of the way, Y/n ran past Panchito, who pulled out another rode from behind it--turns out he had to lassos. 

“Y/n, here!” He calls out. Y/n ran back over, almost falling as she dodged a flying cup that Magica tossed. Y/n ran over and took the rope, and as Oswald and Panchito did, Y/n and Panchito did the same, circling the rope around Magica, the duck tried to keep track of the two speedy enemies--in her eyes--she couldn’t keep a good track. But--the rope wrapped around her, and Y/n tossed the other rope to Panchito, who took it and tied a knot to the rope. 

“Let go of me!” Magica shouts. 

“Hey! Watch out!” Oswald shouted from across the room, Y/n and Panchito looked over and saw Zip zipping passed, under Y/n’s feet, causing her to lose balance and fall on to the floor yet again.  The shadow ran around the room quickly, speedily, so quickly that Y/n could feel the wind and cool air circulating in the room, Panchito tried to keep track of where the shadow went, but Zip was like a speedy mouse. Y/n quickly stood up, and spotted Zot, who had  charged for Oswald, the rabbit was busy trying to track down Zip he didn’t know they fell for the trap, Zip was the distraction as--

“Hey! Let me go!” Zot took ahold of Oswald, holding onto his ears, Oswald lifted a foot to kick the shadow, but soon, from the wall, a dark bubbling rip of black ink like liquid, formed on the wall, and soon, Bendy shot from the ink, arms outstretched, he rammed right into Zot, the two somersaulting and rolling onto the ground until he hit a table. The table fell over, stopping Zip from running around the building, and slamming into the table. Bendy quickly got up, Oswald held the door open and shouted at the three.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” He shouts. And, Oswald, Y/n, Bendy, and Panchito ran out of the establishment, back out into the moist air, Y/n’s shoes slapping the wet pavement. 

“There!” Y/n pointed at the van leaving the abandon parking lot, another figure that wasn’t the man in the trench coat, it was a woman with black hair, pale skin, she laughed and got into the driver's seat of the car, in her hand was the book, she tossed it in the van, and hopped in the car and with no need to even heeding the traffic laws she drove out of the parking lot and down the street. 

“Where did the man go with the trenchcoat?” Oswald asked. Panchito rose an eyebrow.

“Was that him---or her?”

“I don’t think so, that doesn't matter, but we need to get to the car, come on!” 

-

Y/n drove down the street quickly, but not enough to get pulled over, and that was where the problem was. 

“You need to drive faster! We’ll lose the book if we stay at this speed!” Bendy shouts, moving Y/n over so he could stick a foot down to touch the pedal, but Y/n pushed him away quickly, glaring at him.

“No! If I get pulled over, that’ll put my name in jeopardy!”

“No, it won’t! Pick up the speed, or let me drive!” 

“Fine! Drive then!” 

Quickly, Y/n and Bendy, switched seats, as the car was in motion, crawling over each other frantically, but once Bendy was in the driver's seat, he slammed the pedal to the floor, the engine roaring, and Y/n immediately felt her back get glued to the seat.  The car moved through lanes and cars, to get to the can that was a few meters away.

“Someone is going to have to jump out to get the book.” Panchito said. Oswald and Y/n looked  at Panchito, he looked between the two before smiling. “I’ll happily do it!” 

“I’ll go with.” Oswald said, Oswald then looked at Y/n, she scoffed. 

“No. I’ll stay in the car and make sure he doesn't crash into anything.”  Y/n said. Bendy was too busy nearing the van to listen, but once he reached the van, he rolled down the window and honked the horn causing the van to roll its windows down, revealing the woman that that saw, though they all couldn’t get a good glimpse of her, but the man in the trenchcoat saw the four, his eyes squinted.

“Hey, You should try and get better guards!” Bendy yelled to them. Panchito rolled down the window, and immediately crawled onto the roof of the car. Oswald followed suit. 

“You’re too late, turn back before we kill you all!” The man shouts over, not noticing Panchito and Oswald, until when they hopped over and the heavy thump on the car caught their attention.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me.” The woman whispers. Y/n watched As Oswald slid down the front of the vans car, sticking his tongue out to get their attention. Which it did for the lad, she cursed loudly and tried to swerve the car slightly to get the toon off. But, Oswald didn’t budge. Panchito dove into the car landing in front of the woman, she shrieked in surprise.

“Ah! Hello, ma’am. Excuse me, i am here for something.” Panchito then moved his gaze over to the man in the trench coat, hurling a punch to the man, the man grunted in pain, and Panchito quickly took the book, he was about to exit until the woman took ahold of his talon, Panchito looked at her questionable, she dragged him back and Panchito yelped in surprise, but he kept ahold of the book. Before she could do anything to Panchito, Oswald hung from outside of the window peeking into the car.

“Boo!”

“Ah!” The woman screamed at the sudden toon appearing, Oswald grabbed Panchito’s arm, and dragged him out of the car, and grabbed him onto the hood of the car.  Oswald bent down and clicked the latch for the hood of the van's hood, and almost immediately when the hood opened, it sent the two springing into the air. Unfortunately the can had crashed by a stop sign. And the car Bendy and Y/n sped up, Y/n quickly pressed a button to open the moonroof of the car, it slid open, and Oswald and Panchito landed into the car with a heavy thud with the book in hand.

“YES!” Y/n cheered as she hopped around in her seat. But, the sudden car crash behind them got the best of them, a car pile up was created, and a semi truck was rolling in from behind. Oswald noticed and quickly hopped to the front of the car, he placed his hands on the steering wheel, and jerked the steering wheel, causing the car to swerve and turn in 180 degrees, the tires screeching on the street, everyone in the car screamed, looking out the window of the car to see the semi truck rolling their way, but Oswald muttered under his breath, the car speed up, wheels screeching and it drove towards the truck, Y/n grabbed the wheel as well.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”  She shouts, Oswald didn’t reply, instead, reaching a foot down next to Bendy’s and the car sped up, he turned the wheel yet again, the car screeching and turning down a street, and car knocked over a empty car that was parked on the side, that car served bump for the oncoming semi truck, what semi truck only slightly lifted off the ground when it rolled over the car and above the car the toons and Y/n were in, it were as if she were looking at it in slow motion, the semi truck tossed over the car, untouched, and landline on the side, away from other people and cars, where it wouldn’t cause damage to the town or people. The car zoomed off down the street before the end of the semi truck could hit the car, and in the nick of time, the car revved down the street. 

“YES!” Oswald cheered, he lets go of the steering wheel, and then lets out a boisterous laugh. 

“My luck! Ah! It put us in good hands this time!” He shouts with glee. The car slowed down, reaching a neighborhood, Y/n’s neighborhood. Her house a few blocks away. When the car came to a complete stop, everyone took  a moment of silence to take in the air they would get to breathe, breathing in and out.

“Oh...my...gosh.” Y/n laughed and ran her sore hands through her hand, that was….fun. Exhilarating.

“We doggone, surely do make a team, huh?” Oswald smiled at the three, Bendy turned and looked at everyone. 

“I didn’t expect the two of you to plunge yourselves into the air by the hood of a car!” He laughs, Panchito and Oswald smile. 

“Did you see the way Panchito handled those beagle boys?! And how Y/n fought Magica?!” Oswald wrapped an arm around Y/n’s shoulders, Y/n smiled brightly. 

“No, did you see Bendy come through the wall and stopped that fast running shadow thing?!”

“Or when we all, literally swung from one roof to another with Panchito’s lasso?!”

The four all shared a memorable laugh, the night was chaotic, and they still managed to kick butt and take back what was theirs?!

“Next up, Oregon.” Bendy said. He then looked at Y/n. 

“Don’t worry, I influenced her...under pressure, yes. But hey, I did what I had to do.” 

Y/n was astonished..her mother would let her go? This was new!

“This is a new beginning, wherever any of us go, we all go.” Oswald said, looking between everyone. Y/n took the book from Panchito, she opened it, and showed it to Oswald. 

“We’re all a team, and we stick together.” 

Oswald smiled at her.

“Through--” He placed a hand on the page, the ink printing his hand print and then signing his signature.

‘Oswald’

“And through.” He finishes. 

“Let’s get you home, we all have a big day tomorrow, a long one at that.” 

-

The man in the trench coat stood by the crashed car, the jammed hood pouring with steam, the lady next to him had her arms crossed as she looked at the car. 

“What now..? They have the book.” She says. The man thought for a moment.

“We’ll work harder...they aren’t a bunch of idiots as I assumed. We work harder.” He said. The woman hummed in acknowledgment. 

“And smarter?”

“Get the rest. We plan.”

“Fine.”

-

Y/n groaned as she sat on the floor in her room, cleaned herself off, through her clothes in the washer, and placed the book in a book bag for safe keepings. Oswald wandered around her room, looking at the various posters, books and other decorations, Panchito sat next to Y/n for once enjoying the silence and Bendy was rubbing his eye that he was so gracefully socked in.

“That guy did a number on you.” Y/n told Bendy. Bendy grumbled. Oswald looked over at Bendy and his ears perked up.

“Yeaj, they really did, straight through a wall, tell me. On a scale of 1 to 10, how much pain did you feel.”

“Oh shut up.” 

Y/n heard the keys jingling of the front door,  immediately, Y/n and Panchito stood up, Bendy opened the window up, as Oswald, and Panchito walked over. 

“Well, I’ll take them with me, you get sleep, I’ll more than likely be here with Henry tomorrow to come and get you, so we all can leave.” Bendy explains. Y/n nods at the plan, but she was exhausted and needed rest from todays events, mostly what happened tonight...she was so glad no one was injured during the small pile up car crash. 

“Bye, Y/n.”

“Goodbye”

Oswald and Bendy crawled out the window and hopped out, Panchito quickly scurried over to her, pulling her deep into a warm hug. Y/n couldn’t help but smile, and wrap her arms around him as well, rocking back and forth for a moment as Panchito pats and gently runs her back. Soon, then pulled away and Panchito smiled at her.

“Adiós, cariño, te veré cuando salga el sol.” He said, though Y/n could only understand when he said goodbye, she smiled and waved her hands goodbye.

“Bye, Panchito, I’ll see you tomorrow, I had fun with you all.” She said, Panchito smiles and walked backwards for a moment, he seemed to not want to leave yet, he made many friends...Donald and his friend Jose, and he missed them every day as the years pass, Panchito never like being away from his friends, and now Y/n was apart of that. Sitting in the window he waved goodbye once again. Y/n laughed softly and waved goodbye yet again.

Soon, he dropped down from the window, leaving nothing but the tree to look at and the moon that was clouded slightly by the clouds. Soon, her door opens revealing her mother, and her tired husband walking down the hall to his room to sleep.

“By the way, Bendy wants to take you on a road trip tomorrow, and you should go, you don’t have to, but I really want you to go, because I love you and I want you to go out more.” Her mother smiles after that quick statement, and Y/n already had her answer.

“Yes, I would love to go.” Her mother was surprised. But nevertheless, smiled.

“Good, make sure you bags are packed tomorrow, you’re going to Oregon, Bendy should be here tomorrow, but it's late, I’m tired. I’m hittin’ the hay, Night!” Her mother closed the door and Y/n heard her footsteps descend off to her room. Well...adventure truly awaits tomorrow, a new beginning. A reason, a step further in their quest to find out the meaning of whatever is going on. Y/n flicked her light off, and crawled into bed.

Next up, Duckberg, Oregon, to find Donald Duck himself.  This will be an adventure indeed. 

-

A/n : You made it to the end?! Don’t worry, there is more to come! 

But, I do really hope people will like the plot of this story and the characters, I’m not a fan of crossovers, but this will be a fun and crazy adventure, everyone from each of these fandoms will have alot in common. But anyway! I’ll catch you all in the next chapter, go ahead and comment, I run off of comments, I love reading them and interacting with you all, but I hope you all join and stick around for this adventure, catch you in the next chapter! 

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #bendy the dancing devil #batim bendy #bendyxreader #three cabarellos #the three caballeros #donald duck #jose carioca #panchito pistoles #cuphead #animaniacs #animanics 2020 #animaniacs x reader #the three caballeros x reader #the legend of the three caballeros #oswald the lucky rabbit #fanfic #toons #long post

[romancandlemagazine]

An Interview with Alexander Wolfe, the man behind Pedestrian Magazine

Pedestrian is a magazine about the humble art of walking. In this interview, I talked with the man with the plan, Alexander Wolfe, about his love for this much maligned form of transport, his recent expedition from New York to Philadelphia, and the art of conversation.

First off, you recently walked from New York City to Philadelphia over nine days. What made you want to do that?

The initial desire to walk to Philadelphia came out living in New York City during the pandemic. I was bound to my apartment for a few months with little to do but walk around my neighborhood. I've always had a habit of walking around the city, but the pandemic only made these walks longer and longer, which eventually led to a 23 mile journey from my apartment in Brooklyn, to the Bronx, and back.

Around that time I was reading The Roads to Sata by Alan Booth and started contemplating longer, multi-day walks. I needed a change of scenery and found the idea of traveling by foot and living out of a bag very appealing. I felt like I'd developed a process here in the city (go on a walk, take photos, write a newsletter about the walk, repeat) and needed to give myself a challenge.  I wanted to lean further into this practice that I've been developing for the last three years.

I'd never considered my walks to be hikes, so it made sense that I'd keep it in an urban setting. Walking to Philadelphia seemed like a no-brainer. What most people don't initially realize is that most of my time was spent walking through New Jersey. I liked the idea of walking in a place that is commonly misrepresented as the "armpit of America" and typically deemed unwalkable. New Jersey is actually a very underrated state. It might be the densest state population-wise, but it's called the Garden State for a reason. Oh yeah, I'd never been to Philadelphia and just really wanted to visit.

How did the walk go? Quite often trips or excursions can be a fair bit different to how you first imagine them… how did the reality of the walk differ from how you thought it was going to be?

I was presented with a new challenge every day. Don't get me wrong, the walk turned out better than I could have ever imagined, but you can never anticipate everything in advance. This was the first time I'd ever walked with a 25 pound bag on my back, let alone the first time I'd walked 9 days in a row. Originally I set out to average 17.75 miles per day, but thanks to my own curiosity, ended up waking 20 miles a day on average. I mapped the entire route a month or two before leaving, but would always deviate from the path in favor of exploring some neighborhood, road, or park that looked appealing. The first day alone ballooned into 27 miles because I got cocky and thought I didn't need to use my map while walking in Manhattan. I learned my lesson and kept my eyes on the map for the rest of the trip.

Another thing I didn't expect was the sensitivity one develops after walking 6-8 hours for days in a row. The smell of exhaust and gasoline becomes more potent. You realize how violently we've shaped the land to build huge highways and abysmal business parks. So much of our infrastructure is built in favor of the car, which makes being a pedestrian incredibly difficult at times. If the built environment didn't present a challenge, it was always the weather, the gnarly blisters on my feet, or my gear malfunctioning. I quickly learned to accept these challenges. It was just another component of the walk.

A lot of times people go for ‘a walk’, they’re seeking out beauty spots or nice scenery—maybe in nature reserves or the countryside, but your walk was cutting through some fairly overlooked places… industrial estates and small towns. Do people miss out by not seeing the whole picture of somewhere? Is just driving through these places to get to the destination sort of cheating?

I wouldn't consider driving to be cheating – it's just another way we alienate ourselves from the world around us. When we drive, we experience the world at a speed that makes it nearly impossible to pay attention to the fine details. Our relationship to place is abstracted, especially thanks to the rise of GPS. We no longer have to have a physical relationship to these towns. We don't even have to remember how to get to them. Driving around in a car reduces these places to nothing more than a label on a map or a convenient place to stop for gas.

It's important to have relationships with the places surrounding you. The walk has given me an intimate experience with the space between New York City and Philadelphia. I know what it looks like, I know how it feels to be there. I can tell you where residents stop hanging New York Yankees flags in favor of Philadelphia Phillies flags. If I'm watching the Soprano's and Tony references Metuchen, NJ then I know exactly what he's talking about. I think to understand a place, such as New York City, it's just as important to understand the places around it. There are generations of people who once called the Big Apple home, but decided to plant their roots in Jersey for one reason or another.

I suppose you could have read about some of these places on Wikipedia, but being there is a completely different thing. Is experiencing stuff first hand important?

It's very important if you actually want to understand a place. It's too easy to create our own narratives without ever visiting a place. I still tried to do my share of research before heading out. I have friends from North Jersey or the Philadelphia Metro and tried to take their opinions with a grain of salt. I spent some time reading about certain towns along the way on Wikipedia or scanned Reddit to get a vibe. I even previewed chunks of the walk on Google Street View to mentally prepare and know if it was actually safe to walk near some of these roads. I could have spent months preparing, but it never would actually replace walking in these small towns and cities. It's so much different when you're on the ground.

I suppose the main reason we’re talking is that you make a magazine based around the idea of walking. How long have you been making Pedestrian? What started it off?

I released the first issue of Pedestrian back in March of 2018. I was living in Ridgewood, Queens at the time and made friends with a guy named Curtis Merkel (I actually met him while out on a walk). He ran a moving business for a few decades and retired. At 84 years old he opened up a tiny little bookshop to keep himself busy. I'd visit him every weekend to check out his books and eventually we'd just get to talking. He'd lived in Ridgewood his entire life and loved to talk about the neighborhood's history. Moving to NYC also introduced me to a thriving community of zine makers. I wanted to share these conversations I'd had with Curtis in print form, so I decided to start a magazine. I invited a few friends to contribute and the rest was history.

Since then, the identity of Pedestrian has become quite fluid. While it started as a magazine, I would now describe Pedestrian as my own practice. It's a platform that allows me to collaborate with others, produce magazines, write newsletters, go on these long multi-day walks, and produce t-shirts. I have found this configuration gives me the most creative freedom.

A lot of your magazine is about meeting people and striking up conversations. Is this a lost art these days?

I don't know if it's a lost art per se, but there's less incentive to reach out and talk with strangers these days. Thanks to the rise of social media it's just getting easier and easier to stay within our own "bubbles." Starting Pedestrian, in a way, was an excuse for me to speak with those I typically wouldn't reach. It's amazing how having a publication kind of takes the fear out of speaking with strangers. You can do anything when you have intention.

Although walking is something most people do, is it overlooked as an activity? It seems it’s mostly seen as an inconvenience, rather than a hobby in itself.

It depends where you live. In New York City, for example, walking is a part of the culture. The city is built in such a way that makes walking a viable means of transportation. And if you can't walk to your destination, you're likely walking to a subway or a bus. Where I'm from in Iowa, walking is very inconvenient. Everything is spaced out, which makes walking anywhere very difficult. It’s not that people don’t want to walk, it’s just the way we’ve built certain communities has made it very hard to enjoy. It makes people think walking is very inconvenient.

I’m here in Iowa until August and it’s been interesting to walk a place that is so reliant on cars. The other day I did a 13.5 walk around the city. There’s nothing here stopping you from walking (unless the heat gets you. Technically we’re in the middle of a drought. It’s been incredibly hot as of late), and there’s plenty of sidewalk. I think it’s mostly just a mindset people have to develop. It doesn’t matter how many miles you walk, it’s just about getting out there. Your mental health will thank you and you might even learn something new about your surroundings along the way.

Walking is maybe the antithesis to the internet, but Pedestrian also has a decent presence on the World Wide Web, and you regularly send newsletters and... er... partake in the digital world. How do you balance the real world with the matrix?

It’s a relationship I’m constantly reevaluating. I’m not a master of balancing the two yet, but I’m slowly building habits that will protect my time. I often daydream of abandoning social media altogether and picking up a flip phone. I obviously haven’t done that yet, so in the meantime, I’m investing a lot of time in my newsletter. Sending out a newsletter is a much more thoughtful, intimate, and slow experience...kind of like the way I approach my walks out in the world. I understand that the web is a tool and I’m not sure the Philly walk would have gotten the same amount of attention had I not had an Instagram account. It’s cliche, but everything in moderation, right? I try not to take it so seriously.

What next for Pedestrian?

The Philly walk was such a great success and I’d like to keep that momentum going. Later in September I have another big, big walk planned, but I have yet to announce the route. Look for an announcement sometime next month. This one will be a bit longer and involve 3 different cities. I can’t wait.

Once winter hits I’m going to buckle down and produce a proper book for the Philly walk that will include all my writing and photos I took along the journey. I’m already excited to share the finished product with the world. Stay tuned.

Final question, what are your walking shoes of choice? And what's your soundtrack? Are earphones advised for long walks, or do you prefer the ambient sounds of the streets?

I’m a big fan of Hoka Clifton’s. I wore them throughout the entire Philly walk and have two pairs in my closet. At this point, Hoka should probably pay me for how much business I send their way. I’m always recommending them.

I prefer not to wear headphones and just listen to the ambient sounds of the street. More often than not, I find wearing headphones to be a bit distracting and it takes me out of the present moment. Although, I’ll admit I have been trying to introduce music into my walking once again, but few tracks make the cut. Lately Andrew Wasylyk’s Last Sunbeams of Childhood has been on repeat. There’s something about that track...

Find out more about Pedestrian here. Pedestrian is available in the UK courtesy of Central Library.

#Interviews

[scintfms]

           hi  kids  !  wow  ,  we’re  already  at  opening  and  that’s  so  crazy  !  i’m  kofi  ,  your  co - admin  ,  and  i’m  so  excited  that  you  guys  are  here  !  i’m  23  ,  from  the  est  tz  ,  prefer  she / they  pronouns  and  i  graduate  from  college  in  a  little  more  than  seven  months  ...  yikes  .  that  being  said  ,  i’m  ready  to  introduce  you  guys  to  my  latest  muse  ,  who  may  have  huge  development  changes  as  we  go  on  because  of  him  being  brand  new  ,  mr  .  saint  moon  !  he’s  um  ...  something  of  a  mess  and  idk  if  i  love  or  hate  him  yet  ,  but  i’m  happy  to  plot  with  ya’ll  on  my  d.iscord  @  𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲.#4090  !

