#{even in my own parts I left Calvin out of it. the poor boy}
Note
how do all the lackadaisy characters react to getting sick/how do the handle the situation. Thanks!! :3c
Lumping these two asks together as they are the same request. Ask and ye shall receive! (A collaborative effort between multiple of our authors as it does involve the whole cast.)
ROCKY
Sick? What do you mean sick. In his over twenty-two years of living thus far he's never been sick once. He has the immune system of a titan, what are you talking about.
Questions he whilst leaning heavily on the bar counter for support lest he is knocked to the ground in a feverish pile by this sudden earthquake that apparently no one else is noticing like seriously you guys shouldn't we evacuate the place?!
In his defense, he's right about one thing: illness seems to avoid him as prevalently and miraculously as death itself. He could get stuck in the rain, take cold mud baths, sleep outside in winter snow, hug someone with Spanish flu, taste the pavement of a rat-infested alley and drink raw sewage and still come out of it all fit as a fiddle.
(Whether he carries anything is a different question, though with the various microorganisms inside him he seems to live in an overwhelmingly peaceful coexistence.)
But every rule has exceptions. And since he frequently does end up in all those situations, when once a millennium he comes down with something it's hard to tell the cause.
How he handles it can be summed up in a short answer of: he doesn't. He refuses to acknowledge it until he's physically incapacitated. If asked about it he keeps insisting that he's fine, a-okay, dandy as can be, never has existed a more invigorated healthy young man on Earth. At best he may invent a perfectly unconvincing excuse, like allergies acting up. (Inside underground caves. In winter. When he's never been allergic to anything in his entire life.)
Aside from perhaps unsuccessfully forbidding him from causing more grievous disturbances than usual, people usually opt to just leave him to it, because once he's set his mind on being "fine" logical reasoning and sound advice are only breath wasted. Ever well-intentioned, Mitzi still tells him to get some rest every now and then, yet keeps stumbling into the boy as he's fumbling through whatever that unresting intent has currently possessed him to be doing.
This wouldn't be such an issue with, say, a cold, because regardless of his masochistic eagerness for activity it inevitably does pass, but if it's something that necessitates any amount of bedrest... well, good luck.
For one he hasn't really a place to rest. I mean... there's the car. No one but Ivy at the Lackadaisy seems to know he technically lives in there, and he's not too enthusiastic to disclose it himself; besides anywhere else actually suitable, like in Mitzi's apartment, he'd just feel like a capital nuisance.
But let's suppose a scenario with the ideal location and someone who cares enough to stick by and ensure he actually does stay put. Shouldering such a responsibility, they must be prepared for a minimum of two things.
For one: he's going to be even more unbearably talkative than usual. Because what else is there left for a restless spirit if the flesh is restrained? Nothing but to complain and lament and versify and prattle on incessantly about whatever comes careening hither along a changeful stream of consciousness. Albeit unwittingly, driving others insane with his aimless rambling is how he keeps himself... well, something.
It's like if his mind had to stop running at maximum speed for just a few minutes it would promptly crash for good. Which, for all we know, may really be the case.
(This is just my two cents, but: I think giving him drawing implements and a coloring book or just plain paper might keep him very nicely occupied, as well as relatively quiet. Be sure to provide plenty of paper though, if you don’t want him to start drawing on other things not meant to be drawn on when the supply runs out like an unsupervised kid... unless you welcome the idea of your walls and furniture being covered in doodles.)
The other, possibly more arduous challenge is keeping him inside the room in the first place. Not understanding nor agreeing with his special treatment largely experienced as imprisonment on his end, he seizes each arising opportunity to attempt to weasel away somehow.
And he's a trained escape artist.
Watch him closely but look away for even a second, and you'll find no trace of him left in the room when you look back. Lock him in there, he'll pick the lock in a pinch - or attempt the window, which depending on the floor number may carry various levels of risk. Tie him down (because you're getting desperate by now) and you're likely to stumble into him minutes later by the front door, having already wriggled his way out. Doesn’t matter which knot was used, he knows most of them by heart. (And even if he didn’t happen to, he’s resourceful enough.)
Like I’ve said before, he perseveres in resisting his confinement for as long as he's capable of moving his limbs around and some vague semblance of coherent thought. Even with his brains cooking with delirium one may have to rescue him as he's crawling along on the floor dragging with him the tangle of blankets he was last left swaddled in, not entirely clear on what direction he's headed but by all means dedicated.
He's not above manipulation either, in order to divert his warden’s attention or make them relinquish his firm supervision rooted in concern for his well-being. Because it's not like he's concerned about it; so why should anyone else be? In addition he's unshakably certain that his role in the Lackadaisy's rumrunning force as well as there in general is absolutely vital and requires that he always be available for employment regardless of if he’s even in a proper state for it. (Just look at the latest comic arc, for crying out loud.)
But psst. Here's a little personal tip, for (Y/N) specifically. If reasonable advice hits deaf ears, and cuffing him to a bedpost yields little results other than another mildly baffling escape attraction, there remains one other thing to try with better chances of success... a more hands-on approach, if you catch my drift.
(Cuddling. I'm talking about cuddling. If you've got a good grip on this string bean of a man he is certainly not going anywhere so long as you're vigilant. Doing so, of course, means risking your own health, which he won't fail to coyly point out either; but he'll otherwise put up minimal resistance and ultimately cave in because God knows he’s touch deprived and doesn't get held enough otherwise. Well, by not enough I mean not at all, ever. But that's exactly why it's a good thing you're here, isn't it?)
Overall, as amusing of a story collection to recount as his commonly absurd ailing escapades might provide later down the line, the fact that they very rarely happen is no doubt for the best. He engages in enough troublesome shenanigans as is.
FRECKLE
Surprisingly pragmatic about it. Yep. He's getting symptoms. Looks like he contracted something.
Best be careful about it... mostly because Nina wouldn't allow him running himself ragged anyhow.
Along with other moral virtues he's had honesty drilled into him from kittenhood. And although it's not always an option in... other matters... he's upfront about how he's feeling physically if not much else, and eventually does come to terms with it. (Once he’s confirmed with certainty that it’s not just the general nauseated feeling he gets whenever he thinks too deeply about his “work” nowadays.)
He doesn't want to infect other people, or incur the stern concern of his mother, so at the very least he stays around the house, doing small, mostly undemanding chores. He's aware it's not expected of him nor recommended, but he has a bit of restlessness to him too.
Mostly because, were it bad enough to confine him to bed in a blanketed bundle of suffering incarnate, all he'd be able to think about is that God's wrath finally caught up with him for being a horrible person and this was part of his rightful punishment. Even worse if he got a nasty fever; it's like he's already burning in Hell.
Distractions may be scarce, but if he's been told off from chores for sneezing on the washing-up or exhausting himself with much too overzealous hammering, he opts to read instead. Over the years he's amassed quite the collection of books, renowned classics and youth literature, and most of them still give off the fluttering remnants of a good kind of nostalgia when flipping through the pages.
And besides, immersing himself in someone else's story is far more pleasant than fretting over his own current predicaments.
Some company, from a safe distance of course, will do him wonders as well. Nina is not the most conversational woman around, and aside from checking on him regularly and ensuring his wellbeing they don't make much meaningful contact.
Rocky likely pops in from time to time however, forever enthused to just run his mouth for as long as allowed, and although he may get a bit too bombastic for Calvin's comparative lack of vitality sometimes he appreciates the distraction more than he's able to express it. And, believe it or not, it's not entirely one-sided either. Rocky has developed a keen sense for his quiet cousin's intent to contribute and will more than gladly listen to what he has to say.
He’ll also forward Ivy’s wishes for Calvin to get well soon as she’s just dying to be able to meet with him at the speakeasy again. (Definitely also attaches a teasing remark or two to the message.) Then he’s eventually ushered out by Nina and as soon as his hasty goodbyes are swallowed by the outdoors Calvin finds himself missing the noise already.
The paralyzed stillness of being sick gets to him a lot more than it shows… seeing as it leaves him a little too alone with his own mind. So he sinks into the comfort of old books until he’s incapacitated by a headache and sore eyes, and diligently rakes those seven leaves that had gathered across the back lawn since he last attended to them two hours before, and lingers outside in the garden until warmer hues overtake a sun-painted sky and the evening chill starts to bite, taking in all things green and alive and in motion to remind himself that he’s not a walking corpse. Not yet, anyway.
Due to his mom’s supervision as well as his own eagerness to follow instructions in order to escape his personal limbo as soon as possible, he does tend to recover fairly fast; and he’s a pretty hardy young lad, thank goodness, so it’s all quite uncommon of an ordeal. In short it’s back to the ol’ grindstone in a jiffy; you know, the kind of grindstone that pulverizes mortal lives and churns out dripping blood.
But hey, best not stop and mull over it too long.
IVY
Oh, it's a nightmare for her.
You mean she can't go out in the evenings anymore? Can't go shopping with friends? Can't procure booze with her criminal coworkers? Can't attend dates with her cute new boyfriend? (Well, those last two are one and the same, really.)
These are all vital activities for a young woman like her to pursue! What else is she supposed to do? Rot in her room and steer clear of all fun whilst everyone else keeps going on with their lives?!
Some flimsy cold is nowhere near enough to keep her away from the beloved Lackadaisy. She can still man the café counter with a little sniffle (taking care to sneeze on no one's food) or look absolutely gorgeous on the dancefloor decked in glimmering pearls and feathers with a slightly paler constitution. But if it's bad enough that she simply must stay put...
During classes the still life of an empty dormitory fills with upbeat contemporary tunes from her bedstand radio as she lies upon crumpled bedsheets, clad in her prettiest pajamas, surrounded by an almost ritualistic circle of tissues and magazines whilst flipping through one of the latter with her legs girlishly dangling in the air. This is likely the scene any visitors are greeted by as well.
She looks like she's coping rather well... until verbal contact ensues and she begins her long string of complaints about how she's feeling utterly miserable. Runny nose, sore throat, grating cough, an unshakable sense of fatigue and she can't even go anywhere! Her classmates are off studying or having fun themselves (as well as deliberately avoiding contact with her for obvious reasons), and she's got nothing to look at but patterned wallpaper and pictures of pretty clothes she currently can't even visit the boutiques for.
But once the grievances are shared she promptly guides the spotlight in their direction, upon which they are to share every last bit of information and news about all most recent ongoings in the world of the healthy. It is a requirement (she will not let them go until they oblige), but also an opportunity; they're welcome to spill the beans on how their week has been and any noteworthy things that happened to them and also to just chat with her about whatever else comes up in the process.
Another way she keeps herself involved with the outside world is through the telephone. The local operator can already tell if she's under the weather by the prevalence of hearing her slightly weathered, juvenile voice squeak for connection to mostly one line throughout the day.
Her calls may also be scheduled to a certain hour so that everyone can come up to Mitzi's office and say hi. That "everyone" overwhelmingly ends up being Rocky, who lingers around there a bit more insistently than usual nearing that time frame and never fails to make his presence known by shouting his own greetings and cheerful encouragements of perseverance into the receiver.
She always asks him about Viktor and Calvin since the former disappointingly refuses to engage with her calls, and the latter doesn't visit because boys aren't allowed in the dormitory... and because he's afraid of catching her sickness. (What a chicken.)
You’d better believe they both get a scolding once she’s recovered for not contacting her at all… though you can’t really stay mad at sheepishly apologetic, babyfaced Freckle McMurray, now can you
Supposing the presence of company who’s emotionally close enough, she may also get clingy in the physical sense. Yes, she knows it’s not very courteous to rub your germs all over someone, but oh, her head is just killing her and she’s exhausted and achy and utterly sick of being sick, hence she desperately needs to rest her chin on someone’s shoulder and latch onto their soft warmth. Really, they brought this upon themselves by daring to enter the sniffly lion cub’s den. Now they’re likely not allowed to move for… let’s say the next two hours. Alternatively, until she has to go to the bathroom or ask them to get her something to drink.
Yes, she’s a bit of a princess; and especially when she’s miserable she may occasionally indulge in showering a willing servant with her various requests. Fetch her this, throw away that, bring hot chocolate and snacks, take out the trash, give her attention. But how could you say no to those big, innocent eyes?
If it’s a schoolmate she will absolutely persuade them to skip their classes for the day and spend time with her instead, offering cuddles and gossip. Forgetting, or ignoring rather, that not everyone can afford to be so lax about their education. Though surely, full-time service as a personal maid slash stuffed animal is making a much better use of their time. She promises to do the same when they inevitably catch the illness themselves, if that’s any consolation.
Nightly adventures and consequent loss of sleep aside, she takes decent care of herself overall, so the understimulating agony of quarantined solitude luckily isn’t something she suffers more of than the average person… albeit that little she’s an expert at suffering luxuriously.
VIKTOR
No, he's not sick, you're just lying. The great, the indomitable, the fierce Viktor Vasco never gets sick.
Denial is definitely a big part of it. He will not admit to getting sick until he's too weak to stand, and even then he'll fight anyone who tries to get him to rest.
The boredom is somehow scarier than actual health concerns. Staying at home and being too ill to do anything except think means he'll think. And thinking leads to a whole load of other things that he doesn't want to get into.
Essentially, getting sick is a liability to everything, from his job to his sense of self.
However, good luck on trying to make him better. He will also stubbornly refuse any help that comes his way, will slam his door in the doctor's face and threaten to tear apart anyone who so much as suggests getting him medicine.
His colleagues from Lackadaisy have taken to asking Mrs Bapka, his neighbour, to administer anything they want to give him themselves (he will draw a line at punching an old woman and fellow Slovakian immigrant), or Ivy (no one can successfully dispose of Ivy and her headstrong attitude. No one.)
The last person he had actually listened to when he was sick was a certain Mordecai Heller. Needless to say, that's not the case anymore.
Maybe that's what really makes him so grumpy and reluctant.
ZIB
His immune system is either rock hard or absolute dogshit, there is no in-between. He can go through a crowd of cats with nasty 'bouts of the flu without catching it, but gets bedridden by something as small as a head cold.
Said wonky immune system may be because he tends to drink stuff cut with the most ridiculous ingredients (radiator fluid, coffin varnish, paint, water, mud, you name it he's probably tasted it)
When he gets laid up, he gets laid up hard (innuendo not intended). He has to drag himself out of bed during the worst parts of it and may not even bother, electing to curl up and shiver/cry from the pain/die where he's comfortable. His band members have to literally drag him out of there on those days and force food down his throat so he doesn't wither away
Goddammit you lanky noodle bitch look after your sick ass don't make everyone do it for you
MORDECAI
He hates falling ill with a passion. It's one of many reasons he drinks tea so often: if he does get sick, it won't hit him so hard.
He tends to try and shrug off small stuff (runny nose, mild to moderate headache, aches and pains) to go to work anyway; but he's no fool. If he really feels icky he'll stay at home and look after himself. As much as he hates to do it, he's only got one body and somebody has to look after it.
The Savoys bash/tease him relentlessly whenever he comes in sick. If the mild headache becomes something worth staying at home for, they'll go as far as to try and visit him (or get him to come to them). Is it guilt about ragging him about it, them missing him or just boredom? Hard to tell with those two.
Serafine once teased about playing as his "mama" and looking after him until he's better. Mordecai, in his sickness-muddled mind, flew off the handle at her...Though all the Savoys saw was him almost break a glass in his paws before telling them flatly to get out.
Neither one realized Serafine had hit a nerve until he refused to let them in for a few days after. Whether it was something about his past or Serafine betraying his trust to get him into her group, they let it go and pretended nothing happened once he was back in action (though there was a noticeably thicker wall between him and them)
SERAFINE/NICODEME
Meet the "clingy" duo.
They don't get sick often and have impressive immune systems, what with their past roaming the swamps and other dangerous conditions, but when they do? Oh boy...
They'll either cling to each other in private, or play it up and annoy a hapless colleague.
And by "hapless colleague", I mean Mordecai—because of course it is.
Sickness is less of an actual, preventive ailment, but rather an excuse to show off some dramatic acting skills.
"Oh, cher, I simply cannot move until you bring me some nice warm tea and chocolate!"
"If I die, tell the world I was warm and safe, because of our dear ami, Heller..."
"For crying out loud, you've both got nothing but a cold."
They'll still play it up.
Just because your nose is stuffy doesn't mean the rest of you has to be.
The show must go on, mon cher.
WICK
He gets sick really, really easily. He stays up late at night often, so he doesn't get much rest and his immunity suffers for it.
(Licking rock walls probably doesn't help with that. Muffinhead (affectionate))
He still does work and goes out when he's sick, which results in papers with shitty writing and his friends urging him to go and rest up, "we can go with you another day".
When he's not thinking straight he'll whine to Lacie about how no one wants to see him when he's sick; ignoring the fact that she's either making him food, putting a cold cloth on his head or literally came by just to say hi to him
He's a bit dim sometimes, but he's a loveable dim.
The easiest way to see how sick he is is to mention putting the work on pause or crack a joke at his expense. If he rapidly objects to not working or good-naturedly shrugs off the joke, it's a small thing, nothing to worry about. If all he has to say in response to not working is "I can't" and he tries to defend himself from the joke (or even worse, agrees with it), he's feeling god-awful.
Lacie tends to hide the alcohol away until he's feeling better. During the week or so he's really feeling foggy this actually works, since in his addled state he can't properly look for them.
MITZI (BONUS since she's been getting a fair bit of attention)
Mitzi doesn't get sick. She becomes inconvenienced.
She's also a real bitch when she's sick. It's less of a slipping mask and more of a "I can't be nice when my brain feels too big for my skull"
She'll still grin and bear it for Rocky. He's positively devoted to her, after all; the least she can do is swallow her nasty remarks and come up with something softer for him.
Some cats swear that she never falls ill or has anything happen to her...Usually because once it does happen she locks herself in her office and won't open the door if you're not Horatio or Viktor.
If another cat somehow gets through her door, can put up with her attitude swings and goes out of their way to help her through her illness, she may very well open up a little and talk to them easier. Something as small as a cup of tea during a ravenous headache will convince the then-bitchy queen that you're not all bad-and later that since you put up with her ravenous insults and still helped her, maybe you're worth swallowing her pride for and confiding in.
#{ahah!! hello!! Rory here!! so you may notice the slightly uneven distribution of (Y/N) here}#{even in my own parts I left Calvin out of it. the poor boy}#{and Rocky's easily goes over 1k because I got a bit excited. as you may guess he's my favorite}#{but reminder that (granted that requests are open at the time) we're more than happy to provide further servings of any of our concepts}#{more specialized or in-depth or what-have-you}#{although this IS a brew of headcanons. which are usually brief. I just got a tad eager with my first contribution here I suppose}#{hello to our lovely readers by the way!! :3}#{💌 mod rory 💌}#🦉mod iphiko#🖋 mod ille#Headcanon Home Brew#Rocky Rickaby#Calvin “Freckle” McMurray#Ivy Pepper#Viktor Vasko#Dorian “Zib” Zibowski#Mordecai Heller#Serafine Savoy#Nicodeme Savoy#Sedgewick “Wick” Sable#Mitzi May#headcanon#lackadaisy
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16, 36, 48
I have no idea if I already sent you asks or not. The brain has been fuzzy lately. Feel free to ignore if you've already answered!
