Move Me, Baby

[ 1. S-T0nes ♫♪ ]

“Be careful what you wish for in this world, for if you wish hard enough you are sure to get it.  I once heard a very wise many say this, and the longer I live the more firmly I believe it to be true.”      --Sarah Orne Jewett

Kyun-Jae Han wanted for nothing in this world. He was about as carefree as rolling wave on the beach, coming and going as he pleased. Striking success at an early age, his nimble hands worked turntables and sound boards with a mastery that quickly elevated him to stardom. Singers and sound mixers made desperate bids for collaborations the young musician who seemed to have a Midas touch, finding a permanent fixture at the top of the dance and pop hits charts. A song remixed by DJ S-T0nes was a guaranteed hit, and his music featured in films and blasting over radios and into clubs globally. Jet-setting around the world, his was an international household name, and it seemed like there was no corner of the world who wasn’t familiar with the bright crown of aquamarine hair and perfectly round spectacles.

But even those who have it all still feel like something’s missing. Even those who have the world at their fingertips desire for something that’s just beyond their reach. For Kyun-Jae, it couldn’t be anything other than the freedom in anonymity he’d lost so long ago. Even dying his hair to its natural black didn’t shake the legions of fans that recognized him everywhere he went. He often wondered what it would be like to start all over again where no one quite knew his name. His bright eyes gazed across the vast expanses of the ocean as he flew overhead, and he wondered... what would it be like to live in a little cottage, away from the bright, fluorescent lights of the cities he lived in. His thoughts drifted out as he watched the sunset from so high up, and drowsiness took over, lulling him to a sleep that he hoped would last until they landed. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t come to pass.

A sudden jolt awoke him, and he realized that the plane was shuddering. It was dark out, but he could feel that they were quickly descending.The emergency oxygen masks dropped down, and it took him a moment to come to the realization that everything around him was in total chaos as they lost elevation.

           ONE OF THE ENGINES IS DOWN

                                          EMERGENCY LANDING

He scrambled to grab the life jacket that was tucked under his seat, but everything happened so quickly, that by the time he finally secured it around himself, part of the plane had broken apart.

For days after, news outlets all over the world would be broadcasting footage of the flight’s wreckage. Almost everyone miraculously survived between floating devices and parts of the wreckage that managed to stay afloat. Search parties went out, but as days rolled into weeks, it became evident that the world lost a beloved musician.

But what they didn’t see was the floating piece of debris that ferried the blue-haired man further away from the wreckage. They couldn’t have guessed that he was still alive, unconscious but dragged off by winds and the ever moving ocean currents that pushed him along until he was finally washed ashore days later.

Perhaps by fate, or perhaps it was the proverbial monkey’s paw that led him there.

The moon was shining overhead, although a light rain drizzled all around the sandy shore. Hermit crabs scuttled away from the human that disrupted their evening, and Kyun-Jae felt like he weighed about a thousand pounds as he lay there, exhausted on the sand.

Unbeknownst to him, a pair of thickly lined, brilliant aquamarine eyes watched him from afar. He wasn’t the first person there, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. She wondered how much Nook would indenture him for: What the price of his freedom was. Part of her hoped that for his own sake, the hermit crabs would finish him off, but ultimately, she was elieved to see he was alive. She withdrew, watching from behind some of the rocks near the ocean. Her wide-eyed gaze peered out towards the man sprawled on the beach, watching as he slowly pushed himself up and away from the crashing of waves around him.

Blue hair. How curious.

Tom and Isabelle would want to know about this stranger, and they would need to decide what to do with him. She slipped away unseen, like a shadow clad in a all black, retreating towards the heart of the island where a small community would decide the man’s fate.