            (  lee  juyeon ,  22  ,  cis  male  ,  he / him  )  *  fun  fact  about  me  ?  okay  ,  let’s  see  .  .  .   an  injury  stopped  my  promising  olympic  career  .  crazy  ,  right  ?  i’m  saint  moon  ,  i  live  in  the  contemporary  new  build  with  a  three  thousand  square  foot  outdoor  patio  on  ocean  lane  in  key  biscayne  , &  not  to  brag  ,  but  my  family’s  worth  around  $740  million  .  pretty  decent  for  real  estate  and  construction  developers  ,  huh  ?  we’ve  been  around  for  some  time  ,  but  in  town  ,  everyone’s  always  associated  me  with  the  gatsbys  ;  but  it’s  not  like  that’s  my  whole  identity  ,  or  anything  .  while  filming  for  key  biscayne  ,  it  was  surprising  when  i’d  get  dragged  on  twitter  for  being  “  errant  ,  impetuous  ,  &  rancorous  ,   ”  but  the  cameras  don’t  see  everything  ,  &  my  real  fans  know  that  i’m  nothing  but  coolheaded  ,  venturesome  ,  &  enamoring  .  i’m  not  too  bothered  by  it  though  ,  because  since  the  series  ended  ,  i’ve  opened  a  highly  successful  café  in  south  korea  and  planning  to  expand  to  the  states  .  follow  me  on  instagram  @SNT.MN  to  keep  up  . 

name  :  saint  moon  .

nickname(s)  :  none  .

age  +  date  of  birth  :  22  +  july  19th  ,  1998  .

astrological  sign  :  cancer  .

myers - briggs  personality  type  :  infj  .

enneagram  type  :  the  individualist  .

moral  alignment  :  chaotic  neutral  .

gender  +  pronouns  :  cis  man  +  he / him / his  .

place  of  birth  :  gangnam  ,  south  korea  .

place  of  residence  :  key  biscayne  ,  florida  .

sexual  orientation  :  bisexual  .

romantic  orientation  :  biromantic  .

occupation  :  former  reality  star  /  instagram  influencer  /  café  owner  .

nationality  :  korean  .

ethnicity  :  korean  .

language(s)  spoken  :  korean  ,  english  ,  japanese  ,  and  learning  mandarin  .

social  media  handle  :  @SNT.MN

THE  BACKSTORY  .

            saint’s  story  starts  when  his  parents  ,  moon  ji - ho  and  park  soo - ah  went  on  their  first  date  .  in  truth  ,  it  had  been  a  rare  instance  of  love  at  first  sight  when  they  bumped  into  each  other  at  ji - ho’s  office  in  seoul  ,  and  the  date  was  only  used  to  solidify  their  feelings  .  you  see  ,  ji - ho  and  soo - ah  were  fairly  well  known  with  ji - ho  being  the  second  heir  to  moon  industries  alongside  his  sister  ,  moon  eun -  ha  .  moon  industries  was  founded  in  the  1940s  ,  and  is  known  primarily  for  their  real  estate  and  construction  business  .  the  company  was  founded  in  seoul  ,  and  originally  started  out  by  purchasing  and  renovating  beautiful  homes  and  condominiums  within  the  city  .  after  thirty  years  in  the  business  ,  ji - ho  and  eun - ha’s  father  was  one  of  the  first  in  south  korea  to  reach  the  status  of  billionaire  .

            ji - ho  and  soo -ah  were  looking  to  forge  their  own  path  ,  though  .  although  they  were  lucky  enough  to  have  wealthy  parents  ,  both  of  them  have  always  liked  the  idea  of  working  for  themselves  and  getting  their  hands  dirty  .  so  ,  they  refused  ji - ho’s  father’s  investment  and  decided  to  start  their  own  real  estate  firm  .  they  went  through  the  process  of  obtaining  their  real  estate  license  in  both  south  korea  and  the  united  states  ,  specifically in  florida  .  after  studying  hard  ,  they  were  able  to  open  moon  real  estate  ,  and  it  was  a  hassle  for  them  .  they  initially  ‘ struggled ’  seeing  as  though  they  were  their  only  employees  ,  and  soon  ,  soo - ah  discovered  that  she  was  pregnant  with  their  son  .

            for  four  years  ,  they  worked  hard  with  their  bumbling  baby  boy  ,  saint  ,  crawling  at  their  feet  and  curiously  looking  at  home  or  building  buyers  .  for  a  long  time  ,  they  considered  saint  to  be  their  closer  as  he  was  the  selling  point  and  allowed  people  to  hold  him  while  looking  at  the  home  .  usually  ,  soo - ah  would  use  saint  as  a  marketing  ploy  whenever  they  were  trying  to  sell  to  young  couples  ,  and  it  always  worked  .  the  moons  became  known  for  saint  syndrome  ,  where  those  same  young  couples  would  typically  call  to  say  that  they  were  expecting  within  a  year  of  buying  their  home  .  it  only  took  a  few  years  ,  but  the  moons  were  soon  raking  in  their  own  money  without  the  help  of  ji - ho’s  father  .  

            when  saint  was  six  ,  his  family  relocated  to  key  biscayne  ,  florida  .  life  was  easy  living  on  the  water  ,  and  his  parents  continued  to  sell  gorgeous  homes  both  in  seoul  and  in  the  wealthy  neighborhoods  of  florida  .  with  such  a  lifestyle  ,  it  wasn’t  unheard  of  for  saint  to  excel  at  his  private  school  ,  where  he  was  known  for  his  academic  prowess  as  well  as  his  ability  to  play  both  the  piano  and  the  cello  .  saint  was  a  fairly  popular  student  while  growing  up  ,  and  it  showed  when  the  moons  would  host  their  annual  christmas  party  .

            he  was  fourteen  when  he  finally  started  to  understand  the  rivalry  between  thoroughbreds  and  gatsbys  .  originally  ,  he  put  off  like  he  didn’t  care  ,  but  in  reality  he  was  trying  to  figure  it  out  .  the  moons  were  a  special  case  ,  considering  that  ji - ho  was  clearly  an  heir  to  a  billion  dollar  fortune  ,  but  also  had  become  wealthy  in  his  own  right  thanks  to  his  business  with  his  wife  .  saint  never  understood  that  jabs  and  jeers  that  he  would  receive  from  thoroughbreds  ,  because  to  him  ,  they  were  all  rich  so  what  the  hell  did  it  matter  ?  he  eventually  began  to  side  more  with  the  gatsbys  ,  never  understanding  why  the  thoroughbreds  felt  as  though  they  needed  to  stick  their  noses  up  in  the  air  at  them  .

            within  two  years  ,  though  ,  saint  seems  to  have  changed  for  the  worse  .  while  his  grades  may  be  good  ,  he  begins  to  spend  more  time  with  new  friends  in  miami  .  while  there  ,  he  surrounds  himself  with  fast  cars  and  short  nights  ,  but  he  thinks  it’s  his  parents’  fault  for  buying  him  a  488  spider  for  his  sixteenth  birthday  .  saint  began  to  get  into  trouble  ,  often  pulled  over  for  speeding  and  reckless  driving  to  impress  his  friends  .  like  always  ,  a  star  is  meant  to  fall  ,  and  it  all  came  crashing  down  for  saint  when  he  thought  that  drag  racing  on  u.s.  route  1  was  a  good  idea  .  he  assumed  that  he  could  lose  the  cops  ,  but  he  was  stupid  for  ever  thinking  so  --  he  totaled  the  $1.3m  dollar  car  ,  and  after  being  treated  for  minor  injuries  ,  he  was  booked  in  the  county  jail  .

            having  rich  parents  seems  to  be  all  fun  and  games  considering  they  were  barely  able  to  get  him  out  with  a  slap  on  the  wrist  ,  but  that  very  same  night  they  sent  him  away  on  a  business  plane  to  live  with  his  no - nonsense  grandparents  .  for  the  first  year  ,  saint  pouted  and  argued  ,  screamed  and  kicked  over  being  trapped  in  seoul  .  he  tried  to  escape  the  fortress  of  a  house  in  pyeongchang  ,  attempted  to  ditch  his  security  guards  when  he  went  out  in  public  ,  but  he  eventually  realized  that  there  was  no  getting  out  of  this  .  so  ,  he  made  the  most  out  of  it  :  he  finished  school  ,  and  during  his  senior  year  with  the  help  of  his  grandparents  ,  saint  opened  goodnight  moon  ,  a  late  night  café  that  appealed  to  college  students  and  late  workers  in  need  of  a  coffee  and  pastry  pick  me  up  .  the  café  went  viral  ,  and  so  did  the  handsome  owner  .

            he  returned  home  when  he  was  twenty  ,  and  discovered  that  key  biscayne  was  filming  .  as  the  resident  who  suddenly  disappeared  ,  saint  was  sought  after  by  the  producers  and  was  introduced  mid - way  through  the  second  season  .  

THE  SHOW  .

saint  and  his  family  were  not  introduced  on  key  biscayne  until  midway  through  season  two  .  he  was  introduced  as  most  table  shakers  would  be  ,  with  a  flurry  of  local  headlines  ranging  from  KEY  BISCAYNE  TEEN  ARRESTED  FOR  DRAG  RACING  and  HOW  MONEY  GETS  YOU  OUT  OF  A  JAIL  SENTENCE  .  his  parents  didn’t  like  the  idea  of  being  on  a  reality  series  ,  so  they  weren’t  featured  although  there  were  a  few  scenes  with  them  .

he  was  the  reality  show  villain  and  you  can’t  tell  me  otherwise  !  showed  up  with  an  air  of  what  the  fUCk  ever  and  despite  the  air  around  him  since  he  was  arrested  and  shipped  back  to  south  korea  ,  he  never  let  that  stop  him  ?  like  ofc  he’s  a  rich  boy  who  got  away  with  something  bc  he’s  rich  ,  but  it’s  not  that  he  doesn’t  acknowledge  it  ,  he  just  chooses  not  to  talk  about  it  .

was  definitely  the  subject  of  show  cliffhangers  ,  probably  nearly  got  kicked  off  the  show  because  of  his  short  temperament  and  despite  all  that  would  still  be  invited  to  the  reunions  because  he  would  always  start  some  shit  .  he  was  very  vocal  about  who  he  didn’t  like  on  the  show  ,  and  probably  had  good  chemistry  with  a  cast  mate  and  fans  of  the  show  always  pushed  for  them  to  become  a  thing  (  a  wc  ...  mayhaps  👀 )  but  they  were  never  anything  more  than  friends  .

by  the  end  of  the  show  ,  saint  was  that  cast  member  that  fans  love  to  hate  .  he  was  employee  of  the  month  ,  and  that’s  on  period  !  gave  what  he  was  supposed  to  gave  and  was  highkey  problematic  (  not  in  a  bad  way  ,  but  in  a  way  where  he  was  always  the  one  in  the  middle  of  some  shit  )  and  when  people  would  question  him  about  it  ofc  he  didn’t  care  KFNDSJBFS  .

THE  PERSONALITY  .

a  little  shit  .  that’s  it  .  that’s  all  you  need  to  know  .  although  he’s  standoffish  ,  still  has  his  insecurities  because  he’s  not  the  ‘  perfect  ’  son  that  his  parents  pushed  for  him  to  be  .  very  much  so  the  black  sheep  of  the  family  ,  and  is  deemed  as  a  lost  cause  by  his  thespian  of  a  mother  ,  so  he  figures  that  he  might  as  well  live  up  to  that  name  .  comes  across  as  someone  who  genuinely  doesn’t  care  ,  and  he  doesn’t  KFDBJSFSD  .  sometimes  only  looks  out  for  himself  which  adds  more  sand  into  the  asshole  bin  ,  and  he  hates  being  asked  ‘  dumb  ’  questions  .  it’s  a  pet  peeve  that  his  mom  thinks  he  picked  up  from  his  father  .

THE  HEADCANONS  .

he  does  not  want  to  be  your  friend  KFNDSFUS  .  he  can  be  very  standoffish  just  to  get  that  point  across  ,  and  he  doesn’t  interact  with  people  outside  of  a  chosen  few  .  

can  be  wildly  off  putting  and  while  someone  else  may  be  afraid  of  confrontation  ,  he  isn’t  !  might  be  the  subject  of  bar  brawls  and  minor  scraps  because  he  genuinely  does  not  know  how  to  shut  the  hell  up  .

hates  walnuts  ;  idk  why  that’s  important  but  it  is  .  serve  him  something  with  walnuts  in  it  and  he’ll  never  talk  to  you  again  .

romantically  and  emotionally  stunted  ,  therefore  he  bides  his  time  with  casual  sex  and  noncommittal  acts  of  romance  .  can  be  found  slipping  out  of  beds  in  the  middle  of  the  night  ,  never  returns  texts  ,  and  at  times  will  pretend  that  he  doesn’t  know  who  the  other  person  is  (  ew  !  )  .

a  chaotic  boy  with  a  heart  of  gold  ,  he  just  doesn’t  show  it  and  has  mastered  the  art  of  being  fake  .  

despite  his  repulsion  of  romance  and  relationships  ,  he’ll  flirt  with  anyone  that  has  a  pair  of  legs  ,  and  he  quite  honestly  might  call  someone  daddy  just  for  the  hell  of  it  KNFDH  . 

probably  posts  those  outfit  thirst  traps  on  instagram  reels  or  tik  tok  bc  he’s  annoying  .

THE  CONNECTIONS  .

an  angsty  ex  boyf  👀 if  i  have  to  BEG  for  it  i  will  !  and  i  promise  to  make  you  cry  xD

a  best  friend  pls  !  someone  who  has  been  friends  with  him  since  before  he  was  shipped  back  to  korea  for  a  few  years  so  when  he  came  back  and  was  on  the  show  ,  they  were  THE  dynamic  duo  .

i’ve  been  really  into  his  plot  but  someone  he  works  out  with  ?  maybe  they  don’t  work  out  together  per  say  ,  but  they’re  somehow  always  at  the  community  gym  at  the  same  time  .

something  soft  ?  something  so  sweet  that  it  would  make  my  teeth  rot  ?  could  either  be  a  boyfriend  or  girlfriend  thing  or  tbh  i  don’t  know  but  i’m  literally  looking  for  something  that’s  all  fluff  and  all  marshmallows  and  if  i  don’t  get  it  then  i’ll  cry  .

a  plot  where  they  full  on  hate  each  other  .  none  of  that  cute  shit  KNFDNFHSD  .  no  lingering  feelings  ,  no  moments  of  hate lapse  --  they  hate  each  other  and  it’s  a  spicy  hate  ship  that  literally  gets  your  blood  pumping  .  

SKINNY  LOVE  ARE  YOU  THERE  ?

his  hoodrat  friends  NFDJNHFBD  i’m  kidding  but  i’m  thinking  like ...  a  billionaire  boys  club  type  of  thing  ?  perhaps  the  five  of  them  get  together  and  ppl  try  to  penetrate  the  group  or  they  have  these  instances   where  ppl  straight  up  hate  them  for  no  reason  ?  they  were  probably  the  TALK  of  the  show  bc  thought  they  were  assholes  KNFDJBFBD  idk  either  way  ,  my  hand  is  out  .  (  1  of  4  spots  filled  )

a  one  night  stand  with  some  substance  ?  like  yeah  ,  they  fuck  around  and  they  have  their  fun  together  but  they  don’t  pretend  to  not  know  each  other  in  public  (  unless  this  person  is  a  thoroughbred  and  i  oop  ,  chile  )  so  they  probs  tend  to  be  a  little  like  confidants  at  times  but  also  have  a  tendency  of  shutting  each  other  up  with  sex  .

#biscayne.intro #this is really long i do apologize KNFDNSHF

[spoiledxcherries]

Park Dahlia // Human // 24

Full name: Park Dahlia 

Nickname: Lia

Age: 24

Religion:  Christian

The current place for living: Seoul, South Korea / Sharing an apartment with Dr. Yoon. The apartment is connected to a private clinic that he owns.

Job title: Personal Assistant / Freelancer

Income: Her monthly income varies from month to month depending on how much work she was able to find. In exchange for room and board, she helps out at Dr. Yoon’s clinic for free. Apart from that, she usually checks the local paper and online listings once a day and picks up any temporary or casual work.

Birthday: January 15th 1996

                                                                         LIKES & DISLIKES

[+] Children / She has wanted a family of her own since she was practically still a child herself. In an ideal world she would have wanted to have at least two of her own; a daughter and son. However due to her poor health and shortened lifespan, she is unable to conceive without major complications. To ‘make up’ for her loss and help process her grief over the matter, she takes extra special care of the young patients that visit the clinic and she volunteers at hospitals and local schools.

[+] Road Trips / She really enjoys going for long drives outside of the city. Prior to the attack, it would help her de-stress after working all week. Now, it distracts her from her illness. She loves having the window partially rolled down while the radio is on.

[+] Podcasts / Listening to podcasts while she does chores around the apartment has allowed her to remain connected to certain aspects of her life that she has lost. She can no longer travel outside the country or eat certain foods so she lives vicariously by listening to others share their experiences.

[+] Cooking / Dahlia doesn’t have much experience in the kitchen due to mainly eating takeout and frozen dinners in the past, however she’s has worked really hard in the last couple of months to be able at least make the basics. She may not be the best cook but with a little help and the right recipe, her food is at least edible enough to pass.

[+] Documentaries / Her preferred movie genre is historical non-fiction.

[-] Thunder Storms / Doesn’t even like leaving the apartment on a cloudy day. She will but her anxiety levels will be drastically higher than usual. Thunder and lightning trigger her PTSD from the night of her attack.

[-] Horror & Gore Movies / Dahlia has a very low tolerance for horror and gore based movies.

[-] Texting / She would rather speak over the phone or discuss the matter in person.

[-] Social Media / Finds keeping up with social media to be exhausting and not worth it.

[-] Alcohol / She quit drinking due to negative workplace experiences.

                                                                        RELATIONSHIPS

Mother & Father // Neither of her parents were particularly well-off but they were hard workers who did everything that they could to provide the best for their daughter. Her mother worked as a maid for higher income households during the day and a barmaid throughout the night. Her father worked as a taxi driver during the day and cleaner throughout the night. Despite their fairly busy schedules, Dahlia still managed to have deep bonds with her parents.

Dr. Yoon // The ‘savior of her life’ Dr. Yoon is a doctor who runs and owns a private clinic that only treats supernatural beings and those affected by them. He tried to revive her 96 times in the span of two years via various methods (replacing her heart, injecting her with non-human blood, etc), working around the clock to care for her.

Ex-Fiance // The love of her life. The man that she was engaged to and living with prior to the attack. The person that she had originally planned to spend the rest of her life with, even discussing the possibility of having a child or two with in the future. [WANTED CONNECTION // OPEN FOR PLOTTING] 

                                                                          -   THE BEGINNING  - 

Dahlia was a recent college graduate whose life was just finally beginning to peak. She had landed an amazing opportunity to work under a high profile CEO of a publishing house, as her secretary and personal shopper. Her boss was temperamental and strict. She required that everyone who worked for her to be availability to her at any given moment. Her shifts were long, stressful and would occasionally infringe on her personal life. However the high salary and the connections that she was able to make through her job was what kept her there. It was a tough environment but it provided many opportunities to learn the ins and outs of the industry. 

Madly in love and engaged to the love of her life, she couldn’t have asked for more. While her job didn’t spark complete joy in her, she had a stable and permanent position at the very least. Her parents were in good health and would often travel up to the city to visit and gift her with fresh produce from their garden. She was the apple of their eye and the greatest source of their pride.

                                                                           - THE MIDDLE -

Dahlia got into a minor argument over her career with her fiance, the night before her wedding. He wanted her to work less hours in order to focus on potentially starting a family together and she wasn’t convinced that it was the right time to make such a drastic decision, wanting to wait a couple months to year in order to feel more secure about their savings. They weren’t struggling and she probably could have taken some time off but having grown up in poverty, money made her anxious and insecure. Deciding that they both needed an hour or two of space to reflect, she stepped outside for some air and wandered the neighborhood. It was during that time that she was viciously attacked by demonic being, that ate 77% of her heart and left behind heavy toxicity in her blood. It left her to rot in a dark alleyway where she technically ‘died’.

Thankfully her corpse was found by a local demon hunter and she was brought to Dr. Yoon who spent an entire two  years trying to revive her through various methods. Both mundane and supernatural but nothing worked. He worked around the clock to care for her.  In the end, he was able to craft her a temporary glass heart and she finally woke up. However he was unable to remove the demon’s toxins to fully cure her, so while she has been given a second chance at life it is an impermanent solution. Unless a cure can be found, her health will gradually deteriorate until she will inevitably die once again.

                                                                       - THE END(?) -

Six months later - Dahlia is still adjusting to being alive again while also battling the poor state of her health. She’s loosing weight, blacks out, has gaps in her memory and she suffers from severe chronic pain. Due to the unpredictability of her condition, she is currently sharing an apartment with Dr. Yoon so that he can actively monitor her health.

[omyeol]

chances - 01 | kjm

word count: 2,900+ words

genre: angst, fluff, but mostly angst tho

<< story masterlist >> | << writing masterlist >>

may 2020

Sundays were days reserved for relaxing; a day where Minhyo didn’t have to worry about the possibility of getting up late. Sundays were days reserved for relaxing; a day where Minhyo didn’t have to worry about the possibility of missing a deadline for some coursework. Sundays were also days where she didn’t have to be awakened by the sounds of children yelling and crying from the kindergarten in the neighborhood. Sundays were blessing that Minhyo held really dear to her heart because it’s a day where she wasn’t tied to a schedule or anything.

But on a particular Sunday in May, she didn’t feel relaxed at all. She might have even woken up two hours later than she usually was, and she even spent extra twenty minutes rolling around her bed and scrolling through her Instagram feeds, but that didn’t help the anxiety she had felt since the beginning of the week.

This Sunday was also the day where her father would be coming to visit her for the first time since she left Seoul three years ago. All the video calls made throughout the year was not enough to quench the longing feeling she felt, but this time, everything was going to be worth it. All the pain she felt and the tears she shed would be worth it.

Well, at least, that’s what the poetic side of her brain told her as she sat in the car, trying not to lose her mind because of the traffic. It seemed like the fact that she left her apartment earlier to go to the restaurant didn’t even matter because she still managed to meet all the red traffic lights.

“You haven’t said anything since we left your place. Are you okay?” Letting out a sigh, Minhyo glanced at her right where her dear friend sat on the passenger seat with her phone clutched in her right hand and a cold cup of coffee on another.

“I’m not. I feel like we’re going to be late.” Once the light turned green and the cars in front of them started to move, Minhyo let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God, finally.”

“I think she’s about to go crazy.” Minhyo furrowed her eyebrows and glanced at her right, seeing Bomi smiling and talking to her phone. “I’m also pretty sure that she doesn’t even realize that I’ve been doing this for ten minutes now.”

“Are you doing Instagram live?” Minhyo asked with her eyes still on the road and Bomi only hummed as an answer. Her stomach churned at the answer; she could even feel her palms starting to sweat.

“Yeah, you’ve been so preoccupied with your head and the traffic to notice it.” Minhyo sometimes forgot how impulsive Bomi could be when it came to using her social media accounts. She remembered a few times where her close friend got in a bit of trouble because she posted something ambiguous; like that one time in 2016 where Bomi posted a photo of Minhyo sitting in front of TV and eating a tub of ice cream with caption ‘my soulmate’ with a few heart emoji after the caption. So many people were speculating if the two of them were dating, when in fact they weren’t. It made it to the online news portal and people were talking about it.

(It affected the relationship Minhyo had with a certain someone after that, but she didn’t want to think about that).

“Want to say something?” Bomi’s airy voice pulled her back into the present, deep down Minhyo was hating it how her best friend could put her in the spot like that.

Clearing her throat and flexing her hand on the steering wheel, Minhyo opened her mouth and finally spoke. “Uhh, hello. I don’t know if you can see me clearly, but well, it’s been too long. I hope everyone has a nice day.” She didn’t even forget to crack a small smile that actually looked nothing like a smile at all. It was so forced that she wondered if she turned out like she had been holding a stomachache or something.

Whatever, she thought to herself as she continued to focus on the road and tuned out whatever Bomi was doing next to her. After all, it was easier for her to tune it out. Although it painfully reminded her of her own Instagram that she didn’t open unless she really wanted to post a picture. She felt a little guilty, too, remembering how she disabled her Instagram posts’ comment section ever since she left. It was for the best, though, her little heart defended herself.

She didn’t know how long Bomi had been doing Instagram live, but when they almost arrived at the restaurant where they would be meeting her father, Bomi wasn’t talking up a storm to her phone anymore.

“So, when are you going to turn on the comment section on your Instagram again?” Bomi was known to be blunt, but Minhyo didn’t think that her friend would ask such questions this early. She had gotten so comfortable to not see anything under her posts and truth to be told, she didn’t even have it in mind to turn it on anytime soon.

“I don’t know,” she opted to answer truthfully, knowing that the petite friend would be asking her questions anyway.

“You should turn it on the next time you post something.” Minhyo just hummed, not wanting to respond anything again. It was better to focus on parking the rented car because she was sane enough to decide to not buy a car in New York City. The only car she had was in Seoul and it was being used by her little sister on an almost daily basis. “People miss you a lot, you know.”

That wasn’t the first time Bomi told her that. She wasn’t even the first person. Sehun, who used the app frequently to interact with his followers, told her the same things a couple of times too. She was tired of being told that and sometimes on a bad day, she thought that even her closest friends didn’t understand her; they didn’t get how toxic the internet had been for her before and how it was the one thing that gave her the final push to leave.

“Let’s just go, okay?” Minhyo breathed, glancing at her friend briefly. It wasn’t the best time to explain it all to her.

Bomi only sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t get any more than that.

        K-Forum: Kim Minhyo is finally seen during Ahn Bomi’s Insta live!

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It has been a while since the last time we saw Kim Minhyo! The last time we saw her is three years ago at the airport, right? Right when she’s about to leave the country...

I’m so sad when the news of her taking a break from the entertainment industry came out, but now I can see that it’s for the better. Wish I can see her in a drama/movie soon, though.

                                                     [post response]                                                        [+1,556;-412]

[+1,231;-432] She looks healthier, though! I remember when she used to be so skinny, it was borderline unhealthy. Glad that the break and the school are doing great on her.