No worries!! I am still happy rambly so here’s a cut again:
16. Romantically, do you prefer men, women, both, any/don’t care, or are you aromantic?
I’ll maybe add that right now because Sleep Token is The Fixation I’m perhaps a bit more into men at the moment? But also infatuation is fickle and I have no clue I just love everyone 💖✨
Ooh but also a coworker had a girl she said would be perfect for me and even though it wouldn’t work out bc my poor lungs can’t take smoke and she smokes weed but even when just thinking about her I melt she’s THAT adorable 🥰
Idk. Just. People 🥹
36. What’s your favorite book?
Oh. Oh shit. A favourite… a favourite………… (I am looking at my bookcases) (my sister took a bunch of books though…)
ACTUALLY IGNORE EVERYTHING AFTER LETS GO WITH CALVIN AND HOBBES COLLECTIONS!!!!!!!!! 😁
Hmmm.
Will Grayson, Will Grayson and Ellen Hopkins’ books around 2010 ish are some of the first books I loved that I got and kept. As well as Looking For Alaska.
David Levithan’s Wide Awake I think is the copy I highlighted through my favourite parts?
For amount of rereads: I have lost count of how often I have reread Ellen Hopkins’ books (though her style of prose heavily inspired much of my poetry that I wrote grade 6 onwards and to this day sometimes too even though I hardly remember the stories now) and What They Always Tell Us. I know for sure I read Evernight(?) (Claudia Gray) 12 times before I returned it to the library. I tend to mostly read YA fiction? (I mostly read fanfiction TBH) I adore Maggie Stiefvater’s Wolves of Mercy Falls series so much!! (I had the fortune to go to a writing workshop of hers once!)
I love manga (gosh Fullmetal Alchemist has my heart of course but also some other faves: Our Dreams At Dusk, Genkaku Picasso, Grand Guignol Orchestra, and of course Fruits Basket)
I don’t read much nonfiction despite wishing to. I have a book on Gothic Architecture that I REALLY WANT to read but. Can’t yet. And there’s also a set of architecture books a sailing friend recommended to me but (subject to availability from library) couldn’t read that either even when I checked it out. Will have to try again later. Hopefully the invisible barriers drop.
48. Are you afraid of death?
Yes and no.
Yes because I’m no longer ready for it to be over. There’s so many friends to see, food to try, things to go and do, hobbies to learn and partake in, oceans and beaches to visit, things to cook, people to love, animals to pet etc etc like?!? You know what?!? Even if I just spent the rest of my time learning how to make music that’s so much time?!? There’s never going to be enough time to do everything I want to so I CAN’T CUT MY TIME SHORT!!! I just have to try to make the most of it and drag myself out of my Misery Hole when I can’t see it. There’s so many things I want to do and try and places to go!! Even just within a couple hours of where I live!!! I want to go pet some alpacas!! And there’s no reason why not!! one day I can make a day trip and go drive to go do this?! And tattoos to get! Art to make and admire!! So many endless possibilities!! (So many I can never choose ack) so I’m scared I won’t get to try to do even half of the things I want to. Or go to even one other continent. Cuddles too!!
And no because everything is kind of. A gift at this point? I never thought I’d live this long and don’t really have much of a plan. I definitely thought I’d be dead five+ years ago (whether by my own hand or getting clocked and murdered bc I DEFINITELY watched Boys Don’t Cry too young and I’m left with no memories but abject fear from it)
And I think that I *will* be scared when the time comes because I have a lot of regrets etc and I want to keep going for as long as I can and just. Enjoy what I can. Try to make things better if not hugely at least for my friends. And just. Take the highs when I can get them 😁
Reminder to myself to attach one of the things that popped into my head at reading this question: because even though Desperation to not be here anymore and not have to suffer still has me in its grips. Like? I’ve clawed my way out (and I’ll do it again) and I want to continue living. I want to live to the best of my ability. I want to make a home for myself. In my space. In my body. In my mind. And so I will do my best to.
#shatters’ fragments#ask game#ask games#shatters’ lore#let’s see if I can make that a thing haha#suicide implication#WILDLY IN LOVE WITH LIFE IS SOMETHING I STRIVE TOWARDS
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Rest It On Your Fingertips
(Cake Hoodings one shot)
hi! you can call me elle!
this is my first cake ever one-shot!
ive never written anything like this before so please be kind and i did write this in 2 days while i was high and horny and thinking about calum and luke.
the following one shot does have references to self-harm so tread lightly.
other than that, this is just a angsty smutty fluffy mess! hope you like it! please reblog or like this post if you do or you can read it on ao3
come talk with me! im swear i dont bite! xx
“Heeeeey, you said I could have the last puff,” Luke whines, sticking out his bottom lip.
Even from right beside him as he pulls on the rooch, eyes hooded, Calum can see how chewed up his boyfriend’s bottom lip is. His teeth working relentlessly ever since the two of them started smoking after their show. For a brief moment, Calum wonders why the other was so nervous as he turns to face luke on the bed, slowly mo0ving his left hand to grasp Luke’s chin. Leaning in, the older bloke blew the last of their shared joint into the other's lips.
Calum’s lips lingered on luke’s for just a moment before he leant back on the headboard, admiring Luke’s side profile as he exhales out slowly, the smoke curling around in the air in front of them. Casted by the low lamp light, Luke’s nose looks more fairy-like against the stark shadows.
Luke hums contently, eyes closed, a huge grin on his lips. Luke tilts his head back as he too leaned back against the headboard, relaxing into the wooden board as the high seeps through him. He’s on the good side of buzzed, feeling warmth circling through his veins, slouching further into the mattress.
Calum glances and notices that Luke has his eyes closed. Feeling unusually brave, (probably from the weed), Calum leans in and licks a bold strip up the side of Luke’s left cheek. His tongue runs along Luke’s beard, getting a loud open-mouthed laugh bursting out of the blond.
“That tickles!” Luke’s shaking shoulders from his laughter bumps into calum’s black vest cladded chest.
Luke’s black leather jacket hung in the bathroom to air dry out the smells of a 2 hour show. The blond lad’s red silk button up looked blood red under the warm hotel room lights. Calum can’t help but run his hands slowly down from Luke’s chin, trailing down the button band, first through Luke’s chest hair, fingers moving on to clink his finger nails against the bottoms, small clacking sounds is barely heard over the sound of music that’s playing from calum’s Bluetooth speaker.
Luke’s eyes flutter open as he senses the warmth radiating off calum’s hands casting over his chest as it hovers there, actions paused for a moment.
Today was Calum and Luke’s one month anniversary of when Calum asked a shy looking luke out, a blush painted on the blond’s cheeks as the younger lad had nodded fervently with a huge his playing on his lips. His lips. Which were nervously being bitten. Why was he nervous? It could be because of the conversation they had this morning.
Luke had clung longer than usual when they had their morning cuddles. When Calum asked his boyfriend what was on his mind, the blond took a breathe and answered into calum’s stomach.
“I want us to finally have sex tonight..After the show. Like all the way. I want to celebrate tonight. I want you in me, Cal.” Luke’s voice had tapered off toward the end, getting more and more anxious the longer he went on. Calum had scooped Luke into his arms and hugged him tight, lifting the other off their feet. Luke had laughed open mouthed like he does when he’s happy.
Fast forward to now, where Calum can clearly see the blond’s growing bulge that’s hidden under cotton white Calvin klein briefs. Clearly ready for their first time together. Calum noticed that Luke always got horny when they got high. Whereas Calum got mellow, calmer, more observant of his surroundings. And it wasn’t until recently that Calum caught on that yes Luke was affectionate but he was also trying to flirt with Calum when he was high. Having the edge off from the weed had helped Luke’s courage and self-esteem a lot.
Calum had also noticed that Luke’s hands unconsciously played with the bottom hems of his briefs, pulling them down further his pale thighs whenever they rode up from movement.
“What’s got my pretty boy’s head all worked up?” Calum asked the blond lad across from him. Both hands coming down to hold and steady Luke’s nervous pair. Although every other part of look is hot to the touch, his hands remain cold. Poor circulation do to his nerves probably.
“I’m nervous of how you’ll… react.” Luke said into his chest, head bowed down to hide his face from Calum’s view. Hands squeezing shut under calum’s tattooed pair.
“React to what?”
In the dim bed side light that’s casting over Luke’s face, it looks as if Luke’s eyes are filled to the brim with tears, holding it back for the sake of show. The blond's cheeks grow hot in embarrassment even though he doesn’t know why because he’s cried in front of Calum before.
“You’re my best friend, bandmate and boyfriend, babe, you can tell me anything that’s on your mind and hopefully I’ll help you alleviate your troubles.” Calum strokes his thumb across the backs of Luke’s hands to try to ease him down, try not to get him too worked up. His other hand came up to stroke across the bottom of Luke’s left eye and swiped some tears away.
“I’d like to keep my shirt on if that’s alright with you.” Luke said firmly, looking up into calum’s eyes to communicate his conviction.
“Of course, whatever you’re comfortable with, pet.”
Luke blushes a light shade of pink at the pet name. And, with new found courage, the blond closes the distance between their lips. Mouths working together, the kiss begins at a slow tempo, hands roaming bodies as lightly as the afternoon wind sweeps over red dessert peaks and valleys. The kiss turns breathless when Calum’s hands wander past Luke’s perky nipples, erected due to the immense pleasure and connection he’s feeling between them. The brunette takes his time kissing down Luke’s torso, nuzzling his face into blond curly chest hair to get a breathless laugh from Luke.
Usually, when the two of them get intimate, it’s usually Calum receiving pleasure while luke eagerly gives it. They have had their fair share of dressing room quick blowjobs. And it’s not that Calum doesn’t have love to give back. He has so much actually, but luke always pushes his hands away or if the blond does get really eager for relief, he keeps his briefs on while Calum sucked him off.
Calum never questioned Luke on why he keeps certain clothes on during sex, but he chalks it up to Luke slowly opening up to him and being more and more comfortable when the two of them get intimate.
So when Calum goes to remove Luke’s briefs, he looks up to the blond and asks “Is it alright if I take this off for you?”
Calum can feel the blond’s muscles tighten then release for a moment before he answers with a quiet “yes”.
Agonizingly slow, Calum takes off Luke’s briefs, Luke lifting up his bum to help his boyfriend with the process. When they get settled again, Luke’s briefs thrown beside the bed, Calum finally understands why Luke had been nervous about. Or really, Calum sees them.
Thin messy white lines of healed scar tissue line Luke’s inner thighs, strokes beside one another in a somewhat orderly fashion. Not one of them are any longer than 5cm in length, but the sheer amount of them made beside one another is jarring. Calum feels Luke’s eyes on him as the brunet takes it all in.
“Y-you don’t have to… pay any mind to them.” Luke’s voice trembles a bit as his left hand goes to grab a hold of calum’s hand, grasping it tightly.
Calum’s eyes are filled with unshed tears as he softly uses his free hand to stroke over the fading scars. There’s roughly 30 odd lines riddled into Luke’s fleshy skin, on each thigh.
In a quiet whisper, Calum asks “Can I know when it started?”
Luke answers a while later. “The breakup with her was hard for me to… process. And then when we came off tour, I was all alone in my house and I-… it was like I was in my own personal purgatory. It was Ashton that actually found me in my bathroom,” The blond gulps, eyes casted downwards. “after I had cut myself particularly too hard, I had panicked and called Ash. He came into my house but for a while I didn’t open the bathroom door for him. I was so ashamed. I was scared too though. So the fear brought me to opening the door for Ash and when he saw how pale I was, how unwell I was, he asked me to move in with him for a while. Until I got back on my feet.”
The blond lulled his head until it landed in the crooks of calum’s shoulder. Calum leans his head into Luke’s for a moment then speaks.
“Luke Hemmings, I love you so damn much. You are the strongest person I know and you’ve come so far. So so far. You are a bright light in my life that I look forward to seeing and loving every single day. So Luke, will you let me take care of you tonight?” Calum’s hands start to sweat as he waits for the blond to answer.
“Yeah, alright.” Luke whispers, closing his eyes as he moves to get settled on the bed with a pillow put behind his head.
Calum’s about to stick his pointer finger into his mouth to lube it up with spit when Luke’s eyes snap open and he grabs a hold of calum’s hand mid air. Luke slowly recloses his eyes as he sticks calum’s pointer finger into his mouth, pink lips surrounding his knuckle. A low moan is hummed around calum’s finger as Luke lows down at Calum, where he’s lying his head on Luke’s hip, eyes hooded but Calum can see a glassy sheen to Luke’s eyes that tell him that he’s feeling mighty good right now.
That sparkle in his eyes, coupled with the low moans emitting from the blond’s mouth has got Calum frantically giving himself a quick squeeze to relieve some pressure.
Taking his finger out of Luke’s mouth, Luke eagerly watches his boyfriend strategically lube his other fingers with the slick split luke provided. Once Covered optimally, in one swift motion, Calum inserts a lubed up pointer finger into Luke’s hole as his mouth grabs a hold of Luke’s dick and swallows him down, sliding his finger in matching the slow pace.
Luke’s eyes are glued to the brunet, mesmerized, as his boyfriend enthusiastically bobs up and down his hardened cock, slick with spit. Calum pops off Luke’s cock and starts jerking him off in a more rapid pace, his fingers gaining speed. Somewhere between Calum playing with Luke’s balls and Luke, he swears to God, moaning out calum’s name when his fingers curve and hit his prostate, calum’s got 3 fingers in luke.
“so…fucking deep” A moan breaks out at the end of his sentence and Luke’s hips jerk up unconsciously, trying to shove his cock into the back of calum’s throat.
Calum’s gagging on it, sloppy sounds emit from the bed that would make anyone blush if heard. Calum loves how Luke’s fully letting himself feel the high and the pleasure of being pleased for once. A silent moan fits on the blond’s lips as he says “I need you, right now, please” It comes out like a breatheless whine towards the end but seeing luke ask for what he wants is turning calum on more than he thought was possible. Calum let’s Luke’s dick slip out of his pink overworked mouth to speak.
“you want my cock in you, pet?” calum’s voice is hoarse and so fucked out it’s the hottest thing Luke’s every heard. Calum takes out his 3 fingers, just to shove them back up to his knuckles as his tongue licks a strip up Luke’s being cock, pre cum spewing from the tip and onto his stomach. Luke’s hazy mind didn’t register the question that was directed towards him until a moment later. Luke’s gaze wanders from his dick up to calum’s moving mouth, and sees his own pre cum is gathered by the side of calum’s left side of his lips. Luke feels himself get impossibly harder at the raunchy sight.
“what?” Luke asks, speech delayed.
“I asked if you’re ready for me now, babe.” Calum sits up, adjusting his seating position so his own erection isn't squished. Luke was so caught up in his own pleasure that he forgot about his boyfriend.
A frown forms on the blond’s lips as he reaches for calum’s bulge. “Baby, I’m sorry I-“ Calum kindly swats Luke’s sloth like hands away before he cuts him off.
“I said that I’ll take care of you tonight, didn’t I? So that’s what I’m gonna do, will you let me?” Calum brings a hand to run through the blond locks in front of him.
Luke nods, so Calum takes his hand out of Luke’s hair, sets it beside his head on the pillow. The other hand jerks himself off a few strokes. Lining up his cock, Calum leans down to kiss Luke as he pushes in slowly, to the hilt.
A low groan escapes from Luke’s mouth as a moan comes out of calum’s as he resists the urge to pull out to pump back in again so early.
“You feeling alright, love?” Calum breathes the words onto Luke’s lips as the blond nods and says “Move.”
Calum wastes no time and pumps into Luke like all the times he’s fantasized about this moment in locker room showers.
Luke’s got his eyes scrunched shut, his legs bouncing around calum’s round hips. Soft “uh uh uh’s” stream out of luke’s pink lips. Luke tightens his legs around Calum, all while he sticks his tongue down calum’s throat, wrapping both hands around calum’s neck, holding him there for a moment.
They kiss fervently, Like tasting himself on calum’s lips. They kiss as if tomorrow will never come and tonight is the last chance to show their love for each other. Calum shifts his hips, circling them in a way that’s got them both moaning a string of curse words at the pleasure.
The sounds of skin slapping on slick skin echo around the walls as the sounds of harry styles’ tune Medicine starts to play.
Here to take my medicine, take my medicine
Treat you like a gentleman
Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline
I think I’m gonna stick with you
Here to take my medicine, take my medicine
Rest it on your fingertips
Up to your mouth, feeling it out
Feeling it out
Calum swirls his tongue around Luke’s mouth, playing tag with the blond’s active tongue.
I had a few, got drunk on you and now I’m wasted
And when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you tasted
Calum’s steady rhythm rocks into Luke, a rhythmic thud can be heard as the headboard bangs against the wall.
If you go out tonight, I’m going out ‘cause I know you’re persuasive
You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it
We’re getting dizzy, oh, we’re getting dizzy, oh
La la la la la
You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh
Luke begins stroking his own cock, his mind muddle by the weed and absolute euphoria he felt running through his veins. Heat began to gather in his stomach as his orgasm began to build.
Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes
Tingle running through my bones
The boys and the girls are in
I mess around with him
And I’m okay with it
“Where to do want me to cum?” Calum pants into Luke’s right ear, hips never tiring their movements as they ram into the blond’s hole, skin slapping on skin.
I’m coming down, I figured out I kinda like it
And when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you ride it
“cum inside me, please cal, I want you to cum inside, I want your load in me god I want it so bad please please please.” Luke sounds so gone, speaking mindlessly, words meshing into the next, slurring speech. Calum pulls back his head and sees that Luke’s already looking at him. His blue eyes are bleary, constantly glancing from side to side, trying to focus on calum’s warm brown ones. Pupils blown, can barely see where the baby blues have gone in the heat of ecstasy. Sweat seeps into the pillow under luke’s head, moisture on his forehead. Curls unruly and matted against his face. Mouth hanging open has he’s pounded by his boyfriend. Luke Hemmings looking like this, fucked out and on the edge of climax, was a sight for calum’s sore eyes only.
If you go out tonight, I’m going out ‘cause I know you’re persuasive
You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it
We’re getting dizzy, oh, we’re getting dizzy, oh
La la la la la
You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh
I had a few, got drunk on you and now I’m wasted
Luke cums with a shout of calum’s name, eyes scrunched shut as his body spasms with pleasure. He paints his stomach with his spunk, white goop sticky on his stomach and chest. Although he slumps back onto the bed a little bit, he pulls calum’s head down beside his and starts whispering into the brunet’s ear, under the sound of music playing.
If you go out tonight, I’m going out ‘cause I know you’re persuasive
You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it
We’re getting dizzy, oh, we’re getting dizzy, oh
La la la la la
You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh
“I want you to fill me up, Cal, release your load into me, let me milk you out cal, milk you out with my tight tight hole. I wanna feel you pulse in me cal, Calum, Mmm.” Calum pumps one final time before he buries his face into the crook of Luke’s neck, teeth grabbing onto flex as he cums inside Luke’s hole, teeth biting down momentarily. That’s going to leave a mark. Oops.
