New Characters: Intro Fic!
Ahhh yes it's true! I'm introducing two new characters! Their names are Jory and Dev. They have some connections to Shawn so he's in this fic too.
I really hope people like them! Ahh I'll put out character descriptions later.
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**Author's Note** Dev is genderqueer. Their pronouns are they/them. I will use she/her only in this fic because it's important to me right now to be able to write this transition phase. It'll be like my readers are getting used to their pronouns at the same time as everyone else in these stories, including Dev. I will add warnings to all future fics that have misgendering, etc. Please don't get attached to the she/her pronouns and use Dev to satisfy your female sickee needs. Thank you for reading this. **End of Author's Note**
Read the A/N
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Shawn didn’t wake up that morning with the intent to get a baby dragon tattooed on his arm. He also didn’t plan for that baby dragon to have scales that resembled a literal dragon fruit.
Regardless of what he planned, he was currently sat in a chair as Jory drew the creature with green-tipped floppy scales and a red body. The only reason Shawn was getting this tattoo was because Jory had been his artist for a few years now and Shawn wanted to see what would happen if he offered up his skin as a free canvas.
The red of the dragon helped disguise the blood that inevitably bloomed from his skin. Shawn tried not to look at his arm while Jory worked because he knew from past experience that things would turn sour if he saw the blood mingled with the ink. Still, it was a good feeling—an empowering feeling—to know that there was blood on his arm at that very moment and that he was totally fine. He was more than fine; he was getting a baby dragon tattooed on his body for heaven’s sake!
It helped too that Shawn liked and admired Jory.
The man that was currently stabbing needles into Shawn’s body was the nicest guy that Shawn knew. And he was genuine to the point of being weird. Shawn loved that about him. The dude never swore, insisting on changing cuss words to the most ridiculous things that Shawn ever heard. He stuck his tongue out a lot when he smiled or joked or laughed. He even had his tongue hanging out of his mouth just then as he concentrated on the dragon’s tail.
Jory’s mop of red-dyed hair would sometimes hang in front of his face, but not while tattooing. While he worked, he always wore some sort of bandana. Today it was a black one with white mushrooms on it. It looked like it had been a few weeks since he last dyed his hair because it wasn’t so vibrant anymore. Shawn still thought it was cool.
And it was cool the way he just said whatever came to his mind. Usually, the things that came to Jory's mind only made sense to him. He never lasts very long before saying something that was chugging along in his chaotic train of thought.
“I’m making it canon that this little guy is gay as fudge,” Jory announced, referring to the fruit-like dragon.
“Why do you say that?” Shawn asked, grateful for the new conversation. Talking always helped distract him from the anxiety of getting a tattoo. By this point in their friendship, Shawn was pretty good at jumping onto Jory’s train of thought. “Is it because he’s fruity?”
“You got it.” Jory said while sticking out his tongue. “Also, I’m just thinking about that boyfriend of yours who I haven’t even met yet. When are you going to bring him here so I can tattoo him?”
“I’ve been trying to convince him,” Shawn said while examining the little mushrooms on Jory’s bandana. It gave his eyes something to look at other than his arm. “But Mateo thinks his first tattoo needs to have some deep meaning.”
“Aw bless him. Maybe one day he’ll learn.”
Shawn really had been trying to convince Mateo to get a tattoo because he personally loved the look of them. His mum had a whole jumpsuit—forget sleeve—of artwork. So, he always associated the look to something comforting and strong. When he was a kid, he used to think that she had to get the colour touched up every few months just like haircuts. Naturally he grew to understand the process and it wasn’t long before he was thinking about what he wanted on his body.
And then he learned that there was blood involved. But it was too late; he already wanted to look just like his mum, maybe because the kids at school convinced him that one of his moms couldn’t be his real mom. Like his desire for a tattoo, his dislike for blood followed him into adulthood but that wasn’t going to stop him from doing what he wanted.
As Shawn sat with his arm extended toward Jory, he drummed his fingers (of his unoccupied hand) on the armrest. His stomach was unsettled with all the water he drank but Jory never shut up about being hydrated. Despite all his efforts to avoid blood, he still felt nauseous as the tattoo machine buzzed away. To distract himself, he started to hum the first song that came to his mind: Let It Go from Frozen.
To no one’s surprise, Jory chimed in with vocals. “Turn away and slam the—Hold up, that’s your go-to distraction song. Do you need a break?”
“No, no I’m good,” Shawn insisted, trying to convince himself. “As long as I keep looking away, I’m fine.”