[+947;-209] I miss her so much… I want to see her in movies and drama again... She is such a talented actress.

[+743;-111] Not only talented as an actress, but she’s also smart and beautiful… Did she save a nation in her past life or what?

[+460;-156] What happened between her and Kim Junmyeon, though? We never got a clarification whether they broke up or not. We only got that cryptic post and sudden news of Junmyeon enlisting.

[+284;-531] She should’ve just stayed unseen though. Stay in America and don’t even go back here.

Silver and purple.

Everywhere Minhyo turned, the only thing she could see was silver and purple. It’s on the flags, and their graduation gowns and caps. It was everywhere. She had seen those colors for the past two years, and she thought she’s done with it. No matter how many times she thought she’s going to miss campus life, she actually wouldn’t. She definitely wouldn’t miss stressing out over her classes and grades.

“Oh, my daughter, look at you!” Minhyo let out an embarrassed laugh at her father’s reaction when he approached her, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “I’m so proud of you.” She could only flash her a grateful smile and open her arms, accepting his hug.

“Thank you so much, Pa.” She shut her eyes and squeezed her father. “It really means a lot that you came here.” They both pulled back from the hug and Minhyo accepted the flowers her dad gave to her.

“Do you really think I would miss such an important day?” Her father chided, shaking his head faintly when Mihyo just flashed him a sheepish smile. “Where’s Bomi, by the way? I thought she said she’s also coming.”

“She told me she’s close. I’m pretty sure she’ll be here at any moment.” While waiting for Bomi to join them, Minhyo pulled out her phone and took a few selfies with her father. She even recorded a short video too, for it to be posted on her Instagram later. It didn’t hurt to show her face once, she thought. It was her day, after all.

When Bomi finally came, Minhyo couldn’t believe her eyes. As she walked, she also had what seemed like more than six balloons in her hand and her phone on her free hand. Still unable to comprehend the whole thing, Minhyo let out a laugh and shook her head in disbelief, although the beaming smile on her face was still prominent.

“What the hell are you doing?” She asked, her eyes widening as her best friend finally approached her. “What is this?”

“Just some property for your picture.”

Minhyo ended up asking one of her classmates to take a picture of her and her father. In the end, her father even volunteered to take countless pictures of his daughter and the best friend. Those pictures needed to be sorted thoroughly later, but Minhyo wouldn’t mind the process. She could do it later when she laid down in her trusty bed after everything was done.

From that, everything felt like a blur of multicolor in her eyes.

There was a lunch at her favorite restaurant with her favorite foods and people and that was including Sehun who suddenly showed up in the middle of the lunch with a handful of balloons and a paper bag full of other goodies from the others. Minhyo couldn’t resist her tears anymore the minute she opened one of the presents, which was a scrapbook full of pictures of her alone and together with the others too and encouraging notes from the others. Her heart clenched at the fact that even though she kind of dropped her life in Seoul and moved to New York, they were still thinking of her and went out of their way to make such a meaningful gift for her.

“I’m recording this and sending this to all the hyungs.” She didn’t even have any energy to wrestle the phone out of Sehun’s hands. She was too busy sniffling while looking through the book.

The moments she didn’t know were going to be captured in-camera were surprisingly there. That moment when she was caught off guard by something Kyungsoo said and sprayed the water she was drinking all over the table, when they were celebrating Chanyeol’s birthday (this was a few months before she moved away) at her old apartment, when they were on a trip together to Japan, and so many moments in their friendship that she always treasured in her heart.

Out of everything, one picture that caught her off guard the most was the one of her and Junmyeon sitting together on his couch. In that picture, she leaned her head on his shoulder and he was leaning his head on top of hers and it was such an oddly intimate moment that they went through together after she had one of her breakdowns before the others came to have dinner together. She didn’t know that someone (it was Sehun, she knew, since he knew the passcode to Junmyeon’s apartment) would capture it in the picture.

Something shifted in her heart as she kept her eyes on the picture. It was like she missed it. She missed sitting on that couch with Junmyeon and doing nothing but talking. She missed having his shoulders to lean on and his hands to hold onto whenever she felt like she needed a grip because life liked to catch her by surprise.

“Do you have something to say, noona?” Sehun’s voice pulled her back to the moment, where both of her friends and her father were looking at her expectantly. Heaving out a shaky breath, she flashed her family (and the camera phone pointing at her) a wide smile.

“Thank you so much for this,” she breathed out. “This… This is so precious. I don’t even know what else I’m going to say.” She ended up chuckling through her happy tears. Placing the book on the table in front of her, she rose from her seat to give two of her best friends a big hug. It was a bit awkward since Sehun had his phone in hand and it was pressed up against her side, but she didn’t mind it. What’s important was that she could give them the biggest hug she could ever have given someone.

“We’re glad that you like it, though,” Bomi spoke up as she pulled back from the hug. “A certain someone was fussing about it, telling us that we have to make it special.” Minhyo didn’t ask any further about that certain someone, but she could have easily guessed who it was. It could only mean one person only and just thinking about his name already stirred something in her stomach.

“Okay, enough of this sappy moment. Let’s eat.”

It was pretty much smooth sailing after that. Minhyo didn’t shed any more tears since the tears were changed into a round of laughter that she couldn’t help but let out when Sehun shared a few stories from home. Sehun’s stoic face and his weird-but-adorable way of telling a story never failed to lift her mood. Although it was nice to hear those stories, she couldn’t help but have this forlorn hope that she was back home to experience it herself.

She wished she was there to experience it all with them. Too bad things weren’t the same as it was back then, though. After what happened, it was unlikely for things to work the way it was.

“Make sure to read the letters too, okay?” Bomi reminded her when Minhyo was looking through all the goodies in the car on their way back to her apartment. Sehun had kindly offered to drive them all because he liked driving (no matter if it was in Seoul or NYC, even though the traffic was testing their patience).

“What’s in there? Is it tears inducing?” Minhyo asked with an easy smile across her face, holding the bulk of letters in her hands. Her thumbs absentmindedly caressed the front of the letters from Junmyeon, but she didn’t even notice (Bomi, however, did).

“It’s just sappy things. I heard Chanyeol shed a bit of tear when he wrote the letter.” Minhyo couldn’t help but let out a string of giggles. Of course, Chanyeol would do that, she mused to herself.

It turned out that Chanyeol wasn’t the only one who shed tears. She did end up shedding tears, too, when she read the letters on her bed later that evening. How could she not, when the letters were filled with beautiful, touching words that moved her heart? How could she not, when she could really feel how each letter was written with sincerity? How could she not, when what she felt after each letter was how much she missed everyone and the realization of how lonely it had been for her for the past few years?

She might be torn of what she wanted to do after this. But after reading those letters, looking around her room, and realizing how painful it was that there was nothing but her traces in that place, she knew. She knew that she couldn’t spend another year in that city. Maybe it was the right time to come home.

Hi, it’s me, Junmyeon.

It feels weird writing this letter, actually. We’ve already used to text and call each other, right? It’s really weird to write this. I don’t even know what I’m going to write...

But anyway, congratulations on getting that Master’s degree! I’m (always have been and will) so proud of you, especially for finishing this graduate school. I’ve heard from Bomi and the others that you’ve been so stressed out about it, but hey, you finally made it! Now that it’s done, you can finally relax. Maybe you should take a few days and fly to LA and enjoy the sunset before going back to Seoul. Well, that is if you plan to come back home… We miss you a lot here, but whatever you’re planning for after this, just know that I will always support you (and so will the kids)!

I don’t really know what to write anymore, but well, I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re healthy and eating well and getting enough sleep too. Don’t drink too much coffee, you know you can’t drink more than 2 cups a day or it will really mess up your sleeping schedule. And I also hope that you’re enjoying your time and still managing to have a little bit of fun amid your busy days.

Once again, congratulations, Minhyo!

Love you. Always.

#junmyeon angst #junmyeon fluff #junmyeon scenario #junmyeon fanfic #junmyeon fan fiction #junmyeon x oc #exo scenario #exo angst #exo fluff #exo fanfic #exo fan fiction #exo x oc #chances #suho scenario #suho angst #suho fluff #suho x oc #suho fanfic #btw if you want to be tagged in the story just let me know! #so you get a notification when i update! :D #also i hope you enjoy this!

[aleapoffaithfiction]

XIV.

It's like I've been awakened Every rule I had you break it It's the risk that I'm taking I ain't never gonna shut you out

You ever felt like you’ve been hit by a car, survived it, and as soon as you go to stand on your feet, you end up getting hit by an eighteen-wheeler truck?

No?

Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling since I woke up this morning. I’ve suddenly morphed into a milk chocolate toned dragon who breathes fire from the depths of my chest and straight out of my throat. Every word spoken comes with an excruciating aching that Tylenol refuses to ease. The tea and honey are barely doing anything to subdue the rough cough that began just yesterday. Oh, and the body aches? I might as well just lay down in the middle of the floor and pray the Lord has mercy on me at some point.

“I don’t know how the hell you made it through the entire show like that. You really are crazy sometimes.” Anna pulled my box braids into a high ponytail as I slouched my frame even further down into the styling chair. I’m conning myself into believing that the slump position will give me a few seconds of relief from the aches I’m having.

The chills trickling everywhere have left me shivering under a throw blanket I took from home. If anyone on set didn’t know any better, you’d think I’ve been standing outside in the blistering soon to be winter air. Thank God I sat through the lengthy amount of time to allow her to put the braids in on Saturday night. With the way I’m covered in perspiration, any straightened or curled hairstyle would have left me looking like an extra left out of a Soul Glow commercial.

“It irritates me to have to call out at the last minute. That typically leaves production scrambling to try and fill in gaps. If I were in their shoes, I know it would be a headache for me, so I don’t like to do it to them. On Saturday, I e-mailed both Amy and Chip to let them know that I feel pretty shitty and to clear my schedule for the next two days pending further notice. I’m hoping it passes by then.”

The last time I had a cold, it was right at the very end of winter and it felt like nothing more than a bad headache and the sniffles. A couple of home remedies and a few over the counter products had me feeling much better within two or three days, but what I’m feeling now? I don’t know what the hell is going on. Rite Aid literally showed up to the medical office at the studio and offered the flu shot to everyone, through our insurances, as a curtesy, so it better not be that. I can’t stand getting injections, so it would be one hell of a disservice if I allowed them to inject that medication into me only for it to not work out in my favor.

“Are you going to go to the doctor?”

“Probably tomorrow. It’s too late to do any of that today. Once I drop Taylor off at the airport, I’ll head straight there.” Though I’m so accustomed to living on my own, I can admit to being sadden about Taylor heading out to Los Angeles tomorrow. It’s not that I’ve gotten used to her being around; it’s more so that I’ve enjoyed the company that she’s been to me for the past week. We always have incredible conversations over the phone about the most trivial of topics, but it’s been far more fulfilling and hilarious to be able to say all of those things to one another face to face. We’ve indulged in our love for classic cult black films, shared recipes between one another in my kitchen, and have taken New York City by a storm.

Even with Jesse being in town, it didn’t feel like the presence of her man overshadowed anything that we did together. Ice skating was better than I thought it would be because I was and still am quite rusty in that area. We did see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular and humorously took photographs sitting on Santa’s lap complimentary of the showrunners. Although I’ve seen it more times than I can count, we saw The Lion King on Broadway and then had far too many pitchers of Matusalem rum infused mojitos over at Havana Central on West 46th Street.

I nearly came face to face with the filthy pavement as I moved at the best speed I could offer to avoid the invasive TMZ camera crew awaiting our exit. In Hollywood, I suppose it’s controversial for a woman to be involved with a soon to be divorced television actor while he’s in a discomforting public battle with his soon to be ex-wife over alimony and joint custody of their children. Anywhere she goes, that narrative follows Taylor like a sinister stalker in the night and though her feelings run deep for the blue-eyed Chicago native, I know that she’s quietly growing tired of being the scapegoat for what is beyond her.

“You better go too. I know you. Sipping tea and taking spoons of Robitussin isn’t going to get the job done this time it seems.”

“I’m going. I’m going with a shit ton of questions about why the flu shot is a hoax. I’m not one of those conspiracy theory people, but I don’t know. I might have to start.”

“Take your illuminati ass home and get in the bed.”

“I’m not rich enough to be in the illuminati. They’ll probably be calling me when I make my first hundred million. I’m not there just yet, but I’m working on it.” I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. Even a chuckle would have pulled more energy than I can exert at the moment. I’m currently questioning if I’ll even be capable of moving at a snail’s pace to make it out of the building with the next couple of minutes. I could have been gone already and yet I’m lingering around in this chair with hopes that my imagination will take me home. Where’s Glenda the Good Witch to instruct me to click the heels of my Jimmy Choo pumps so that I’ll be able to suddenly wake up in my bed in Edgewater?

“Get you a man that’s there already.” I knew she was going to say that. I just knew it. Anna will never not find it fascinating how I encounter countless men who earn hundreds of millions of dollars by running a ball around a field, court, or course.

In her words, I, more than the majority of the women in the world, have the perfect opportunity to live life lavishly and worry free by the way of someone else’s finances if I’d only open myself up to the opportunity of dating just one out of the many who flirtatiously attempt to garner some interest out of me. While my financial obligations are the last thing that I’m interested in a man handling for me, if only Anna knew what is going on in my life now.

“Yeah? So that he can think he’s entitled to stress me and all of his other women out because he’s providing materialistic shit? Girl, I refuse to allow a man to turn my head grey and cause bags to be up under my eyes sooner than it should be happening. No thanks. I’d rather be smiling in a Benz that I purchased than to be crying in one that he did.”

I’m naturally a giver. I give credit to my dad for instilling that quality into me. I’ve always struggling with taking or rather being gifted things. The majority of the time, all I wanted for birthdays and Christmas’ were new accessories needed for whatever sport I was playing at the time.

I never pestered either one of my parents to lace me in the latest Jordans, although my dad made sure to surprise me with them at least once a month. If he was due to leave town, he would leave enough money for my mother to handle it. Honor roll report cards always came with great gifts and while Celeste would often ask for the most expressive girly trinket she could think of, I never wanted anything. I was fine with a stack of pancakes from iHop and a day at the park.

What I did ask for was experiences. It never needed to be anything financially burdening or something that specifically catered to my taste alone. I was fine with exploring new exhibits at the Met or taking a random road trip to Philadelphia just for the hell of it. I loved walking around neighborhoods that I didn’t reside in to people watch and observe the different ways in which they express themselves and the culture that we all share.

I’ll never forget when we road on an Amtrak train to Washington, DC and stayed in the district for the weekend. I still consider that to be one of the best times of my life despite my sister’s ridiculous and pompous complaints about her boredom. Though she’s yet to admit it out loud, I know that she now undoubtedly regrets all that she said during that weekend because it was the last family trip, we ever had with him.

“All of his other women? Damn. Why did you have to put it like that?”

“Because men are vile creatures. If women are walking around talking about how much average men aren’t worth shit due to their antics, then use your imagination to think about what men with money and power are doing. I’m not saying all of them are dreadful, but I’ve heard far too much while working within this industry to write it all off as coincidences.” The last portion of my sentence barely made it out as my chest heaved up a rough cough. The furnace that only calmed for a mere couple of seconds ignited with a wild fire and sent a rush of warmth flushing through my chest while the rest of my weakening limps shivered.

“Okay, you need to go, because I’m not trying to get sick. You may not have any dick in your life at the moment, but I do, and I’m trying to get back to it with my health intact.”

“Whatever.”

Like a boxer in a ring attempting to peel himself off of the floor after a knockout, I pulled myself up and out of the comfort of the chair. With every step, my muscles stiffened and the aches throbbing from the sides of my body intensified unexpectedly. My Alexander Wang bag felt like a dozen bricks rested at it’s very bottom once I positioned it over my shoulder and it only slowed down my stride as I made my way to the awaiting SUV.

I could only silently thank God for Fred as he secured me inside the vehicle and warned me that he better not see me in the morning. Thankfully, I followed my gut and decided not to drive. If I were sitting in this parking lot in my own car at this very moment, I probably would have taken off this midnight black Moncler coat and used it as a blanket while I lay in the backseat awaiting a rescue that I never called for.

“Can you please turn up the heat just a bit more?” I’m sure I’m suffocating him but I can’t help that it feels like the temperature precipitously plummeted to ten degrees below zero. The sound of my teeth chattering against one another has surpassed the faint tunes coming from the radio.

“Sure, Ms. Nazaire.”

As the heat increased and swarmed me in the manner that I needed it to, I glanced down at my phone vibrating in my lap. The lone heart emoji was a clear signifier of who was attempting to contact me. He’s the only person in my phone not identified by his name and at this point, it is the most idiotic tactic to keep because I have more than enough photographs of him and the both of us together to implicate me in whatever may happen if we’re caught.

As soon as I slid my thumb across the bottom of the screen to answer, the splendor that is his face filled the frame of my screen. And just like that, I’d been reduced to speechlessness.

“I thought I told you not go to work this morning.” I certainly read the text message as soon as I opened my eyes this morning, but it did absolutely nothing to deter me from doing what I had to do. It was great advice but it had to be brushed off until I handled a number of things at the production studio this morning. Besides, it wasn’t as rough of a day as I thought it would be, effort wise. Aside from speaking throughout segments, we had no guests or anything major to cover.

“I’m staying home tomorrow. Also, look at how early I’m leaving today. It’s still the afternoon. I’m not doing the Podcast.”

The slight shaking of his head was brief and though he quickly stopped, I noticed it. I’m not sure if it’s in reference to this morning’s chosen defiance or the current state of frustration we’re both in for two totally different reasons. Despite my explanation about my occasional absentmindedness being a part of the reason why I needed to hurry home and write out a check for the nine-a.m. maintenance job my mother called to have done on her stove, I omitted the part that truly mattered most to the both of us.

I fear him.

My mind is with him whenever I’m not within his presence. My body yearns for the warmth that soothingly radiates from him whenever we’re within an inch of one another. I can eerily sense and feel him; emotionally and now physically. He evokes a sentiment within me that is at call unceasingly and has intertwined our lives in a manner that I never faced before or expected to come into my life at this point.

My body is now at his mercy. Just the tips of his fingers faintly grazing off the smooth surface of my skin awakens every aspect of me; sending my frame into an uncontrollable frenzy that only he knows how to tame. I don’t know what he did to me that night in New Orleans. I expected to be fucked; most men prefer to turn a woman over on her stomach to consciously strip away any intimacy that may be felt and emotionally clung to during and after those moments when their bodies are adjoined. Despite his unpredictable nature, I did cling to that repeated experience as something that I’d always endure. I should have known that what we shared would be everything but that.

He savored me; deliberately drawing out every single second of it in an effort to achieve a never-ending wordless oath that we’ll never be able to share with anyone else. His eyes bore into mine and spoke to me whenever his lips weren’t whispering into my ear in the midst of the groans spilling from them. My body clung to his, gratifying his silent plea to take possession of me in every way possible.

Our heartbeats created an identical medley as they thrashed against our chests in unison with the increase heat within our cores. I was no longer in control of myself. His flesh played as the remote; pushing buttons to leave me weeping and leaking. I believe I only slept for minutes. Though the clock read that it had been four hours later, it only felt like minutes because the feeling of him hadn’t subsided. If anything, he served as the gasoline to the flames as his tongue awakened me for what turned into another two rounds of him.

I am wordlessly at war with my evolving devotion to him; to us. What if I’m not enough? With the life that he lives, something better always comes along. What am I supposed to do when we’ve arrived to that point?

“You’re so hardheaded. You going out into the cold and being at work all day has most likely made your cold worse. You should have stayed in the bed today. Did you just leave?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“How do you feel?” He tugged on the neck of his hooded Givenchy sweater to loosen it’s pulled tightness around his neck and almond shaped eyes narrowed, intensifying his glare. He’d pull my card if I lied.

“Like shit, honesty. Everything hurts. It even hurts to breathe. I thought I’d be able to tough it out until I can see a doctor tomorrow, but I don’t know. I might have Taylor drive me over to Hackensack University Medical Center when I get home.” And just like that, he sat up from his lazy and laxed position on the couch. As his large palm brushed over the golden curls falling all over his forehead, he stood to his feet. He paces when he’s nervous but it was never my intention to provoke him to do so.

“You feel that bad? You want me to go with you?”

“Odell.” As great as that sounds, I shouldn’t have to explain why that can’t be. He already knows the answer to that.

“You’re going to the hospital.”

“Yes, so that I can speed up the process of getting some medication. I’ll be able to get prescriptions tonight rather than waiting until tomorrow. That’s all. It’s going to be an in and out thing. Also, you have an event tonight. Did you forget?” He’s heading into Manhattan to promote the launch of his Air Force I collaboration by speaking with fans and a couple of groups of kids who won a contest to be able to meet him and have their shoes autographed. I know he doesn’t want to miss that because being a great role model for the youth is one of the primary reasons why he does what he does. He loves kids, so disappointing them for no legit reason doesn’t make much sense.

“I didn’t forget. If I don’t go, the least I can do is come and stay at your house so that I can make sure you’re taken care of until you’re better.”

“And spread my germs to you?”

“What is it with you and your love for being difficult? You hate to cooperate.” I’ve heard that before. Actually, I’ve heard it far too many times. It’s been said that I have an answer for everything before even hearing the complete scenario or question being asked of me. I can be somewhat of an overthinker. Well, not somewhat.

I am an overthinker, but I’m not admitting that out loud because it’ll give people the ammunition to call me out on it whenever they feel like it and I’m not with the shits. It is never my intention to do it to be difficult or uncooperative as he just called it. I tend to try and side with logic first before I jump into anything. Unnecessarily spreading my germs isn’t logical. Besides, I tend to go and lay up at my mom’s place whenever I’m not feeling my greatest. She doesn’t always welcome me with open arms, but ultimately, who else do I have to lean on despite her resistance about that?

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. It’s annoying as hell too.” He rolled his eyes to put even more emphasis on what he had to say.

“If you come, don’t complain when you start sniffling and feeling like every part of your body is aching.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take the risk.”

“What time does your event start?” I nearly dropped the phone down onto the carpeted flooring as another rough cough poured out of me. I’m convinced my lungs are going to suddenly fly out of my mouth and land in my lap.

“You sound really bad.”

“I know. What time does the event start?”

“Seven.”

“Oh, you have time. I can’t believe I caught this stupid cold. I was supposed to start my Christmas shopping this weekend. Speaking of, what do you want?” I’ve been trying to think of gifts for him. There’s one in particular that I already have hiding in my closet. I consider that one to be the big gift.

Patek Philippe is a family-owned Genevan luxury watch manufacturer. Their watches are considered to be among the best in the world: full stop. Of all of the other impeccable Swiss watch manufactures with distinguished statuses and sophisticated watches, Patek Philippe has driven itself to the forefront of them all. While it would have been much easier to purchase him a Rolex, he deserves something that is as inimitable as he is. The “Ribbon Joaillerie” watch and its distinctive diamond embellishments that orbit its surface in a glimmering never-ending loop stole my heart as soon as I laid my eyes on it. The spiraling circles of diamonds beautifying the dial was what immediately made me hand over my Citigroup Chairman Card to secure it. It’s the first time I’ve ever spent six figures on a man.

“Supreme stuff. It doesn’t have to be any specific item. Oh, and maybe some art or something.”

“Art or something? Like a painting or a sculpture?”

“Anything. Actually, I want it to be a picture of you. A painting or something of that sort.”

“A painting of me? Are you kidding me?” That’s arguably the most narcissistic gift I could ever give anyone. I can only imagine how much internal cringing I’d be doing while boldly requesting for a painting of myself to gift to be my man. Actually, a canvas painting of Heather, Jazzy, and himself together would be breathtaking. I love that idea so much more.

“No. I’d love that.”

“And where exactly are you going to hang it up? You currently have a camera crew in your house once a week.” He is presently in the midst of filming a docu-series with Lebron James and Maverick Carter’s sports-media company Uninterrupted. Though the majority of it will focus on his comeback throughout the next season, they are filming coverage of his recovery from the ankle injury and his life off of the gridiron.