As they both come down from their highs, Calum pulls out of Luke slowly. White spunk drip out of Luke’s hole into a small puddle onto the bed sheets.
Luke cuddles into calum’s shoulder, chest rising evenly as it falls with each breath he takes. Minds coming down from their own orgasmic highs.
“Thanks for that. I felt so good. So..loved.” Luke blushes a bit at his remark, then a small grin settles on his lips. He turns around onto his stomach, still lying on Calum. Calum eyes crinkle before he speaks.
“I love you and I want you to know that your light shines brighter than the gold glitter you put on your eyelids before you go on stage. Your light is so unique and irreplaceable. I look forward to loving you more and more each day so please, stay.” Calum annunciates the last word with a soft peck of his lips against the blond’s.
Luke does continue on. Staying by calum’s side, in the band, in the world. He surrounds himself with the loved ones he had once convinced himself that they didn’t love him back. He is well loved by all, especially Calum.
Some days are harder than the others, with Luke bed ridden for days on end. Boxes upon boxes of tissues are used up to soak up at the tears he’s got to shed. Or he’d be numb out of his mind, staring out the bus window, trying to actually See what’s in front of himself and not just noticing it.
Other times, he takes petunia out for walks and works out with Calum and goes to the studio with Ash and plays Mario Kart with Michael.
Luke takes it one day at a time.
#cake hoodings#cake 5sos#cake#luke hemmings#5 seconds of summer#calum hood#self harm#established relationship#smut#drabble#one shot#breakdown#fanfic#RIOMFT
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Strange Academy #5 Review
This chapter has a great start with the same vision from issue #3: Dormammu destroying the school and defeating Stephen in the process. Only this time, we also see Agamotto, Hoggoth and Oshturr, which makes me quite worried. Considering Marvel, this is bound to happen. I guess Dormammu is using Doyle to get to Stephen? We’ll have to wait and see.
So this loathesome Ms. Hazel lies to Jericho, saying she was just showing the kids the future. Well, she’s mean, she nearly forced Emily to sit. I don’t like her at all. But at least she’s got Dark Dimension fire on her eyes. I don’t think Doyle is aware of his full potential, being son of Dormammu and such. Poor boy was born under such extreme circumstances... You know who should take care of him? Clea!!! After all, she’s his cousin?????? Shame on me for realizing that only now tsk.
Next, Jericho shares his concerns with Stephen. Okay, brace yourselves for a long paragraph.
I’m not sure if I like how Stephen behaves or how Jericho treats him... Don’t get me wrong, I’d die for Stephen’s smug ass attitude. But I don’t believe he’s that narcissistic or that he’s only worried because children are not supposed to be the center of prophecies. He’s been there. He took some time to process that everything the Ancient One has done was part of a bigger picture, a bigger test. That sort of thing has made him a bit arrogant, I won’t deny that. And that’s why I believe he’s not comfortable with prophecies. He doesn’t want the kids to face the same fate. Also he knows it’s dangerous. Stephen had the Ancient One to take care of him. Here, we simply have too many students. It’s not the same, having a personal mentor. I guess this is where Stephen intended to stand. On the other hand, Jericho assumes Stephen is just jealous or something, to the point of insinuating that he wants to build magic soldiers. Listen, Jericho. No. Stephen had other apprentices before and never intended to make soldiers out of them. Magic is quite a burden and Stephen knows it too well. Illyana was the only apprentice that survived the whole experience until the very end. Even Clea left. Even Jericho dropped the mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme. It’s not easy. But, in Jericho’s defense, I understand that he’s attached to the children. He took full responsability for them on a personal ground. And that’s okay. I just want everyone to be in good terms, until the big secret they’re hiding comes out, that is.
The next panel, we see Zoe and Germán. I loved to learn more about Germán’s powers. It’s really hard for me to pick my favorites when I love all kids, but certainly Germán has bonus points. So, Germán is explaining his powers to Zoe when they find Calvin’s jacket, which makes them realize that their friend was missing. Good friends indeed.
Emily tries to call them out but she’s also guilty. No excuses, no exceptions. Everyone is to blame. You don’t leave my precious son unchecked. Also I’m growing tired of Iric and his edgy attitude towards Doyle. He’s jealous Emily likes Doyle? Well, I DUNNO, MAYBE DEAL WITH IT WITHOUT BEING TOXIC? Thanks. So, yeah, they fight and Alvi, at this point the most mature kid in the group, puts an end to the fight. The kids decide to look for Calvin by themselves and that’s where plot gets weak to me.
Listen. I know teenagers have this stereotype of conquering the world and thinking nothing will ever hurt them. But honestly? We have many mature kids here who wouldn’t go out there looking for trouble. Alvi is one of them, in my opinion. Also Gus, even Zoe, the one who keeps objecting to their quest. Seriously. Call Jericho. Call Stephen. Call the freaking Mindful One. ANYONE, for Vishanti’s sake. “There’s no time to waste on explaining everything?” Emily, sweetheart, the time you would take to explain Calvin’s situation to an adult is the time you wasted getting there on boat. Pfff.
Ok but for the plot’s sake, the kids go on their own, as I said, on boat because they haven’t learned how to teleport properly yet. There’s a panel in which Emily and Doyle change a few cute words. I like them, either as a potential couple or just a sweet friendship. I’ll take any. Also he goes pinky when he blushes awww.
To no one’s surprise, the Hollow capture the children but not before talking about the proverbial “chosen one”, even though we don’t know which kid they’re referring to. It could be Emily, Doyle or Iric. Honestly? It’s pretty obvious to consider Doyle, considering Ms. Hazel’s vision. And yet, I wouldn’t discard Emily. She’s the main character, after all. I’m just ignoring Iric at this point, but feel free to believe he’s actually the one. Oh, also, the kids sent Gus to call for help, something they should’ve done SINCE THE VERY BEGINNING, AM I RIGHT?
The kids, obviously, will fight back. End of chapter 5.
To be honest, I don’t know what the Hollow is about. I still need more information before making some theories. Also, all kids have potential. Of course, Doyle being Dormammu’s son implies something quite big and important, and yet, I’m sure Emily is also a very important key to the plot.
That said, I’d just like to add Wanda’s inbox because I’ve found a few interesting things.
Pietro is still trying to disturb reach out for Wanda, his usual annoying and fast self portrayed in the message. Steve is sweet and still thinks of Wanda as an Avenger. In addition, I’m about to reveal something: I truly despise Beast. And I’m sure he’s sending her an email only to test his theories because oh, he’s so smart and loves science, let’s test the gates of Krakoa yadda yadda. F*ck off, Henry. Lastly, the sweetest email comes from Magneto. He’s worried about her. He wants to be part of her life and I’m about to cry. Marvel made the worst mistake ever erasing Wanda’s mutant origins and I’ll never accept that. Thank you, Skottie.
And with that, here ends the review. See you next issue!
#review#strange academy#doctor strange#stephen strange#jericho drumm#doctor voodoo#doyle dormammu#emily bright#germán#iric#alvi#calvin morse#zoe laveau#wanda maximoff#scarlet witch#marvel comics
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Carl Barks: Back to the Klondike Review: Blinkus of the Thinkus
Welcome one and all! If your a longtime reader of this blog, you know I love a good birthday celebration, having started with my first year reviewing animation last year with Donald’s and deciding to do Mickey and Scrooge’s later that year. But since I misseda LOT of disney birthdays, and found several Non-disney birthdays and anniversaries I just gotta celebrate, this year i’m making it up and style and have a whole calender set up to tack these big milestones to the wall. So over the year expect tributes to the greats of disney, looney tunes, and mgm both behind and in front of the scenes, as well as to various shows I like. It’s gonna be a good time.
So to start us off, it’s only fitting my first duck birthday since Scrooge, is for the love of his life and the stealer of his wallet, Glittering Goldie O Gilt! And I felt the best way to celebrate this storied day was to go back to her very FIRST apperance, one of earliest Scrooge headlined comics and a forever fan faviorite, Back to the Klondike!
But before we get into that, a little history on our gal in gold. Goldie was created for this story by comics god, the late great Carl Barks. Barks ended up just using her once, which is a shame but understandable as he probably only thought of her for that one adventure. While some characters like Gyro ended up being used again and again he probably just didn’t have any more stories in mind for her and figured Scrooge would return to her one day or he wouldn’t, but it wasn’t up to him.
Fans however loved the character, her feisty dynamic with scrooge, and the fact she brought out his good side, so naturally other writers would bring her back. In paticular Barks Superfan Don Rosa cemented her as the love of his life and wrote several more stories with her, fleshing out their backstory and saying that at least in his personal canon, Scrooge retired to spend his final years with her. And while his fanboy was clearly showing, and that can end nasitly just ask Dan “Hates Wally West because he’s not barry allen” DiDio, glad he’s gone.. Rosa’s work with goldie is an example of what happens when it’s done right. Less DiDio or Bendis and more Al Ewing. Using the continuity and what’s there to build on a character who deserved better.. to me that’s one of the BEST things you can do in comics and Rosa’s work is proof of that, ironing out the.. questionable elements we’ll get to and leaving the gold in.
So Rosa’s work combined with Ducktales not only adapting this story but bringing Goldie back a few times after that has elevated the character to a storied and permenat part of the duck canon, with her excellent heavily revamped Reboot counterpart currently carrying the torch with the help of the wonderful Allison Janey, perfect casting there. So with a legacy of gold behind her, let’s take a look at where it’s started and see if it still glitters after all these years under the cut.
We begin our story at the Money Bin. Scrooge has been counting his money.. but has already forgotten, and forgot where he put the slip he wrote the number on and even forgets who Donald is when he shows up until Donald, while having some fun with him as Scrooge is trying to phone him while he’s right there. As for how he got into the most secure place in the bin.. the story actually answers that both worringly and hilariously: Scrooge left the door unlocked.
Naturally he’s not happy about this and Donald states the simple solution: Go see a doctor something’s CLEARLY very wrong, and the fact this could possibly be something like Demntia is VERY bad for someone who runs a zillion dollar company. Scrooge of course scoffs at “wasting his precious money” But Donald not only points out the obvious, that two bucks now saves him from having someone rob EVERYTHING, but Scrooge’s attempt to tie a string around his finger.. instead triggers a trap. And this entire sequence is decent with some good gags.. it’s just hampered a bit by making light of something that’s kinda bad. Not old people forgetting things.. but an old person with a disease as we find out forgetting things. Not helping is I laughed at first at the gags.. till I remembered a kind, old, friend of the family who had it and forgot me entirely by the end. So yeah, not the worst gags and the boxing glove and donald bits aren’t terrible, but it hurts now my brain’s made that connection.
Our heroes head to the doctor’s office where Scrooge is diagnosed with...
That.. might be the best name for a fictional illness i’ve ever heard in my life.. just inching out “Brain Cloud” and “Whale Cancer”. Still not the most SENSITIVE gag.. but it was the 50′s and mental issues weren’t given a lot of respect. IT’s why the above sequence and this whole part of the plot dosen’t scuttle things: It’s not the most repsectful.. but it wasn’t a time where these things were givne proper respect, treatment or knowledge, so barks wasn’t being an insentive douche on purpose, he just didn’t know. It dosen’t make it 100% okay btu it dosen’t wreck the story like say his blatant racist caractures in Voodoo Hoodoo. Seriously that’s.. not okay, and given he’s the kind of guy who researched locations he used, unlike with mental illness i expect BETTER of him than most men at the time. Still respect the guy, but it dosen’t mean i’ll overlook the fact he made some pretty bad mistakes. Same way while I love and miss Stan Lee I won’t ignore his blatant sexisim or racisim towards Chinese and Vitamise people. You CAN like a creator even if their work has some questionable and unjustifable elements, times do change and people do mamke mistakes when their young. It just depends on exactly WHAT they did or wrote that makes that distinctoin.
So on that bombshell, Scrooge is given medication after a needle gag. He needs to take his pills every 12 hours. It’s then he starts to remember something, mubling abotu skagway, goldie and dawson and telling Donald to get the boys, their going to Alaska! Once they get on the boat Scrooge explains: he remembered thanks to the medcince he left a stash of gold nuggets there from his prospecting days.. and part of why this story ended up being one of the single most important to Scrooge’s character. While it establishes some character traits, something I dind’t realize till wikipedia pointed it out, it also establishes Scrooge’s days as a prospector. While other things made him what he was and got him to that point as Don Rosa would later flesh out, it was his days in the yukon that, for better or worse defined who he is now and shaped him into the man he is today: Tough, fair, badass as all hell, mean as the devil and richer than god. This time would be used a lot to set up stories, which made sense as it was the cleast and most agreed upon part of his past by all writers, and him at his abosltuely peak physically and mentally and the gold rush motif of the time perfectly fits someone defined by being rich. It’s also honestly nice that the Yukon is used, as Canada sometimes gets lost in the shuffle wise and hell until reading life and times I gneuinely had no idea what the Yukon was or where Calvin was headed when he and hobbes ran away from home.
Scrooge also first mentions Goldie and while clearly remembering her fondly.. goes into a rant about her howing him a thousand dollars which has compounded to a billion the second the boys catch on he was sweet on her with Donald assuming he’s just not a good person. But this is really just setting up another vital part of his character and the other thing: his heart. Before he’d been show as a pretty heartless, greedy asshole. While the previous story, Only a Poor Old Man, had softened him up a bit, this is the first to show that beneath the pile of greed and mean lurks a decent human being. Just don’t tell anyone or he’ll throw his money at you.. then tell you to bring it back to him. It’s what makes the character who he is: he’s cruel, onrey and selfish.. but he CAN care when the chips are down and can do the right thing.. as we’ll see later.
God I love the little poems Bill Watterson would put in the books. I didn’t as much as a kid, but god I do now. Anyways before our heroes can get going Yukon Ho, they stop in Skagway for suplies before heading out, Scrooge softing at taking a plane as “Soft” and him and the nephews hiking a week.. before running into the same flying service again, and finding out Scrooge OWNS it and forgot, because being scrooge he forgot to take his meds. Something I can relate to and i’m not proud of as staying on them is important to my well being. Seriously always take your meds. Unless their not working for you then talk with your doctor to get new ones.
So we arrive in Dawson, as our heroes will have to walk rest of the day Scrooge takes the boys to the Black Jack Ballroom, which used to be a hot spot and was where he met Goldie for the first time. After another covering for his reminscing with greedy bollocks, he tells the boys the story.. one that was cut from the original printing despite introducing goldie and something the editors dind’t bother to tell carl till they berated him over trying to sneak a blackjack saloon and a kidnapping in there... and to them, or their long dead skeletons probably, I say.
Yeah not wanting that in a kids story, while bollocks, tha’ts their perogative.. not having him send in replacement pages to keep story flow.. is dickish and underestimates kids intellegence as Don Rosa, while loving the story felt something was off till he saw the missing pages years later thanks to a fellow fan. So yeah kids, and adults, into the work noticed. Nice job. Again I can’t BLAME them for not wanting Scrooge to be a kidnapper as we’ll see and Don Rosa had to massage the hell out of that, but I can blame them for not caring enough to fix the obvious hole int he story. Though it’s now complete and unabriged and has been since the 80′s so there's that.
So in a nutshell Scrooge came to town for a coffee, and while the bartender ignored him he didn’t once he plunked down his goose egg nugget, what made his fortune and one of Scrooge’s most treasured possessions. It’s here we meet Goldie.
Yup.. just in case you thought her being a thief and greedy as hell was a new thing, and I kinda forgot how much, she dirves for the nugget, has Coffee with scrooge.. and drugs it, but makes the mistake of NOT clearing town, so Scrooge fights his way through the ballroom to her, gets the nugget back, forces her to sign the money for the iou he spent.. and then uh.. kindaps her to force her to work on his claim for 50 cents to try and teach her how to work honestly.
Yeahhhh as I said Don Rosa tried his best to fix this , and did so in his final story, which we’ll get to some day, revealing Goldie had a shot gun on her the whole time and was going along entirely to find out where Scrooge’s claim was. That.. actually makes more sense with the character and is far less horrifying and Scrooge finds this out fairly quick, so them forming an attraction out of this becomes 100% more plausable. So yeah good on Don Rosa for fixing the implications here. I may give out on him from time to time.. but he is a genuinely talented writer and did what a good comic book writer in an established continuity should do: update elements so they aren’t so... eugguuhhh after they become horrifingly outdated. And look YES she did do horrible shit to him.. but you still can’t kidnap someone over that. just put her in jail. What was any of that.
Anyways Scrooge HAS been taking his medicine, and proves it by showing the boys his pills and the next day they head to Scrooge’s old claim.. only someone’s living there and using it, and his old cabin.. and a shot gun. Yeah so they aren’t getting through in the day what about the night.. well they get attacked by Blackjack, who turns out to be owned by the claim jumper.. and is also you know a bear> And Donald left his back in new quackmore so their outmatched.
So outgunned and outplanned, if not outnumbered or outmanned, our heroes make a camp fire and whiel Donald again suggests the obvious, call the police.. Scrooge can’t. He didn’t pay taxes on the claim so he’s technically jumping his own claim and techincally she has a right to it. So techncially.. Scrooge is the bad guy here as he left the money here, didn’t pay his taxes and didn’t ever come back for it. Still beats trying to terrify your nephews or deny orphans a train because your an asshole buffet.
So the next morning Scrooge dosen’t want to rush her because “We Daren’t Get Rough with an old woman”. Two things.. 1... think before you put images in my head scrooge.. brrrrrrrrr. I mean Goldie. is not in the best shape in thie story as you’ll see and neither are you. In the reboot sure you two kept up a lot better but here.
And it’s not even an old people thing. Ann Margret was still fine so fine by the time of Grumpy Old Men, not to get creepy jut to prove i’m not being ageist. For a still alive example Keith David is also still a smokeshow at the tender age of 64. So yeah, not an age thing just not these paticular old people.
But they need a plan so the boy suggest luring the bear into a trap with honey. Donald and Scrooge build the cage while the boys.. find the jar of honey.
Regardless since the boys won’t do it for what Scrooge pays and neither will donald Scrooge goes to lure the bear with the honey. Once that’s done, and Scrooge is being covered with honey and licked by a bear...
So while he washes that off, the boys come up with another plan: they run around back while Donald makes noise to draw Goldie’s fire, with that being Dewey’s plan to meet her since he’s figured this out already. But Goldie has a backup plan and when she figures out they disabled Blackjack unleashes mosquitos... ugh. Having been stung like hornets about 50 times in animal crossing I feel you boys. So while Scrooge and Donald run off naked... troy if you will.
