a mumu for fairytalefm ft:
ashon darko. 30. inspired by prince eric. kofi siriboe. intro. | threads.
jack rowley. 28. inspired by flynn rider. sam corlett. intro. | threads.
xiuqing hadn’t planned on staying long. she’d shown up late on purpose, slipped past the group of crying girls with perfectly smudged eyeliner and the guys pretending to care with beers in hand. she hated how performative it all felt. like they were all here to say they knew marcy, when really most of them didn’t even know her birthday. she stood at the edge of the bluff now, arms crossed, hoodie too big, blunt tucked behind her ear like a lifeline. the fire behind her crackled with too much joy for something so grim. she hated that too. “real fucking nice,” she muttered under her breath, eyeing the setup — fairy lights, music, people trying not to look too sad. “they should’ve just thrown her a baby shower while they were at it.” she didn’t realize she wasn’t alone until she caught someone staring. her gaze snapped to them, sharp and unimpressed. “…what?” she asked flatly. “you lost, or just looking for someone to trauma-bond with?”
he was getting all too familiar with the feeling of grief and losing people. he wasn't close with marcy but he did know of her. it felt like people were dropping like flies, one by one. at least in his mind. he knew other people weren't thinking about his parents' deaths. "i'm not lost, at least i don't think i am," maybe now wasn't the best time of a joke but he still figured it would help ease the tension a little, "i'm just wandering through, i guess. mind if i hang out a little bit? it's getting a bit rowdy over there." he wasn't really in any mood to drink. he knew better than that, his parents always drilled in his head that he had to keep a clearheaded mind in any social outing.
maybe she's still in shock but rory refused to cry about her best friend dying. her sister. someone she had known since childhood. gone. just like that. there wasn't sadness there, but instead a gaping emptiness, one she was desperate to fill, which was why decorum were thrown out the window as soon as she saw people who didn't even like marcy cry in front of her. she found herself tipsy already, and desperate to get her hands on a blunt. "you know..." rory mused out loud when she realized she wasn't alone, a mischievous grin in her eye. "this is probably the only time they'll let you jump off the cliffs during nighttime. you think you can do it?" she challenged.
if anyone else had passed, he'd probably chalk it up just by saying that it was life. But he knew marcy pretty much his whole life. and a part of him felt sad, but he wouldn't ever show that. instead, he'd drown away those thoughts with booze and drugs, which was the only way he knew how to cope with any type of feelings. he wasn't even thinking about jumping off until rory mentioned it, god damn, why did she have to think of it first? "you can't just basically dare me to do it and then ask if i can. that's like askin' someone to not bring a knife to a fight, makes 'em wanna do it even more." he wasn't even sure where the two of them stood at the moment, but then again, that was part of the fun. "i'd do it but i feel like someone's gonna be a buzzkill 'bout it."
[ sam corlett, 28, he/him ] - was that FLYNN RIDER i saw around town today? nope, turns out it was JACK ROWLEY, the 28-year old ROAD CAPTAIN OF THE LOST BOYS MC & MECHANIC who has lived in town for EIGHTEEN YEARS, LEFT FOR SIX, AND HAS BEEN BACK FOR FOUR YEARS. i heard they have a reputation of being LOYAL & IMPULSIVE. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next while being here in grimmvale.
parental death, parental alcoholism, prison,
bullet points:
jack was raised by an alcoholic mother and pretty absent dad. his family never really felt like a family. it was probably the one thing in life that he wanted.
with a deep sense of yearning for something bigger, jack felt trapped by the limitations that he felt grimmvale had to offer.
at eighteen, after a shit ton of arguments with his dad, and a sense of restlessness that he couldn’t ignore, jack left. he packed his few belongings, hopped on his motorcycle, and rode out into the unknown. the road became his escape and his sanctuary. without any destination in mind, he never stayed in one place long enough to settle.
for a few years, jack’s life was one of constant motion: long nights at bars, riding his bike in the dead of night, sometimes ending up in a police station, and the endless pursuit of a sense of belonging that he never found at home. yet, despite the adrenaline and thrill, there was always a hole in his heart.
it wasn’t until his mother’s passing that forced him to confront his past. the funeral was the first time he had returned to grimmvale in five years. walking through the old neighborhood felt strange, both familiar and foreign at the same time. but he wanted to stay this time.
thankfully, he was able to earn his way as a member of the lost boys mc. and he's been riding with them ever since. at least his time on the road wasn't a complete waste.
headcanons:
the mc has become the family that he always wanted. it filled that hole in his heart. jack is quite literally a ride or die.
[ kofi siriboe, cis man, he/him ] - was that PRINCE ERIC i saw around town today? nope, turns out it was ASHON DARKO, the THIRTY-year old HEIR TO HIS WEAPONS TRAFFICKING EMPIRE & REAL ESTATE MOGUL who has lived in town for TWENTY YEARS. i heard they have a reputation of being PERSONABLE & SHORTSIGHTED. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next while being here in grimmvale.
bullet points:
triggers: parental death, car accident
ashon was born into a world of privilege and power, the only child of tano and isabelle darko. his dad was a well-known weapons trafficker with ties to arms dealers and mercenaries. his mom was a businesswoman who handled the logistics and money laundering side of the family’s empire. from the outside, the darko family seemed to lead a picture-perfect life.
growing up, ashon was surrounded by luxury but there was always an underlying tension. the darko household was never one of warmth or affection. his parents were cold and calculating, teaching him early on the value of silence and discretion even if he had no idea why. family dinners were rarely held together, and ashon's childhood friends were always chosen carefully, primarily children of other powerful families with similar, unspeakable legacies.
as a teen, ashon’s life was dictated by the heavy hand of his parents although it was more of butlers and those who worked for them telling him what to do. he rarely saw them. he figured if he acted out then maybe they would come around more. he spent their money on lavish things, attempting to max out their credit cards and hanging with those his parents hadn't personally approved of.
heavy is the crown who wears it, because his parents soon spilled the beans on what they do and who they are. they slowly started dipping his toe into their many responsibilities. even if he did what he was told, his parents were never proud, only expectant.
last year, ashon's world changed in the blink of an eye. his parents were dead. he doesn't even know the full details, just that they were in a car accident. and his worst nightmare came true, he was now in charge. he wasn't even sure that he wanted to take his parents' place and now he doesn't have a choice. he's not sure who to trust, and is trying to navigate this all while grieving his parents.
he's super conflicted. he knows that an inherited empire comes with both power and danger. and with every deal, he makes carries the weight of a thousand lives, each one a pawn in a game he never chose to play.
headcanons:
unfortunately not as ruthless as his dad. his weakness is that he has a heart.
went to college and then ended up dropping out because he didn't show up to class a lot.
areudirty
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
origamiaround
vaporwave
kaledo-art
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