“In my bedroom. They don’t go in there.”

“We’ll see.”

“Ain’t no we’ll see. That’s what I want. Oh, and you in one of those sexy ass Mrs. Claus outfits.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.” I’m not sure if the driver is focusing on our conversation, but if he is, I’m certainly embarrassed now. His laughter might have made it even worse.

“I’ll call and check on you in a bit.”

“Okay.”

I attempted to take a nap but the physical discomfort served as a disruption to my mental state and kept me awake the remainder of the ride to my home. Traffic wasn’t as disorderly as it usually is during this time of the day, which allowed me to arrive just fifteen minutes over the nearly two-hour timeframe that it’s supposed to take me to get into Edgewater.

“You’re finally home!”

The way Taylor’s voice vibrated off of the walls almost made it seem like my house is completely empty. It was so piercing.

“Yeah.”

I’m not sure what she decided to cook but it smelled appetizing from the moment I stepped into the door. Maybe it’s Italian.

“I watched a bit of the show before making a Whole Foods run. Oh, and I found this bottle of wine upstairs in your room. I hope you don’t mind, because I couldn’t resist.” It was one of the remaining bottles of wine Odell bought me during our weekend getaway. I decided to pack it and take it home.

“You’re drunk?” That’s the last thing that I need her to be.

“I wouldn’t say drunk. I’m feeling pretty good though. Incredible, actually.”

She’s drunk.

“I want you to come with me to the ER, so that I can get checked out for this cold and get prescriptions for it. I wanted you to drive but since you had drinks, I’ll do it.”

“You feel that bad? Oh my God.”

“I’d just rather go now instead of waiting to go to the doctors tomorrow.”

“Let’s go. I just have to grab my coat. I told you to stay home this morning.” If I had the energy, I would have gone upstairs to change into whatever sweatsuit within close reach but I’m not walking up there. I’ve barely stepped away from the door.

“Taylor.” Part of her hazelnut toned wool trench coat hung off of her body as she rushed in my direction. As I nodded my head in the direction of the wine glass in her hand, she took a glance at it.

“Oh.” Before she put it down, the remaining contents inside of it went down her throat. If we both weren’t notorious for finishing entire bottles of wine on our own, I would have thought that something stressful or a man were driving her to drink so heavily today.

You good?

I read the message as I stood at the very top of my porch.

Yeah. Headed there now. Taylor’s drunk, so I’m going to drive.

Of all the days for her to get drunk, it just had to be this one.

Drunk? The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. I’m just going to meet you there.

As I slid into the passenger seat, apprehension immediately caused my eyes to bulge out of my face. His stubbornness will probably be the one thing that’ll always make me want to reprimand him.

You better not.

I-80 West was the fasted route. It took me to Exit 64B within seven minutes. As we walked through the parking lot, I slipped Taylor one of the cough drops I had in my pocket so they wouldn’t frown upon the whiff of the alcohol oozing from her breath any time she opened her mouth up to speak and I sprayed her coat with the mini bottle of perfume I keep in my purse to further mask it.

It’s very seldom that I use my status as a trump card for perks. Often times, it just happens and I go along with the flow. In this case, I used it. One autograph for the registration clerk served as a fast pass through the paperwork to process me through the emergency room and straight into triage. The hundred and two fever and slightly raised blood pressure rose the severity of my flu like symptoms to somewhat of an urgent case though I’d beg to differ. Luckily for me, the examination room was built to only fit two patients and thus far, I’m the only one in it.

“Did you see that bald guy nurse?”

“What bald nurse?”

“The one who walked past us out in the hallway. I’m not even into bald guys but he’s hot.” Like a child in a store, her curiosity kept her out of the seat next to the bed, and urged her to walk around examining everything in sight. Though she didn’t touch much, she looked on and read off whatever she thought I’d be just as interested in knowing about. Now I think she’s starting to see shit, because there was no bald nurse in that hall way. If she’s talking about who I assume she’s saw, that was a woman.

“Right in here?”

That voice couldn’t be mistaken no matter how much I desired to be hallucinating in a reaction to whatever drug they intend to give me for the pain I’m feeling. It’s that soft depth filled tone that plays like the sweetest medley in my dreams when I’m resting and fills my thoughts at random moments throughout the day when I am diligently executing every task on my schedule. It evokes chills and a throbbing within my center that nears me to the point of erupting.

I could choke him right now.

Behind a visibly annoyed Ben, he appeared in the doorway barely discreet in his black and vivid yellow attire. The Supreme beanie on his head barely covered his signature platinum blonde curls and casual dreads as they loosely hung out of the very front of it. His light caramel skin was without a single blemish as it always is.

God, he’s beautiful.

“Hey, big sister Sarai. I heard my favorite sister was in the hospital and I rushed here right away. I was hanging out with my boy, so I figured I’d bring him with me.” Both of my eyebrows rose as my head dropped back. Ben slowly panned his eyes to Odell and instantly rolled them in response to the nonchalant shrugging of his broad shoulders. What the hell is he talking about?

“Ben told them he was your brother so we could get in. I mean, it was either that or I was gon’ say that I’m your husband.”

“I’m going to fuck you up. You do know that, right?” If I had the energy, I would do it right now. His rebelliousness is absolutely pointless within this moment. It’s a trait that I’ve always admired about him from afar and now that admiration is coming back like a thief in the night to haunt me.

“I’m so confused. Maybe I’m a little drunker than I thought. What are you two doing here?” Taylor wagged her finger like a scolding mother as she twisted her head back and forth to take in the additional presence within the room. I had no set date or specific timeframe for when I intended to explain what’s been going on to her, but I planned to do it at some point. We share just about everything but I’m still trying to navigate all of this and figure it out on my own, which is why I’m purposefully avoiding any additional opinions.

“I’m going to sit in the car. Ya’ll two motherfuckers are annoying with this sneaking shit.” The hint of playfulness in his tone did not match the expression on his face. While my lover found it to be all so hilarious, a confused Taylor glared at me with a questioning expression that I did not want to have to answer to. I never thought I’d ever say it, but I was sad to see Ben walk out. If anything, I needed him to remain in place to be the comedic relief or better yet the distraction from the verbal questionnaire that is sure to come from my friend.

“The doctor came in here yet? What did he say?” As his large palm meshed into my forehead to serve as his own personal thermometer, I smacked it out of my way.

“Why don’t you listen?”

“I told you that I was coming. Don’t act surprised.”

“And I told you not to come.”

“And I didn’t listen. What’s next?” My frustration rose with every word that slipped past his supple lips.

“Since when are ya’ll such close friends? Like three months ago, you were ready to argue with me about why you two couldn’t be cool and now you’re the best of friends? What?” She finally flopped down in the chair that was in place for her to relax in and she looked on between the two of us as if we were two guilty souls. I may be the only guilty one.

“Sarai Nazaire?” A middle-aged white woman donning blue scrubs and a white lab coat cheerily entered the room with a chart in her hand and a stethoscope loosely hanging around her neck. I faintly raised my hand to single myself out so she wouldn’t confuse me with Taylor.

“I’m Dr. Shepard.”

“Oh snap. Like Grey’s Anatomy?” Why did I bring Taylor?

“Yes, just like that. I get that all the time. I’m not Meredith though. I’m Dr. Jane Shepard.”

“Nice to meet you Dr. Shepard.” I didn’t extend my hand to her because hers aren’t gloved and I’ve been using mine to cover my mouth during the coughing spells.

“So, it says here that you’ve been having flu like symptoms. I see the hundred and two fever. You’re visibly sweating. Tell me anything else you’re been feeling and for how long.”

“I start feeling sick a few days ago and it just got progressively worse. I feel chills, aching muscles, fatigue, a horrible headache, my nose is stuff up.”

“Don’t forget the sore throat, baby.” I was getting to it before he interrupted.

“Baby?” Oh my God. I should have let her finish off the rest of that bottle without any interruptions.

“Have you been taking anything?”

“Tylenol and cold medication. Robitussin DM.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“I’m going to take a listen to your lungs. You mind unbuttoning your blouse for me?”

“No.” Odell reached his hands in for the small buttons on the Zara dress shirt covering the upper portion of me and I rapidly smacked his hands down.

She only needed me to unravel the first few buttons so she’d be able to easily reach her hand down into my top to access my chest and back.

“You’re definitely congested. Are you allergic to any medications?”

“No.”

“Based upon the date of your last period, I have to ask, do you think that you could be pregnant right now?”

“Oh, dear God no. Absolutely not.” Taylor’s abrupt answer and laughter was nearly condescending. We’ve had far too many conversations about kids being something we’ll worry about later on down the line because we have so many aspirations that we’re working towards accomplishing now.

If a sewing needle suddenly dropped onto the floor, it would have sounded off like a vibrant bass within a stadium due to the stillness within the room. All eyes panned down on me while I had every urge to unexpectedly combust into a gust of nothingness so that I wouldn’t have to expose the anxiety I’ve been dealing with since we boarded the private jet to leave New Orleans.

My periods have always been slightly irregular and may sometimes skip a month, but God only knows how much I did not need one of those skips to happen this month. I haven’t been on birth control in three years. I decided to stop taking the pill because I had no use for it anymore and wanted to regulate my hormones and cycles. It’s been smooth sailing ever since because I haven’t had any men in my bed and I haven’t been in any of theirs until now. I’ve always been careful. Always. Even with the few years I spent in a relationship, I’ve never had unprotected sex until I shared my body with the man sitting at the foot of this bed.

“I….”

What was once one set of questioning eyes, turned into three, but all I could focus on was his. I awaited the grimace, but it never showed itself within his facial expression. Much like everyone else, he was awaiting the answer that would involve his fate just as much as it would mine.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m just not one hundred percent sure.”

And there it is. My reality. I truly don’t know. I’ve driven past a few Walgreens, Rite Aid, and CVS stores since it all happened and my lack of courage kept me from going inside to purchase what would give me a verdict to either ease or intensify the stress. Back in Louisiana, what should have been a trip to a pharmacy for a Morning After pill when the sun began peaking beyond the curtains and cascading down on us turned into yet another escapade of him filling me again.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

“Taylor!”

“That’s not a problem. We’ll collect a urine sample to measure your HCG level. It’ll be quick. A nurse should be in the room within the next two minutes or so with a cup. It’s just protocol so that we’re on the safe side when administering medication to you. She’s also going to do a rapid influenza test so that we can verify those flu symptoms you’re having. Your symptoms align with it, but we still have to run the test. She’s going to swab the back of your nose.” 

“Okay.”

“In the meantime, just relax. Once we get the results back, we’ll proceed from there. Sounds good?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

The nurse couldn’t come with the plastic cup fast enough. I nearly fell onto the floor as I leapt out of the bed once she did. Locking myself in the bathroom is what eased the spell of anxiety being triggered by all eyes focusing in on me. What should have been a two to three-minute process turned into fifteen as I sat there wallowing in my thoughts. I never wanted my apprehension to be on display in front of him. I didn’t need any of what I’ve been dealing with being a conversation until it was absolutely necessary.

“You okay baby?” His knock was light but I could undoubtedly sense his urgency.

“I’m fine.” It’s far too late to hide now.

“The nurse is back. You want me to give the cup to her?” This man wants me to hand over a sample of my urine to him? Seriously?”

“No. I’m coming out.” 

Once I handled the hygienic aspect of things, I finally stepped out of the bathroom with the cup wrapped into two pieces of paper towel and I timidly handed it over to the nurse. Once I was seated again, she swabbed my nose just as the doctor informed me, she would.

“Thank you. I’ll be quick.”

I wished she would have offered to take me with her. I wouldn’t have minded walking to whatever laboratory that she’s going to drop that off to.

“How long has this been going on?”

Her lean leg crossed over the other and Taylor sat back with a knowing smirk on her face. Her haughtiness in figuring out the obvious would have been hilarious at some other time.

“Months.” His answer came with a shrug. His tone was so blasé that it nearly made it seem like the entire world knows about this and she’s the only one who’s late to the party.

“Months? You hid this for months?”

“T, can we have the room for just a minute or two?”

“So, you can talk about your baby?” The lingering headache seemed to strengthen at what she thought was some sardonic joke. Her irritation about being left in the dark is justified but now is not the time to admonish everything that I am. I’d rather she stand before me and release her frustrations in a private setting and away from him.

“Taylor, please?”

“I’ll go. I’m going to the waiting room. While there, should I think about baby shower themes? Maybe Tinkerbell if it’s a girl and Finding Nemo if it’s a boy? Oh no. I know. A New York Giants theme sounds so much better; a little cliché but better.”

“Taylor.”

“I’m going.”

She tenaciously cut her eyes at Odell sparking laughter from him in response.

“Cute though. Really cute.”

Those were her last words as she disappeared down the hall, finally leaving us in the privacy that I needed. The lack of commotion in the hallway kept my attention focused on his striking face. I thought I would have seen a rush of nurses running a gurney down the long hall and into emergency surgery. If not that, then maybe a crying baby and a fretted mother who can’t seem to figure out why her child has been crying all night long. I need a distraction

“I don’t want you to be upset with me. I should have been more careful. I…”

“Sarai. Upset with you about what? The unknown? I’m not upset with you. I’m not upset at all. I’m here. I’m right here with you. It’s not just you.”

“I know but…”

“What’s the but for? Whatever happens, happens. We’ll be fine.” Will we be? I don’t believe I’m with child but hypothetically speaking, what happens if I am? How do I explain a sudden pregnancy to a man that no one knows about? I am not Mary and this is not the Immaculate Conception. How do we navigate still being in the stages of exploring and learning all there is to know about one another while preparing to be parents to a child that we did not plan?

Both of his hands reached for my thighs. This time, I had no energy to smack them away as they began a pacifying caress. I just want to go to sleep. Is that too much to ask for? In the midst of what should be a temporary illness, the weight of erratic decisions rests on my shoulders and is further deteriorating my mood. He’s in the prime of his life. If people aren’t talking about Tom Brady, they’re talking about him. He’s not ready for any of this. He doesn’t need this.

“Relax.”

“What?”

“You keep tensing up. I can feel it. Relax.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

If it were, I would have already been home sleeping.

“It’s as simple as we want it to be. I don’t mind being your Big Daddy and someone else’s daddy. It’s cool with me. A kid that looks like us? We can both retire now and use the kid for money. Plus, we’re both athletic, so our kid is bound to be a pro athlete. Yeah, our retirement plan is set.” Every muscle within my upper core clenched to an unbearable tightness and yet I laughed anyway. With my mouth being open, I know I’m sharing every bit of this virus with him. However, his words tickled me in a manner that I needed. I haven’t laughed all day long. If anyone is more than capable of making me do so, it’s him.

“My what?”

“Your Big Daddy.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You sound like Stephen A. Smith. Ridiculous. Conspicuous. Prosperous. Expeditiously. He’s forever using some unnecessarily big word to describe his frustrations.” The joke about my fellow ESPN brethren amused me even more. He is absolutely right and it’s what we all love about Stephen A. He’s animated, exaggerated, and his outbursts about the eternally cursed New York Knicks will stand the test of time for sports fans. I constantly have a good laugh when I stop by his dressing room for conversations. He’s been a mentor to me from the moment we’ve met and my admiration for him is boundless.

“Don’t talk about Stephen A. He’s great.”

“He stays on my ass though. He tends to be hot and cold with me. One minute, he’s praising my talent and in the next breath, he’s tired of me.”

“He appreciates you. I promise you that. Steven A. is tough, but he believes you’re the heart of the team. It’s why he can be so critical.”

“I watched the discussion ya’ll had about my pending contract situation. You really think I should be the highest paid receiver?” He’s the most explosive one.

“We can make arguments about Antonio Brown and Julio Jones, but when people think of wide receivers, your name is the first name to come out of most people’s mouths. You have the highest selling jersey of any receiver in the league and you’re the one who fills those seats at the Giants stadium. You have been the heart of the team’s offense for the past three years. Prior to your injury, they averaged twenty-three points in three games when you were on the field for the most snaps. They averaged thirteen point six points when you weren’t out there. You’re worth almost ten points per game with your ability to take a short gain and turn it into a long touchdown. Teams literally run their defenses strictly off stopping you. Get paid. You deserve it.”

All I could see is pearly white porcelain as his eyes further narrowed the more his smile spread across his face. As soon as he leaned in for a kiss, I drew my head back.

“Germs.”

“The way you know your shit is sexy as fuck. You want my last name?”

“Shut up, you…”

Dr. Shepard stepping back into the room ceased my reply. And just like that, my nerves were rattled all over again.

“Well, the pregnancy test is negative. Flu test is positive. I’m not sure which way you wanted those results to go, but that’s the verdict.” I know it was supposed to be witty but it didn’t register as such as I signed in a relief that wasn’t as fulfilling as I thought it would be. No, I’m not ready to be a mother. I’m not in that space just yet. More than anything, what I’m now focused on is the person who would have been alongside me in the journey if the results were the opposite. I would not have been alone. I commend him for that.

“I got a flu shot.”

“When did you get it?”

“A little less than two weeks ago.”

“It takes the body about two weeks after the vaccination to develop immune protection. You probably were exposed to influenza viruses sometime since then. Also, there are different strains of the flu. The vaccination only protects you against certain ones. You may have been exposed to one that is very different from whatever ones the vaccination is designed to protect you against.”

“Well screw whoever was around me and had been sick.” She and my man shared laughter at my words.

I’m serious.

“We’re going to give you Tamiflu. The directions on how to take it will be in your discharge instructions and the pharmacy will give you some too. You can take Tylenol for the fever. Rest. You need a lot of that. No work for a couple of days because you have a ton of germs right now. Hot foods and drinks. Steamy showers will help with congestion and the stuffy nose. Vitamin C is great, so orange juice and they have the cough drop like ones. I emphasize rest. Getting rid of the flu is really a waiting game.”

“You hear that Sarai? Rest. Lots of rest.” If I had no class, my middle finger would have been up and towards him.

“If you feel like your symptoms are persisting, come back.”

“Thank you, Dr. Shepard.”

“The pleasure is all mine. The nurse will be back with the forms and prescriptions.”

As soon as we were left alone again, I immediately slipped back into my coat for much needed warmth.

“I’m about to head out so I can make it into the city on time. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sending Renee over so that she can make you some soup or something. So, be expecting her. You need something from the store?”

“I can make the soup myself.”

“Anything you need from the store?” See? This is what I mean.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Alright, so I’ll see you when I get back. Be in the bed.”

“Uhm.” He knew I’d swerve his lips, so he softly planted his kisses on my warm forehead.

“See you in a bit.”

The nightfall car ride to Walgreens and finally to my home entailed of more conversing than I wanted to have. I was nearly ordered to confirm and deny many of her assumptions, feed into her baseless jokes about a baby that she now knows is non-existent, and defend myself against my supposed lying by omission as we spoke on the phone while I was away. She then proceeded to take credit for our relationship; citing the Bleacher Report party run in as all being a part of her master plan. I beg to differ. I still think it’s a coincidence that he saw me there, but I’ll let her run with that fairytale if it makes her feel better and keeps her off of my case.

“I’m going to lay down.”

“As you should. It’s not like you have to do anything anyway. Your man’s chef is currently making you tea and soup.”

“Taylor.”

“And he arranged for a driver to take me to the airport tomorrow so that you don’t have to get out of bed.”

“Taylor.”

“And he shoots up your club.”

“You know what, goodnight Taylor.”

Lavender; I doused everything in it. I lathered my body up with Dove’s Purely Pampering Relaxing Body Wash while in the shower and spent an extended time inhaling the steam to loosen my nasal passages. Once I was dried off, I moisturized my skin with whipped shea butter fused with lavender essential oil. I lit a match to my Joe Malone London Lavender & Lovage candle, and finally sprayed my pillow cases with Bath & Body Works lavender pillow spray. If I don’t get the best sleep of my life after all of that, I’ll know that I’m suffering from insomnia.

Renee’s coconut ginger carrot chicken soup and the cup of ginger tea certainly made me think of my mother because it’s her key remedy for illnesses. The rich flavoring and natural spice of the ginger eased the congestion discomfort in my chest.

I opted out of the television because it would only deserve as a distraction to the rest, I not only needed but wanted. Unfortunately, what I thought was going to be a long night of slumber ended up being nothing more than on and off naps.

Bergamot, cedar musk, and hints of sage superseded the rest inducing scent that once filled my room. With only a hint of moonlight peaking beyond the white curtain, the man of my affection quietly dropped what appeared to be a duffle bag onto the floor and began to shuffle around the open space within my bedroom to sort himself out.

“I’m not sleeping.” His pace was slower than his usual because he didn’t want to ruin whatever sleep he assumed I was getting.

“You should be.”

“I keep taking naps.”

“You hungry or something?”

“No. Not really. You?”

“I’m good. There’s more than just soup downstairs. I had something before I came up.”

“How was the event?”

“It was nice. The kids were great. They enjoyed themselves.” With every piece of jewelry that he removed; I could hear it clinking against the dresser as he placed them down one by one. “You smell great.”

“Thank you.” I love when he chuckles. It’s so lighthearted and innocent, especially following a compliment. I always want to hug him right after. It’s no different now.

“You look good too.” Yellow against his skin is defining. The whole time he sat with me in that examination room, I couldn’t look away. Even in this darkness, I still cannot do so. My body is riddled with a confusion that I cannot define. I can feel every single flu symptom there is and yet, my nipples are impulsively stiffening against this t-shirt of his that I’m wearing. The prickling in my thighs is increasing with every article of clothing that he removes. I should make him go into the guest room.

“Thank you. Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying.”

His presence kept my eyes open and trailing behind his every move until his almost bare frame slid under the covers and alongside me. I’ve warned him more times than I can count about my germs and yet here he is, basking in them.

“Thank you.”

As he always does when he’s in my bed, he took two of the pillows on his side and tossed them towards my side to lower himself to his liking. I’ve always been someone who loves to lay on way too many of them. It’s probably why I wake up with neck pain every once and a while.

“For what?”

“Taking care of me today.”

“You’re stubborn as hell but it’s what I want to do. It’s my pleasure.”

“Thank you for dealing with my stubbornness too.”

“Of course, baby.”

“And thank you for that yellow coat because I’m keeping it.” That amused him.

“You can have it.”

“Can I have a kiss too?”

“Nah. Germs.”

I used one of the pillows he tossed to whack him in the head. How is he so adorable and maddening all at once?

“Hey, Sarai.”

“Hm?”

His arm extended and slowly snaked around my waist to draw me closer. The skin of his legs melted into mine as they intertwined.

“No Beckham babies today, but later on down the line, for sure, right?”

Beckham babies. Plural. Maybe two boys? Possible two girls? How about the best of both worlds? More than two is out of the question. Twins would ideal. It’s a one shot and done, deal. Actually, no. Two at one time sounds like madness. The genes are strong within his family. I don’t think they stand a chance of genetically inheriting any of my traits. I’ll literally be birthing clones of him in either male or female form. It’s hilarious and yet warming to ponder about.

“Right.”

His lips then met mine.

#odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #obj fanfic

[dopcmine]

   ⋆     𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑫𝑼𝑪𝑰𝑵𝑮 —  * ⋆ ╰  hey , did you happen to see DAMON NAM on campus today ? you know , the JEON JUNGKOOK look-alike in our seven am class ? yeah , that SENIOR . ah , well they had their SILVER NECKLACE on their desk this morning and left without it . i wanted to return it … but i have to get to class in five minutes . wait , don’t you see them around at THE APARTMENTS ? oh , great ! can you bring it to HIM then ? ugh , thank you so much. you’re the best ! now i know they get the rep of being EGOCENTRIC but you don’t have to worry . they’re always MAGNETIC . and who knows , maybe you two’ll hit it off ! i know that they’re a INTERNATIONAL BUSINESS major too . well , i have to jet before i miss my exam but i’ll catch you at the frat party later , right ? oh , you should bring DAMON ! it’s always fun having the PLAYBOY around .