                                                JɄ₦₭Ɽ₳₮

Real Name:    Jamison Fawkes

Age:                 25

Nationality:     Australian

Occupation:   Anarchist, Thief, Demolitionist, Mercenary, Scavenger

Years of living on the edge, living on nothing but diesel fumes, caffeine, and the occasional line of coke left Jamison a nervous wreck. Volatile they called him. The junker laughed to himself, eyes widening as he stopped the ticking of his grenade at the Last. Possible. Second. Maybe he was insane. Maybe he just didn't care. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a grunt behind him. Quickly, he looked over his bony shoulder, pushing back the charred bits of blonde hair that fell over his narrow face.  "Don't sneak up on me like that! Hahahaha!"  He hopped up off of his chair and stretched, stumbling slightly as his pegged leg got caught with one of the power cords. He was a packrat, really: Aptly nicknamed Junkrat.

"Guh, really ought to move these things before we all suddenly BLOW UP! HAHAHAHA!" The thick drawling of his Australian accent left no doubt whatsoever of his nationality. Laughter was just another nervous tick. Something he rarely realized he did anymore. Soot and gunpowder covered his good hand, while his mechanical hand drummed against the countertop. Suddenly, he stretched his tall, lanky, and crooked frame with a quiet grunt. Bloodshot eyes suddenly widened and he grabbed an old photo from the pile of miscellaneous papers strewn on the table. The stern faces of Overwatch agents stared back at the smirking junker. “Ooh! I know! We should rob something!”

“I never had many friends in town... I sometimes wonder how I'd end up if you never moved here.”

[ 2. Strays ]

“A person does not grow from the ground like a vine or a tree, one is not part of a plot of land. Mankind has legs so it can wander.”

~Roman Payne

The cabin Grandpa Killian lived in for decades had to be the mustiest, dustiest place Riordan had ever known. As a child, it hadn’t been this bad, but he had to consider the place had been empty for years now. The first week, Riordan could barely sleep. He’d spend the day cleaning the inside of the place, dusting the cobwebs and locating his grandfather’s tools, and with minimal electricity, he had to make do and turn in early. Without the white noise of the city, the quiet was almost deafening night after night. Several times a night, a gentle breeze picked up, and the rustling of leaves and the odd critter traipsing about the brush kept him alert. Almost the entire night was spent tossing and turning, heart pounding at every creak and crack of what he kept telling himself were the boards expanding and contracting from the cool of the night. This was a mistake. How do people live like this? It wasn’t until he saw the subtle purple of dawn creeping up that sleep overcame him, and he was knocked out like a light. Without needing to report to anyone in the morning, he would be able to sleep until noon.

That is... until a heavy knock came to the door just a few days and four hours later. Riordan didn’t hear it at first, but when the knock came louder, he quickly jolted up from the bed. What the f-- Who the hell is it now? His brows furrowed as the knock came again. Whoever it was, they were certainly persistent. Riordan scrambled to make himself decent, pulling on his pair of jeans and a shirt, then padded off towards the front door. “Coming!” he called out. “Fucking hell,” he murmured under his breath. When he swung the door open, an older woman smiled at him. Her thick mane of fiery red hair was plaited in a messy braid over her shoulder. It had been a long time since Riordan had last seen Marnie. There was something about her that reminded him of his mother.

“Mornin’ Sunshine! I heard you were in town and had to swing by and say hello! I’m sorry ‘bout Killian. He was a good man. I haven’t seen you since you were a little tadpole swimmin’ around in the river. My God you’ve gotten so big and scruffy,” she said, bringing one of her large hands to her bosom. She grinned softly, then tilted her head towards a mangy looking dog with a simple rope collar. “See this dog here?” she asked. “I found it sittin’ right outside your farm here. I think he’s a stray from somewhere, poor thing.”

She handed the leash over to Riordan, who hadn’t said much. The man looked completely dumbfounded, and his lack of sleep also left him feeling a little somnambulist. Slackjawed, he glanced down at the matted, muddy and dirty golden retriever, then rubbed the back of his neck. "I don’t... I don’t know anything about dogs, I’ve never--”

[ 1. Uprooting ]

“What is a weed? I have heard it said that there are sixty definitions. For me, a weed is a plant out of place.”