Jory shook his head. “You really are an anomaly, babes. Who ever heard of a tatted guy that’s scared of blood? I mean you do all this just to pass out when you start to leak.”
“It’s called making sacrifices and overcoming your fears,” Shawn said. “And you’re one to talk. Who ever heard of a tattoo artist who doesn’t like to swear? Or who goes around calling everyone babe?”
“Hey it’s always platonic. And there’s nothing wrong with choosing not to swear.”
Shawn conceded. People could be more than one thing. Take the half-dragon, half-fruit on his arm. He was excited and terrified for the white ink that would bring the creature’s tongue to life. Like the inside of the actual fruit, the tongue was going to be dotted with black. “You’re right obviously. It’s just that most people would expect you to call them fucker or something.”
“I’ve never met another artist who casually says that to people.”
“Hey, fucker,” another artist called out to Jory as they walked by. “Give Shawn a break for fuck’s sake. He looks like moldy cheese.”
Shawn laughed. “See, Dev, embraces the stereotypes.”
Jory lifted the machine from Shawn’s skin and his foot from the pedal while he watched his co-worker walk by with a grin. “That’s because Dev was born with ink in her veins and coil around her bones.”
“Wow you should be a poet.”
Jory didn’t acknowledge Shawn’s sarcastic remark as he held his gaze on the empty space where Dev had been. He didn’t turn back to Shawn for a hot second, but when he did Shawn looked at him with a shit-eating grin.
“I see the crush is still alive and well.” Shawn said with less shit-eating qualities to his voice than he was going for. It was hard to be smug when his stomach was roiling. The numbing cream helped a little, but he could still feel the blood on his skin. Still, he had to commit to the teasing. “How sweet. The angel is in love with the devil.”
“Shut up or I’ll give this dragon a tongue piercing.”
Jory tried to supress the goofiest smile on his face. Shawn’s teasing reminded him of how Dev got her name in the first place. Dev’s given name was something absurdly flowery. It was actually Jory who first started calling her Dev and it was only because the studio was called Neon Devil.
That and because Dev was more than a little scary. Jory did his apprenticeship with Dev, and she was a hell of a mentor. In a good way.
There was some sort of electromagnetic force that pulled Jory towards this person. Dev was addictive like tattoos. And Jory couldn’t get her out of his mind for as much as he tried. Her sharp jawline matched her personality, but her delicate nose did not. Dev had choppy brown hair that went down to her chest and soft eyes that didn’t communicate very well with the scowl.
Jory’s entire apprenticeship had been filled with blunt lessons and piercing praise when he earned it—piercing as in something that could not be ignored. Dev was like that. Direct and honest. Unignorable.
Shawn thought it was funny, watching Jory convince himself that he wasn’t exactly like Dev only in a softer shade. They were both their honest selves. Dev was slightly rougher around the edges. But obviously Jory didn’t have a problem with sharp things.
Still, Jory thought that Dev wouldn’t go for a guy like him because he was a chaotic jumble of a person. He was anxious and chatty, and awkward and dramatic. Like too many colours all trying to work together on one canvas. But obviously Dev didn’t have a problem with colourful things.
Jory looked at the colour in Shawn’s face and started to take off his gloves. “Dev’s right, though. You look rather pale. And my butt is numb, so let’s take a break.”
“Don’t change the subject,” Shawn said, grateful that they were stopping. “I don’t understand why you don’t ask Dev out.”
“Alright let me explain it to you, love.” Jory sighed exaggeratedly. “It’s because I’m a coward.”
“Fine, I’ll do it for you.”
And before Jory could say anything, Shawn was calling out in the studio. “Hey, Dev!”
Jory waved his hands in the air as if he were drowning. When Dev appeared, he had to stop floundering and just drown in silence. His cheeks were quickly taking on the colour of his hair.
“What’s up? Did you puke on the floor again?”
Shawn looked momentarily embarrassed. “No. It’s Jory.”
Dev’s eyes did a quick flick over to Jory whose heart was beating in his ears. “Did he puke? That would be a crazy plot twist that I will definitely not be cleaning up.”
Jory felt like puking.
Shawn carried on with his torture. “Actually, Jory has something to tell you when you both get off work.”
Jory’s lunch settled back into his stomach and his cheeks relaxed to a nice pink. Except now the torture was only delayed.
Dev seemed pleased with this info. She said something which Jory was not expecting. “Oh good, because I have something to tell him.”
With the appropriate amount of shit-eating undertones, Shawn grinned at Jory and relaxed back in his chair.