Thank you Troy, the boys confront Goldie who reveals her identity... and that she’s broke, her dance hall having failed with the rush and this claim being all she has.. and her suspecting scrooge woudl gladly take it. The boys vow not to tell scrooge.. but he’s on his way so they kinda have to and he primps to go visit and Donald starts to see through his BS about collecting the debt. Sure enough despite being taken aback by her putting on her old dress , he takes her for all she has and is.. genuinely suprised as she thought she’d have more and she’d actually changed since the old days, donating her profits to orphans from mining disasters. Scrooge.. is clearly rattled by this. Whiel it turns out to my shock he was clealry after the money, though givne who we’re dealing with I shoudln’t of been really, he still cares and still realizes he’s being kind of a dick. So he challengers her to a gold digging race, and if she wins the claim is hers and any gold she finds.. and naturally, while he seemingly puts her soemwhere where there isn’t she finds the claim and Scrooge bemoans not taking his pill.. but while the boys boo him for it, Goldie who fondly waves them off and Donald know better: Donald points out he counted the pills this morning.. and recently. SCrooge DID take one today... he’s just has his cane shoved firmly up his ass with pride so he coudln’t ADMIT he was wrong and instead simply staged that whole thing with the full knowledge Goldie would win. It, again, sets up one of his defniing traits; how he keeps people at arms length. How he’s just so proud and full of himself he can’t bear to admit anything resembling weakness.. but WILl find a way to do the right thing without that or forgoe it as a last resort. He may project being a stingy cretionus old man.. because he is.. but he’s got a heart as big as that nugget.. it’s just locked tight in it’s own bin... his body is complicated and weird that way
Final Thoughts:
This story is a classic with a decent setup, great backstory for scrooge, and a great guest character and unquestionable impact on the character. However.. it does have it’s problem; As Don Rosa, who as i’ll remind you is both a huge barks fanboy and huge scoldie shipper, himself pointed out he wrote his final story, and had planned to for years ENTIRELY because this one never quite explains how Scrooge and Goldie went from old enmies to lovers.It did lead to one of his best stories and one of the first I read post life and times so, props to that. And of course as I pointed out some things have just.. not aged well, especially the kidnapping so their relationship kinda comes off like stockholm syndrom as a result of both of these.
That being said.. warts and all.. it’s still a really damn good story and a good one to try if your intrested in barks work or where Goldie came from: it has adventure, some really good jokes and if you can get past the dated bits the plot is solid. And while it goes without saying i’ll say it anyway Barks art is goregous as always ESPECIALLY in the flashback sequence. Overall not the best AGED Scrooge story, though not the worst either see Voodoo Hoodoo, good god, but defintely a classic for a reason.
If you liked this review, follow me for more, and for more duck content as I still have more of the three cablleros to work through, another chapter of life and times coming up this week befor ewe break again for feburary, and some other fun stuff. Until the next rainbow, it’s been a pleasure.
#carl barks#scrooge mcduck#uncle scrooge#donald duck#huey duck#louie duck#dewey duck#glittering goldie#goldie o gilt#scoldie#back to the klondike#blackjack#comics#disney#ducktales
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Can I request Simon Montjoy x MC for telling ghost stories? And bonus if I get to see Simon as a father 🥺
Thank you so much for this request, Nonny! Writing Simon as a father was an absolute delight!
This story borrows from Roald Dahl’s The Witches: not a “ghost story,” per se, but one of my favorite scary stories to read as a child. All excerpts are in italics.
_____
They were only an hour in, and Cassidy was already on her third flute of champagne. She sipped from the top of her latest glass, grateful for the fleeting moments when she had the the fizz of bubbles to counter the booming monotone of Viscount Kirkley.
Her grandfather-in-law really did have the most tedious taste in friends.
With a glance toward the opposite end of the room, she saw that Simon was in much the same state. Even from this distance, it was easy for her to see that his eyes had started to look a bit glassy. As he caught her attention, his mouth kinked up in a trademark smirk.
Returning the look with a smile of her own, Cassidy traced a finger over the stem of her glass and tried to give the appearance of being interested in the proceedings. Aside from decorum and the show of solidarity, her real motivation for hosting the evening's festivities was the promise of dancing. It had been too long since she'd had an excuse to dance with her husband.
Behind her, there was a brush of fabric and a quiet titter that sounded very much like an apology. Cassidy turned over her shoulder to find Celeste at her side, one lip caught between her teeth as if steeling herself for something unpleasant.
“I’m sorry to bother you," she sidled close with the whispered interruption. "But if you could join me outside, Ms. Davison would like to speak with you.”
“Of course.” Cassidy followed the other woman through the ballroom and into an adjacent hallway.
Even with a fair amount of alcohol in her system, her blood chilled on reading the distress in Ms. Davison's features. It wasn't the first time the nanny’s face had matched the color of Mitsy's roses, but the florid hue was still a rather unnerving sight to behold.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but they've disappeared." In spite of her appearance, she managed to keep her tone even. With a deep, resolute breath, she resumed her explanation. "I was only gone for a moment, but I can’t find them anywhere."
“They’re quite good at that,” Simon remarked, sauntering in to round out the little gathering.
“Where were they when you left them?” Cassidy inquired, disposing of her glass on a nearby windowsill.
“The nursery.”
She shared a look with her husband. Even with the size of the estate and its extensive grounds, that could really only mean one thing.
“We’ll find them.” With a slanted brow, Simon downed the rest of his drink and set the glass beside his wife’s.
Following his cue, Cassidy continued, “Why don’t you take the rest of the evening off? We’ll take care of getting them to bed.” No matter what awaited them upstairs, it was preferable to enduring the rest of the night’s speeches. It wasn’t quite the distraction she might have hoped for, but she was hardly going to turn her nose up once it had appeared.
The relief in the nanny’s eyes was immediate. “If you’re sure, ma’am. Violet hasn’t been any trouble; she’s been sleeping since half past. I'd just gone to check on her when the other two ran off."
The news was hardly surprising. Their youngest was still too small to get herself into much trouble unless prompted by the other two. Somewhat unfortunately, the eldest Montjoy siblings were more than capable of producing enough mischief on their own.
"We'll see that the other two are tucked in soon."
She and Simon broke off from the group, finding their way to the staircase with purposeful strides. Now that the initial shock had passed, Cassidy was finding it difficult to keep a handle on the laughter that kept bubbling up in her throat. “This is all your fault," she accused, wagging a finger in the direction of her husband's nose. "You must be regretting your decision to show them those passageways last week.”
“And miss this prime opportunity to teach them a lesson? Absolutely not!” The wink he flashed her couldn’t mean anything good.
When he wheeled toward the left and away from the nursery on cresting the top of the stairs, she caught his meaning. With a quiet gasp of surprise, Cassidy followed close behind him.
“No doubt they’ve snuck in there to tell ghost stories or some such rot.”
“Like you did when you were their age?”
“I didn’t run away from my nannies in the middle of parties.”
From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the telltale tilt of his smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Well....” he equivocated, “circumstances were different. Mine knew about the passages and could follow after me if they wished. My disappearances may have been a nuisance, but they were never a hazard to anyone’s health. Did you see the vein in her forehead just now? I hope she goes home for a proper lie-down.”
“We really ought to give the poor woman a raise,” Cassidy considered as they passed into the Blythe Room. "Even with us, those two are quite a handful."
Simon slid an arm behind the headboard, easily locating the release for the passage door. "I wouldn't have them any other way: unspoiled by the world, free to let their imaginations wander wherever they may. They’re rather perfect."
Her heart clenched at the tenderness of his statement. Their children were curious and kind and compassionate, with a mischievous streak just wide enough to keep life full of excitement. It was little wonder their family and all the household staff were so fond of them.
"...though I shall need to have a chat with them about this particular scheme -- how they thought they'd get away with it, I'll never know."
"Do we have a plan of attack?" She joined him at the entrance in the wall, starting to feel the adrenaline thrum through her extremities.
"We sneak in and scare the dickens out of them," he shared matter of factly. “Does that meet your approval?”
“I can be pretty quiet when I need to be.”
“I know you can, darling.” The flash of heat in his dark eyes sent a thrill across her skin.
She was going to have to get him back for that later. Removing her shoes, Cassidy hooked the thin straps over her fingers and tiptoed into the tunnel after him. Her anticipation rose as the light faded behind them, leaving them in almost total darkness. As they rounded the corner, she could just make out the glow of a torch around the next bend.
“Shhh,” Simon warned needlessly.
With great effort, she managed not to elbow him in the ribs. If he thought she’d be the one to ruin a prank, he was quite mistaken.
They edged closer, Amelia’s voice growing more articulate with every step. "Don't stop! It's getting to the good part."
"How should you know? You've never read this book before."
"I can tell! My neck is tingling. Feel it!"
“Fine.” There was an indistinguishable grumble before Calvin resumed reading:
“Did you ever see that painting, Grandmamma, with the little girl in it?”
“Many times," my grandmother said. "And the peculiar thing was that little Solveg kept changing her position in the picture --”
From somewhere ahead of them, Amelia gasped at the revelation.
“One day she would actually be inside the farmhouse and you could see her face looking out of the window. Another day she would be far over to the left with a duck in her arms.”
Cassidy predicted Simon’s response even before she heard his measured intake of breath.
"Quack-wack! Quack. Wack-wack!"
The noises weren't terribly convincing, but it didn't matter: a pair of shrieks echoed before they'd even stepped into view. Two small bodies were huddled tightly against the wall, though they jerked apart as soon as their parents appeared. A flashlight rolled aimlessly before coming to stop at Simon’s feet.
"What do we have here?" he asked, retrieved the torch to spotlight each child in turn. Though the shrieking had stopped, they were still working to catch their breaths. Still clinging to the cover of the book, Calvin held his hand to his chest. "A pair of escapologists who think it's clever to scare their nanny to death?"
Amelia's brow plummeted at the accusation. "We didn't mean to frighten her."
"Yeah!" her brother joined in, dropping the book to his side with the force of conviction. "We just wanted to read! Ms. Davison said we couldn't because she thinks it's too scary --"
"--even though you and mama told us we could. It's not fa--"
Simon's level gaze ensured that his daughter’s pouting was short lived.
Heaving a sigh, Amelia dusted off the book cover and replaced the bookmark that she'd been worrying between her fingers. "We'll write a letter to apologize tomorrow morning. Is she still here? We could go and tell her sorry right now."
"We sent her home, but I think she'd be grateful for an apology tomorrow," Cassidy encouraged, wondering how it was possible to move from fear, to frustration, to regret quite so quickly. Amelia rose, coming to meet her with a hug that suggested the depth of her feelings.
"Can we get back to the book then?" their son piped up again. "We can’t stop in the middle of a chapter.”
Simon handed him the light and considered the question, carding a hand through his son’s hair in the meantime. Calvin made a show of shying away from the attention, though the attempt was halfhearted. “If you promise to pen your apologies first thing tomorrow morning.”
“We do!” the children chimed in chorus.
Simon chucked the boy’s chin and took a step toward the nursery. “Then perhaps we should finish the chapter together before we send you off to bed.”
“Really?”
Simon darted back at his daughter’s question. “You know I don’t joke about story time.”
“But the party!” Amelia objected, eyebrows slanting into a perfect facsimile of Simon’s.
“We’ll go back after you’ve gone to bed.”
Satisfied with the answer, she joined her brother in trekking back though the dim hallway.
“Don’t drag your heels now, into your jim-jams!" Simon cast an eye after them before falling back to walk with his wife. With practiced ease, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her near. “I rather like this turn of events.”
“We’re as bad as the children, running out on our own party.”
“It’s grandfather’s party.”
“That we’re hosting,” Cassidy reminded, making a mental list of all the ways their sudden disappearance must have violated conventions.
“My grandparents are more than capable of seeing to the guests. Besides, it’s not as if people aren’t used to us being a bit... unconventional now and then.”
As they made it back through the nursery passage, she considered the pronouncement. “I was never one for conventions.” His hold on her hip tightened, and she settled comfortably into his side.
“It’s one of my favorite things about you, darling. Now, let’s get these two miscreants of ours to bed. if we time it right, we’ll be back just in time for dancing.”
#playchoices#playchoices fanfiction#a very scandalous proposal#simon montjoy#simon montjoy x mc#choices vip#vip choices#long post
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Tit for Tat || Jimin
*photo is not my own
[based on a request from a moot on twitter]
Jimin x Reader
Genre: smut (s)
Word count: 1,712
Synopsis: you and your fuck buddy aren’t strangers to experimenting in the bedroom, but one day Jimin suggests something that you’ve never done before and you couldn’t miss this opportunity
Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up peeps), bondage, fuck buddies, orgasm denial, teasing, slightly rough sex, suggested dom/sub elements, blowjob, handjob, grinding
You and Jimin met in college during your 3rd year. You had recently left a relationship on mutual terms. It wasn’t that the guy wasn’t a good person or he did anything wrong, he just wasn’t the one for you. However, this left you sexually deprived and you were starting to become grumpy from your lack of sex. Until you met Jimin.
You first saw him in your music history class, but the moment that really counted was when you bumped into him at a party. You both quickly hit it off and danced together the whole night. The night ended with both of you in bed together. From that point on the two of you decided to be fuck buddies considering neither of you were looking for something serious.
Things have changed a lot since then, now you two live together and you’re in grad school while he’s pursuing a professional dance school. You two are basically best friends at this point, you just also happen to have sex with each other very often.
You’re reminiscing over all of this while Jimin is watching tv in the living room and you’re making lunch for yourself. You’re broken out of your trance when you feel a pair of hands snake around your waist. Jimin’s head coming to rest on your shoulder as you cook. He starts placing kisses along your neck and you let out a soft moan. “So, I was thinking...” he says in a low voice as you continue working on your lunch. You hum to show you’re listening and to get him to continue. “I know I usually take the lead and you love when I’m in control, but I was thinking maybe we could switch it up tonight.”
In this friends with benefits relationship you had always been the sub, in fact, you‘ve always been a sub in every sexual relationship you’ve had. However, the thought of taking control for a night had you reeling. In everyday life you’re a pretty dominant and take-charge person, so you were excited at the prospect of bringing that part of your personality into the bedroom. It also helped that Jimin was always down to try new things
“Really??” you asked excitedly, turning around now to face him. He still had his hands on your waist, “yeah, I’d like to see you in action like that and to be honest, I like the idea of you just having your way with me.” You liked that idea too. “Okay, let’s do it then.” With that he gave you another kiss on your shoulder and you went back to finishing your lunch, running ideas through your head of all the things you’d love to do to him later on.
Because you two aren’t in a relationship and want to keep it that way, you don’t do too much to prep. No sexy lingerie, and although there might be some cuddling after, you both always sleep in your own beds. Although, that’s not to say Jimin doesn’t make sure to give the best aftercare, because he does. Tonight would be different all around though.
Jimin came into your room later in the evening when you were sitting on your bed reading, and waiting for him. “Whatcha reading?” he asked coming to the side of your bed. “Oh nothing too important,” you say as you put it down and lean up to kiss him. Your hands rest on his abs as he leans into the kiss and you can feel the ripple of his abs under his t-shirt. You get up onto your knees to reach him better and deepen the kiss. He has a hand on the small of your back and you bring yours up to his hair. You tug on it and pull his head back while keeping his bottom lip in between your teeth. “Oh it’s beginning already?” he inquires jokingly and with a cocked eyebrow.
Instead of answering him, you pull him by his shirt onto the bed and push him up against the headboard. He has a smirk on his face and his baby pink hair is in a mess. He looks so perfect and you can’t wait to play with him. “Take your shirt off,” you say to him as you begin to take clothes off as well. Once he’s half naked and sitting back against the headboard again, you head over to your bedside table to grab two things out of the drawer. “Hand cuffs??” his eyes wide with surprise as he looks up at you. “I’m in charge remember?” your voice as sultry as ever as you take one of his hands to handcuff it to a spoke of the headboard on one side.
Once the other one is secure to the other side, you move to straddle his lap. Looking over him like this, he looks so perfect and vulnerable. You can already feel him hardening underneath you. You lean in to kiss his soft, plump lips. It starts out slow and sensual, but quickly turns fiery. Your tongues are both fighting for room in the other’s mouth and soft moans are filling the air. You begin to grind down on him as you continue to kiss. He’s fully hard at this point and you want him so bad but it’s your night to take control and you wanna savor it.
You break from the kiss with a loud smack, leaving him breathless and with swollen, red lips. “Don’t move,” you say sternly to him as you begin to kiss along his jaw. You have one hand in his hair, pulling it tightly to the side so you can have access to his neck. You suck and bite at it until you’re satisfied with your work. “Please- please touch me,” looking at you with pleading eyes. “I will, don’t worry, sweet boy,” you say as you place kisses from his chest down to just below his navel.
You remove his sweat shorts to reveal his Calvin Klein black boxer briefs, and his thick cock constricted by the fabric. You smooth your hand over the print until he’s whimpering and squirming underneath of you. “I said don’t move,” you warn him again, squeezing the base of his cock, and he nods to show he understands. You pull his boxers down and slowly take him into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing out and creating a tight suction. Loud moans are beginning to leave him now and you take that as a sign to go a little harder. You’re taking him as deep as possible into your mouth now and using your hand to take care of whatever you can’t fit. The rhythm is starting to drive him crazy and you can tell he wants to move or touch you, anything to gain even more pleasure and reach his growing orgasm. However, this isn’t how you want to get him off. You continue blowing him like this until you feel him about to burst and then you break away. His groans and curses becoming louder each time you do this.
After you think he’s had enough teasing to last him a lifetime, you decide to finally fuck him. “Still no moving, baby boy. I’m going to use you to please myself and you’re not allowed to finish until I’ve done just that. Understand?” His eyes are looking teary now as you begin to slowly sink onto his length, “yesss- ah fuck!” Not wanting to waste any time, you quickly move into a pace that is fast and hard as you bounce up and down, in a squatting position, on his rock hard length. “fuck fuck fuckkkk, babe,” a single tear rolling down his cheek. His hands are pulling against the handcuffs, no doubt creating an indentation on his wrists, and his bottom lip puffy from his teeth biting into it. “You like when I take control baby? Love when I get to fuck you and use you like my little toy until I come all over your thick cock, huh?” your words clearly affecting him, he tries to buck up into you, to match your rhythm. “Fuck yes. I’m- i’m about to come, please,” you stop abruptly. “No, I get to come first, I told you that already. If you can’t wait then maybe you should stop and stay still,” and with the last word you come down on his cock hard and force his hips into the bed. A loud hiss escaping his lips.
You pick up the pace again, him staying perfectly still just like you asked, such a good boy for you. Seeing him like this is pushing you so close to the edge. You’re moving back and forth now to stimulate your clit while he’s deep inside of you. “Shit, Jimin, I’m gonna come. I want you to come with me, come inside of me baby,” and with that, loud moans fill the room as you both get closer to your highs. “Ohhhhh fuckkk, Ji-“ not even able to finish his name as you come around him and guttural moans leave your writhing body. Not a second later you feel his cum filling you to the brim and your name coming out of his mouth. You lay on him for a minute after you’ve both finished, trying to catch your breaths.
