Characters: Jon, Sonny
Rating: PG-ish
Words: 520
Notes: Happy Birthday, Ammi!
Sonny begged him and he caved.
Nothing to see here. Move along.
Hi, the name's Wendy.
I'm not even funny.
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skrillme skrillex feed me my fic so I've had this old half-finished drabble sitting around for like two years but I decided to finish it up for a very special person in honor of her very special day :)
Pairing: Skrillmau5
Rating: R
Words: 666
They don’t talk about their relationship.
If you could even call it a relationship. Because a real relationship requires communication. Mutual respect. Love. They didn’t really have any of those.
skrillmau5 my fic the skrillmau5 project okay so for my entry in the project I decided to post this fic I wrote like 6 months ago it's uh... different
Characters: Joel, Sonny
Rating: PG
Words: 315
Notes: Written last night, before the conclusion. Based on this series of tweets.
Oh fuck. What did he say this time?
skrillmau5 deadmau5 so you probably knew this was coming I'm just gonna dump these feels here sorry my fic
Sonny’s pretty sure Joel has never baked a cake in his entire life. Actually, scratch that. He’s positive.
The questionable slab placed in front of him—drowning in confectionery sugar with a hint of cigarette ash from the rather ingenious candle substitute—is proof enough, though the unmistakable scent of burning plastic in the air confirms his suspicions. The kitchen looks like a war zone. Pots and pans and bowls containing various congealed substances lie scattered in the aftermath of what must have been a truly impressive battle and a fine dusting of sugary powder covers every surface, including Joel.
“I improvised,” Joel offers by way of explanation (only somewhat apologetic) when his stunned silence stretches on a few seconds too long.
Sonny beams.
It is, without a doubt, the best birthday cake he’s ever received.
(Source: terrorteen)
deadmau5 meowingtons wrote this right now while watching the livestream quickest turnaround ever my fic
Rob has been looking for Sonny everywhere.
Resorted to scouring every corner of the venue and yelling his name like an increasingly panicked mother searching for a lost child when Sonny doesn’t pick up his phone after the seventh try and none of the crew has seen him in the last hour. Rob is this close to alerting the authorities and sending out a search party when he finds him.
A small mound of black, unmistakable against the hideously red couch—the only piece of furniture in a room no bigger than a closet.
Rob enters the confined space with purpose, prepared to reprimand him for wandering off without telling anyone and ignoring his calls, but hesitates as he gets closer. Sees Sonny curled up in a fetal position clutching his backpack like a lifeline. Sees his slightly parted lips, his overlarge glasses skewed by the press of the pillow, and the light rise and fall of his chest with every shallow exhale. He can’t do it.
Not when he looks so peaceful. Not when this is the first time Sonny has really slept in about 48 hours.
His entire world consists of hotels, tour buses, and airports. He doesn’t own a bed. Doesn’t even own a place to put a bed. Like a vagrant he wanders from city to city, carrying only what he needs to survive in a small suitcase and backpack. A few items of clothing and a laptop. The essentials.
He knows Sonny loves this job more than life itself. Knows that Sonny would trade all his money and all his worldly possessions to continue making music. Because that’s basically what he’s done already. It’s one of the many things Rob admires about him.
But sometimes, like right now, it breaks his heart.
Everyone needs a bed. Everyone needs a home. Sonny gives and gives and gives until he has nothing left for himself. Doesn’t sleep until he ends up collapsing from exhaustion. And there’s nothing Rob can do about it. Wouldn’t do anything, even if he could. Because, in the end, it’s not his decision to make.
So he shrugs off his jacket, drapes it carefully over his best friend, and shuts off the light on his way out.
whoops I seem to have drabbled all over your lovely drawing it just gives me too many feeeeelings my fic skrillhog
Characters: Joel, Sonny
Rating: PG
Words: 220
Joel is the little boy in the schoolyard who pulls the pigtails of the girl he fancies and calls her names like goblin and tells her she’s not even funny.
Characters: Joel, Sonny
Rating: PG-13
Words: 220
At 23 years old, Sonny still hasn’t figured out how pants work.