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 :

fullname: damon nam

nicknames: none

age: twenty-three

d.o.b: april 15, 1996

zodiac: aries sun, leo moon, scorpio rising

gender: cismale

sexuality: bisexual

occupation: tattoo artist @ body electric tattoo and piercing 

𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂 :

twt & insta handle: p7ayboy

insta followers: 1.3m

twt followers: 1m

tik tok: 750k

𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 :

cruisin’ around l.a with the windows down, drinking cold beers on a hot summer afternoon, old school music playing loudly from his apartment, late night kbbq dates with the gang, old childhood scars from fights and playing outside until late evening, silver jewelry around his neck and wrists, street racing, rolling blunts on the hood of his car, face smudge with oil and sweat working on his car, stumbling around the city on the lookout for his favorite food trucks, tattoos up to his neck and down his arms all the way to his back, a gold virgin mary necklace hanging from his rear view mirror, belting out to romantic spanish music drunk and slurring the words, always moving forward and never looking back, selfish tendencies, playing with people like a deck of cards, carrying a butterfly knife with him at all times

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 :

born and raised in east los angeles, damon had to grow up a little faster than his peers. he comes from a working class family, his parents both public school teachers trying to get by like every other family. being one of the very little korean-american families in maravilla, damon used to get picked on and bullied to the point he refused to get out of bed in his early elementary days. but like any kid, he made friends with some of the neighborhood kids that went to the same school he did, and they stuck by his side. it gave damon the confidence to stand up for himself now that he had his little group to the point he repeated the bad words they taught him in spanish to the same little boys that would pick on him, not knowing what it meant but knowing it was something about their moms that caused one his many first fights to break out in the school yard. after that, damon and his little band of misfits became a little notorious for getting into scuffles with other students. 

he stayed in maravilla up until high school, venturing north to a new house due to his dad being offered the position of principal at a junior high. damon went on to attend lincoln high school but it wasn’t hard to fit in, nor was it difficult to fall into step with a new group of friends ( some of which he knew from his earlier days when he used to sneak out of his house with his friend and venture off ). high school was a ride, even if damon had found a place where he belonged people still loved to talk shit and damon loved nothing more than confrontation. he got into fights behind grocery stores, there was fights in empty parking lots where groups of people showed up before everyone scattered the moment they heard cop sirens down the street. damon did get caught once for a misdemeanor the summer before sophomore year and his parents had to get him out which was a hell of a ride home, both his parents almost losing their voices taking turns yelling at him. 

it was that moment that his parents made him attend mandatory after school classes, starting smack in the middle of summer. it’s safe to say he was very angry about it but found no outlet to get it out on when he was confined to the library. he started doodling instead of doing his homework while he was in there, soon off he started drawing more and he had talent. he could draw any picture you put in front of him just by looking at it, and soon he started to create his own. that very same summer, on one of the rare days his parents let him out to go to one his friend’s birthday party, he met their older brother, covered in tattoos from his legs to his arms. old english font and a portrait of a woman he later learned was his wife. he was entranced by the ink that decorated the man, asking him questions as the man grilled the carne asada, coughing every once in a while the smoke blew in his direction. 

too keep it short, damon wanted to do that. he wanted to draw permanent drawings on people and he wanted his own. he drew more, filling more sketchbooks with his own ideas and interpretations of others. he started working odd jobs after school, trying to save up for his own tattoo gun and ink, even venturing off to tattoo shops to observe them before he got told to scram. at the age of sixteen he had his own set and it wasnt long before his friends lined up to get their first tattoos done by damon. just little small things that didn’t require damon to worry too much about safety and health. the first tattoo he made on himself was a lucky eight ball and a match, now faded on the sides of his fingers. 

at seventeen his got his fake id not only for booze but to get a job at a parlor -- not tattooing -- but cleaning up after them, keeping the store tidy and clean. he had a car at the time, an old beat up chevy, and it took him thirty minutes to get to body electric. the owner new damon was underage but he let him work anyway. point is, he was taken under his wing and became an intern, an apprentice, and by the time damon hit eighteen and got his tattoo license, he was able to work a couple hours at first. from 18 to now, damon has been in the same place with a booming following on social media -- which is thanks to his good looks and talent. 

he’s been wanting to drop out of ucla because of how in-demand he is now. he’s tattooed celebrities, from socialites to rappers to all sorts of people. he hooks up his old friends from where he grew up for free, and his close friends at school too. but overall, damon makes hella bank now. which is why he finds school pointless, however, the owner of the parlor he works out told him that if he didn’t finish his bachelors he’ll fire him. the owner definitely grew to treat damon as a son, and wants him to venture out and travel with his talent, but he wants him to be smart about it and learn the ropes of the business industry. it’s why damon stays despite not being too happy about it, but it’s his last year and he’s going to make it one shot of patron at a time. 

𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒔: 

damon is trilingual -- english, korean, and spanish ( considering he grew up in a heavily latinx/chincax neighborhood as a child, the language latched on to him ). 

he’s very appreciative of the chicanx culture because he grew up around it, and they took him in despite not being chicanx himself he was still treated as family by his close friends. ( and also because i’m biased to my own culture and east los is heavily mexican/latinx )

he almost joined a gang but it was around the time he was forced into after school study where he found his outlet through art. 

he knows how to dance pero like cumbias and shit, he’s hella good at it.

damon makes it his goal to be good at everything, it doesn’t even matter what it is. 

he has a bmw he fixed up and uses it for street racing -- races which he wins most of the times ( just ask dae lmao ). 

he can drive under the influence of weed but i do not condone this behavior !! but he can do it, but he’s beent doing it, don’t try this at home guys, or alone. 

damon was a little heartthrob in high school though, going out with the girls and hooking up with some guys. 

he was honestly one of the popular kids growing up, he was in THAT group that people longed to be a part of because they were always out mobbing, drinking, throwing parties and being out. they had fun, but they were also notorious trouble-makers. 

his tik tok thing started as a joke because damon looked like the eboys that began to trend and now he has dae help him film them just for the hell of it, because why not. he’s got nothing to lose, it’s a good laugh in the end. 

is a gym rat, he’s out there doing weights and bulking up and boxing because sometimes he just wants to procrastinate his homework and that’s valid, plus he’s gotta stay in shape with all that heavy drinking and weed intake. 

patron is his best friend -- after dae of course lmao.

damon’s actually never been in love??? like he’s had maybe three s/o’s but it was never that serious? except maybe for his first one? but he’s never experienced something where he feels genuine care for a person and love, it’s mostly just lust and like the need to experience what it’s like being with someone but it never rlly takes off

𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔:

gang shit: this one’s already taken up by whoever’s in the no homo chat but like, let me plot out dynamics with you all cause ion know how damon is gonna treat y’all characters if we don’t talk about it lmao

enemies: damon could always use some tbh, those are fun because damon grew up around people that have given him a hard time and he isn’t one to back down from a good altercation 

an ex: listen, damon isn’t that great of a person he probably cheated on them only because he didn’t know they were exclusive and frankly, he doesn’t really even remember agreeing to be something but they were and even if damon knew, he still went ahead and did it.

highschool sweetheart, THE ex: listen this one is...particular and super specific. must be a girl/nb but latinx because i picture this being the person who really really taught damon more than he already knew, from dancing to romantic spanish music, etc. perhaps they weren’t in love but they did care about each other, damon even still has a gift i picture she gave him ( a gold virgin mary necklace ) hanging from his rear view mirror. this is like...when we can take up more chars ig? idk just thought i’d write it down

flings: hookups ig? except not people involved with dae cause he isn’t about to fuck no sloppy seconds lmao, if not he venturing out to usc away from ucla lmaooo

idk what else to add im so tired and this is so late and i just want to post it, so if y’all got anything else just hmu tbh

#bruins.intro #im late lol

[kontextmaschine]

Roseburg

Okay, Roseburg. It’s the capital of the southern Oregon timber industry, which fell hard with the end of harvesting on federal lands in the early ‘90s.

It’s got a population of 20,000, in a town center at a bend in the river and several residential neighborhoods, with more modern retail north of the city center around I-5. Several thousand more live in outlying areas, and Roseburg is seat of Douglas County stretching to the coast counting 110,000 population in total.

The airport offers no scheduled passenger service. Flights to major mountain west cities are available 83 miles to the north or 90 to the south; equivalent service is available 15 miles from Bend.

The only college in the area is a community college.

The town center, oriented around a “couplet” (parallel one-way streets) for a Main Street in Oregon tradition, has government buildings and a roughly five square block downtown. The downtown is early-20th century in character, solid frontages of storefronts with 1-2 stories of residential above, with churches, banks, and apartment buildings on the periphery.

The downtown is not pedestrianized, but has been designed for cars to park on the periphery. One block of storefronts is block-through, with entrances on each of two opposing sides. Many storefronts are empty. Several bars and restaurants are active, with a few (plus a co-working space) that look to have opened recently. Other stores remain looking a little out-of-time, and several storefronts have been occupied by nonprofits, street-level offices, or enterprises that look to create low returns while occupying high spatial volume. A gym occupies one sizeable space, two large markets stand empty. Despite this emptiness, only the markets look truly dilapidated; others have intact windows and clean interiors and reasonably fresh paint and facades. Scattered throughout are several civic monuments and monumental-looking fraternal lodges.

Sloping away from this downtown, the town center contains more stores, warehouses, restaurants, and bars. On the I-5 corridor, several hotels and travel-oriented businesses serve the freeway, mostly north of the town center.

- - -

So, in some ways this is kind of what I’d been expecting to like - a resource extraction town for a collapsed industry, leaving a fully built-out but intact infrastructure ripe for use. With poor flight connections to finance centers and a local economy still tapering off as the legacy population drifts away, an obvious hope is to market the small-town experience to internet workers or others who generate resources in a way that doesn’t require an existing resource base in physical proximity, while in the interim, the courthouse, the remaining private-lands timber industry, and the highway services support a basic level of services.

The maintained facades, the nonprofit offices occupying storefronts, and the general effort to keep downtown looking active suggest a level of coordination by local elites in support of the city’s viability.

- - -

And it’s… Cascadia. It’s green but at the same time younger than the east coast or rust belt - the wilderness hasn’t been carved into as much, the people not guarded, exhibit the good down-home parts of “country” without much “narrow-minded bumpkin”.

Many stores and bars have signs at the doors saying to take hoodies off, no backpacks, no tweekers, this site recorded on camera. There are at many points one to three people who are obviously homeless or on drugs in view. A Greyhound bus stopped in front of one dilapidated market and disgorged 7 vagrant-looking people. Every day the city police log lists like 6 arrests. On sites where these mugshots are compiled and shared around you see these are usually about heroin, meth, thefts to buy heroin or meth, or parole violations by people with convictions about heroin or meth. Even among apparently functional people working behind counters and bars, there are more facial scabs than you expect.

There is, frankly, an absurd level of pro-military sentiment. Signs in all sorts of windows, military discounts everywhere, banners from some past event benefiting some charity for military families. A veteranarian’s office is painted with the American flag, silhouettes of dogs and soldiers saluting or wearing helmets. I wondered if there had been a military base closed nearby because even after a week traveling through much more “red”-than-Portland country I had seen more of that stuff but nothing near that level. I never saw any murdered-out trucks or Punisher skulls or Black Rifle Coffee or 5.11 or any other military-adjacent aesthetic, though. Wearing Chinese-replica BDU pants, I was sporting more of a tactical look than anyone I saw.

Douglas County gave 64% of its vote to Trump in 2016.

- - -

The clear signs of people coming together to keep downtown appealing, all the monuments, the particular aesthetic of the places catering to a downtown crowd (and of that crowd itself), the legacy of what you’d expect from timber barons and their clerks… I was like “oh I get this, there’s a strong country-club Republican strain.”

Knowing that the region’s forest workers were pretty radical (that’s an important thing about Oregon, its normative rural experience isn’t of yeoman farmers but forest workers) I was wondering when I was going to get a sign of that, eventually I realized the yay-military stuff was the expression of class solidarity I was looking for.

Knowing both of those I turned to the addicts and fuckups and was like “ohh, you’re the third player in this drama, the unvirtuous poor that the virtuous poor and white collar types can bond over identifying against”.

A good deal of the nonprofits taking up space downtown seem to be the prison-industrial-complex type, the therapy or treatment you get sentenced to, designed to employ the first group turning the third into the second.

- - -

Seeing Roseburg makes some things about Portland make sense. That, say, when timber collapsed some of the “worker” types or their kids moved to, or stayed in Portland and brought the ethic to food service.

Traditional Oregon is weirdly exclusive, had an anti-Californian sentiment in particular but I’ve heard stores from Washingtonians about getting their cars pelted with rocks in the 80s, the state’s most famous statement of boosterism included a direct request not to move here.

There’s very much a sense that Portland has become swollen with non-Oregonians who seek to impose themselves on traditional, rural, Oregon, I could see a distaste towards any idea of making Roseburg more Portlandish.  

When I walked in to look at the co-working space (it’s really just a period office building with individual offices) I overheard a guy saying that he could accept if they just made up a list of the guns it was okay to buy…

And the thing about a strong local elite invested in the future of your town is the town is under the control of a strong local elite with an interest in its future, presumably wanting to keep or develop it as its own playground.

At the same time, whoever owns all those buildings would very much like to see them filled at competitive rates  I’m sure, and property owners are the backbone of any local elite. (I do not know the in-town landholders’ relationship to the woodland barons.)

- - -

So. Promising. It’s a charming Portland-in-miniature, houses are still available in the $100s and apartments at $500/br/mo. Between empty and underused space there’s maybe 10 years of solid expansion before all the slack has been taken up, and by all appearances the local system would love to see it happen and has no better pitch than quality-of-life-experience, being what Portland was in the 90s.

(Even the class system isn’t terribly off, a lot of the “Portlandia” years were about importing a middle class to fit between the old money in the West Hills and the retreating border of “Felony Flats” across the river to the east.)

That said it’s not abandoned just waiting for my guiding hand, there are preexisting power structures and culture to accommodate or challenge. And if undermining the local culture is the last thing I want - it’s what appeals to me, and the loss of which I’m mourning in Portland – I’m already thinking “okay that’s honestly too Republican, but that’s the only way to end up with a tolerable culture after it floods with creatives so hey”.

This is assuming it does take off, which I honestly think is a good assumption, as the big west coast cities fill up and cascade down (in the interim, look at Olympia, Visalia, Sacramento, Eugene, and Fresno) but isn’t inevitable. Oregon environmental laws and declining influence of Republican state legislators could further undermine the rural economy. Things could just keep declining past the point of being able to keep up appearances - the VA hospital just closed its emergency room, and there are two more in the area but the reasoning was the difficulty of recruiting and maintaining specialized staff, and that’s a bad sign.

Maybe I’m just psyched to see an authentically Cascadian town again and I should check out some others before getting swept away, in Oregon alone I’m still virgin on Albany, McMinnville, Forest Grove, and Coos Bay.

Still, I dunno. Might be a site for a good life.

#no I have like a lot to tell you

[tisfan]

Suburban Warfare

Square: S1 - mutual appreciation society ( @tisfan ) Square: S3 - Day in the Life ( @monobuu ) Warning: unadulterated fluff, suburban life, Home Owners Association Pairing: Tony/Bruce Summary: When the HOA makes his neighbor take down his adorable little garden gnomes, Tony sets out a plan of revenge, involving flying… robotic… flamingoes. Who said suburban living was boring? Word Count: 2,215 Link: A03 for @tonystarkbingo

Tony Stark hadn’t actually seen his neighbor for the first six months or so after moving into Lighthouse Crossings.

Tony’s house was the one on the end, so he only shared the one wall with his neighbor -- Mr. Banner, according to the package that Tony had once gotten by accident. He’d dropped it off at Banner’s porch and rang the bell, but got no answer. So, Tony had left the box there and hoped that the stories about being able to leave your front door unlocked were true.

Rhodey kept saying that living out in the middle of nowhere was going to be good for Tony, but Tony wasn’t so sure. However, with steady access to Amazon Prime and a really nicely remodeled shop in what had once been a double garage, Tony was managing. Mostly.

He hadn’t seen his neighbor, that much was true, although sometimes Tony could hear him moving around in his own house. He drove an enormous, bright green Jeep that was usually parked in the drive, same as Tony’s Audi.

Tony wondered what Banner was keeping in his garage, since it wasn’t his car. It wasn’t that unusual, though. He’d noticed of his up and down the street neighbors, that only about ten percent of them used the garage for actual car storage.

So, he’d never actually seen his neighbor.

But what he had seen was his neighbor’s lawn ornaments.

(more below the cut)

It started as just one; a little garden gnome wearing a pointy hat, and -- Tony actually had to walk up Banner’s driveway to peer at it more closely -- a Star Trek uniform.

“Beam me up, Scotty,” Tony said, patting his neighbor’s wall. “You are my new best friend, if I ever meet you.”

A few weeks later, the Star Trek redshirt gnome was joined by two science officers.

A week after that, Tony noticed that there were now four gnomes, and they’d been redistributed so that Red Shirt Gnome was dead, there was a science officer inspecting the dead gnome, and a yellow shirted gnome screaming at the skies.

“Khaaaaan!” Tony muttered.

A week after that, a communications officer gnome sat on the front porch, delicate little porcelain legs crossed as she talked into a device attached to her head.

A month or so and Tony found a shop in town (he walked by it all the time on the way to the hardware store, but this time he’d actually stopped in and looked.) that sold lawn ornaments. He looked over the stock and picked out a good sized lawn crocodile, which he added to his own lawn, only inches away from Banner’s lawn.

Two days later, he was delighted to go out in the morning and discover that the entire Gnome-Away team was gathered on the edge of Banner’s yard, inspecting the croc.

A day after that, the croc “ate” one of the Away Team.

It progressed like that.

Tony still hadn’t met the neighbor. But he was nursing just a little bit of a lawn decoration crush.

Dear Mr. Stark,

It has come to our attention that you are in violation of Community Guideline 102.a.ii, specifically:

It is the duty of all members of the community to keep their lawns neat and tidy, so as not to lower curb appeal for the neighborhood.

The board is giving you ten (10) business days to comply without our requests, or the board will have the lawn tidied, and bill you for any corrections.

Further non-compliance will be met with a $25-per-day fee after the specified ten (10) business days are up to be collected with your monthly Home Owners Association Fees.

If you would like to appeal this decision, the board will hear your complaints on the second Tuesday of the month, at our bi-monthly meeting.

Sincerely

Whitney Frost

The first time Tony met his neighbor, a man with an unbelievable amount of fluffy hair, a square jaw, and a hideous purple shirt was dumping two garden gnomes (communications officer and the original Red Shirt) into his trash can, and then stood there, staring at the plastic container like it was a open grave.

Tony shoved his feet into a pair of slippers and hurried out the door, still in his pyjama pants (with flamingos on them, because Tony loved him some ridiculous pyjamas), coffee mug in one hand. “No, no, no, wait, what, what are you doing?”

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a rumpled copy of the same letter Tony had received and promptly ignored. His yard was neat and tidy. There wasn’t trash in it, he had his lawn cut regularly by the Parker kid down the street. The flower beds had actual flowers in them. He was fine.

“HOA says my gnomes are tacky,” Banner said. “They’re going to fine me.”

“There’s nothing in the HOA rules about lawn gnomes,” Tony said. “I checked. You’re fine. I like your lawn gnomes.”

“Well, someone doesn’t, because Whit said there were a number of complaints,” Banner said.

“Zero is a number,” Tony muttered. “Look, I’m on your side here-- my name’s Tony, by the way, nice to meet you--”

“Bruce.”

“--so let’s just go to the HOA meeting and appeal.”

Bruce gave him a little half-tipped up smile. “You think so?”

“I know so--” Tony reached into the trash and pulled out the two gnomes. Nothing seemed to be broken. A little paint on Red Shirt’s hat, good as new. “I like these guys-- I’ve… my lawn croc-- you know. It’s been fun.”

Bruce was smiling, a little shy, ducking his chin. But he was also nodding along. “Yeah, I-- it’s nice to meet you, Tony.”

“Bruce, Bruce, check it out,” Tony said. He waved the remote at his neighbor, noting again, for the record, that Bruce was absolutely adorable in an absent minded professor sort of way. Even if he insisted on wearing purple cardigans. He was, in fact, both absent-minded and a professor, so it was just professional courtesy that Tony was noticing, and the fact that he wanted to see if Bruce’s mouth was as kissable as it looked, that was just bonus, right?

Besides, no one had to know that he was crushing on his neighbor.

“What are you--” Bruce ducked as one of the flamingoes got a little close to his head.

“Flying lawn decorations,” Tony said. “They’re not against the rules, I checked.”

Bruce spun around in a slow circle. There were an even dozen of the things, zooming around in patterns above Tony’s lawn. “This is amazing, did you make these?”

“Well, yeah,” Tony sad. “I mean, they don’t even sell this sort of thing in skymall.”

“How?”

“Well, I started with some roombas, and then hacked their algorithms,” Tony said. “Built the core around them, and utilized some of Stark Industries old flying car tech. We never could get approval for the repulser technology, and Dad gave it up as a bad idea. The lift just wasn’t there for a passenger compartment. But these guys, they weigh less than ten pounds each, so it’s pretty easy. They’re confined to the yard, and when they need to recharge, they go right to their stations behind the house.”

“That’s cool,” Bruce said, tipping his head up to watch.

“Perfectly safe. Perfectly within the rules,” Tony said. After the emergency session in which the HOA had decided that lawn statuary of any sort was against the rules, and both Tony and Bruce had been hit with enormous fines (Tony had offered to cover Bruce’s fines, but Bruce had just blown him off) Tony had been trying, deliberately, to get on Frost’s nerves. “They’re not statues. And when they’re charging, they’re out of sight, and so not lowering the curb appeal.”

Bruce hummed thoughtfully, still watching one particular flamingo making patrols around Tony’s yard. “I think you underestimate Whitney Frost.”

“We shall see,” Tony said. He felt pretty good about it. Besides, the flamingos were pretty cool, no matter what.

“Hey, hey, Tony-- Tony will you wait up?” Bruce came shuffling down the sidewalk from the Clubhouse, after the Homeowners Association meeting.

“Yeah, what? Oh, oh, sorry, Bruce, that just makes me so angry, there was nothing specific in the bylaws about lawn ornaments, Frost just has a boner for making people do what she wants. She doesn’t want residents, she wants fucking clones.” Tony hitched in a breath, getting ready to go full on rant, but the look on Bruce’s face pulled him up short. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just have to work on not getting angry,” Bruce said. “I have poor impulse control when I’m angry, and after so many years, I’ve finally learned that toxic anger doesn’t help anyone.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Tony said. “Look, you want to go out and get a burger and a beer or something? I just-- did you see that, she just--”

“Railroaded the board into doing what she wants, I know. She’s done it before. There’s only three of them, and Parker Robbins does whatever she says, so-- no one wants to be on her bad side,” Bruce told him. “I could have told you that.”

Which was Bruce’s way of saying he had told Tony that. And that Tony hadn’t listened. Usually, Tony had discovered that a firm, no nonsense attitude, a big smile, and a reasonable argument worked.

Frost had, when confronted with the idea that lawn gnomes weren’t specifically forbidden by the bylaws, had gotten the other board members to change the damn bylaws at the fucking meeting.

Bylaws took only a quorum vote of the board members to change, and didn’t have to have any sort of discussion or study before hand.

“If Frost wanted us to all have to grow orange crabgrass in our yards, she could just decide that?” Tony demanded of the air. “How is that-- that is too much power for someone to have. These are our homes.”

“You can only turn over a board decision with at least fifty percent of the owners showing up for a vote. No one can do that. Even when she decides to raise the homeowners’ dues, we can only get about thirty heads of household to show up to the damn meeting,” Bruce said. “A beer and burger date sounds great.” He slanted his eyes at Tony.

“Is it a date? I mean, not that I have a problem-- I mean, I haven’t… did you--” Tony stammered.

“You’re adorable when you get all muddled up,” Bruce said. He was a big guy, but soft, somehow. Like a teddy bear. He put an arm around Tony’s shoulders and Tony just wanted to kick back, curl up, and stay safe there. “I’m saying, if you want it to be a date, I’m not adverse to the idea of dating.”

“It’s a date,” Tony said, firmly. “Absolutely.”

“What are you doing?”