Finally, you get off of him, feeling his cum dripping out of you and down the inside of your thigh, as satisfied as ever. You let both of his arms down and tell him to hold on a second, and leave to him to regain some of his strength while you go the bathroom to clean up real quick. You come back to him looking tired and limp against the headboard. Poor baby, you think to yourself. “Here lemme massage your arms for you,” taking one of them into your hands as you begin to knead the muscle. “Thanks, I think I lost a bit of feeling, they’re all tingly now,” he says with a slight chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, just like you always take care of me after.” He smiles softly at you. This would definitely need to become a more regular thing for the two of you.
#park jimin#jimin#jimin x reader#jimin smut#jimin fanfic#jimin fic#park jimin smut#park jimin fanfic#park jimin fic#park jimin x reader#bts smut#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts smut fic#kim seokjin#jung hoseok#min yoongi#kim namjoon#kim taehyung#jeon jungkook#bangtan
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Headcanon request: How would the Bowers Gang react to their girlfriend's (poly or individual, I don't mind which one you choose ^^) ex - who is still her best friend but obviously likes her/calls her petnames - coming to visit her from their home town? What about when that ex tries to distract their girlfriend from hanging out with the Bowers Gang?
I wrote this as poly but it can not be I just didn't section these off tbh
TW: normal stuff for the boys, smoking, drinking , cursing, homophobic slurs, Patrick, blood probably
---------
Bro it's on sight
They find out he's coming back up for the summer and they're so annoyed
Like they're just fucking vibrating with annoyance
Bc Henry wants to rip his fucking head off and he knows he can't
So he just sits in his agitation with the rest of the boys
You only started collectively dating the Bowers gang six months ago but you've all been friends for way longer
So they knew this bitch from stories
And those said summer visits
And none of them liked him even back then
They had to deal with the aftermath of that prick
Granted it turned you into the person you were
But still
He hurt you
He hurt what was theirs
And that wasn't gonna slide
The boys are the only ones allowed to call you pet names.
But anyway
They all first met when they were 14 (Patrick was 16)
At the time Vic and Pat were the only ones who called you 'pet names'
But those were more of a joking manner
Say Vic was teasing you he'd use them in a demeaning manor
Patrick was still trying to laid so he's mostly the same
So when Calvin called you 'baby cakes'?
They all collectively almost burst a blood vessel
Vic was the only person who called you that.
So hearing it leave that boys mouth?
Obviously he had a death wish
It only grew with time
You had told the boys that Calvin was coming up this summer
The last two years he couldn't one due to his family vacation and the other on your summer school classes
However the entire gang was blackout drunk when you told them
So no one remembered
Henry was going to your house to hang out with you and he saw this kid in your house so he played dumb
But he still knew who it was he wasn't stupid
You answered the door and let him in, immediately he had an arm around you.
This bitch really sat down at the kitchen table and looked at this guy knowing damn well who he was and said
"Hey sweets? Who's the fag?"
"Henry... This is Calvin... you've met him before"
"I think I would of remembered you hanging out with a queer."
You snickered and covered your mouth, hitting his arm gently
"Henry that's mean"
"Do I give a shit?"
Que Henry kissing the side of your head.
This kid was dead silent. Whenever you weren't looking he was glaring and sending daggers at Henry
If Henry didn't have the slightest bit of self control that he did have?
He'd of fucked the kid up right there in your kitchen
But he knew that you'd kill him if he did that
So he refrained and just made passive aggressive digs at him every chance he could.
Henry was generous like that
If Patrick heard about this guy coming up he'd be on the fence
Patrick made jokes about a three way when you were drunk and talking about it
He expected your plans to fall through like that had the last two times
Oh but they didn't fall through
And you didn't tell him about it?
He was fucking livid
When he saw you and him walking while he was out on the town getting a mouse for his (unofficial) pet snake?
To avoid interruptions like Henry, Calvin thought to take you out on the town
So last minute plans
Out on the town surely Henry wouldn't find you there
Calvin didn't know about the rest of the boys
It was over for you once Patrick saw
He let go of that fucking rodent so fast
Immediately he was on you, wrapping himself around you in a hug that was mostly groping
All of his snarky attitude and smirks were on full display
Those looming looks that would make anyone freeze
Yeah Calvin was annoyed and felt a faint sense of dread creep in
Patrick didn't even say anything yet and Calvin was shaking
His arms slipped to your waist while her rested his chin on your shoulder.
"Hey there sweetheart ... thought I smelt your perfume. Say, who's this"
"Henry said the same, This is Calvin. My friend from Welton"
Really goes to show how much they pay attention when you talk (atleast you thought he wasn't paying attention)
But as soon as you name dropped him Patrick remembered everything
He remembered when you got that breakup letter in the mail
God he remembered those tears,
You looked so pretty with your mascara running
Patrick definitely jacks off to that memory but you didn't hear that from me
"Oh Calvin the cocksucker! I forgot what that fag looked like" he said reaching his hand out to Calvin to shake
"I'm (y/n's) boyfriend, nice to see you again" he said with a wolfish grin
Patrick stayed with you guys the rest of the afternoon and accompanied in walking you home
He wanted some alone time with Calvin
The threats that left that boys mouth were enough to scare the boy to his core
You think he'd of laid off right?
Nope.
He most certainly had a death wish
Two days later you and Calvin were hanging out in the woods
Just on a hike having a grand old time
That's when you saw Vic across the shallow water of the Barrens
Smiling he waved to him but he didn't see you
His face was shoved in a book
Your guess would be some Oscar Wilde book
Yeah
Vic is that bitch
But nevertheless that boy was invested
"Vic!" You called out and his head shot up, immediately he was on his feet and ready
Poor boy thought he was about to be jumped
That's when he squinted and saw you across the water
The smile that crossed his face while you picked up the sides of your dress to quickly dash through the water and see him?
Yeah his heart melted
"Hey there babycakes" he chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist while using his other hand to hold your chin and bring you in for a quick but tender kiss
He pulled back and looked at you then back to Calvin.
"Oh he's still here?"
"Yeah why wouldn't he be"
"Nothing Patrick said something.. and I guess I misunderstood"
"Oh what did he say?"
"Nothing don't worry about it okay, (y/n)?"
From there your hike was accompanied with the dashing blonde
Calvin was trying to hide his anger
How many fucking guys were you leading on?
How many guys were you sleeping with?
He was seriously starting to rethink his feelings and wanting you back
Vic's hand slipped into yours as he began to speak to you about his book
The way he spoke about it was so soothing you couldn't help but listen and nod along
Calvin just walked behind you silently fuming
He was so fucking done with this
But that's not even the best part
When you guys reached your house that night, belch was sitting on your Porch with his car parked in the driveway
Calvin almost lost it
He had to see you run up to Reggie and hug him then kiss his cheek
This was crazy
And immediately both boys could see the jealousy and anger in the other males eyes
So that's what was going on
Belch had offered to hang out with you that night and he intended to do just that
Vic offered to walk Calvin back
You weren't stupid you knew that Vic wanted to talk with Cal
I'm all honesty you let him have it because it was easier to have him get out that masculine possessiveness he absolutely needed to get out of his system.
Besides it was easier to play dumb then face the problem right now
Now you didn't hear it from me
But Vic punched him that night.
Yeah
As soon as you and belch were out of his peripheral view he spoke up
"So you crushin' on my girl?"
"What- no"
"Hey I get it. I mean look at her. She's a doll but I'm gonna tell you this now. If you try one more time for what you've been trying to do all week I promise you you won't like the consequences. I'll make your life hell. Understand"
"What are you and your crew gonna do? Huh?"
Vic soaked him.
"Go. I won't be as nice next time"
Calvin went to the only motel in town where he and his mother were staying
He was leaving tomorrow
You were sad about it, you had fun when the boys weren't being dicks to him
You also did have a bit of fun when they were too
Calvin was going for his morning walk just enjoying the sights of the quiet and yet noisy town
He was lost in his own world until he heard the roar of an engine
There was a car coming straight for him.
All four of the boys were in the car (not really in it exactly)
Henry had the window down and was sitting in the space where the glass should be
Patrick and Vic was half out of the car
They began screaming to him until Calvin fell to the ground, scraped up
Vic threw his lit cigarette at the boy and Patrick laughed
Henry's voice was the loudest as they assaulted him with slurs.
"Stay the fuck out of my town. And away from my girl!"
Belch proceeded to speed off while Henry spit back at the boy
Let's just say your letters to Calvin take a lot longer than normal now...
#patrick hockstetter#bowers gang#henry bowers#patrick hockstetter x reader#henry bowers x reader#vic criss#vic criss x reader#belch huggins x reader#belch huggins
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[TEASER]
kim seokjin/reader
genre: mermaid/pirate au, pirate seokjin, mermaid y/n, romance, angst, pinning
warning(s): crimes obvs., violence, minor character deaths, kidnapping, illegal hunting of mermaids, cursing, pirate banter
w.count: 1.2k [teaser]
Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble [Rated: T]
summary: A band of pirates raising a mermaid is just a tall-tale; except for one pirate crew who takes the situation literally. After adopting a baby of the sea, they raise it as one of their own. The problem? Mermaids are only part of a wide branch of mythical creatures that are captured and sold. This crew has to keep her identity a secret and years later when she finds herself on the threshold of discovery, she’s scared to look to her crew- her family- for rescue. Not wanting to bring them down with her, she attempts to handle the situation on her own. However, her current captain and childhood friend won’t let her go in alone.
[Pro-tip: Seokjin + Y/n are both kids in this teaser lol]
He didn’t know if you even knew, but there was a reason he always asks you to keep your hair long as well. His father, the captain, had told him once that the scales on the back of your neck were the one thing a mermaid cannot conceal. That's why they always have long hair or hide it with scarves or high shirts on land. Those iridescent scales of yours were the one thing to give you away and instead of telling you to keep your hair long for safety, he had told you that he preferred it longer.
It wasn't a lie, per se. He did prefer your hair long, it was shiny and pretty like seashells. But he couldn’t just say that. Oh, no no no. Boys don’t compliment girls like that. Too embarrassing- he was a future captain! He had to be manly!
“I think dad said we’re docking in Neave tomorrow evening for shipment details and restock on items. We can sneak off the ship when everyone’s asleep and go swimming!” He whispered with the thrill of sneaking away from his parents- as he’s not supposed to- and going with you to swim and jeopardize your identity no less.
“You’re crazy,” you told him with a huffy eye roll. “Let’s do it,” you said, agreeing nonetheless with a smile.
You and Seokjin snuck around the ship like ants the following morning, scrambling to get chores and duties finished so you both could clear up the evening for your silent plan of some late night swimming practice. Your father Calvin, and Seokjin’s father, Captain Hillian watched with suspecting eyes as you both gathered at the quarterdeck of the ship with excited steps and hushed giggles as the port of Neave approached closer with each wave.
The moment the ship eased into port and the gangway was pushed from deck to port, you and Seokjin dashed off, sprinting down the spine red wooden board and jumping onto the deck. Seokjin wobbling as he took a few test steps, not used to the ground beneath his feet not swaying on the ocean waves. The crew laughed at the two of you as you pushed Seokjin around, watching him lose his balance before attempting to chase you- a poor attempt at the very least. A patch of seaweed looked more appealing than his poor excuse for a walk cycle on land.
“Seokjin, Y/n!” You both paused your childish antics when you heard Captain Hillian’s low toned voice call behind the both of you. You both slowly turned as you saw he'd him lounging over the ships railing. “Don’t you both go causing trouble or else I’m going to be forced to have you both stay on board.” You winced as you remembered the last time you got forced to stay on board at port. You couldn’t even sneak off, the crew members watched you both like hawks.
“Yes, sir!” Seokjin shouted back before he slightly elbowed you- grinning to make sure you were still aware of the idea of swimming later. A sign of ‘no take backs’ he locked you in. He grabbed your elbow before he bolted into town. You both had been here a few times before, so that helped navigate down the dusty roads.
He finally stopped zipping around and let go of your arm he had nearly yanked off of your shoulder. He turned to you, looking behind you and around to make sure no pirates followed. He got closer to you in excitement, you could see stars in his eyes.
“I took some coins from my dad's dresser top,” he started as he showed the small leather bound pouch on his belt. “We can get some pears or something to eat! I hear they imported some from overseas in the west and they’re way better than apples!”
“Seokjin! You took coins from the captain?! If he finds out, he’s gonna tie you to the mast and tell by the way you scream when a violent wave is coming!” You hushly scolded as he just waved it off.
“It was just a few, it’s not like he’ll go bankrupt or something because he left money laying around. He had it coming! Besides,” he sprung up a finger in his case, “he’s more likely to dangle me from the crows nest.” He stated as he started sauntering off.
“That’s not any better!” You chased him with a stupid grin on your face- the idea of him hanging from above as he kicked and panicked a bit too amusing. Following his jokester back into the market, he finally grabbed your hand, a wave of anxiousness flooding him when he finally remembered that you were a mermaid in disguise. He just smiled, making you promise not to run off and keep a hold of his hand.
Just as he said, he walked to a fresh fruit stand and felt around for a perfect, soft pear of the lightest shade of green he could find. Tossing a few coins to the seller, he took a bite, shocked at how sweet and soft it tasted. When he held it out for you, you took a bite of the opposite side of the fruit, just as astonished.
You both boasted about how you needed to convince the crew to stock up on a few of them, maybe serve them with the fish you ate constantly. Of course, you’d have to do so without spilling the beans about taking the Captain’s money. You both were sat on a pile of abandoned crates for longer than you both realized until a crew member came and found you both by chance. The sun was starting to dip and he advised you to head back to the ship before the Captain or Calvin throws a fit.
For a pirate and adoptive father figure, Calvin was fairly protective over you and your well being. He didn’t really seem to care that you were a mermaid and the Captain had told you time and time again that he treated you like you were his own flesh and blood. You and Seokjin began to climb up the steep gangway of the ship as crew mates passed you by.
Calvin stopped you before you re-boarded the ship. Clapping your shoulder and rocking you back and forth with a strong, firm grip of a father.
“Now, you behave and stay on board while we’re out,” he told you with a small smile. He hated to admit it to your small, childish face, but you knew that ‘out’ meant he and the rest of the men were going to visit a pub and get what action they could for a night and a pretty penny. You nodded at him. “Don’t let Seokjin drag you around either. Do you understand, Sweet Pea?”
“Yes, I do,” you curled your teeth in as you wet your lips trying not to smile. Smiling while looking at your father is a dead giveaway that you’re lying. A skill he’s teaching you, but can see right through. As a pirate and member of this crew, you were being taught all the skills as Seokjin and the other men.
Lying, theft- of large and petty crimes- combat, negotiation, even navigation. Of course, you had no interest in navigation until Seokjin called a strike and refused to learn it unless you learned it with him. However, once you began and started charting stars and learning about the seas and maps, you were so glad his pettiness made you start. You enjoyed it.
-x-x-x-
#kim seokjin#seokjin fic#seokjin fanfic#seokjin fanfiction#seokjin x reader#seokjin x reader au#seokjin#seokjin au#pirate seokjin#pirate jin#bts#bts kim seokjin#bts seokjin#bts jin#female reader#mermaid reader#oneshot#fluff#angst#romance#mermaid#pirate#au#seokjin romance#seokjin angst#seokjin oneshot
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QuickTypes: Lackadaisy Cats (comic)
UNOFFICIAL TYPINGS by thebearliver
Mitzi May: ESFJ
Mitzi’s initial typing seems to be ESFJ. Mitzi gives a polished impression of a smooth operator, able to see and seize opportunity and leverage it for her benefit in the face of impending defeat (faux Se), but in reality roots everything in preserving Atlas’s halcyon empire, clinging to an image that no longer exists (Si) and being utterly unmoved by any attempts to show her otherwise (low Ne). Her primary methodology is “schmoozing” her way back into balanced books, charming Wick, his colleagues and the scraps of Lackadaisy staff left into wrenching back business, and appeals to Asa, and Mordecai, from a moral standpoint when arguing her case (dom-Fe). She often loops, bypassing her Si, which would stop her making the same mistakes, to Fe/Ne through things, using her excellent people manipulation skills to move from opportunity to opportunity, carelessly trampling on people and old friends alike in justification of “what needs to be done” (inferior Ti), but reacts badly when faced with Ti-dom Mordecai’s detached and brutal analysis, taking his ultra-logical assessments as personal attacks and responding with put-downs of his own unstable relationship dealings. She responds similarly to Zib when he chastens her on her stealing from Wick, challenging why his conscience didn’t prick with “every red cent” Atlas paid him. She can use her Fe well, to bring people together and
soothe rough edges off the ragtag Lackadaisy outcasts, and give them a sense of belonging.
Calvin “Freckle” McMurray: ISFP
Freckle’s initial typing is ISFP. Calvin is a sweet, gentle-natured boy who takes the world at face value, introspective and unable to avoid being influenced by his deep feelings about his wayward cousin, overbearing mother and rejection from the police force, and showing little motivation or skill in organising the events around him in practical terms (Fi/Te). Aside from his criminal activities, Freckle is conscientious and dutiful, only revealing his deep emotions under stress (“I’m a horrible person!”). Despite inertia over his predicament, he rolls with the opportunities that come his way, such as following a pretty girl to a party, shooting up the attackers on the speakeasy with ease in the heat of battle, and then following his cousin down his increasingly ruthless paths to acquire alcohol. He ventures little out of his own plans, preferring to let Rocky determine the new bends in the road, and has one goal (joining the police force), which when fails leaves him morose and purposeless (also indicating poor Te); leaving him open to be pressganged into the Lackadaisy crew. He also rarely ventures to look further into Rocky’s motives. However, as his relationship with his cousin goes into increasingly grey territory, he has instinctive suspicions about Rocky’s dealings (questioning him about whether he’s manipulating Ivy after she told him about Rocky’s meltdown) (Se/Ni).
NOTE: Freckle’s typing was difficult and I wavered between an INFP and ISTJ. Once I realized I was misdiagnosing a 9w1 fix as Si and his obvious Se in his acrobatic gunmanship, I changed my approach and settled on ISFP.
Ivy Pepper: ESFP
Ivy’s initial typing is ESFP. She is an extroverted, good-time-girl who gravitates to Lackadaisy because it opens up new experiences for her, with little consideration for long-term consequences (Ivy deliberately fails her courses at school so she can remain at Lackadaisy, not thinking of its impact on her future, or the consequences of falling in with a criminal crowd). She fearlessly charges in head-on, whether that’s inviting a cute boy she’s just met to an underground speakeasy, pulling a gun from a hearse to defend her friend, or promising Dr Quackenbush on the fly his money, and then appealing to Wick for funds, showing a natural knack for adapting to the challenges in her physical environment (Se/Ni). Her inferior Ni also kicks in sometimes with a low-level, future-focussed dread about the amoral direction Rocky is taking and the true nature of the criminal world she has chosen to bury herself in. Ivy is forthright in who are her “friends” and what’s good or bad for herself, easily connecting with disparate figures like Viktor and Freckle with a sunny, non-judgmental worldview that sweeps them into her “circle” of close ones, and has strong opinions on right and wrong through her own subjective moral standpoint (“I guess you’re just awful!”). She can lay down the law when necessary or provoked, not shying away from grappling with Viktor (you will READ this magazine, and you will ENJOY IT) and fixing a workable plan with the bootleggers to acquire more alcohol (Te).