~Donald Culross Peattie

Riordan was never happy growing up. The city was stifling, school was standard. When he got an office job with the Joja Corporation that paid well, he didn’t realize he’d be sacrificing most of his time. Life felt inevitably bland in the chase for another dollar to support another vice that distracted from the dullness and existential dread of every day. Wake up. Work. Go home. Try to forget about how much you hate it. Go to bed. Wake up. Repeat. Year after year, it was always the same. Days blurred into months blurred into seasons blurred into years as Joja crammed more work down his throat with a meager raise every two years. The passage of time barely registered, and before he knew it, he was sprouting a streak of gray and he hadn’t even hit his thirties yet. His grandfather’s letter remained untouched, afraid of what it might contain. Riordan hated change. It was what kept him in the hamster wheel of Zuzu City all that time, until he felt like he was at his wit’s end. “Join Us. Thrive.” Thrive my ass, he thought of the company logo emblazoned over everyone’s desks. Pay cuts were happening, people were being let go all around him and his work load was increasing without a real sense of accomplishment. He felt drained. His free time became more and more scarce, and his father’s passing left him without the closure he sought from the man who thus far correctly predicted with words and backhands that Riordan would never amount to anything.

It had been five years since his grandfather’s passing, and after frantically searching for his phone charger, Riordan spotted the off-white, slightly crinkled envelope with Grandpa Killian’s handwriting. He’d stopped thinking about it years ago, but the letter seemed to be laying in wait, patiently sitting beneath a pile of office supplies until the day Riordan finally gave in to curiosity and read it. His grandfather had been a dedicated fisherman living on a farm on the banks of the Cassian River just north of the Cindersap Forest. In fact, their family had a seafaring history that his mother never really got into. It wasn’t unless he spent a few summers at Grandpa Killian’s farm that Riordan learned how to build a fence, plant radishes, and make scarecrows out of burlap potato sacks and old, ratty shirts. He learned how to fish, too, although he wasn’t very good at it. Long ago, he’d decided that a farm life wasn’t for him, not that he’d ever go live with his grandfather. Pelican Town was small, and there were no theaters, sports stadiums, or night clubs, and honestly, how could anyone live like that?

“If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.”  ~Grandpa Killian Blackthorne

Riordan x Alex

[ Dance of the Moonlight Jellies ]

It was ten at night and the beach was dark but for the lanterns the villagers brought with them for the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies. The Mayor would launch a canoe with light to welcome their arrival as the jellyfish swam through their beach. They migrated south for the upcoming winter, and all of Pelican Town was there to celebrate. Today marked the last day of summer, and the jellies would usher in the fall. Riordan had spent months toiling away at the ramshackle excuse of a farm that was slowly shaping up to be a real farm. Grandpa Killian would be proud-- or at least, that’s what Mayor Lewis told him. Riordan would say he was starting to get used to living alone, except for Titan. Marnie had brought the golden retriever when she found him wandering around, and knew that Riordan would likely want the company of another sentient creature-- at least one that wasn’t actively trying to eat his radishes.

"I can't believe summer's over...I feel like it just started."

Riordan looked up when he heard the familiar voice. He smiled when he spotted the green-eyed athlete excusing himself from the group conversation and walking over towards him. He also couldn’t help noticing Haley’s gaze following Alex as he made his way towards the quiet farmer. Most villagers didn’t seem to mind him. Some didn’t care for him, and others took the new farmer under their wing. Riordan kept to himself, although he was beginning to take up a spot as a regular at the Stardrop Saloon lately. He was a few years older than Alex, he learned. Seven, to be exact, which made him feel a little self-conscious about the way his gaze lingered on the other’s taller, broader frame.

Still, Alex didn’t seem to mind. He flashed that big, cheeky smile and pushed back the thick mop of chestnut hair back away from his face. Riordan didn’t know what Alex saw in him, but ever since he caught the other talking to Dusty the dog and learned about his history fraught with abandonment and abuse, he felt a soft spot for him. Riordan’s father hadn’t been much different. His grandfather left him the deed to the farm, and Stardew Valley offered a clean slate. Pelican Town was no major city, but Riordan was getting used to it. The air was fresher, the food was better, the water was cleaner, and maybe he could use that to cleanse all of the grime of his past life away.