“Finding a loophole,” Tony said. The home owners association documents were a huge, over 200 page, held together with a binder clip piece of bullshit that Tony had signed before getting the mortgage for his home.

He’d read through them, because he always read everything that he signed, no matter how tedious. But the addendum to the HOAdocs had not been included.

Which showed a gradual increase in the amount of power that had consolidated into the board.

“Is it working?”

“Actually, yes,” Tony said, looking up with a beatific grin. “How do you feel about some neighborhood involvement.”

“Huh?”

“Change the system from within,” Tony said. “Look, there are actually seven board positions--” Tony traced a line down the page. “And they’re filled entirely by volunteers.”

“Frost only has three people on--”

“I know. No one has volunteered in years. So it’s just Frost and her cronie, and Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, who’ve been on the board since the neighborhood was first build up,” Tony said. “There’s a sad lack of leadership these days. Frost controls the vote, because in the case of a tie, she gets to decide.”

“So--”

“I’m saying we volunteer, my darling,” Tony said, batting his eyelashes at his boyfriend.

“Us. Volunteer.”

“To be on the board,” Tony clarified. “That gives the board six votes total. And I already talked May Parker into it.” Parker had a kid, a nephew about four years old, and she’d gone up against Frost a few times too for things like sidewalk chalk and Big Wheels bikes. Which made for seven votes total.

“You think Jack or Stan will back anything we suggest?”

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted. “But what else can we do, aside from conform to Frost’s expectations. We can’t let her win, Bruce.”

“I wasn’t aware that this was a war,” Bruce pointed out, mildly.

“Look, the board positions are only open at the annual meeting. This meeting. So, if it doesn’t work out, we’re only doing it for a year. How bad can it be?”

“I’m quite positive we will regret this,” Bruce said.

“Oh, come on, Bruce, this is an excellent outlet for your anger issues, there’s something here to get angry about! Use your powers for good.”

Bruce pulled Tony into an embrace and kissed him several times until Tony relented and relaxed. “I’ll tell you a secret. I’m always angry.”

#tonystarkbingo2019 #tony stark x bruce banner #science bros #homeowners association #suburban life #monobuu

[ocean-again]

self-indulgent crime story

I looked up at the address over the door again, checked the paperwork in front of me, this didn’t look like the kind of place some slumlord makes their regsutered agent, but Justice, and Process, must be served.

I looked back over my shoulder at my mom, as usual smoking and checking her phone in her black SUV parked in the loading zone, we haden’t been there long and at 10 am the street was in the middle of the shift change from early morning light industry to mid-day commerce, I’d only been to Ballard before for the third shift, the late-night drinking shift, and it felt like a different neighborhood. out in the sticks the only transition is from when people are home to when they’re not home, which only made my habit of sleeping during daylight hours that much worse. it was a misty morning down by the marina and to my australian internal clock it felt like 5am, I was here, I was not awake.

mom parks in the loading zones indefinitely and never gets tickets because mom is an attorney, which was why I was here with a three inch stack of paper and not her. attorney’s can’t serve their own paperwork, somebody else has to and if that somebody was an unemployed depressed adult daughter with nothing else to do but pack books in an empty home, then I was your girl.

Process serving, if you haven’t heard if it, is what happens when you ignore your mail. if you’re in the middle of a lawsuit there’s mail you have to get or the case grinds to a halt and sometimes collapses, shitty landlords use this to their advantage and try to claim they haven’t received documents and so they don’t need to pay the relocation or whatever, the answer to this kind of stalling is a docment bombardment from all possible sides. my little stack of papers for the registered agent was but one facet of mom’s attack but the most legitimate. I needed to find Mike Sinkula and I needed to give him these papers. the address said I had the right building but also that I needed to be at suite 304 which usually means 3rd floor. if this wasn’t the place maybie I could ask for help. my usual trick was just looking really lost and confused, which was hardly an act, but it’s an effective way to get people to hold doors open for you.

paperwork securely in hand, I walked in to the shop, it was all gifts and do-dads to the north, with a remarkably large display of colorfull waterbottles, and a wall made up of different colored chevrons of wood on the other, each looked like the corner edge of a pcture frame. I looked around for who was the most likely target and realized the three people here were in a state of panic that meant they didn’t even see me, they were in the far back of the room which appeared to transition from being a shop to being a workshop. airhoses dangled from the ceeling and

“what did they take?”

“I don’t know! they just ripped in to everything!, it’s all a mess”

“oh my god, was that mrs’s Tollefson’s order? they DESTROYED IT”

I peeked over the barrier trying to look innoclous, the shop, which to judge by it’s freshly papered work tables, was normally a clean and neat place, had been trashed and what looked like art was strewn off over the place, two big flatfile drawer sets, one wood, and one metal were surrounded by folders made of foamboard that had been ripped into and then thrown to the side, some of them still had their contents in them. quite a lot more had not, and it looked as though a large children’s drawing on sun-faded orange construction paper had been ripped to shreds, a short dark haired girl was carefully collecting the pieces

“how can you tell?” a medium height soft voiced man with a large red beard in an apron sounded near tears “I took the order, her grandson is apparently just out of college and he made this in kindergarten, it was a graduation gift”

I looked down at the floor, a small blockprint of mt fuji had miraculously survived whatever disaster this was intact I beant to pick it up and realized it was an origional “is that a hirosige??” I blurted out “oh my god”

---

author’s note I have no idea where this is going

[lostinsantacarla]

Part two (I can’t take complete credit for this. I threw an idea at my writing partner and she ran with it, creating this part of the chapter that’s simply amazing and completely Paul)

1981

He woke up later than usual. His lady friend, one of his many friends with benefits, or in last night's case, "Make me your bitch, Paul!" had long since left for work, but not before providing him with money on the end table so he could buy some beer and cigarettes. However, he decided that using the money to score some high-quality weed from his favorite dealer sounded better.

Sure, the guy was a hunchback, walked with a lead foot, had one bug-eye, and smelled like garbage, but out of all the shady people Paul had bought pot from over the years, this guy had never steered him wrong. It was too bad the old fart was hardly around. For someone who hobbled about as he did, he was fast with his transactions and as soon as the exchange was finished, he was off like a thief in the night. Lucky for Paul, word on the street was that the weirdo was out and about tonight.

Sweet Mary Jane, here I come! His inner monologue announced as he threw on a pair of denim pants, that is, after he found them behind the bushes outside the apartment complex. He had had to run out buck naked, marathon sprinting, to retrieve them without being spotted. Talk about a wild romp of sex for his pants to get thrown out the window like that.

His look was further completed with a band shirt, seeing as one could never go wrong with Led Zeppelin, and black high tops. Then in the bathroom, in front of the mirror, he spent a good amount of time teasing his hair until it resembled a lion's mane; big, wild, and unkempt.

The girls loved his style and always gave compliments about how he looked like a rock star. His hair and his bigger than life personality had opened many doors of opportunity, which in turn led to free food, booze, and sex. He was exuberant and free spirited. Nothing and nobody could hold him back.

Once he was fixed up, the rock star was out the door with the money and made his way down the block. It was a quiet night and the sun had long since set in the horizon. The streets were lined with rundown apartment buildings and small houses, but visibility was somewhat poor since many of the streetlights had long since burned out, or were flickering their last light as he strolled beneath them. He could hear some of the bulbs buzzing and glanced up to see a couple of moths high above, fluttering around one of the dying lights. Needless to say, this part of the neighborhood wasn't the greatest, but it was an even thirty miles from Santa Carla, where the beaches and amusement park roared with life at all hours of the day and night. That was his destination, though he never complained about where he stayed in the moment, because it was a free roof over his head. It wasn't like his childhood home had been anything remotely close to resembling paradise either, but those were painful memories, pushed deep into the back of his mind. Occasionally they would pop up here and there, rearing their ugly heads, considering he was human after all.

He ventured off the main road and resorted to crossing through some dilapidated backyards, as it was a lot quicker to travel. These homes, while much smaller and closer in connection than the ones he'd passed earlier, were also abandoned with windows boarded up and walls marred with graffiti. He kept both hands in his pockets, one of which had a hold over a switchblade. It served as good protection, considering he was aware of the few guys he'd pissed off by sleeping with their girlfriends and then bragged about it later while high, and or drunk. They'd all wanted to beat the shit out of him, and they weren't shy about threatening out in the open. Fortunately, he was always one step ahead of them and like his favorite dealer, made sure never to stay in the same place for very long. Keeping off the main roads would ensure prying eyes weren't watching him.

Eventually he found himself headed towards the more industrial part of the town in search of the weirdo, where the lighting became scarce and dark alleys closed in on him. It was like he was wandering through a maze of brick walls and wooden fences, with garbage cans and discarded cargo boxes choking the walkways. Not a great place to get jumped, so he kept a steady pace and made sure to keep his eyes open.

As he prepared to go around a corner that led down a narrow channel of a one-way street, a high pitched, fearful sounding, "NO!" made him stop dead in his tracks. Instantly, he flattened against a set of steel bars over a foreign doorway, and peered around the corner with his mouth slightly parted in concern.

Just a few feet away, under the light of an abandoned two story building, he spotted a little blonde girl, probably no older than four years old, bawling her eyes out. Her cheeks were red and stained with tears. A middle-aged man with disheveled gray hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail and wearing a white lab coat towered over the girl. He looked about ready to devour her like a hungry beast. His face was twisted and strained and he reached out to grab her with gnarled, crooked fingers. He barked at her, telling her that if she didn't stop crying any second, he was going to belt her.

"What the...?" Paul muttered under his breath. "hell is this?"

Suddenly the man had a firm grip over the back of the pink overalls the child wore, and was ready to hoist her off the ground. The kid was jerked back, and she let out a painful scream.

Normally, Paul wouldn't have given two shits about other people's problems. Aside from his drug buddies and faceless gal pals, he wasn't close enough with anyone to where he'd stick his neck out for them in a matter of life or death. The only person he looked out for at that point in time was numero uno. Yet the sight of a small, defenseless child about to be harmed by another adult brought one of those painful memories to the surface, no longer buried deep in his sub-consciousness. It reminded him all too much of his past, and of the many nights he'd been beaten black and blue by his step-dad with no one around to help him. Not even his mother, who knew what was happening, would dare lift a finger. Every time it happened, she looked the other way, afraid to interfere—not because she would get hit, but because she would lose the man's attention and he'd end up leaving her. The only way Paul was able to escape the nightmare was by staying out night after night, and only going home when he absolutely needed to. Before he turned sixteen, they kicked him out permanently after learning he had sold all his mother's precious jewelry, including her wedding ring, for quick cash. He was given the boot and ultimately his freedom.

"Fuck that," Paul hissed through clenched teeth as he sprang into action. No one had been there for him, but that didn't mean he couldn't help another little tike out. He bolted away from his hiding spot, and approached the stranger, using his arm to shove the older guy up against the wall. That in turn allowed him to yank the girl away from the weirdo's grasp, and set her down on her feet. She stumbled backwards and continued crying, but Paul ignored her as he became transfixed with the creep in front of him.

"What were you planning on doing with such a small fry, huh?" he asked, his blue eyes full of rage, yet at the same time he was somewhat... grinning? Yes, he was smiling. He liked frightening this asshole. "You don't look like nobody who would care about her. She sure as hell doesn't seem to like you."

"That is NONE of your business," the man hissed as he pushed Paul's arm away from him. "She will be property of—"

"Wrong answer!" Paul exclaimed as he stepped back, drew his switch blade, and stepped forward once more, shoving the tip dangerously close to the man's throat. "The kid wouldn't be screaming like that if she belonged to you or anybody associated with you. And 'property' you say? That ain't gonna be sitting right with the police now, is it?"

The last thing Paul wanted to do was go to the police. He'd already had more than a few run-ins with them for public intoxication, lewd behavior, and disturbing the peace. Assault and possession of a deadly weapon was not something he wanted to add to his record. Still, he wasn't about to let some asshole get away with hurting a defenseless kid. He wasn't that jaded.

The man's eyes bugged out at the sight of the weapon and he swallowed nervously, buying the bluff. He held up his hands, already breaking out into a cold sweat, and started stammering.

"A-A-All right. All right. Just… let me go. Let me go, please. I don't see why they need… need her so much anyhow. S-She doesn't look like anything special to me. I-I could always find another job at my age! I shouldn't be... be treated like this! No job is worth risking my life for!"

They? Paul raised a brow over his ramblings, but a couple things stood out to him. What kind of job was this creep into where the requirements involved wanting their employees to kidnap children? Was it some kind of secret sweat shop in China? Whatever. He moved back and closed the switch blade before sliding it back in his pocket, his eyes never wavering from the man in front of him. The girl had calmed down and was no longer crying, but squatting on the ground, her body pressed up against the building. She was whimpering and hiccupping with her back facing them. Other than looking terrified, she didn't appear hurt, much to Paul's relief.

"Now," Paul said with an upbeat expression, even though his tone betrayed the look, as it was dark and menacing. He slapped the man roughly across the chest with the back of his hand. "You aren't gonna rat on me to the police, are you? Let's face it, I know I'm a punk, but you don't look all too 'normal' yourself, bud. What's a mad scientist doing going after little girls? You some kinda pervert?"

"I am not!" the man blurted out, completely unnerved at this point. His hands trembled, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't like that sort of thing at all! And no! Can't get the police involved! I was just doing my job… I..."

In a blind panic, he was finally pushed away from Paul and broke free. Fearful for his life, his footsteps echoed across the alley until he disappeared, and silence once again took over.

Now Paul turned to the kid. He wasn't used to dealing with little ones, but he was still determined to make sure this one wasn't getting hurt by the likes of that jerk, or anyone else who could easily break her jaw. He was by no means a saint, but even he had his own code of ethics and morals.

Scratching at the faint stubble on his cheeks, he slowly approached her and carefully picked her up. She was small and weighed very little, and he couldn't help but think about his baby half-brother, as she was probably around the same age as him.

Ah, hell, stop thinking about any of that, he chided inward. You're on your own, Paulie boy. You've been on your own for a long ass time.

By the time he and the girl emerged out into the open, he saw how dark the skies had grown. He didn't wear a watch, but he noticed a small clock tower located on an island in the middle of an intersection that read the time. Not even two hours had passed since he left his friend's pad. There, in that part of town, the street lights were better maintained (as in, they worked), and not only that, but there were people walking around. Businesses were also open and operating, which meant it was a hell of a lot safer than the alleys.

He was surprised at how well behaved and quiet the girl was after saving her. She didn't even know him, but already showed trust in him as if she could read him. Either that or she was just scared out of her wits. The trust factor became more apparent, however, when she leaned against his chest. She was content, sucking her thumb while her eyelids drooped. The problem for Paul was that he wasn't sure where to go from there, so he sat down on the curb and gently placed her down beside him.

He tipped his chin and stared at his shoes, noticing a hole was starting to form near the toe, but the small girl didn't want to detach herself from his side, and ended up resting her small frame against his arm.

Crap, he'd suddenly become an unofficial babysitter for her.

Long as she isn't wailing like she was, I can deal with this, I think.

He rested his arms across his knees and cracked his knuckles as he stared across the street at nothing while his thoughts rolled around. What did that perv say about her being property? Total sicko. People got their rocks off in the nastiest ways. Just hope I didn't miss my dealer by playing hero...

"Serenity? Oh my god, there she is! Serenity!"

Glancing in the direction of the frantic voice, Paul spotted a desperate looking elderly couple hurrying over to where the two of them sat. Their eyes were not focused on him but what was next to him: the kid. No, not kid, Serenity.

Serenity was her name.

Pffft. As if he would retain that information for much longer after he killed his brain cells with some prime weed. Question was, were they just more weirdos coming after her? Just decked out in clever disguises rather than the mad scientist get up? What was so special about her anyway?

Fortunately, unlike with the first guy, Serenity did respond positively to the sound of the elderly female's voice by calling out, "Grandma...!"

She rubbed her eyes with her tiny fists and yawned.

Paul figured he would be tired too after getting kidnapped and harassed by some douchebag, if he were her age.

Not wanting to startle her any more, he collected her into his arms and got to his feet. By that point, the couple was upon them and the woman's arms were outstretched. With a shrug, he automatically surrendered Serenity over to her.

About damn time, he thought as the grandmother cradled Serenity close to her chest and kissed her face affectionately. Serenity responded by cuddling closer to her relative, but she did offer Paul one last look, as if silently wondering if he'd still be around later.

"Thank you so much," the elderly man said as he stood alongside his wife, looking very tired but relieved. The dude was sweating. He had to have been running around like a chicken with its head cut off looking for his granddaughter. He held out a thin hand for Paul to shake. "We don't know how we can ever repay you! We were about to call the police!"

Paul snorted and shoved both of his hands inside his pockets. "Keep a better eye on short stuff there," he admonished rather rudely. "Lil' missy may not be so lucky next time."

Without waiting for a response, he took off in the opposite direction, determined to get back to his own personal affairs. If he ended up meeting with his dealer, soon enough he'd be so damn high that he wouldn't have any memories of playing the hero in the first place.

Little Serenity was young enough to where she wouldn't remember almost being kidnapped. She'd be back to watching Sesame Street and Mister Rogers.

Sides, it's not like I'll ever see her again…

(If you’d like to check out her back story for Paul, you can find it here.)

#the lost boys #lost boys #writing #Paul x Serenity #Sleight of Hand and Twist of Fate #vampires #fan fiction

[nowitsdarkfic]

chapter eighteen (cry for the indian winter)

“Slipping through the wasted ground, you’re so full of it. All the way and down and out, such a hypocrite.” -”Powertrip”, Joey Belladonna (better known as that one song that makes St. Anger look like child’s play I shit you not)

December 21, 1988. Seattle, Washington.

Nirvana's set lasted about twenty minutes and then afterwards, we returned to the hydrogen car and headed on back to Seattle, which is now in fully bathed in that blue neon even though the sun hasn't set behind the veil of clouds over our heads yet. Riding all the way back to Belltown, I can't stop thinking about that little three piece band. I can envision them and Soundgarden going places in the world. I don't know where they'll go from here but I'm sure it'll be good.

The neon is even brighter than ever as we enter the little town of Sea-Tac. And then it hits me.

“Do either of you ladies know if there's a recording studio here in the southern part of the city?” I ask Sonia and Marcia.

“There is one,” Marcia recalls, her tone of voice unsure. “It's—” She gasps. “—right down here! Turn off, Sonia!”

Sonia takes this next exit, interestingly on the left side, leading us off the freeway into this rather dim lit and cold looking neighborhood in the southern part of Seattle. The pavement on the street is rough and rugged dotted with the occasional pothole. The golden lights lining the street are shining into the car as we're moving along the road here. Aside from the few glints of neon here and there on the sides of the brick houses lining the street, everything reminds me of the little industrial looking neighborhoods in New York City, or better yet, Wellesley or Oswego. This is the one part of Seattle that hasn't stepped into the world of the future.

At least I hope I isn't.

I have my doubts about the cybernetic world to our right due to the fact Lars is feeling better in terms of pain, but I also have to bear in mind that my best friend is in the hospital back home in New York because of what I assume to be from all of this. It's a definite suggestion but I can't say anything for sure yet. Lars and I still have to make my way into the heart of the city in order to check it all out. I figure it can't be that much of a walk for us and if we get any looks, we can merely use the excuse that we were two of the hockey players who challenged those cyborgs the day before. It's not really an excuse as it is the actual truth, but whatever.

Sonia pulls up to a stoplight and I peer out the window next to Spence and Lars. It's still quiet here, much too quiet to be anything anywhere remotely to a city. At least the City back East and Boston have a lot more nightlife to their fabric than all of this: this almost bothers me, like I wonder where all the people have vanished to when no one was looking. I peer out the windshield at the red light and Sonia glancing about the intersection.

“Seriously?” says Spence.

“I know, right?” Sonia agrees with him, looking both ways again. “There is literally no one here!”

I catch the view of a street cleaner crossing the intersection right in front of us, crawling at a cautious but firm pace like one of those big desert tortoises. It reaches the right side of the intersection, and attaches itself onto the storm drain, and that's when the light turns green.

“Seriously,” Spence repeats as we roll forward.

“I guess so?” Marcia replies with a shrug of her shoulders. We pass under a wrought iron overpass even though the only other road to be seen is the freeway and we didn't even go underneath that. I peer out the window at the sight of it, at the rich navy blue sky on the other side of it: the arches and the inside of it all form into this intricate web of crosses, each of them the exact size and the exact perfect square shape. It's like a tapestry, a heavy metal tapestry that's about to light up in silver and pure gold for the night. This part of town is still within the twentieth century and I want to keep it that way. I don't ever want it to turn into the glowing blue and green monster that's nearby.

Although Lars is feeling better! That little bottle of sparkly black sludge shit that dissolved in pure water is a miracle medicine for intense pain.

No! I can't forget Brick! This industry is killing him!

Ugh. Fuck.

I only feel like recording my voice and then seeing if I can find people to play some instruments for me seeing as I can't afford a guitar or a piano of my own right now.

Sonia veers off to the side of the road, right up next to the curb before a low slate building that resembles somewhat to a fire house.

“Is this where Alice in Chains recorded their demos?” Lars asks her from right next to me.

“This is the place,” she answers, tugging on the parking lever and switching off the hydrogen underneath us.

I climb out first into the chilly afternoon: there's a cold wind emerging off of the nearby Puget Sound and I can make out the first plumes of lake effect type snow floating up from behind the low skyline of Sea-Tac. Or maybe it's just chimney smoke.

I just want to do what I do best because this is killing me.

I close my coat right as Marcia and Sonia climb out of the front seat in unison; the former shows me a friendly little smile and a lick of her lips. Yeah, yeah, we had lunch yesterday and she's definitely dialed back her advances towards me in the wake of it, but I guess it's still within her. I'll never forget the day she kissed me in the upholstery shop.

She shuffles over to me with her hands stuffed inside of her coat pockets.

“I didn't tell you,” she starts in a hushed voice, “watching you and the guys play against those robots yesterday was hot as hell.”

“You actually think so?”

“Yeah. Watching you on your skates with that stick outstretched before you… it was quite the sight to see. You sure know how to move about a hockey rink.”

I shrug my shoulders at her as a gust of wind picks up a piece of her hair and tosses it right into her round face.

“Been doing it for almost twenty years,” I explain to her. “Some days it's like just another day at the office, you know?”

“That's how Sonia feels sometimes,” she answers.

“Huh?” Sonia joins in from behind her.

“Nothing,” she brushes her off.

“Oookay—anyways, the front door is right around the side here, Joe.”

“Alright. And all you guys come on in here, too—I think it's gonna rain soon.”

“Might even snow,” Marcia adds.

“Seattle gets snow?” Spence seems genuinely surprised by that.

“Occasionally, yeah,” she continues, “Portland gets it more, though. You guys oughta talk to Matt and or Chris about the times flurries have fallen up here.”

I lead the way to the right side of this building and from the dim light from the street and the afterglow of the city, I spot the door right down the wall from us. It really is like a fire house.

I push open the door to reveal a pitch dark room: I grope at the wall to my right and feel the light switch.

To the left of me is a rough looking brick wall lit up by a series of exposed long light bulbs shining golden light over the floor. Up against the wall is a plush dark brown corduroy couch and a low black wooden table topped with a ridiculously tall stack of cassette tapes. Over my head is the low hanging, cold looking smooth metal ceiling held up by narrow arches. I keep looking onward to find that we're underneath a balcony: out in the open is a vast cold concrete floor with nothing more than a single brass colored rug in the shape of an eye and a small spindly black stool right in the middle of it. To the right is some kind of silvery radiator looking thing with a thick black pipe coming out of it and attached to the wall: there's our heat.

Meanwhile, there's something hanging from the ceiling.

I stride on over to it only to find that it's a microphone. Right behind the radiator is the sound board, heavy, cumbersome, and the color of old brass. I put my fingers around the head of the microphone to better examine the silvery grating on it.

Lars darts past me towards the sound board. I watch him duck down behind it, only to emerge within a few seconds with a pair of head phones.

“Oughta get a drum kit in here,” Spence calls out from under the balcony.

“I'll ask James and Kirk if there's any way we can get some guitar work on here,” Lars assures me with a wink and a smile.