Mordecai Heller: ISTP
Mordecai’s initial typing is ISTP. Mordecai needs the world to make sense, leading his life using pure logic and expecting others to do the same - he’s also Atlas’s bookkeeper. Aside from his impartiality, Mordecai’s next known attribute is his coldness; he is seen at best as standoffish, which he responds to by being acerbic, not bothering to have warmth in his dealings, and at worst as mistrustful and two-faced because he cannot fit into a group, garnering enemies even amongst his allies and ending him up in Atlas’s debt in the first place (after running into trouble with his previous employers). He’s frequently frustrated by his compromised dealings with people, and the stain of his departure from Lackadaisy - not feeling remorse for his decision, as it was purely logical (Ti/Fe). However, he’s also able to mask his intuitions under an unruffled exterior, is competent, active to the opportunities arising in his (often volatile) environment, and a sharp dresser, making him an excellent hitman - his instincts are also often correct, wanting to know “what direction I’m going in”, that Asa could be hiding something, and perceiving the direction Lackadaisy is taking downwards and switching loyalties (Se/Ni).
NOTE: Mordecai may well have something a little askew psychologically, ie obsessive behaviours, borderline sociopathic lack of empathy - see Bobby’s comment about him possibly having been hit by a bullet that gave him his “wonky streak”.
Rocky Rickaby: ENTP
Rocky’s initial typing is ENTP, albeit one that continually cycles down to his Fe, craving constant acceptance due to his rootless past and often pursuing whatever course there is available to ensure it. Luckily, Rocky is never at a shortage for ideas; he is the ideas-man in Mitzi’s crew, his ability to change and formulate plans on a dime invaluable in the unpredictable world of turf-war bootlegging, which he rolls through with a love of wordplay and untethered, seemingly unconnected concepts and ideas, circling around an interest in how things “truly” work behind the scenes (Ne/Ti). His concept is fairness is warped - he drags his obedient cousin into crime because Mitzi needs a gunman, but he’s also giving him something to do! - but Rocky rarely takes any of criticism levelled his way personally, and seeks out provocation amongst his companions and enemies alike (Ti/Fe). He’s charismatic and engaging, and constantly seeking affirmation that he’s accepted as part of the group (“I like it here Freckle! They tolerate meee!”). His motto that “the rules don’t apply”, however, is sometimes his undoing (and others; he doesn’t stop to think that the “rubes” whose barn he sets on fire may return with a vengeance and shoot up the club), and he alienates himself from his aunt because he can’t understand her objective pragmatism as affection, or his capacity for misdeeds as something he can change, so much so that he can’t foresee for himself any other future outside of Lackadaisy because he has an inaccurate, unrealistic perception of his past, which makes him cling to the camaraderie he has established at Lackadaisy, even past its heyday. He frequently slips into states of melodrama and neglectful self-care. (inferior Si).
NOTE: Rocky’s wiring may also be a tad faulty, especially after his accident.
Viktor Vasko: ISTJ
Viktor’s initial typing is ISTJ. Throughout his chequered history, Viktor has remained resolutely the strongest man in his environment, and resisting any attempt to change his course - his role is as the heavy for Lackadaisy, and he remains as such even when Atlas dies, to Mordecai’s irritation. He works in the garage by himself, where he can brood and tinker with the cars, and is irritated by Rocky’s irresponsibility and irreverent logic; he also keeps a mental library of information and past allegiances (he tells Rocky to go to Defiance, Missouri, trusting that the Arbogasts would still be in business, as they were years ago) (Si). He resents the changes that have happened; Atlas’s death, Mitzi’s ineffective efforts to steer a sinking ship, and the loss of his knee and purpose; and reacts badly to Ivy exploring new boyfriends and planning her future at Lackadaisy, overreacting to the unseen dangers in both (inferior Ne). He does have some good instincts, and rightly deduces Ivy is lingering at Lackadaisy for the wrong reasons. He’s a hard man, pragmatic and ruthless in his focus, undeterred by arguments appealing to his emotions, and only helps Rocky when he’s been put out of action and getting some liquor back would mean things would get back on course again, with no sense of allegiance to Mitzi (Te). He hides quiet, deep-simmering emotions, making him inscrutable to most, as well as possibly a more sentimental attachment to Lackadaisy and his time there than he lets on - he also has a soft spot for Ivy, and beneath the tough talk wants her to be safe, even it means riding roughshod over her feelings (Te/Fi).
Sedgewick “Wick” Sable: ESFJ
Wick’s initial type is ESFJ. Wick is a mix-and-mingler, amiable, courteous, a true Southern gentleman, stepping in for the lady in need or when the establishment doctor needs paying - especially as both of those things would attract Mitzi (Fe). His good nature causes his friends to worry for him being manipulated due to his lack of ability to analyze other’s intentions (and in fact is what Ivy and Mitzi take advantage of) indicating inferior Ti. He has a fondness for history and typically traditional things, is a dapper dresser (and resident of a well-maintained, handsome home - with a fully-stocked wine cellar), and measures his opinion of Mitzi against what he used to think of her, only being drawn to suspect otherwise at Rocky’s inclinations (Si/Ne). He shows some Ne, however, seeing the opening to accept Mitzi’s invitation and invite Church and the others, and imploring them to “think of the possibilities!” about his quarry work. Ultimately, he feels unable to bend to the proposition Mitzi puts forward, or to continue leading her on and pretend otherwise - just as he knew it was “inappropriate” to desire Mitzi when she was married (healthy Fe).
NOTE: Wick is a good example, if a tipsy one, of a healthy Fe-dom, helping people, bringing them together to create something bigger, and putting others at ease, in comparison to Mitzi’s unhealthy scheming, lack of moral compass, and manipulative tendencies.
Dorian “Zib” Zibowski: ENTP
Zib’s initial type is ENTP. He enjoys steeping himself in ideas and new places, being known for his “dismal philosophical conversations” and his nomadic existence as a musician before Lackadaisy, and embraces his “suffering artist” identity, plagued by the variety of the world and art is its only true expression; and has to somatize himself with alcohol and cigarettes to escape the broad implications of his staying at Lackadaisy (“we’re all falling into the cracks…why can’t anyone else see that?”) (Ne), in that he is falling back into old patterns. His inferior Si shows in his disinterest in getting involved in the hands-on day-to-day of Lackadaisy’s bootleg activities, his gloomy ruminations on “how he got here”, and, like Wick, his inability to move on from his history with Mitzi (she’s not the “sleepy-eyed girl I met in Georgia…”, taking Atlas’s blood money is different to taking it from Mitzi), neither man seeing Mitzi for what she truly is - Atlas’s somewhat amoral widow, although Zib is more switched on. Zib has stronger Ti/Fe than Rocky - in that although he frames everything he does in a logical framework and easily exposes the flaws in others, he also attempts to advise Rocky on the dangerous path he’s taking down, tries to pull Mitzi away from her worst instincts, and is conscience-stricken by the stolen money Mitzi tries to give him from Wick. He also has the low Fe tendency to rebel against “the system”, being caustic with the police, and being distrustful of Dom’s outward cordiality with him.
Other characters:
Atlas May: INXJ Atlas exists as an enigma within the narrative, but one with powerful, singular vision - to seize upon the opportunity to create an empire, purchasing an innocuous cafe for the purpose of its limestone caves (showing forethought) and unwavering from that goal. Described as an opportunist, he regardless prefers to let Viktor and Mordecai do the dirty work, effectively operating from a distance. The story does not give any indication of his judging processes, aside from his skill in silently manipulating people, drawing them to him and keeping them there. Probably an INFJ.
Edmund Church: ISTJ Traditional, pragmatic, strait-laced, unaffected by Mitzi Fe-tactics, a dry and efficient businessman who underneath a “prickly shell” has a degree of regard for Wick and counsels him against recklessness with his feelings.
Lacy Hardt: ISTP Accomplished and loyal with a sardonic sense of humour, Lacy is practical and smart with a good intuition; she correctly interprets Mitzi’s motives as suspicious, finding relief when Wick says he’s “called off the parade”.
Nina McMurray: ESTJ Nothing slips past Aunt Nina, especially not Rocky - she’s a hardass who correctly derives her nephew is “up to something”, but has no inclinations to look further. She’s a religious pragmatist who upholds her family and looks after their physical and moral needs, without much room for sentimentality.
Asa Sweet: ESTJ A dyed-in-the-wool, larger-than-life businessman with a fondness for jokes and wisecracks, but who doesn’t actually connect with his coterie of hired gunmen, and responds impassively to Mitzi’s Fe appeals to his conscience. He effectively took over and manages the gunrunning business after Atlas’s death and lacks the intensity of an Ni/Se vision, preferring to utilize a range of opportunities that come his way, whether that’s a group of vengeful pig farmers or the volatile gypsies that bushwhacked his trucks, without much room for sentimentality.
NOTE: Art belongs to the incredible Tracy Butler. This comic series is great and I’ve been following it since I was a wee fourteen-year old with an internet connection.
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Ok Since I noticed there wasn’t any, & since the show in s1 did kinda started out there, Request for High School Trick AU, it’s so intriguing, maybe with Troy being the new troubled transfer student w/ a shady past & being just removed from the ranch? Thanks :-D - Sarah
Sorry this took me so long, but here’s part one of the series
Out of The Dark
If there is one thing Nick Clark knows, it’s ‘at-risk youths’. He is one, after all. And one that has a way of sniffing out others and figuring out what makes them tick what motivates them and what they want out of life. Some he befriends, others he abandons quickly. Some brands of crazy just don’t mix, after all. And the last thing you want is a volatile mix. He’s been burned enough times now to know better.
So when a new kid appears in the halls of Paul R. Williams High School with hunched shoulders and one hell of a shiner surrounding his right eye with all the hidden charm of a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Well, Nick can’t help but be curious. His instincts telling him to check this guy out.
Nick doesn’t approach him right off the bat. Just kind of hang back in the halls between classes and observes him. They have Biology together, so he at least knows the guys’ name now. And that he’s apparently been “homeschooled” for most of his life and has an interest in science.
When they have to pair up for a project a week into Troy being there, Nick takes the opportunity and slides into the seat beside the taller boy, offering a charming smile to the blank look he gets in return. “Hi, I’m Nick,” he says as he offers a copy of their assignment worksheet.
“Troy,” he says carefully, taking the paper with one hand while the other tightly grips a pencil like a lifeline. His posture is hunched again, even though he usually seems to relax during class. Nick attributes it to having to interact with new people. Homeschooled kids never get enough social interaction.
“You really don’t want to be here, huh?” Nick can’t help but ask as he looks away. He doesn’t mean to make the kid uncomfortable, and he’ll play nice and be his normal chill self around him until given a reason to act otherwise.
“Got no choice,” Troy shrugs, trying for indifference but he’s still so tense that the motion fails horribly and is jerky and awkward. Nick tries not to find it oddly endearing, he really does.
“Sure you do, you could ditch. Or drop out,” Nick offers in return, lowering his voice when the others in the room start to quiet and work on their assignment.
“No, I can’t. Now shut up and work on the assignment,” Troy bites out harshly, surprising Nick. There’s a kind of quiet anger radiating from the other boy all of the sudden, and Nick makes a mental note to not push his luck.
“Yeah, sure, whatever you want man.” Nick concedes, raising his hands in a placating manner before starting to move the items they need for the project around on the table. They barely talk for the rest of the class and Nick figures that’s that.
~~~~~
Or it was until the next day when Troy actually sits at Nick’s table at lunch. Nick usually sits with only a few people. Gloria and Calvin and one or two other kids to the whole picnic style metal table that can seat a dozen easily. Glo and Cal give Nick a questioning look, to which he just shrugs and goes back to eating his spaghetti. He isn’t going to pry. If the guy wants to sit with them who’s he to question it.. He isn’t sure what Troy is aiming to gain here, but he can wait and see.
“Hey,” Cal says despite the look Nick gives him that clearly reads ‘wtf dude, leave him alone?’.
Troy glances up from his meal to stare warily at their group. “Hey,” he greets back with a small wave of his fork before rather violently stabbing a meatball on his tray.
“You’re the new guy, Troy, right? What brings you here, Troy? Parent’s drag you here from another town?” Cal asks, all cheery and personable. He’s one of the better actors Nick knows. But from the looks of it, Troy isn’t buying the act.
“Moved in with my brother. Had to go to a school and this was the closest one to where we live.” Is the only answer they get before Troy drops his fork onto his tray and gets up to leave.
Once he’s gone the group trades looks of interest and confusion.
“Maybe something happened to his parents?” Glo guesses with a shrug before tucking a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear and looking in the direction the gangly brunet left.
“Maybe,” Cal agrees. “Or maybe he got in trouble with the cops and his parents kicked him out so he had to come to live with his brother. You saw the bruise on his eye when he got here, he has them all over. Saw hem all over his back when he was changing for gym the other day. Dude looks like he belongs in Fight Club.”
That gets a worried look from both Gloria and Nick. Both have been smacked around by their parents, and they know the kind of shit that can push you to do. Neither says anything though. Cal doesn’t get it. His family is great. A little poor. Which is why he started dealing. When things are bad he keeps Nick and Glo well supplied. But he doesn’t get their addiction or what it’s like to have a parent be so enraged that they just start hitting you.
To a degree, Gloria doesn’t entirely get it either. Her stepmother slapped her a few times over the years. Nothing like the beatings Nick’s taken when Madison is drunk or just plain furious for whatever reason.
The bell rings, bringing Nick back to reality and the clamor of trays and grumbling of kids who don’t want to go back to class. They don’t have any classes together that day, but Nick finds his mind wandering back to Troy Otto and what kind of secrets he must be keeping.
~~~~~
The next day Troy isn’t in their biology class, and the teacher doesn’t call his name at attendance, which means he either called out or switched classes. A quick glance at the class roster on the teachers’ desk when he goes up to, write on the board reveals that Troy called out for the rest of the week.
That strikes Nick as odd. Usually, if a student is sick they just do a mark meaning until further notice. The note beside his name clearly said out for x number of days. That detail nags at him the rest of the day. In fact, it nags at him to the point where he waits around after school to ‘catch a ride home with his mom’.
Which means he has an hour to sneak into the file room and find out what he can about Troy. Something doesn’t seem quite right here. The guy’s too quiet. And knowing what he does about the bruises and the flash of a temper he saw he wants to at least find out the other boys address so he can maybe walk by and maybe take a peak. See how he’s doing, maybe offer to go over what he missed in class if he gets caught in the neighborhood.
Picking the lock to the room he needs access to is ridiculously easy. The school is old and the locks are cheap. They may have gone all high tech with the metal detectors that are being installed, but they still lack security cameras in key areas, and they sure as hell haven’t upgraded the locks.
Slipping into the room, Nick lets the door close behind him with a soft clock. He doesn’t bother with the lights. Just uses his phone to see what he’s doing. The cabinets are alphabetized, so he just has to find O for Otto, Troy, and take a quick peek.
The quick peek turns into a full half hour sitting on the floor with his back to the cabinet as he reads and re-reads the few short pages in the folder. His school records go as far as third grade when he was referred to counseling for his issues interacting with other children. His father pulled him out to ‘home school’ him after that.
The next paper in the folder is a letter from a court in San Diego explaining that Troy comes from an abusive home and was never homeschooled as his father said he would be. He was raised in a hostile setting and was removed from the home when a raid was done by the FBI on their ranch to search for a stockpile of illegally gained guns and military equipment.
Troy was found in the basement with several bruises and was quickly taken to the hospital where they found evidence of past trauma and improperly healed broken bones. Residents of the ranch claimed not to know anything about the abuse, but his mother confessed to everything.
Troy’s legal guardian is his older brother, Jake, who is 8 years older and a lawyer. He has a house only a few blocks away from Nicks own.
A text causes Nick’s phone to buzz in his hand, shocking him out of the stupor he’s fallen into. He had to read the pages before him three times for it to make sense.
The text is from his mom, asking if he’s ready to leave. He shoots back a quick text of yes and he’ll meet her at the car.
It’s clear that he’s shaken when he gets into the car with Madison, and she turns to face him rather than starting the engine and leaving the parking space. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
Blinking, Nick considers lying and saying it’s nothing, but he just doesn’t have it in him at the moment. “I’m just worried about a friend. Well, he’s not really a friend, he’s the new kid, Troy? He wasn’t in school today.”
A look of surprise flashes across Madison’s face before she turns back to face the wheel and start the car. “You don’t need to worry, he had somewhere to be today, but he’ll be back in a few days. I spoke to his brother this morning.”
His mom’s word don’t exactly do anything to ease his worries, and Nick sinks down into his seat and hugs his backpack to his chest as he looks out the window. He took a picture of Troy’s address with his phone, he could just go for a walk and take a look. See for himself that Troy is indeed fine.
“Don’t worry so much, Nick. Everything with Troy is going to be fine. You have my word,” Madison assures, her tone more counselor like than motherly. He hates when she talks like that.
“Yeah, right…” he agrees a beat later with a sigh. Her words just make him want to go even more.
Unfortunately, Alicia has other plans and demands that he helps her with her science project when he gets home. That eats up a good three hours, then dinner takes another, and by the time he’s able to slip away, it’s getting close to dark.
Lucky for him that just means Madison is out on a date with Travis until late and Alicia is busy with her homework, so he can easily slip out undetected.
The walk to Troy’s street doesn’t take long, maybe ten minutes, and what he sees when the house is finally in view is surprising. Troy is out in the driveway in a rumpled black suit, back to a silver pickup and looking very uncomfortable while a man who Nick assumes is Troy’s brother yells at someone over the phone from inside of their house. His figure clear through the large bay window.
For a moment Nick thinks he should turn tail and run, but then Troy spots him and it’s too late. The brunet looks confused a moment before stuffing his hands in his pockets and starting to walk down the block towards Nick.
He looks good, despite the yellow shadow of a still-healing bruise around his eye and across his cheekbone. “What are you doing here, Nicky?”
The question is a mix of curiosity and threat, though Nick isn’t really sure how it is, just that he feels vaguely threatened by it. “Needed to get out of the house for a while and walk around,” Nick says with a shrug. “What’s with the suit? Someone die?”
Troy actually flinches at the question, and Nick instantly regrets it.
“Shit, man, I was joking. Did someone actually die?”
Troy shakes his head before bringing a hand up to rub at his face tiredly, a gesture that makes him look much older than 17. “Not any time soon,” he grumbles before meeting Nick’s gaze, intense blue eyes meeting warm brown. “Look, I need to get outa here for a while. You know a place? Preferably without other people?”
The question has Nick taken aback for a moment and he only nods before pointing behind himself with his thumb and gesturing for Troy to follow. He does, and they walk in silence for a good three blocks before Troy speaks up.
“Your buddy Calvin is a real piece of work,” he notes, tone sounding much more chipper than Nick would expect from the air of tension hanging around the guy.
“What’d he do this time?” Nick asks cautiously. Cal can be a dumbass at times. And just as much of a gossip as Gloria.
