é l a n

‘The hearts of men are easily corrupted’

‘History became legend. Legend became myth.’

'No Admittance except on Party Business’

'You’re late!’

'A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to!’

'I know less than half of you as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you as well as you deserve.’

'I feel thin. Sort of stretched. Like butter over too much bread.’

'I need a holiday. A very long holiday. And I don’t expect I shall return.’

'Keep it secret! Keep it safe!’

'I’m not trying to rob you, I’m trying to help you!’

'We do not stop 'til nightfall.’

'What about breakfast?’

'I think I’ve broken something.’

'It’s a pity [name] didn’t kill him when [pronoun] had the chance’

'Many that live deserve death, and many that die deserve life. Can you give it to them?’

'Do you remember when we first met?’

'I thought I had wandered into a dream’

'I would rather share one lifetime with you, than spend all the ages of this world alone.’

'If by life or death I can protect you, I will.’

'You have my sword.’

'One does not simply walk into Mordor.’

'I will take it! Only…I do not know the way.’

'If I take one more step, it will be the farthest away from home I’ve ever been.’

’[name] breathes so loud I could have shot them in the dark.’

'I’m glad you’re with me.’

'If you do not find a way, no one will.’

'Even the smallest person can change the course of the future’

'In the place of a Dark Lord, you would have a Queen!’

'All shall love me and despair!’

'I have passed the test.’

'I cannot do this alone.’

'I know what I must do. It’s just that…I’m afraid to do it.’

'Are you frightened?’

'Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you.’

'I swore to protect you.’

'I would have gone with you until the very end.’

'Anyways, you need people of intelligence on this…mission. Quest. Thing.’

'Whatever you did, you have been officially labelled a disturber of the peace.’

'Cast it into the fire! Destroy it!’

'The wound will never fully heal.’

'You shall not pass!’

'Fly, you fools!’

'Drums…drums in the deep.’

'We cannot get out…they are coming!’

'This foe is beyond any of you– run!’

'They have a Cave Troll’

'If you want him, come and claim him!’

'The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little, and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope still remains, while all of the company is true.’

'May it be a light to you in dark places, where all over lights go out’

When the man spoke that was when Namjoon realized, he had been so caught up in his anxiety about finally getting another tattoo that he hadn’t scheduled an appointment. Of course the man would be annoyed, but upon taking another glance at him, Namjoon saw that he was not just pissed but positively seething with anger. The nerves that had settled down, once again began to rise in the pit of his stomach. Oh my god how am I going to deal with this now? The man is pissed at me and rightfully so, how can I even ask for a tattoo at this point? 

Swallowing his pride and his nervousness, Namjoon took several deep breaths before replying to the man glaring straight at him, “I’m very sorry sir for neglecting to schedule an appointment. I know how in demand you guys are here, so it was unfair of me to just waltz in and expect an appointment. But if you’d like, I do have a design in mind it’s a fairly simple one at that. I even brought a picture. The design is just a set of coordinates, they’re not too long I hope.”

The pit in his stomach was growing. He tried to remind himself why he thought this was a good idea in the first place. Actually scratch that he should have never came, he hated confrontations after all and what made him think this would be any different. 

Because you doubted yourself idiot and thought that it would be different than all your other experiences with people. Well congratulations you were wrong, smart one.

Looking up at the man, Namjoon bit his lip out of nervousness, awaiting the other’s reply. 

‘well,’ hongbin spoke, voice lightening in pitch just slightly. ‘since you have something in mind, at least, i guess i can spare a bit of time to ink you up.’  standing from the stool behind the front counter, hongbin motioned with his hand for the other male to follow, though he didn’t wait an extra second before pacing his way through the small shop. 

grabbing his sketchbook from the rack of many that lined the corner of personal office-- a small space, one stylized to fit his personally unique tastes: authentic wooden furniture, a row of dangling light fixtures and far too many art supplies to count, or even [care] about-- hongbin dropped himself into the large wooden chair behind his desk; legs propped up and crossed, he flipped through the pages of the book until he found where the blank ones began. without looking up from the sketchbook, hongbin reached across the desk; a mercury glass dip pen and pitch black ink well: his favorite supplies.

@mphongbin

Running his fingers over the small tattoo of his mother’s death date on his wrist, Namjoon vividly remembered getting the tattoo, two years ago. He could still picture the man’s suspicious face as he looked at Namjoon, immediately writing him off as not the “type” for tattoos. To this day he still loved the tattoo, but recently, he realized that it was such a melancholy one. Most people had whimsical or happy tattoos that still held meaning for them, so why shouldn’t he get one like that too? After thinking on it for about a week, as that’s about how long it always took for Namjoon to make any kind of a decision, he decided that straight after work on Wednesday he would go to the tattoo parlor and get a new tattoo. He had decided on the coordinates of the exact city (Cairo) where his mom and dad met and fell in love. Sure it sounded mushy and too sentimental, but for Namjoon it was an important place, he had lived there up until he was five after all. Pleased with his decision, he marked off his calendar, making sure that he wouldn’t forget the date.