“We can ask Chris, Kim, Hiro, and Matt, too, if they're willing,” I add to him with a sly grin. Guess this is my own private studio now.

I open my mouth and let out a low growl from the base of my throat. I set a hand on my stomach to feel my muscles relaxing.

I breathe in and think about Maya and Brick. Then I catch the sound of the rain beginning to pound on the roof over our heads. I raise my voice using the help of my stomach muscles. I'm trying to sound louder than the rain.

It's the winter solstice. The darkest day of the year.

I feel the cold darkness around me, only to be accentuated by the golden light behind me. I feel it within me. I feel the darkness in my soul, the crystals of cold rising up from the frigid earth and making their stay inside of my bones. There's something burning and roaring around inside of me, like an old flame that's been buried alive and all but forgotten by the world. This flame is alive and well within me, within this body of mine.

I figure that Lars, Chris, Kim, and I all have ancient roots. I'm Indian and Italian; meanwhile, Kim is other kind of Indian. Meanwhile, Lars hails from a kingdom rich in its own rite. But then there’s Chris, his eyes bearing a primeval soul much older than Lars and me glued together. I think about the solemn look on his face and hearing the power and the prowess within his voice. He's the one with the tie into the rest of the universe.

I have him firmly in mind as I take out the notepad from the inner pocket of my coat. Lars messes around with some of the dials and the buttons on the sound board over there: it's old fashioned but sometimes we have to in order to get shit done. He points a finger at me and that's my cue to go forth with this raw demo.

And I sing my heart out, like crying for the Indians. The cold metal and stone that surrounds me makes my voice sound hollow and lifeless but I can always do it again. It's just technically me after all. I put all my strength from my stomach and the lower side of my belly into my voice to where I think I almost sound like I'm crying.

I'm crying for the winter and the burgeoning cyberworld that's leaving me with a choice: to embrace the fact it's helping Lars or remember that it might the thing that kills Maya, Brick, and myself. I come to a song I tentatively titled “Wake Me”, about all the times I lay awake in bed staring up at the ceiling and feeling the ghosts around me, and I bring the microphone right up to my mouth for more feeling. I close my eyes and sing it out, as loud as I can, to where my hips and my chest begin hurting. It's all coming out from somewhere, from somewhere so deep.

I'm in there singing for about an hour until I reach the end of the notes. Lars then pushes a button and claps at me in standing ovation.

I have my hands right on my stomach. I need to spit. Fuck. I don't think I ever sang at such a guttural level in my life.

“Oh, Jesus, you okay?” Lars stops and gapes at me.

“I sang too hard,” I reply to him, my voice breaking. My voice is gone and I'm in agony.

“Let's get him something,” suggests Sonia and I feel her right behind me. I can hardly stand up it hurts so much.

I'm in trouble now.

#after the watershed #now it's dark #who cares wins #chapter 18 #new chapter #fanfic #fanfiction #heavy metal fanfiction #thrash metal #anthrax fanfics #metallica fanfics #joey belladonna #lars ulrich #anthrax #metallica #soundgarden #noir au #cyberpunk #steampunk #gothic horror #amwriting #text

[magicalsalamander]

At Your Service

Pairing: BTS Suga  ⇆ Reader

Genre: Hybrid (Doberman Pinscher) | Bodyguard | Office | Fluff | Angst | Smut

Summary: Your Grandpa adopted him, ex-K-9 police dog hybrid, to kept the auto shop safe. He had to fulfill his vicious guard dog hybrid appeal, but he was putty in your hands. However, when an unexpected event happens you took ownership of Yoongi, your best friend…but when tensions build, will he want to stay with you?  

Words:10 K

Warnings: Rated Mature; Death of minor character, sexual content, knotting, oral (giving), switch/dom/sub, baby girl & baby boy, protection, explicit language, and dirty talk.

A/N: Hi…I wanted to release this one-shot as an intermediate while I’m working on another series. Thank you for being patient with me. This is supposed to be lighthearted~. Thank you for reading~ check out the other version to get a (slightly different perspective on this one-shot!

Masterlist |  Monsta X Shownu Version

The whine of drills and sparks singeing metal played in harmony with the sound of heavy rainfall. The toxic combination of gasoline, oil and fresh water bit at his sensitive nose. However, with the years spent in the auto shop, the familiar smells have become comforting. He leaned against the steel service door frame, watching and guarding the entrance protecting the mechanics inside. The rain was thundering against the rooftop and metal awning shading the service doors. He closed his eyes, resting them just for a moment letting his six sense take over, as he was lulled by the cascading waterfall off the awning.

Wet footsteps sloshed against the asphalt, a new sound against the normal industrial noises. The shuffling of a paper bag accompanied the hurried steps. Inconspicuously, a floppy ear perked up towards the sound and when it got closer he pried open an eye. She was wrapped up tightly in a hoodie with her arms struggling over a large bag in her hands. She ran through the parking lot like she was running away from rolling lava. She broke thought the waterfall, her hoodie getting drenched, and pulled the hood of her hoodie back breathing a sigh of relief. He watched the pink and rosy burn on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. A smile radiated from her at him momentarily stopping Yoongi’s heart.

He closed his eye again, but a huff left you noticing his passive attitude. You pulled out a smaller bag out of the bigger paper bag you were carrying with a sly smile. You approached the grumpy, but docile pinscher. He seemed like a quiet one with his stoic exterior, but he could yap at times like a chihuahua. Yoongi put of this pretense of being an aggressor, a force to be reckoned with, but he melted like putty when it came to pets. He was all bark no bite…at least when it came to you.

Grandpa ran this shop since his twenties proudly being open for almost fifty years. When he first opened the suburban neighborhood was nice, but as the decades rolled on the times weren’t as kind. He adopted Yoongi from the shelter after one too many break-ins and cranky customers. He walked into the shelter with his hands clasped behind his back browsing the different cubbies with hybrids in them. He pulled a sour face when the workers offered him a bunny or kitten that tried to drag him in personally with their eyes. He insisted to the workers he wanted an aggressive, vicious looking dog hybrid. They sided eyed each other attempting to catch up with him as he perused the isles. He stopped at the end of the aisle eyeing the back of a Doberman, who rested his head on the wall in the corner of the cage.

Grandpa tapped the window, but the hybrid remained motionless. He tried again, and the hybrid turned around squinting his eyes angrily at him for disrupting his sleep. The worker behind him politely attempted to redirect him again, but he didn’t budge, “This one. I want this one.” 

The angsty hybrids eyes perked up, even standing up to approach the glass between them. The worker tried to bargain again, “Yes, he used to be a K-9 for the police, but he doesn’t do his job. He’s too lazy.” 

The Doberman growled at the worker who curled away from the glass at the noise. With his eyes still razor sharp he turned to Grandpa, “You want to adopt me?” 

Grandpa didn’t lose his confidence; his smile was still intact. “Yes, if you’ll come home with me.” The workers fiddled with their hands trying to come up with a plan together to divert him, but the bond was set. Yoongi nodded, his expression softening for a moment. Grandpa looked towards the staff, “Well, what you are dilly-dallying around for, let’s get the adoption going whippersnappers?” He turned back to the hybrid, “What’s your name kid?” 

His floppy ears twitched along with his tail behind him, he’s never been asked that before, “Yoongi…Min Yoongi.”

Grandpa could’ve gotten a dog, but he wanted someone that could actually talk to him. When the family ran away from his lame jokes, Yoongi was the one who had to sit through them. He did it diligently though, he was patient and took everything. It was his way of paying Grandpa back. He did everything for the old man.

You squatted down next to your family guardian, setting down the larger bag on the dry cement fishing out the smaller bag again. With your free hand, you carded your finger over his bangs, brushing stray hair out of his eyes. You then scratched behind one of his floppy, black ears feeling his head lean into your touch. You were always glad that your grandpa decided not to crop his ears in efforts to make him look threating. You argued with your grandpa, the innocent fifteen-year-old when you first met eighteen-year-old Yoongi, “His eyes already are scary, just leave his ears alone.” Which wasn’t a complete lie, whenever he squinted and pulled that stoic expression it promised nothing but nightmares.

Even though Yoongi, a majority of the time, was docile, you’ve seen the aggressive side of him once.

About six years ago you were working, basically hanging out, as the receptionist for the shop during summer break in high school. Yoongi was outside guarding from his usual post by the service door. A middle age male customer came into the shop obnoxiously chewing gum, acting haughty from the get-go. His choice of car was clearly making up for something he lacked. The man leaned against the counter trying to court you, even before you got the chance to ask, “How can I help you?”

From the outside, Yoongi kept a close eye on the situation the whole time. Yoongi decided enough was enough when the man was breathing your air almost as soon as it left you. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stood between the customer and you, blocking you from seeing the pervert. Yoongi’s eyes barely looked up as they glowed behind the brim of his baseball cap (which had holes for his ears). In a bass growl, falling near an impossibly low register, the words tumbled off his tongue, “If you don’t want your car fixed, I suggest you leave.” 

The customer scoffed leaning his head back chewing while he spoke, “Ho-yeah, says who buddy?” He tried leaning on the counter pushing past Yoongi to potentially pick up where he left off at. Yoongi’s nostrils flared and whipped around grabbing onto pervert’s arm and shoved his face down onto the counter. There was a resounding crack from the wooden countertop. The customer began shouting, even claiming he would sue if Yoongi didn’t let go. Your alarms went off, so you pulled Yoongi off doing your best to hold him back. The growling didn’t stop though. The customer stood up haphazardly pointing a finger at you both, “I swear when I come back I’ll…I’ll!” He couldn’t finish his sentence finding his anger get the best of him and just ran out the front door and zooming off in his red car. 

Yoongi didn’t bother looking at you he returned to his post carrying on with his job. You were left there questioning what happened, but your stomach was doing flips on its own accord.

The pervert never returned.

He breathed out something like a sigh of relief, enjoying the warmth from your hand. The cold was crisp, but you were a welcoming heat. When your hand stopped scratching, he wanted to whine out in protest. “I brought you something.” He pried one eye open again setting his sight on the familiar bag, then both eyes opened. His tail wagged behind him thumping against the metal frame. You couldn’t help but giggle and hand over the steaming goodies. Even when you didn’t have a reason to come over, you’d stop by just to see Yoongi, your best friend. Grandpa may have rescued him, but really Yoongi rescued you. He was always there for you, he was like a shadow preferring to watch from a distance.

He thanked you with a grunt fishing in the bag, biting into a hot one then immediately regretting it breathing out a billowing plume of steam. You lightly smacked his thigh then brought your thumb up to the edge of his lips wiping away stray crumbs. He stopped chewing as your soft thumb ran against his lower lip. He could smell your sweet perfume mixing in with the fresh rain. The sudden bite of gasoline seemed sweeter, he could get drunk off it. “Eat slow silly, I don’t have my CPR training yet.”  

His thumb swept across his lips before he took another bite. “Why do you need CPR training to be a secretary?”  

You brought an arm up resting your head in your hand, “It’s a—don’t speak with your mouth full—requirement and new law.” 

He watched a soft smile graze your face as your hand went back to swipe more crumbs off his face, but his hand encased around your wrist. He gulped hard, “I can clean myself Y/N.” 

You pulled your hand away settling to ruffle his hair out of spite. You stood back up before he could bark at you. “I’m going to give this to Grandpa, I’ll see you soon Yoongi.” 

He snatched your wrist once more and with pleading eyes peeking through his bangs, “Just—just one more scratch before you go. You don’t have to…if you don’t want to.”

You set the bag back down, sitting across from him. In all honesty, you were the one who enjoyed petting him the most. It was sort of therapeutic and it gave you an excuse to spend time with Yoongi. He wasn’t much of talker, often opting out for a nap, but being in his presence was more than enough. Again, you carded your hand through his hair gently massaging and pampering him. Yoongi watched your expression carefully, the way your pupils dilated and how you breathed softly. He wanted to bring you in closer, hold you to him, but…he couldn’t. You were his best friend the family’s guardian, not ever to cross the line to…a lover.

Time blurred as the rain danced against the awning and the sparks never died out.

The rain eventually stopped and the seasoned changed, so did how cold this year’s winter felt. The news came unexpectedly, a grim chill crept into the family. 

You were the last one to enter the office. You squeezed Yoongi’s hand before you left the lobby, not sure if it was more for you or him. The lawyer offered you a seat across him, “Please, sit.” He cleared his throat, attempting some empathy for your situation. “Ms. Y/L/N I’m so sorry for your lost. It’s never easy to relay, but he left me with things to give you.” He opened a black case file, pulling out your grandfather’s will and testament. He slid a copy of the original over to you and spoke as you read it to yourself. “He left some of his assets to you, but the auto shop will be taken care of by your father.” 

You continued to listen politely nodding along, but really you were immersed in reading his testament. His voice rung in your head as you read, “Y/N, you have a heart of gold. You think of others before yourself, and I’m sorry to put this burden on you, but I trust you with this the most. I’m transferring the ownership of Yoongi to you as he legal guardian. Please watch over him like you always have, he will protect you now.” Tears stained the crisp, white paper you sniffled and wiped away the tears apologizing to the lawyer for getting emotional.

“Your grandfather set up a fund for Yoongi to take care of him.” He slid over a bank book with the name Min Yoongi scribbled on the top by your grandfather. The meeting was wrapped up shortly afterward, grandpa was always straightforward with his wants. 

Everything didn’t truly sink in until you made it back to the lobby. Yoongi stood up noticing a change in your scent; smelling the strong scent of salt and stress pheromones. It smelled like rotten eggs that were soaked in the sea. You stood before him with a lowered head and as a single tear rolled down your cheek, Yoongi caught it before it had a chance to gain momentum. 

You grabbed his hand lacing your cold one around his warmth, “Let’s go home Yoongi.”

Yoongi never had been to your new place. You had just barely moved into the two-bedroom townhouse unit about three months ago. You finally saved up enough to leave your terrible previous roommates and find a place of your own. Working as a secretary for one of the CEO’s for a major company allowed you to slowly build up savings. You wanted to leave apartments behind and upgraded to a house. However, that was still out of your budget, so you settled on a townhouse. It was narrow…and old, but it was still home. 

Yoongi’s eyes were busy looking around studying the street and the surrounding area. He blatantly narrowed his eyes at any pedestrians. He was nearly stepping on your heels, his instincts to protect you naturally taking over in this new environment.  

You walked up to your short staircase arriving at your navy-blue door with the golden numbers 45730. Before you left earlier, you forget to turn on the outdoor light, so you took your phone out to work as a flashlight. You jiggled the keys in the lock; since the lock was old, it wasn’t a direct turn-the-key-to-right or left. Yoongi loomed over you like a shadow, having already scouted out the area; his black tail was twitching back and forth, and his nostrils flared subtlety. After the typical three jerks of the key in the lock, it budged to the left and opened the door. 

You let Yoongi go inside first, then closed the door behind you. He lugged two suitcases with him setting them in the entry hallway. You took off your shoes placing them in the shoe rack next to the door. Yoongi watched everything you did and repeated after you. You flicked on the light, turning around with your cheeks flushed, “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

He turned around after placing his shoes in the rack following your lead taking in your sanctuary. The first thing he noticed was the dark wood staircase leading upstairs, then the small living room. All the spaces in your home were utilized strategically. The living room was composed of a couch, television and with knickknacks around to follow your personality. It was all tasteful a blend between comfort and contemporary. The kitchen was directly afterwards but before the transition of rooms, below the ascending staircase was a staircase that lead downstairs to a basement floor. 

“I planned to turn the other room into some sort of office space, but it’s yours.” He nodded not bothering to look at you, still looking around inspecting everything with his eyes. He wanted to learn everything, he couldn’t fully contain his excitement. He felt even more compelled to do so because this was your place.

You snapped your fingers at him already halfway down the stairs with a suitcase in tow, “Yoongi, come on follow me.” He followed with a suitcase in tow watching your hair bounce as you trotted down the stairs. You flicked on the light of the room. The decorating was simple a white desk with a table lamp, a twin sized bed with a fluffy white duvet. “The bed used to be mine from my last place, but if you don’t like it we can get you a new one.” His eyes were busy, not truly quiet believing yet that he was going to be living with you. 

You ran your fingers through your hair, “I’m going to make some dinner, feel free to look around and get comfortable. I’ll call you when it’s done.” 

He nodded still busy understanding his new territory. He liked this room, it was better than his old room at the mechanic shop which really was an office. On the outside, he seemed nonchalant, but internally his stomach was doing flips.

You turned around once more in the doorway, messing with the edge of your shirt, “Yoongi.” 

He turned around abruptly his wagging tail halting, taking in your sudden closed off language. With a bit of courage, you reached out and slid your arms around his sides to rest your head on his chest. He wasn’t built, but he was overall lean. He stood still, not quite sure where he should reciprocate or not, he wasn’t one for affectionate touches. “Are you okay? I haven’t’ had the chance to ask you yet.” 

All the muscles in his face relaxed and he slowly encased you in a bear hug. “I’ll be fine Y/N.” You stayed in his arms, his comforting scent of sandalwood and hints of floral tones instantly soothed you. You practically melted in his arms, but before you did you pulled away squeezing his hands and made your way back up the stairs.

He went into action immediately as you left inspecting everything in his new room. He brought the comforter to his nose, it smelled like detergent, but your scent was faintly still on it. His tail was wagging at a blurring speed. 

He left unpacking for later and decided to roam around the house. He bypassed you in the kitchen cutting up vegetables heading up to the second floor. He opened the first door in the hall finding a bathroom. He then moved onto the second room that was your bedroom. He hesitated but stepped in cautiously, not totally sure if he should be in your room. The set up was simple, similar to his room, but it had a touch of you and a queen size bed. 

He looked out the window inspecting what was in the area noting to himself the street was just below. He needed to know all the spots in the house to make sure he could protect you in any way possible. He may not guard the auto shop anymore, but he wanted to protect his new home with the same, or even more attentiveness.

He was about to walk out of the room, but he stepped on something. He pulled his foot back inspecting the object through the darkness. His night vision wasn’t great, tittering somewhere between human and dog perception, but he felt fabric. He bent down and picked it up squinting to take it in. When his vision finally focused he realized it was a black lacy bra. From his neck to his ears a hot crimson blush changed his tan pigment to a molten red tone. He dropped it back onto the floor as if he never touched it. He sped out of the room reprimanding himself and reminding himself you were his best friend and he had to protect you. 

You weren’t his…you weren’t his.

As he made his way back downstairs just as you were calling out for him, “Yoongi!” You were plating food but placed it on the coffee table instead of the two-seater dinner table. “I think it would be nice to watch some TV while we eat.” He sat next to you, opting to sit on the floor while you crossed your legs sitting on the couch. You turned and changed it to a channel you’d both enjoy. 

You ate slowly eying Yoongi every now and then finding it difficult to bring up what you wanted to tell him. After swallowing a bite, he turned to you, “Spit it out Y/N.” 

You almost choked on a bite of your own needing to take a swig of water before you spoke. You pulled up your purse and fished out the bankbook handing it over. Yoongi turned to you as you set your plate down, the atmosphere felt thick. “Yoongi, I know grandpa switched ownership to me, but I don’t want you to think of me as your owner. You’re my best friend, not a…pet.” You spat out the last word, it left a bad taste in your mouth. “You’re equal to me and…and.” 

He set down his plate turning to you lacing his fingers in yours running his thumb over your knuckles. You nearly jumped back not expecting the affection touch. He continued to stroke your knuckles basking in the low hum of the TV. He always had a way of letting you know silently things were okay. You took a deep breath, “If you don’t want to stay, you’re not obligated to. You can claim independence and I will support you.”

His thumb stopped rubbing over your knuckles stuck in a divot. His eyes finding your trembling ones. You wanted the best for him and always wanted him to live the way he wanted. He deserved more than sticking by a service door and you wanted to give him the chance. His gentle stroking resumed, “I want to stay. I want to be with you.” 

The double meaning of his words went over your head, so instead, you scooted towards him. “You want to stay?” 

He smiled brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face, “Yes.” 

You encased his hand with both of yours, “We’ll figure it out things…together from here on out.” 

He looked up to your face, finding himself in the reflection of your eyes. He didn’t know where he’s going to end up, but as long as it's near you, he knows he belongs there.

Together.

The sun and moon rose in intervals and before you knew it a month had passed by. Yoongi slept at dawn and woke up at noon, he found it hard breaking the old habit of staying up at night to guard. He would sit in the living room with the TV on low as he watched the windows. He felt at ease when he knew he was doing something for you. You sometimes would wake up and find him asleep on the couch. You’d always coax him to sleep in his bed with pets and as time went by he became more relaxed. You even took a few days off to spend time with him. The two of you had a rhythm and life went about as usual. You had to admit though, it felt nice coming home to someone. From the moment you moved into this house, it felt bare like it was missing life. It was something you couldn’t put your finger on, or fulfill. He filled a whole you never knew you were missing until happiness was overflowing. Yoongi was home.

Your keys jiggled thrice before the lock gave way, “Yoongi, I’m home.” The house was quiet, and you saw why immediately. Yoongi had headphones in as he was watching some videos on your laptop. You hooked your house keys on the key rack and gently closed the door behind you. You tiptoed your way over to the back of couch approaching the clueless Doberman. You’re truly surprised he hasn’t noticed you yet, he was really into the video he was watching. You stretched your neck to gander over his shoulder noticing what seemed to be a 90’s rap video. A cheshire grin grew as you slowly leaned from the back of the couch, almost resting your head on his shoulder. “Yoongi, what are you watching?”

A shiver ran down his spine setting each pore on alight from your hot breath on his cheek. He turned to the side immediately, instincts switched back on. You didn’t realize how close you were to his face, because as he turned his smooth, pink lips skimmed yours. Even though they were thin they still left a lasting effect. You pulled away slightly, not completely sure what to do. However, to egg on your confusion you felt a sense of regret. The tingle of his lips felt like pop rocks on yours. His eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

His pupils dilated, and his irises were engulfed black. Afraid to speak above a whisper, his tone came out more sultry than he wanted to, “Y/N?” His eyes darted down to your lips once then back up to yours, “When did you get home?”

His words were like a gong in your ear, a reminder that this wasn’t okay. He was your best friend. A swift kick of a reminder that best friends don’t brush lips or made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your chest. You don’t exactly remember when this feeling bubbled in your gut. Maybe after he rescued you from the pervert, maybe you recognized earlier that he was handsome and smart. It was hard to put a finger on it. You stood back up hurriedly and pointed to the door, “Uhmm, just a moment ago…I’ll go make something to eat. You must be hungry!” You ran into the kitchen holding a hand to your lips. 

Yoongi sat there, the headphones around his neck softly playing hip hop, in a daze not truly understanding what just happened. However, he knew…he wanted it to happen again.

You both sat at the dinner table silently nibbling on dinner. He was okay with the silence, but you weren’t. You didn’t want to stay in this awkward phase, but you found yourself at lost for words. You wanted to feel his lips again. You wanted to inch closer until his breath sent nothing but electricity up your spine like a paralysis. A million and one thoughts were running through your head.  He deserved better than you though.

He knew you even better than the back of his own hand. He could tell you were tiptoeing around, acting like what happened earlier didn’t. He could smell the anxiety leaking from you. His heart was still racing from it, and he was more than grateful that you didn’t have hearing like a hybrid. However, if you listened close enough you could probably hear it.

He could admit that living with you for the past month has been the happiest time of his life. He found himself when you left, the first few weeks, marking his scent around the house. He listened to his instincts and acted upon them, telling him to leave a bit of claim of himself on you. He continuously did it because when you came back it would wear off after a few days. It was like he had no control over himself when it came to you.

After swallowing a bite, “How was work today?” 

Your fork in your hand clattered against your plate not expecting him to break the ice. You cleared your throat, “Good, my boss has me running around doing extra work because of the upcoming office party this weekend.” 

He raised a brow, “Do you want me to bite him for you, maybe that’ll give you more time?” 

A huff of a laugh left you, then you couldn’t help the breathy laughs that followed. “Only if you’ll bite him in the ass?” 

His face scrunched up in disgust, “Look Y/N, I’m not into those kinks like you are.” 