A deep part of Jory’s soul wanted to say all the swear words, but instead, he just thought: Oh, frickin’ chicken.
• • •
It was dark out when Jory’s and Dev’s last appointments ended.
Jory sat on the sidewalk outside the studio. The fluorescent lights of the Neon Devil illuminated the area somewhat. The red glow made him feel as if he were in some dystopian version of this world.
Jory didn’t wake up that morning with the intent to confess his feeling to his friend, mentor, and co-worker. He really did feel nauseous at the prospect of divulging this long-held secret. The studio was already weird enough with him in it; he could only imagine how weird it would get if Dev rejected him.
Without saying anything, Dev sat down next to Jory, hugging her arms together to keep warm. She exhaled and it sounded almost shaky…almost exactly like Jory’s nervous breathing. It gave Jory some confidence.
“What did you want to tell me?” Dev asked.
“Um, I think you should go first.” Okay he didn’t have that much confidence.
Dev nodded like she expected him to say that. So, she went first. “I figured out why I hate everybody.”
Jory did not expect that opening line. But he went along with it because he was a curious to know the answer. “And why’s that?”
“Because they don’t see me like I see myself.”
“And how do you see yourself?”
Dev took a long breath, closing her eyes on the exhale. “Like a fucking abstract concept.”
Jory floundered like a fish on a sidewalk. “Um…I know I’m usually the one who doesn’t make sense, but what on earth and heaven does that mean?
Dev stood up suddenly and started to pace in front of Jory. “I don’t know, dude. I just see myself as me. I’m not a woman. I’m not a man. I’m not anything. I’m just this blob.”
Jory, being used to chaotic trains of thoughts, jumped on this one, prepared to go to whatever destination that Dev had in mind. “What a profound self-discovery. So, you’re non-binary?”
Dev’s nose crinkled up in thought, “Mm, that feels too…smack-dab in the middle. Which I’m not.”
“Okay so…agender?”
Dev groaned out of frustration, making Jory scared that she was going to kick him or something. “I don’t know. Why does everything need a goddamn nametag?”
“Alright,” Jory said with his hands in the air as if to protect himself. He lowered his hands slowly as his brain managed to form a helpful thought. “You’re right. Not all wines need labels.”
Dev let out a huff and plopped back on the ground next to Jory. “I’m sorry. It’s just that my sister had the exact same reaction. She tried to put me in a box that she could understand. And then she went and told our fucking parents when I specifically told her not to.”
“I’m sorry.” Jory said simply. He didn’t know what else to say. It was a good thing his mouth kept on forming words because somehow, they were the right ones even if they only made sense to him. “Well, you can trust me. I’m a Surreptivault.”
Dev put her head in her hands and laughed. “I think your brain might be infected with an alien virus.” She lifted her head and looked at Jory. “What the hell is a Surreptivault?”
“Well, you see, I just invented it.” Jory kept on rambling even though he thought he should probably shut up. “It’s from the word surreptitious meaning secret, and vault meaning vault.” And then he got a bit quieter because the next part sounded too cheesy for Dev’s liking. “I’ll keep your secret until the day I die, or until you’re ready to tell people.”
Dev looked at him as if there were an alien tumour attached to his head. Well at least that’s how Jory interpreted the look. Dev actually looked at him with a mix of wonder and gratitude. “You’re so weird.” And then Dev hugged him because she couldn’t say what she really wanted to.
The hug ended. Dev sniffled in the cold night air. “Anyway, your turn. What were you going to say?”
Jory froze. He scratched the back of his head. “Um, it was really more of a question, I think.”
He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Not because he was a coward but because Dev was in an emotionally vulnerable state. Like a tattoo that needed time to heal, Dev expressed herself and now needed the proper aftercare. Jory wasn’t about to infect the wound with something that might hurt.
“Uh…” He stammered searching for something to say. Then he realized that there was an important question to ask. “What are your pronouns?”
Dev narrowed her eyes at him in disbelief. “That’s not what you were going to ask me.”
“It is now. Shawn was just being a doodlefloop.”
“I see.” Dev said, very familiar with Jory’s regular vernacular. “They, them.”
Jory nodded.
“Oh, one more thing,” Dev added casually, “I’m your new roommate because there’s no fucking way that I’m living with my sister anymore.”
Jory just gaped at his friend. “I’m sorry what?”
“You said you were looking for a roommate, right? Well surprise, you found one!”
In Jory's messy-room of a brain he only had one thought: Fuck