By the time Wednesday arrived, Namjoon found himself, nervously twisting in his seat, as he looked at the clock, willing work to end for the day. He was supposed to get off at four PM and although it was almost 3:30, time felt like it was moving slower than usual. After a half an hour of pretending to do work, but really obsessively drinking coffee to calm his increasing anxiety. Leaving work in a rush, he practically ran down to the tattoo parlor, barely stopping to check for cars or any other potentially dangerous vehicles. He was especially prone to accidents after all. Finally arriving at the door of the shop, Namjoon took a few deep breaths to settle his racing heart. All that running apparently didn’t help his nerves after all. Like that’s a surprise, Namjoon thought to himself. Finally working up the courage to open the door, he was met with a stony stare from a young man, who seemed about his age at the cash register. He did note however, that the man was actually quite handsome and seemed to have several tattoos himself. Well of course he does idiot, what do you expect? He works in a tattoo parlor after all. Shaking himself from his thoughts Namjoon said nervously, “Um excuse me sir but I’d like to get a new tattoo if you don’t mind. Do you happen to be free right now?”

tattooing was something that he found interest and something similar to joy in, but catering to others was something he absolutely despised. listening to the customer’s groans and whines of pain as the needle repeatedly poked the ink into their skin was one of the few perks of working in the shop, but other than that, hongbin felt there were no positives; nothing was good about working there, even if he liked to create art on people’s bodies.

hongbin wasn’t one to appreciate walk-ins; to him, they were rude: it meant the person expected him to give up his time to offer his services to them. while that was his job, he wasn’t keen on those certain customers who felt so entitled that merely strolling into the shop would earn them a seat on his watch.

when the weird haired kid walked in, hongbin immediately felt an expression of both disinterest and annoyance forming on his face. that wasn’t unusual; almost every person on the same plane of existence as him bothered him to some extent, many more than others. ‘sorry,’ he said, voice flat and distant. ‘i know this is probably your first time here and all, since y’know, you just walked in, but i tend to run strictly off an appointment basis.’

that was a lie.

@mphongbin

Well this wasn’t how Wonshik had panned for this night to go. He took a small breath as he steadied himself against the bar. He knew he shouldn’t be drinking right now - because this was just going to make things worse. He sighed scrolling through his phone contacts trying to pick someone who would actually come and get him and maybe not ask about the colourful bruising. He knew he should have called Babylon - but no one wanted to be the guy who’d left an abusive relationship to be beaten by strange men. He couldn’t call Taemin because he’d be worried about the brusies and then calling Jimin would probably have the same effect. His Cousin’s were out of the question because Wonshik wasn’t going to do that to his family.

This left the Enma-O siblings, Taekwoon and Hyuk, who had done more than enough for him. So the answer was he couldn’t call any of the few people who knew he was an escort. Fantastic. He then looked for the list of names of people who either wouldn’t ask or wouldn’t freak out. He pressed dial for Hongbin’s number knocking back the rest of his drink. “Hongbin, it’s me Wonshik.” He wiped under his eyes, he’d stopped crying a drink or two ago, but he wanted to make sure the makeup wasn’t too smudged. “Can you come and get me. I got beat up and now I’m just in Dr. Feel Good’s drinking to take the edge off the pain.” Well that was great, he seemed so funtional. He couldn’t hide the brusing on his chest, his shirt was far too open for that. He knew it had come up fast but he was still sure nothing was broken.

the vibration of his cellphone against the wood of his bedside table was sudden; he already had his glass of chateau margaux -- one of several bottles he stole from his foster father’s extensive and expensive foreign collection -- and he wasn’t necessarily in the mood to be bothered at such an hour, especially as the alcohol had settled in the base of his belly and was making his fingers tingle. 

despite being more than mildly irritated, hongbin reached over and picked up the device blindly, raising his above his head so he could see who would was calling and: wonshik?  ‘hey,’ he responded as he held the phone up to his ear. sitting up slowly to hang his legs over the edge of the bed, he listened to what the other was telling him. it was almost unbelievable, but at the same time, not. it was inevitable, wasn’t it? working in that kind of profession...

‘beat up? what-- alright, i’ll be there in five. just... stop drinking, it won’t help much.’

hiding the irritation at himself for being two minutes late -- he told his abused friend five minutes and lying was not in his skill set -- hongbin entered the club. it wasn’t hard to see wonshik; there weren’t many people inside as the hour had grown even later than when he had received the call, and hongbin made no hesitation in gliding his way over to him.