Your mouth fell into an “O” shape, so you bunched up your paper napkin and threw it at him, “Yoongi!” 

He rolled his eyes teasingly and you both naturally fell into line again, running parallel to one another again.

You brushed the hair curtaining in your face to set behind your ear. He licked the sauce accumulating at the corner of his mouth. “Yoongi, can I ask you a favor?” Your eyes peered over to him with glossy, puppy eyes. His pointed tail thumped against the wood of the chair, snapping sideways enjoying the submissive look in your eyes. He nodded waiting for you to elaborate, both set of ears open. “The office party is this weekend,” you pushed vegetables around on your plate feeling oddly nervous to ask him. He continued to chew staring at you, so you set down your fork feeling more stable that way. “We’re allowed to bring a guest. Would you come with me Yoongi? I would really like it if you could join me.” 

He didn’t mind being in crowds, but he wasn’t the type of person to really go for it either. He swallowed thickly nodding, “As long as we don’t have to stay the whole night.” 

You sighed in relief, “Yeah, yeah, I just need to be there for a few hours. Thank you, Yoongi.”

He was fusing with the buttons of his black button up. You bought it for him the day before, so he wasn’t sure the shirt fits. It seemed to fit and he could maneuver around comfortably, so that’s all that really mattered. He walked up the steps fixing his cuffs and looked in the mirror one last time fixing his hair. Surprisingly he felt a bit nervous, he’s never been to a party especially since it put on more pressure on him because these people were your peers. He was going to be on his behavior for your sake, or as you put it, “You don’t need to protect me here, so relax and enjoy it okay?” He scoffed thinking over your words again, how could he not protect you. That’s all he knew.

He heard your bare feet prodding down the staircase. You rounded the banister fixing an earring then smoothed out your dress, “How do I look?” 

Yoongi lifted a brow looking you up and down, he wired his jaw shut willing it to stay that way. Your dress didn’t leave much to the imagination even though it was a modest bodycon. His eyes trailed the curve of your silhouette catching himself licking his lip. He bit it slightly to bring himself back to reality. “You look pretty.” 

You were going to tease him, but you didn’t have much time left to get to the office. You thanked him and checked him stepping close to fix his shirt. “I’ll keep in mind to get you more black button-ups, they look good on you.” A blush threated to burn on his cheeks feeling the soft pads of your fingers brush against his chest. In an inhale out of reflex he caught your scent as well mixed with a floral perfume. This night was going to be difficult considering your visuals were enough to have him wanting to brush your lips again. Patience, he was the master of that….but tonight you were pushing his limits.

Yoongi felt out of place at your office, he opted to stick close by you the whole time. The party was held on one of the rooftop lounges. When he walked in everyone was dressed to the nines, he felt underdressed. You let him know that these people overdo it all the time, it’s a competition between themselves. You even winked at him, “You’re the best dressed Yoongi.” 

When big executives came into the room you dismissed yourself for a moment to help your boss remember the faces and names of these people. “Save a dance for me later Yoongi.” He rolled his eyes, but you knew that was his way of sealing the deal. 

He kept an eye on you the whole time you worked your way around the floor. You radiated a different glow amongst the crowd, so it was easy to find you. He sipped on the flute of whatever was in the glass. It was mostly in his hand to blend in. He brought it up to his lips gazing over the rim watching you. The way you stood with your shoulders back and the way your smile reached your eyes he could see why people gravitated to you.

His aura turned from a calm blue that bled into a tangible emerald green. He watched as your boss slid a hand around your waist and you didn’t even flinch. He began making his way through the crowd, excusing himself at people who had their noses in the air, wanting to break that very arm. As if you could sense Yoongi’s approach, you looked over to him and your expression towards him said it all: stop, don’t. 

He felt everyone blurring fast around him as you went on smiling to the people in front of you…and your boss. He set the flute down on a passing waiter’s tray and faded away.

You strategically removed your bosses hand off your waist. In the aftermath of his unwelcomed touch, it felt like a greasy mark was left where his hand once was. His touch was cringeworthy, an act he put on in front of his colleagues to seem like a dominant male. You kept your eye on Yoongi, but when he approached you had to let him know you had everything under control. He needed to trust you, but when you looked for him again he vanished from your sight. 

You excused yourself with a polite nod and went to look for Yoongi. He was all the way downstairs in the lobby, sitting at one of the many tables. You approached him cautiously, the click of your stilettos letting him know you were near. When he didn’t answer you calling his name you sat across from him, but he didn’t spare you a glance. His anger only boiled more when you didn’t smell clean anymore, but a rancid males scent…that wasn’t his. “Yoongi, what’s wrong? Why did you leave?” 

He propped his chin on his hand, “I want to go home.” His tone was strict and a command, not a request. 

You felt a twinge of hurt, but you didn’t want to force him to stay for your sake. “Okay, let’s go home.”

The car ride back was deadly quiet, the only sounds were the low hum of the radio. Halfway through the drive home, the clouds started rumbling. You stole glances at Yoongi to make sure he was okay. Normally he was fine with rain, but thunderstorms threw off his senses. However, his continuing odd behavior seemed to override it. When you open the door to the house he brushed past you and descended into his cave. You barely racked your keys before you heard the slam of his door. You stood at the entrance, contemplating what to do. Would it be too much to let him mull it over on his own, or should you help him? 

You decide on the latter, things don’t solve themselves. Whatever this fit was it’s better to face it head-on. The descending staircase didn’t hold the same calm presence that you associated with Yoongi. You held onto the railing, your heels thumping as you walked down each step carefully before you stood in front of his door. Clenching and unclenching your fist you rasped your knuckles against the cold, hollow wood. He didn’t respond to you, so you carried on with persistence. “Yoongi, open the door…please.” When the sound of your heartbeat is the only thing you can hear, you bit back the feeling of disappointment. You tested the handle and it opened to a dark room.

He sat on the edge of his bed that was up against the wall with his head hung low. The moonlight that seeped through the equally as volatile clouds covered the room with a pale light. Blinking slowly, he brought his head up, the friendly brown warmth in his eyes toiling and swirling like thick tar. A flash of lighting broke through the cloud lighting up the room for a split second. His eyes were swimming with something dangerous. 

His black bangs hung over his eyes, you finally understood the fear of those on the receiving end. “Y—Yoongi, what’s wrong? Why are you acting this way?” For the first time, you saw his sharp canines as he pulled back his lips to growl. You took two steps back towards the doorway bracing a hand to your chest, you didn’t understand the change in his behavior.

“Talk to me Yoongi, what’s wrong?” Waves of fear and anxiety rolled towards him, along with the scent of…your boss. It makes him antsier, not sure where to displace his anger. 

He gripped the sheets tightly in his clutches turning away from you. “I want to leave. I can’t stay here anymore.” 

Your knees felt weak, it was like he bit a chunk out of your heart and spit it out. Stinging tears welled up in the corners of your eye, but you found your voice, “Why?” 

He sat up passing you to go into his closet lugging out a suitcase. 

You walked slowly over to him testing the waters and wrapped your hand around his arm, “Yoon—.” Your hand was an epicenter of warm ripples sending goosebumps to rise on his skin, an instant calming effect. His emerald marbling with yellow again to a tolerable color. He caught it again, your boss’s scent and it was like someone poured black into the cauldron again; an irreversible acidic green. 

With more force than necessary, he ripped your arm away. “I can’t stay y/n.” He fished around his closet pulling clothing from the hangers and stuffed it into his suitcase.

The sounds of your choked tears made him freeze. He rubbed his forehead letting a growl of frustration leave him. Another crack of lightning lit up the room as he chanced a glance over his shoulder, “Is that all I can ever be to you…just a friend?” He didn’t want to come across this aggressive, but he couldn’t play ignorant anymore. He couldn’t just brush these feelings under the rug anymore. You were his best friend, but he wanted more, always have and always will. 

He turned to you and it gleamed at him, a single tear fell from your eye. “Yoongi—what are you—what’s gotten into you!” 

His resolution didn’t break no matter how much he wants to bring you into his arms and forget it all. He had to be rational, rationalize his jealous by distancing himself. He spun around on the ball of his feet, the feral side of him take over. All rational out the window, when you raised your voice at him. He was done with tiptoeing like he was walking on eggshells. He was listening to his beast, each step he took towards you was like a predator closing in on its prey. The air around you thickened like you were drowning in molasses. 

You almost tripped stepping backward, not sure how far Yoongi was going to go. Your heel caught on the edge of the rug and you slipped backward trying to catch onto anything before you met an end. Yoongi caged you in his arms, one wrapped tightly around your waist and the other slammed against the wall bracing the both of you. His head hung low with his bangs brushing against your cheek. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly feeling your stomach in your throat. 

He lifted his head gently brushing his lips on the outer shell of your ears, “I’m not one to share Y/N. I want you, more than a friend. All of you or nothing.”

A soft mewl left your lips without your control and a satisfied non-threatening growl left him, happy with your responses. The way his low growls sent vibrations to your core was sinful. “Yoongi, no, you don’t. You should find a mate, I can take you to a shelter or find someone online.” With every word it felt like you were swallowing hot coals, so you ignored the burn of your thoughts. “You deserve someone better…then me.” 

He brought his head back slightly his gleaming eyes still hung low, “No. I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

“Yoongi, please, think—,” you couldn’t find the words as his canines nibbled roughly on your ear lobe, then he licked affectionally afterward. He was teasing you, playing with you, it must be the weather. His arm tightened around you when a new scent was introduced to him. He’s never smelled this on you before, but it was absolutely delicious. It urged him on further, he wanted—no needed—to drench you with his scent and mark you as his. He couldn’t stand it, you being touched by someone else, or you smelling like someone else, because you were his, his mate.

He flatted his tongue licking the exposed skin of your neck that your dress let him reach. Your arm latched onto his bicep squeezing it tight, a mix of a whine and yelp escaped you. “Yoongi, look at me please.” 

His tongue took a trail upwards towards your jaw, leaving kisses in its wake. He leaned his forehead against you with his eyes glued onto yours. He could see the flexions of your pupils, the windows to your souls laying everything on the table for him. He wanted to be let in. 

You brought a shaky hand up to his cheek, “Do you mean that Yoongi?” 

Your soft touch made him close his eyes asking, pleading, his beast to wait and control itself. He nodded rubbing your foreheads together with a sound mixed between a hum and a grunt. He was never good at expressing himself, never finding the right words or expressions. He was always characteristically cold, but it wasn’t intentional. At this moment he didn’t need much of that, he didn’t need fancy words or lengthy monologues…things should be simple. Love is simple. He opened his eyes slowly then licked his lips, “It’s always been you, baby girl.”

Like a reflex, your hand on his arm clenched at the nickname. Softly chuckling he returned to his new favorite spot, nuzzling against your ear again, “Do you like that nickname…baby girl?” 

You nodded lightly afraid to commit to the name, afraid of the power it held over you. 

He bit teasingly on your ear, his voice in the deep register and commanding, “Use your words baby girl.” 

Your back inclined off the wall feeling his hand on your waist trailing down to latch onto your hip. Through a shaky breath, you lost your train of thought as his hand traced random patterns and massaged at your flesh. “Yes, I like it...I like you Yoongi.” 

His eyes took a deeper turn, taking you into the abyss that was him. He couldn’t bite back the smile threatening across his face. A sense of relief flushed over him, finally.

He leaned in captured your soft lips with his. He felt like his head was swimming he wanted to swallow you, taste you, mold together. He held back his urge to take you right then and there wanting to coax more out of you. He never thought he’d live or see the day where you returned his feelings. His hands took a mind of their own, sliding and taking home all over you. 

To stabilize yourself your hands tangled in his thick black hair. Your hands found purchase finding his floppy ears caressing them softly. A mewl escaped you as you pulled away for a moment trying to find air, but he wasn’t having it. His lips caught yours again, a rumble erupting out of his throat. He felt like he couldn’t get enough, you tasted so sweet. He backed you flush into the wall and his kisses went from hard and passionate to soft and savoring.

You took this chance to switch things around and pushed him back until his calves met his bed. He pulled you down with him his arm was still tightly wrapped around your waist. You quickly adjusted yourself to straddle his thighs. He chased your lips, but you held a finger to his lips sitting patiently. Your eyes were half-lidded, lips were swollen and bruised from kissing. God, you were a goddess to him, but you were a succubus in disguise.

He sat up groaning in protest, “What?” You snickered at his eagerness taking the liberty to grind against his already taunt crotch. You raised a brow at his whine as he threw his head back in lust. 

He stopped you for a moment, “Y/N?” 

An airy laugh left you, so you leaned in, traced the edge of his outer ear with your tongue like he did early and nibbled on the fleshy lobe. “You made me really worried earlier Yoongi and you refused to speak to me. Do you think you deserve me going easy on you? To be easy and cave to the big, bad, wolf?” 

A whine left his lips at your clean words, but they held such filthy, he loved it. He pierced his lips together thin with a sultry exhale. You liked the sound of it so gyrated your hips over his feeling your panties soak up your essence. “Use your words…baby boy.” You breathed roughly into his ear with another swivel of your hips, “You’re going to listen to me baby boy, can you handle that?” 

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. His nails dug into the sheets feeling his thighs and senses losing it to you, “Yes, I’ll be good.”

You slithered off his thighs, kissing a trail down his neck then to his collarbones as your hands were busy unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. You expanded your fingers letting them graze over his thigh. Just as you wanted, a needy whine left his lips, “Don’t tease me Y/N.” 

You smirked against his neck and brought down your hand on his thigh in a swift reminder who was in charge. “What was that baby boy?” He bit his lip holding back a snarky comment, so rewardingly you rubbed his thigh and kissed his lips once before moving away. “That’s what I thought.”

His mind was spinning, yes, he’s pictured you before in similar situations, but this threw everything out the water. The way your hands danced across his skin pleased his inner beast. Just you existing made him embarrassingly submissive, pliable to anything you wanted. Something about how you took control out of his hands and into yours was the biggest turn on. The big, scary guard dog was a puppy on a leash.

The sound of the zipper unraveling overpowered the sound of thunder. You continued to tease him further by reaching into his pants but not into his underwear, just placing your hand over his thick, hard cock. Shamelessly you already imagined him stretching you out. You reached in further towards his balls feeling a bulbous base to his cock. You wanted to ask what it was, but you didn’t want to take him out of the moment. He seethed through his teeth, biting back all his moans. “Don’t hold back baby boy, I want to hear you.” You gave a squeeze before you finally pulled down his slacks and underwear in one go.

His cock slapped against his stomach, the red tip was leaking precum rolling down the shaft. You looked up to Yoongi who was watching you with hooded eyes. You leaned in puckering your lips blowing air on it to elicit another whine from him. It caused a soft moan to leave you, his tight expression turned to a smirk. “I can smell you, Y/N, you’re so wet…just for me.” You didn’t want him to see the blush forming on your face, so you inched closer to him taking his thick cock in your hand over the bulbous end working your way up. His expression scrunched up in pleasure loving the feeling of your hand on him.

You started from the base leaving kitten kisses all the way up to the tip and swirled your tongue around the tip. You trailed your tongue between the slit collecting salty pre-cum. He attempted to thread a hand through your hair, but you held it down then trailed kisses down the side again. “You promised to be good? Do you want me to stop?” His eyes widened feeling your threat was very real he clutched at the sheets again. You encased your lips an inch around the tip, not wanting to waste any more time. Your hand was placed over what wasn’t in your mouth. You slid down slowly then back up to get used to his length. Each time he squirmed, moaning and pleading for you to not stop and how good he felt.

You felt proud that you were able to make him like this…you wanted to be the only one to make him feel like this. You glanced up and his half-lidded eyes were watching you. You dove deeper on him taking him as far back as you could giving yourself a moment, then swallowed. You could hear the sheets rip as a loud moan tore through the air. “Y/N, ah! That feels so good. If you keep doing that I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

You pulled off his cock with a string of saliva and a mix of him on your lips. He picked you off the floor pushing you to lay on the bed and before you could adjust yourself his hips were already cradling in yours. His lips found yours again, but with a renewed passion. This wasn’t how you planned for this to go, but you couldn’t really complain. You liked this side of Yoongi.

He could taste himself in your mouth and his tail wagged behind him overzealously. He was halfway through with marking you. His lip caught your bottom lips in his sharp canine nipping at it and pulling it back. His lips trailed down again your neck again leaving his collage of marks each mark fulfilling him a little more. He licked at your sternum, but your dress stopped him. He grew impatient and brought his hands up to your breast squeezing them once before his hands found the dress’s neckline. With barely any effort he ripped your dress and sat up when he continued to rip it until you were completely exposed. The black lacy bra (he stepped on was finally modeled) and matching panties were on full display. “Yoongi!” 

He leaned his head back taking you fully in his hands exploring over your sides and abdomen. “Do you want me to stop baby girl?” Your mewls and moans were caught in your throat as you shook your head feeling embarrassed about how much you wanted—no needed him.

He pulled down the straps and cups of your bra exposing your taunt buds to the cold air of the room. You gasped when his fingers pinched a bud and his tongue lapped at your other. He was intent on tasting everything. You weaved your fingers through his hair to run over his ears gently taking them between your fingers. A shiver ran down his spine and he nipped at your bud, you smiled to yourself, but it was wiped off your face when you cried out in pleasure.

You bucked up to him feeling his raw cock against your clothed core. Your jaw dropped when his thickness slid against your folds, your panties soaked up more of your lust. “Yoongi, please.” You clutched onto anything and everything, you’ve been prolonging the building climax that it felt like you were going to explode. He reached down over your underwear circling two fingers over your slit, but never truly touching your clit. He was soaking up all your sounds as if your mewls and moans were his life source. He needed more. 

You groaned desperately and pulled him down crashing your lips onto his hoping he would get the message with your urgency. He did when he put a thumb into the band of your underwear and pulled them off hearing the fabric rip and stretch at his aggressive yanking. Your scent hit him like a cement truck. “Yoongi, please, give me your cock. I can take it, please.” He believed you, you were soaking wet, your essence coated your upper thighs like a highlight. 

He rested his head on your chest willing the fog in his mind to dissipate so he could think rationally. He wanted a taste at the source, but he needs to be inside you.

He yanked off his pants and underwear in one go and fished in his underwear drawer for a condom. Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline, “You have condoms Yoongi?” 

He wiggled his eyebrows, “We’re all adults here Y/N.” Before you could question him further he distracted you with kissing while he skillful rolled the condom on.  

Your breast was sore from his teeth marks and tight squeezes you felt raw but you liked it. The throb was addicting. He pulled away resting your foreheads together, “You’re so beautiful.” He stole your breath away again kissing you passionately. 

Silently he asked looking between you and his cock for permission. “Yes, Yoongi, please!” You bucked up against him one last time before he slid into you inch by inch. He shivered to feel your tight walls swallow him, encourage him to give you more. He pulled out then shallowly thrusting back in until he sat deep within you. 

His voice was raspy breathing raggedly, but he reminded you, “Breath Y/N, breath for me love.” 

You let out a shaky breath, but in turn, you clenched around him. Just as you imagined, the stretch was painful but pleasured soon followed. He groaned in your ear, “Relax for me.” You nodded against him and when you were ready you bucked against him with a mewl. 

He pulled almost all the way out and slowly slid back in. It was like you felt him in your throat, his heat rolled up from your center all the way to your ear tips. His thrust was slow and rhythmic until he couldn’t control himself anymore. He brought one of your legs from his waist hoisting it over his shoulder. He peppered your calf and knee with butterfly kisses, “You’re doing so good for me, you’re going to be so full of my knot.” 

You weren’t sure what he meant, you were trying to hang on against his snapping hips.

He flipped your leg over and then you on all fours, stopping his thrusting momentarily. “Yoongi please, don’t stop.” He was so clouded your words went in one ear and out the other. He was focused on the expanse of your back, so beautiful and he wanted to mark it up. His hands found their way up the shaft of your spine and went around to cup your breast groping and fondling with your nipples. He began thrusting into you again mumbling sweet confirmations into your ear. You could barely keep up with this pace his hips were snapping into yours, but you fought to stay up on all fours. “You going to take my knot, hmm? I’m going to come all over this pussy, this pussy is mine and only mine. Mine.”

His word riled him on, even though he wore a condom, he wanted nothing more than to fill you up with his seed and watch you swell. His cock rubbed against that sweet spot every time he pumped himself into you in the new position. With every thrust his bulb inched further in, stretching you out further to mold to him. 

You weren’t sure how much longer you were going to last, “Yoongi…I’m.” 

He didn’t need you to elaborate, the hand on your breast shimmed down with purpose and rubbed rapidly against your clit. The coil in your stomach kept compressing, tighter and tighter. He whined into a growl feeling you squeeze him for all he was worth and with one last hard thrust you came. Your vision was spent, eyes rolling as your body shook until Yoongi was the only thing supporting you up.

Your velvet walls pulsed in waves around him, it was so good he didn’t want it to stop. He couldn’t stay in this euphoric land when you were milking him for all he was worth. “I’m—I’m cumming. I’m going to cum baby girl.” His thrust became sloppy and you could feel your walls stretching with his cock. You fisted the sheet the stretch was painful. You were still sensitive from cumming, but jumping over the edge couldn’t have been sweeter.

The stretching stopped as he pulled out before the condom busted from the expansion of his cock. He pulled it off and came on your back, the hot, thick ribbons painting your back. You laid flat on your stomach trying to catch your breath. He loomed over you caging you in doing the same catching his breath. That was the hardest and most he’s ever come in his life. His tongue lapped up his cum on your back cleaning you up, while he waited for the knot to settle, but that would be a half hour from now. He wanted to go again, and again, but he didn’t have any more condoms.

He plopped beside you when he considered you clean enough and looped his arm around you to pull you towards him. You felt like you were burning up, but somehow his warmth wasn’t unwelcome. You lazily brought your hand up to his cheek stroking over his sweaty temple, “Wow.” 

He laughed leaning in to take your lips again, you could taste him on his tongue, but it wasn’t repulsive. His taste was bitter, but the aftermath kept you coming back for more. You pulled away from him breathless for the countless time.  

He brushed hair out of your face, “Y/N…I don’t like you. This was a mistake… I don’t like you.” 

The once harmonious, comfortable atmosphere shattered. Thunder cracked through the clouds again, reminding you of the world outside these four walls. You looked him in the eyes searching them for mischief, but there wasn’t any. Panic set in. Was this only one sided? He never told you he liked you back. Your stomach sank to your feet and a sense of nausea sat in. You just threw away years of friendship, for a fuck? 

You tried wiggling out of his hold, but his arms circled around your waist tighter. “Yoongi, let me go!” 

You flipped onto your other side, but he brought your back into his chest. “It’s a mistake because I don’t like you…I love you.” 

Your efforts to runaway halted, you wanted to turn around, but he held you securely. 

“Don’t turn around…I’m too embarrassed to say it to your face. I don’t know how else to say it. I’m not one for fancy things or shouting it from the rooftops, but I love you Y/N. I have and always will.” 

You shifted around against his will turning in his arm finally seeing the normally pale cheeks turn a rosy red. You stared at his lips then his eyes leaning in, “Yoongi.” 

Then a thunderclap sounded within the room. You smacked his bare chest hard, leaving a red handprint. His eyes grew a thousand times yelling out in pain, “Y/N! The fuck! What was that for?” 

You laughed faux attempting to sooth it, but truly wanting the sting to set in. “You can’t give me a heart attack like that, I did that so you know how I felt!” 

Enough though it hurt, and your handprint felt like it could blister into a scar he wiggled up and pounced on you leaving butterfly kisses all over your face. You giggled like a school girl and when he pulled away catching the way he looked down at you it was full of adoration and love. It made your heart squeeze impossibly. 

You repeated after him, “I love you too.”

The kisses went from innocent to passionate again. His knot settled down and he was ready for round two, and so were you. He pulled away from your feverish lips, “We don’t have another condom, we can’t.” 

This time around you wiggled your brows, “I have one in my purse.” 

This time his eyebrows shot up to his hairline and you giggled, “Shut up and kiss me.” 

He laughed, more than happy to oblige, “At your service, baby girl.”

Copyright 2018  © by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved.

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