That gets a snort out of Troy, who shakes his head like he can’t decide if he wants to elaborate or not. After a beat, he sighs and gives in. “He had the gall to follow me home the other day and ask why I’m so banged up and on edge all the time. Like my life is any of his damn business.”
Thinking about it, Nick isn’t surprised Cal did that. The guy likes to poke at people’s weaknesses. Find the cracks in them. If he can’t get you to trust him he does shit to make you think he’s just a curious idiot that didn’t mean anything by it. Nick doesn’t think Troy would buy that play for even a second.
“Cal’s an idiot. Just ignore him,” Nick says dismissively with a wave of his hand before stuffing it into his pocket. “Him and Glo like to know everybody’s business.”
“But not you?” Troy asks with a chuckle.
Nick rolls his eyes at that before pointing to an old blue house with peeling paint that’s surrounded by a fence and multiple signs saying it’s condemned. “Nah, man. If people wanna tell me what’s going on with them that’s cool, but I won’t push for info on something that’s none of my business.” It’s not a total lie. He’s curious as all hell, but he can feel the tension radiating from Troy, he’s a powder keg and Nick is a lit match. He knows better than to risk saying the wrong thing and set the other boy off.
His words seem to strike a chord with Troy, and he actually relaxes a little. “So what is this place?” he asks as they reach the fence and start to slink around towards the backyard, where there are a few loose boards hidden by a large bush that they have to crouch to get behind.
“It was some old couples house. They died about a year ago and their family found out the house had been falling apart of years when they flew out to try and sell it. They decided to have it torn down instead, but I guess it’s tied up in court or something and they can’t do anything until that’s all settled. So, for now, it’s where I go to get away from my family,” Nick explains as he holds the broken boards aside for Troy to slip into the yard first.
Troy gives him an odd look before climbing through the opening. A moment later Nick’s in behind him and quickly leading the way to the back door, which has a broken lock thanks to a crowbar Nick snagged from Travis’ truck one night.
Once they’re inside it’s a bit hard to see, most of the windows have been boarded up or painted over. Without thinking Nick reaches back and grabs hold of Troy’s wrist, causing the other boy to freeze on the spot. Nick let’s go a second later and turns to look at him. “Dude, sorry. Just try and relax, there are some weak boards in the floor and I was just going to help you avoid them.”
Nick can practically see the gears turning in Troy’s head for a long moment before he holds out his hand for Nick to take. Which he does, and he’s honestly surprised when Troy closes his fingers around Nick’s hand and holds on a bit tighter than necessary. His hands are rough, but warm, and Nick wonders if that’s something that will change now that he isn’t living on a ranch.
The back door opens into an old mud room and connects to the kitchen from there. Once they’re inside the actual house it’s easy to see why it’s going to be torn down. There are boards missing from the floor, panels gone from the ceiling, and something that looks like vines is growing up a wall from a crack at the bottom.
Troy holds onto Nick’s hand all the way into the living room, which has several pieces of plywood strewn about the floor to make it safe to walk on. The old owners’ furniture is still there, and there are two large overstuffed couches and an armchair to match. Nick leads Troy to the first couch and actually has to wiggle his fingers to remind the other boy they’re holding hands still and get him to let go.
To his credit, Troy looks embarrassed and ducks his head sheepishly before taking a seat on the end of the couch in front of him. “So, what do you usually do while you’re hiding away here?”
“Smoke weed and listen to music,” Nick admits with a smirk as he flops down onto the opposite end of the couch to stare at Troy, who looks a bit surprised.
“Got a bit of a drug problem, Nicky?” Troy asks, tone teasing.
That makes Nick snort a laugh before he stretches out on the couch with his feet just shy of touching Troy’s leg. “Depends who you talk to, but basically, yeah. I’m an addict. Been to rehab twice for heroin. The pot is nothing, it’s just what I do when I’m trying to stay clean.”
The wide-eyed look Troy is giving makes Nick want to laugh and maybe ask if he’s alright. “I get the feeling you’ve never met anyone like me before, have you, Troy?”
Clearing his throat, Troy shakes his head and shifts in his seat to better face Nick, one leg pulled up onto the couch and an arm over the backrest. “What got you started?” It’s a simple question, but a loaded one. Too many ways to answer and too many ways things could be taken wrong.
“Well, if you ask my therapist it’s because I was born this way and was basically doomed to start using thanks to genetics and stupidity.” It’s true, that’s basically what he’s been told. Though when he says what he knows triggered his first decision to use, nobody has really believed him yet. His home life is too perfect despite his father dying in a car accident.
“Sounds like bullshit,” Troy chuckles. “Tell me what made you start using, not the reasons some crackpot therapist came up with. Don’t give me the psychoanalyzed version of the truth.”
That has Nick taken aback for a second. Nobody’s ever wanted him to really explain. Not even Glo or Cal. They just think his home life sucks and his mom smacks him once in a while. “Real deal? My mom’s abusive and I kind of think she’s the reason my dad died. But everyone thinks she’s this saint of a woman that lost a husband and has a problematic junkie son. Now can we talk about something else? This shit is too heavy.”
Troy actually laughs at Nick’s bluntness and leans back so he’s resting against the arm of the couch. He eyes Nick in a way that Nick can’t decipher for a brief moment before his gaze slips around the dimly lit room. “Can we get some more light in here?’
Chuckling, Nick gets up and wanders over to where a box is sitting beside the armchair. Inside are all the things he keeps there for his alone time. A dozen candle filled mason jars that are painted different colors to make the place feel more comfortable, his spare junky old brick of an iPod, and a few things of canned soda and various snacks.
He takes a few jars out and brings them over to the coffee table before fishing a book of matches out of his pants pocket and striking one. When he looks up Troy’s watching with one eyebrow raised as he carefully lights the candles in each jar and gets them arranged on the table to create a glowing rainbow of sorts. “Gotta have the right mood when you’re getting high. Nothing sucks more than the vibe of a place bringing you down.”
Troy gives a slight nod at that. “I’ll take your word for it…” he drawls, a hint of an accent that Nick had noted before growing stronger.
“Dude, I gotta ask, where are you from? You mostly sound like you’re from somewhere in Cali, but then there are times when you have like a hint of a southern accent thrown in.” It’s been bugging Nick since the day he first heard Troy speak in the halls.
“Two hours east of San Diego,” Troy grumbles as he shifts on the couch so he can kick off his shoes and loosen his tie. “Grew up on a ranch. Picked the accent up from the workers and my dad.”
Nodding, Nick looks around the room to see if he’s missed anything. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some chips ‘n stuff kicking around. I might even have some cookies left.”
Troy snorts at the offer. “I’m good. Think I just need to lay back and pretend the world doesn’t exist for a while,” he admits with a tired sigh. In that moment he once again looks much older than 17, and Nick really wants to do something to help. Nobody their age should look like they have the world on their shoulders.
“You like music?” Nick finds himself asking as he wanders back over to his box of goodies and snatches up his iPod, along with a few cans of ginger ale and the big bag of Doritos he stashed there a few days ago.
“You like breathing?” Troy counters with a small scoff as he stretches out on the couch, his long frame taking up most of it. He’s tall, at least two or three inches taller than Nick, and Nick is almost six feet and supposedly still growing.
Nick rolls his eyes but says nothing as he tosses the bag of Doritos on the floor right where two couches meet at the armrests and sets the sodas on the corner of the coffee table that’s easily within reach. Kicking off his own shoes and flops down onto the other couch so his head is on end closest to Troy’s. “Here,” he says, holding out one earbud for the other boy to take.
After a moment’s hesitation Troy takes it and examines it briefly before popping it into his left ear. Nick does the same with his right and after a moment’s scrolling through his options, he puts on a playlist of the heavier songs he has. He figures Troy can appreciate them, seeing as the guy has a Rise Against bumper sticker on the truck that he’s fairly certain is his and not his lawyer brothers.
The first song to come on is Attack by Thirty Seconds to Mars, and Troy makes a little surprised sound at it but doesn’t comment on the music otherwise.
They spend a good hour laying like that, Troy occasionally asking what song is playing while they munch on Doritos and drink room temperature soda.
Eventually Troy gets a text from his brother asking where he is and if he’s okay. He reluctantly texts that he’s fine and is just out walking with a classmate and he’ll be home soon. “I need to get headed,” he grumbles as he removes the bud from his ear and holds it out for Nick to take.
“Yeah? You want me to walk you back?” Nick asks, already clocking off the old iPod and winding the cord of the earbuds around the bulk of it as he sits up.
Troy looks conflicted, glancing between Nick and is phone a few times before nodding. “Sure,” is all he says as he stands and slips his shoes back on.
Nick says nothing as Troy grabs his hand on the way out, he did say he’d guide the other boy through the house earlier, and it is dark. If Nick lets himself enjoy it a little that’s nobody’s business but his own, and he finds himself missing the warmth just a little when they’re outside and Troy hesitantly let’s go as they walk through the tall grass of the back yard.
Soon they’re walking down the sidewalk in the direction of Troy’s house, bodies close enough that they bump shoulders now and then. There’s still a tension to how Troy carries himself, but he’s more relaxed than Nick has seen him in the week the other boy has been attending the same school as him. It feels like some kind of victory that he’s the reason why.
When they reach Troy’s block he pauses, and Nick turns back to look at him in the glow of the street light. “Listen, I really appreciate you taking me to your secret hangout for a few hours. I needed that.”
Nodding, Nick stuffs his hands in his pockets and gives a small smile. “No problem, man. You’re welcome to go back and hang if you need to get away for a while. You’ll have to bring your own tunes though, I need to charge my iPod.”
That gets a chuckle out of Troy, who nods and steps forward to place a hand on Nick’s shoulder before he passes. “I think we can be friends now,” he says in a warm tone that gets Nick laughing.
“Yeah, man, we’re friends. Which means if Calvin is a dick again let me know and I’ll deck him for you,” Nick offers as he turns to watch Troy as he walks away.
“I’d pay to see that,” Troy calls out without looking back. “Good night, Nicky. Be seein’ you.”
“Night, Troy,” Nick calls after as he turns and starts to walk in the direction of his own home.
He goes back to the abandoned house the next night, not surprised when Troy showed up not even half an hour later with what appears to be a shiny new iPod full of music and a bag of snacks that he drops into Nick’s supply bo,x without a word.
They take up the same positions as the night before, Troy sprawled on one couch while Nick is sprawled on another. Troy occasionally asking if Nick has heard of this band or this song that his brother loaded onto his iPod for him.
It becomes an almost nightly occurrence. Nick sneaking out to chill for a few hours and Troy showing up not long after. Eventually, they end up on the same couch, both still laying down but with their feet up by the others sides as Nick smokes a joint and tells Troy about what he’s missed at school the last few days.
He doesn’t pry about what Troy is going through, and Troy doesn’t share any details. Just says one night he’s been getting dragged to court with his brother for family stuff. Nick tosses him a bag of mini snickers and asks if he wants to lie to his brother and Nick’s mom and just crash there for the night. It’s Saturday. No court or school the next day. So no reason to go home if they don’t’ want to.
It only takes a few moments for Troy to give a slight nod and pull out his phone, calling Jake and asking if he can crash at his buddy Nick’s house for the night and explaining they only live a few blocks away so it’s not like he’s far if Jake needs him.
His brother agrees readily and actually encourages Troy to ask to do so more often.
Nick isn’t honestly expecting Madison to agree, in which case he’ll go home for an hour before sneaking out his window. When he gets a text back saying to have fun and call if he needs anything he lets out a manic sounding laugh that gets Troy looking at him like he’s grown a second head.
“What’s so funny, Nicky?” Troy asks as he pokes Nick in the ribs with his toes.
“My mom actually agreed. The only place she’s ever okay with me staying is Calvin’s house. And that’s because we’ve been friends since we were 7 years old.” Nick admits with another chuckle.
“She probably figures you won’t try and pull anything since my brother is a lawyer,” Troy wagers with a grin. “So, do you have blankets stashed somewhere around here?”
Rolling his eyes, Nick drags himself up to sitting and takes another hit from his neglected joint before standing and wandering over to the stairs that go up to the second floor. He hops over the few broken ones, minding the loose nails here and there and the broken bit of banister before reaching the top. There are several boxes in each room, and it’s easy to find the boxed up blankets that were left behind.
He returns downstairs a moment later with the roach of his nearly gone joint between his lips and an arm full of puffy blankets. “You want a pillow too or are you good?” Nick asks, words a little muffled from the way he speaks without opening half his mouth to keep from dropping the last of his weed on the blankets in his arms.
“I’m good, but I’ll settle for a lullaby since you don’t seem like the type to read me a story,” Troy jokes as he reaches out and takes one of the blankets from Nicks grasp. It isn’t really cold in here at night, but it’s easier to sleep with a blanket and Nick gets that.
“Sorry, fresh out of lullabies. Lucky you, you brought that nice new iPod to listen to,” Nick says in mock sweetness as he stubs out the end of his roach and moves to get situated on the other couch with his own blanket.
Snorting a laugh, Troy doesn’t argue as he shakes out the blanket he’s been given and covers his legs with it. Things between them fall silent again and both men lay in the near dark as the candles Nick lit early slowly burn out in the multi-colored jars.
Nick thought for sure that Troy was already asleep as he starts to doze, but soft words draw him back to consciousness.
“Hey, Nick…” he pauses and waits for Nick to hum in acknowledgment before continuing.”y’know before, when you said your mom’s abusive? So’s mine. And my dad. S’why I’ve been goin’ to court ‘n why I was beat to crap when I first got here. They took me away and brought me to live with Jake after keeping me in a hospital for a week to make sure I wasn’t majorly fucked up after ten years of being a punching bag.”
Nick stays silent for a long moment, unsure of what to say at first. “I’m glad you got out, man. I like having you around.”
“… Yeah, I like havin’ you around too…” troy agrees, tone showing how close he is to sleep. There’s a sound of shifting fabric, probably Troy rolling over or something. And that’s the last thing heard before they both nod off.
~~~~~
Nick isn’t sure what wakes him, he just knows it’s still dark and he’s not anywhere near ready to be awake. He’s about to roll over and go back to sleep when he hears the unmistakable sound of a whimper.
“Troy?” He asks blearily as he rolls onto his back and forces himself to sit up despite the heaviness in his sleep addled body. When there’s no response he reaches out and grabs his phone off the coffee table. Hitting the power button casts the room in a faint glow and it’s just enough for him to see that Troy is tangled in his blanket and looking miserable. Most likely from a nightmare.
“Hey, Troy, wake up,” he says it louder this time, and the other boy jumps awake with a start, clearly not recognizing his surroundings in the low light. “Dude, you’re alright, it was just a dream,” Nick offers softly, not wanting to startle him further.
“Yeah… Right…” Troy says, sounding a little out of breath and shaky.” Right… Yeah… I’m good. Sorry.”
Considering his options, Nick decides to go with his big-brother instinct here and kicks off his own blanket before standing and stretching with a jawn. “Move over,”
That gets Troy’s head snapping around to look over at Nick in the dim light still being cast by his phone screen. “You’re kidding.”
“I don’t kid about things like this. You had a nightmare and I know from experience going back to sleep after one is either a major bitch and takes forever, or you nod right off and go right back into it. So the best thing to do is not sleep alone. Now move over, dumbass. Or I’ll shove you over,” Nick reasons as he moves so he’s standing by the middle of Troy’s couch.
It’s hard to make out his expression in the dim light, but Troy’s studying Nick with an unreadable one for a good long moment before he sighs and shifts on the couch so his lithe frame is pressed to the back cushions. He rolls so his back is to Nick, which makes the shorter boy snort before he carefully climbs onto the couch behind him and gets situated under the blanket.
It’s a little awkward and takes them a bit to figure out how to lay, but eventually, they end up with both of them using Nick’s bent arm as a pillow, as Nick wraps the other around Troy’s waist and lets his hand sort of loosely hold Troy’s shirt.
“This good?” Nick asks, still tired but also nervous. He’s curled up like this with Cal before. But doing so with Troy is sending his heart racing in his chest like it’s looking for an exit.
“… Yeah… This is good… Thanks, Nicky,” Troy mutters softly,
Nick doesn’t respond, doesn’t trust himself not to say something stupid or give away how he’s feeling all of a sudden with the other boy in his arms.
Sleep comes again for Troy quickly, but Nick finds himself lying away for a while longer just listening to him breathe softly. At one point Troy snuffles in his sleep and nuzzles into Nick’s arm as he leans back into him a bit.
It’s warm and comfortable, and eventually, the pounding of Nick’s heart slows and he joins Troy in sleep. Neither of them says anything about Troy’s nightmare in the morning, but Troy does give Nick this smile that’s honest to god the most breathtaking look Nick has ever been on the receiving end of and it’s all he can do not to kiss Troy then and there.
He wants to. But he’s not ready for that. And he knows Troy sure as hell isn’t either, assuming he even swings that way.
But then again, Troy grabs his hand once more as they make to leave in the morning, and he doesn’t let go until they’re at the fence. They part ways on the other side, Nick promising to come by and help Troy with his homework that afternoon and Troy promising to not fall asleep on him when they get to the boring shit.
Things go on like this for a few more weeks. Meeting up at the old house to get away for a while and just be in each others company. They crash there at least one night each weekend, Now with Nick and Troy curling up on the same couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world to go to sleep in each other’s arms.
It’s more than friendship, but not something they talk about or try to define. It works for them. And it makes the hell of Troy’s family drama and the hassles of being a junior in high school bearable. Nick doesn’t even want to do drugs when Troy is around, except for a joint here and there.
Nick thinks their time together is having a positive impact on Troy as well. He starts to be more relaxed at school. Actually talking to people and coming out of his shell more. He still has that little flame of rage hiding inside him that comes out when someone crosses him, but he’s also charming, and quick-witted. Nick’s initial thought of the other boy being a wolf in sheep’s clothing was right. And god help him if he doesn’t love it.
Troy Otto coming to Paul R Williams High School might just be the best thing to happen in either of their lives. And their time there together is far from over.
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Birdcage Chapter XIII
Masterpost - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter
Mistakes, or: the story told at dinner
A few days after the night we stood waiting for Camazotz to attack, the Knights gathered at the palace to receive a speech from the king. Only the bare minimum Knights were left guarding the wall. The Squads stood in lines in front of the castle. Our line was the shortest.
King Tasciovanus walked out onto a balcony overlooking the crowd. His two retainers, Johnson and Reynolds, stood behind him. The Knights bowed when we saw our King. He smiled and began his speech.
“A few nights ago marked the tenth anniversary of the great purge,” he said in a hollow voice. “Each and every one of you, I would wager, lost someone on that fateful day. I personally lost my dear wife Dietlinde. Our hearts, torn asunder by that fateful day, have beaten as one ever since.”
“We have spent much of the past decade cowering in fear, waiting for the next evil to threaten our great Kingdom,” the King continued. “Many of us feared the return of the vampire wars. But, the anniversary of his latest death passed without incident. Allies of ours in the Southern Seas have confirmed that the fortress on Mist Spire Island is empty. The Vampire King is dead, for good this time. Now we can start to move on.”
The King stepped back, and Firebrand Johnson took his place. “Okay, here’s the deal,” Johnson said as he took the stage. “After the Abrumian Crusade, we decided realized we didn’t have enough manpower to survive another large scale military operation. We’ve spent the last six years hidden behind these walls, stockpiling men and resources. In doing so, we made ensured Cieleta would survive in the event the Vampire King returned.”
“Holding back has come with its own problems,” Firebrand continued. “The treasury is nearly empty. Worse, we still haven’t reclaimed any of the land lost in the Purge. We don’t have enough farmland to provide for our citizens, and have been forced to buy food from other nations. At first, this wasn’t an issue; but, like I said, the treasury is empty now. We estimate that we can survive for another six months before we run out of food. Now that we know we Camazotz isn’t going to be a problem, we can use our military might to fix this problem”
“Enter the Reclamation Project, a plan to begin reclaiming the world outside these walls. Our first target is Stonecage, a mining town on the border of the Naitumon Mountains. The tunnels beneath Stonecage are rich in gold, iron, magic crystals, things that can save Cieleta. If we can reclaim Stonecage and set up a safe route between it and the Capital, our troubles will be over.”
“We’re sending a large expedition team, comprised of approximately half of the Knights, to Stonecage in three weeks. Captains will be informed in advance if their Squads will be needed. Preparations will begin immediately.”
We discussed development as soon as we returned to the barracks. “A journey outside the wall, to reclaim a fallen city and save the Kingdom,” Cas said. “It sounds-”
“Insanely dangerous,” Pollux interjected.
“I was going to say exciting, but I guess you aren’t wrong.”
“I’m not too worried about the Reclamation Project,” Sterling said. “Lest you forget, we’re considered by many to be the weakest Squad. Someone has to stay behind and handle wall duty. Don’t be surprised when that’s us.”
“We aren’t that pathetic,” I said. “We managed to put up a pretty good fight against that Eric guy.”
“Correction, we managed to survive long enough to watch that Eric guy run away,” Sterling said.
I strapped my sword to my back, preparing for a shift guarding the gate. “Hey Ernest, you up for a round of sparring tonight?” Pollux asked.
“Can’t. I have dinner with my grandfather once a month. Otherwise, he worries,” I said.
“Your grandfather, the vampire slayer?” Cas asked.
I shrugged. “I guess,” I said.
“It must be awesome, having someone so cool as a grandpa,” Cas said. “I bet he tells you all sort of cool stories.”
I rolled my eyes. “There’s a finite amount of stories Grandfather knows. I lived with him for ten years. It gets old after a while,” I said.
“Poor you, having a loving family member who wants to spend time with you,” Pollux snarked. “It sounds unbelievably horrible.”
“If you want, you guys can come along and meet him for yourself,” I said.
“I’d love to!” Cas said.
“Don’t be so intrusive,” Pollux shouted while elbowing in his brother in the ribs. “Ernest deserves to spend time alone with his family if he wants to.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t want to come,” Cas shot back.
“I mean, I do, but I’m not going to be pushy about it,” Pollux muttered.
“Really, it isn’t any trouble,” I said. “Sterling, do you want to come?”
“I mean, if everyone else is going, I suppose I could stop by,” he said.
That evening, the four of us showed up at Grandfather’s house. Anna answered the door. She eyed us over for a minute before turning and shouting. “Grandpa, Ernest and his friends are here!” she yelled.
“Distract our guests for a few minutes while I finish dinner!” Grandpa shouted back.
Anna stood in the doorway, not moving or saying anything. “I’m, uh, Castor,” Cas said. “It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”
“Anna,” she replied.
“Can we come in?” Pollux asked.
“I don’t know, can you?” Anna asked.
I shoved past Anna, leading my friends into my old home. “Welcome to our house,” I said. “It isn’t much, but it’s home.”
Pollux and Castor looked side, at walls covered in hanging paintings of monsters. “Interesting interior decorating,” Pollux muttered.
“Grandpa paints a lot,” Ernest said. “It helps him with his nightmares.”
“Speaking of nightmares,” Anna said. “Ernest used to-”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” I shouted.
“Ernest used to get really bad nightmares,” Anna said. “Like, wake up with soaking sheets every night level of bad nightmares.”
“Anna, you’re embarrassing me,” I muttered.
A few minutes later, Grandfather came out with several dishes full of food and a large bottle of ale. “Sorry if there isn’t enough food for you boys,” he said. “The prices have been a bit high recently.”
“It’s more than enough, sir,” Cas said.
We all sat down and dug into the food. Anna ate in her room. “Now, I know Ernest pretty well and I met MacDonald a few months ago, but I haven’t been properly introduced to you two,” Grandfather said while taking a sip of ale.
“I’m Pollux and my brother’s Cas,” Pollux said.
“I thought you two looked alike,” Grandfather said. “How do you like being a part of Squad V?”
“It’s great, sir,” Cas said.
“You know, I was the Captain of Squad V for a number of years. I could tell you a few stories from the good old days, if you’d like.”
“We would like that very much, sir.”
“Okay, here’s a good one for you,” Grandfather said, beginning a story I’d heard a dozen times before. “My Squad and I were traveling between the islands surrounding the Vampire King’s base, Mist Spire Island, when a magical fog surrounded our boat. We couldn’t see five feet in front of us. That’s when it struck.”
“A large bat-like creature, with massive black wings and pointed teeth, descended on our boat, picking us off one by one,” Grandfather continued. “Calvin did his best to keep us safe, but it wasn’t enough. The beast with too quick, and the fog kept us from seeing it as it flew by.”
“What did you do?” Cas asked.
“I closed my eyes and waited. As the beast drew close, I heard the sound its wings made as it glided through the air. With a single swing, I cleaved the beast in two, saving my Squad.”
“Wow, you’re so cool, Mr. Zuckerman,” Cas said. “I hope I can be like you when I’m older.”
“Don’t worry, kid, your story is just beginning. I’m sure there’re great things in your future” Grandfather said. “For example, I heard that Calvin hired you two after you helped Ernest and MacDonald fight off a dark mage.”
“I mean, Ernest and Sterling did most of the work,” Cas said.
Shortly afterward, we heard a knock on the door. We opened it to find Captain Cross, with a dark look on his face. “Hello Jim, might I come in and talk to my Squad?” Cross asked.
“Of course, Calvin. Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Grandfather said.
“I can stay, but I’m afraid I may ruin your meal with bad news,” Cross said. “I just finished up a meeting with the other officers about the Reclamation Project.”
“So, are we going to Stonecage?” Pollux asked.
“Firebrand Johnson requested that I personally go along, due to the defensive capabilities of my verse, while you four stay here and continue watching the gate,” Cross said. “Of course, I told them that I didn’t feel comfortable leaving my Squad alone, especially after what happened eight months ago.”
“So we aren’t going to Stonecage?” Pollux asked.
“Well, the thing is, Firebrand may have misinterpreted my request,” Cross said. “He decided to send all four of us to Stonecage.”
The reaction to this was mixed. Excitement from me and Cas, worry from Cross and Pollux, and a mix from Grandfather. Sterling stayed silent. “Don’t worry, James, I’ll ensure that these boys stay safe during the Stonecage mission,” Cross said. “Ernest, Castor, Pollux, and Sterling are under my protection.”
“Sterling, that’s MacDonald, right?” Grandfather asked. “You know, I must’ve heard someone call him Sterling sometime before now, but it only just clicked in my head. Your name is Sterling MacDonald, isn’t it?”
“It is, sir,” Sterling muttered.
“I’ve heard of a knight named Sterling MacDonald. You wouldn’t happen to be him, would you?” Grandfather asked.
“Depends on which Sterling MacDonald you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the one that received a lot of attention ten years ago. The one that became a Captain at the age of nineteen.”
“Wait, Sterling was a Captain?” Cas asked.
“Are you the Sterling MacDonald I’m thinking of?” Grandfather asked.
“I am,” Sterling said quietly.
“I thought so. You’re the infamous traitor, aren’t you?” Grandfather said.
“That’s quite enough, James,” Cross said.
“What’s he talking about, Sterling?” Cas asked. “What does he mean, the infamous traitor?”
“If you’d stop interrupting, maybe we’d find out,” Pollux said.
Sterling stood up. “I think it would be best if I left, Mr. Zuckerman,” he said. “Thank you for inviting me into your home.”
“Sterling, wait,” I said.
Sterling walked away, ignoring me. The door slammed behind him. I turned back to Grandfather. “What was that?” I asked.
“Your friend never told you about his past, did he?” Grandfather asked.
“I don’t care about his past,” I said. “Sterling’s my friend. He’s saved my life on multiple occasions.”
“Doesn’t really wipe away the people he doomed though, does it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you know a lot about the Purge, Ernest. Did you ever hear about the Dark Duo’s inside man who helped them pull it off? What if I were to tell you that Sterling was that inside man?”
Cross slammed his fist down on the table. “That is enough, Jim,” he said. “If you have problems with MacDonald, take them up with me. I hired him because I trust him and know he’s a good man. I don’t know what kind of rumors you’ve heard, but I assure you, they’re false.”
Grandfather glanced at his bottle of ale and sighed. “Maybe I’ve had a little too much to drink,” he muttered.
I left after that. I found Sterling sitting on top of the wall, looking out over the empty plains. “Hey,” I said as I climbed up.
“Hey,” Sterling said.
“When we first met, you said that you made some mistakes when you were younger and ruined your reputation,” I said.
Sterling sighed. “It’s a long story,” he said.
“I’ve got time.”
Sterling looked at the night sky for a moment. “It’s a full moon tonight,” he said. “That’s funny. It was a full moon on the night before the Purge, too.”
“Grandfather said you were responsible for the Purge. Is that true?”
“The magic, the planning, the execution, I wasn’t a part of that. But I played my roll in it, I suppose.”
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
“The purge didn’t begin as a hurricane. It started with the flapping of a single butterfly’s wings, that grew into a nightmare. The King’s dead wife, Dietlinde, she belonged to a bloodline containing powerful magic. Black and Darkholme sacrificed her to begin the Purge.”
“And your role in all this?”
“Back then, I was a novice Captain. The queen was doing a tour of the Kingdom, visiting various villages damaged by the raids. My Squad was put in charge of guarding her. The night before the Purge, a mercenary hired by Darkhomle attacked us on the open road. I was the only member of my Squad he spared.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
“After the Purge, the King didn’t take kindly to my survival,” Sterling said. “A lot of people thought I betrayed the Knights, that my survival was a gift from Darkholme for my cooperation. The King wanted to execute me for my crimes. Calvin, an old friend of mine, stopped him.”
“Did you betray the Knights?”
“Do you count failure as an act of betrayal?”
I placed my hand on Sterling’s. “Do you remember what I told you, when we woke up in the hospital? I told you that I’d help you restore your reputation,” I said. “I’m not about to break that pact because of a few mistakes.”
“You’re a good man, Ernest. You deserve better than me.”
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Jus In Bello- Part 5
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1,679
Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual
Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!
Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.
Tags at the bottom
While Sam was working, you filled in everyone about what was going to go down. You handed a bag of salt to Phil and to Nancy.
“You guys can handle this?” You asked them.
“Yeah, we can,” Nancy said.
“Good. When you hear our yell, then you go and leave through the back. They won’t expect that.” They both nodded and left the room to get into position. Sam took that moment to walk back into the room.
“Get the equipment to work?” You asked him and he nodded.
“This is insane.” Sam sighed.
“You win understatement of the year.” Ruby sassed.
“Look, I get it, you think—” Dean started to say but Ruby cut him off.
“I don’t think… I know. It’s not gonna work,” Ruby glared as she stood up and started to leave. “So long, boys. Y/N.”
“So, you’re just gonna leave?” Sam asked in disbelief.
“Hey. I was gonna kill myself to help you win. I’m not gonna stand here and watch you lose. And I’m disappointed because I tried. I really did, but clearly, I bet on the wrong horse. Do you mind letting me out?” Ruby asked when she got to the door without stepping into the Devil’s Trap. Sam stared at her before sighing. He walked over to her and scratched the edge of the trap and broke the salt line which allowed her to leave the building. She opened the door and left the building.
“Okay, we need to get into position because it’s not long before they come through the front door.” You said and stayed in the main building with Sam as Dean and Victor left the main room to cover the back exits.
“All set?” Dean yelled so everyone could hear them. You knew Phil and Nancy would leave the building at this cue.
“Yeah!” Sam yelled for you and himself.
“Ready!” Victor pitched in.
“Let’s do this.” You muttered to Sam before breaking all the salt lines and the devil traps. You held your breath, waiting for them to start attacking but nothing was happening. You looked at Sam and was about to say something when two demons busted through the door, trying to intimidate you with their black eyes. They immediately attacked but you shot them where it would hurt. Although wounded, it didn’t keep them down. You kept shooting at them but more demons came in and you knew you had to get rid of the gun if you wanted to fight.
One demon charged at you and tackled you to the ground before giving you a nasty right hook. You spit out blood from inside your mouth but took out a flask of holy water and sprayed the demon, watching as it burned his skin. He let you go long enough for you to knee him in the groin before kicking him off you.
You quickly got up and grabbed your gun and shot at the same demon which brought him to the ground. You didn’t want to kill the people they were possessing so you aimed for the leg or the arm, somewhere not fatal.
“Go! Go! Go!” You heard Dean yell and you knew Victor was heading to the audio room where you needed him to be. You yelled out in pain as a female demon kicked you back and you fell into Nancy’s desk with a hard thump. You looked over at Sam and you knew he would need help but you were having difficulty helping him with a demon up your ass.
You flung holy water at the demons and cursed when your flask was empty. You grabbed your gun and used the butt of it to slam it into the demon coming at you. It connected with her face and knew the human in there would feel it in the morning.
You and Sam were backed into a corner and Jenna, the girl that Nancy recognized, climbed over the desk and stretched out her hand which sent you and Sam into opposite walls. You groaned in pain and saw Dean come into the main room.
“Henriksen, now!” Dean yelled but nothing happened. Before you lost hope about this whole plan, static began to fill the room and Sam’s voice filled the air. He was reciting the exorcism and all the demons stopped fighting and, as if all in sync, began yelling and tossing their heads back and forth. They ran to the doors to leave but just as Nancy and Phil were instructed, lined the doors and windows outside with salt so they couldn’t escape.
Demons all around screamed and tried to cover their ears but it was no use, the tape would keep playing. You looked at them try to escape from your place on the wall since you were still pinned to it. But you knew you wouldn’t be for long. Suddenly, black smoke began pouring out of the bodies and started to swirl around the ceiling. Suddenly, there came an explosion of light and the demons were gone and everything was still.
You slid down the wall and winced in pain when you connected with the hard floor. You shakily got to your feet and looked around at the fallen bodies. Victor walked out of the audio room and wiped some blood off his lip. Dean walked over to you to see if you were okay but you just nodded silently. The people who were possessed start to get up and the electricity flickered back on. The door opened and Nancy and Phil walked in with tired looks on their faces.
You sighed and leaned against Dean for support. This was all over and you won.
“We did it.” You smiled and looked at Dean who nodded back.
Later, as the survivors were being looked at by Phil and Nancy, you walked over to Victor who sighed, looking at his phone.
“I better call in. Hell of a story I won’t be telling.” Victor chuckled humorlessly.
“So, what are you gonna tell them?” You asked, meeting Sam and Dean by Victor.
“The least ridiculous lie I can come up within the next five minutes.”
“Good luck with that. Not to pressure you or anything, but what are you planning to do about us?” Dean wondered.
“I’m gonna kill you. Sam and Dean Winchester, along with Y/L Y/L/N were in the chopper when it caught on fire. Nothing left. Can’t even identify them with dental records,” he said and you smiled at him, silently thanking him. “Rest in peace, guys.” You reached out and shook Victor’s hand, Sam and Dean doing the same after you.
“Now get out of here.”
“Yeah…” Sam whispered before you three left the building without looking back.
“I’m ready to sleep for days.” You sighed as you slid into the backseat of the Impala.
“I violently agree with you on that,” Dean said before starting his beloved up.
When you got to the motel room you found, you showered immediately. Granted it was with Dean but only because he didn’t want to wait. After everyone has showered, you plopped on the bed and sighed, already feeling your muscles tense. Dean got next to you and you curled yourself in him. He pulled you into him and kissed the top of your head just as Sam got in his bed.
Before you could bask in the afterglow of the hunt, there was a knock on the door and Ruby walked in. Immediately you and the brothers were on alert. You sat up and she walked right to the TV.
“Turn on the news.” She said without a trace of a warm welcome. Sam sat up and did as she asked. A reporter was talking about the fire that happened at the police station.
“The community is still reeling from the tragedy that happened just a few hours ago. Authorities believe a gas main ruptured, causing the massive explosion that ripped apart the police station and claimed the lives of everyone inside. Among the deceased, at least six police officers and staff, including sheriff Melvin Dodd, deputy Phil Amici, and secretary Nancy Fitzgerald as well as three FBI agents, identified as Steven Groves, Calvin Reidy, and Victor Henriksen.” As she was talking, pictures of the discarded popped up.
“What? No…” you muttered, feeling guilty suddenly.
“Three fugitives in custody were also killed. We’ll continue to follow the story here at the scene, but for now, back to you, Jim.” She finished, letting another reporter take over. Ruby turned off the TV and turned to you, giving you the evil eye.
“Must have happened right after we left,” Sam said, tense.
“Poor Nancy…” you trailed off. You felt bad for all of them, of course, but Nancy was only a kid, or at least, she looked like a really young adult.
“Considering the size of the blast,” Ruby started to say and tossed you and the brothers a hex bag. “smart money’s on Lilith.”
“What’s in these?” Dean asked.
“Something that’ll protect you. Throw Lilith off your trail… for the time being, at least.”
“Thanks,” Sam said.
“Don’t thank me. Lilith killed everyone. She slaughtered your precious little virgin, plus a half a dozen other people. So, after your big speech about humanity and war, turns out your plan, was the one with the body count. Do you know how to run a battle? You strike fast and you don’t leave any survivors. So no one can go running to tell the boss. So, next time… we go with my plan.” Ruby glared before leaving the motel room to let you simmer in that.
“I killed them all.” You got tears, getting up and letting them fall.
“No, you didn’t. Lilith did.” Sam said and Dean got up to comfort you but you pushed him away.
“I was the genius that came up with the plan. I got them all killed.” You cried into your arms and this time, you accepted Dean’s hug and whispers of comfort words. This was all your fault.
Series Rewrite Junkies:
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#supernatural series rewrite#jus in bello#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#spn series rewrite#dean x reader#dean fic#dean fanfiction#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fiction#series rewrite#season 3 episode 12#s3e12#s3e12 spoilers#supernatural#spn#sam winchester#bela talbot#victor henriksen#ruby#lilith
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An Even Better Blast from the Past
Safe for work
Synopsis: (In progress) Adam was raised in a bomb shelter. He’s on a mission to prove to his father that the surface is worth living on. A mission that a girl named Eve is going to be a big part of.
The year was 1962 my mother and father took refuge in the bomb shelter my dad secretly built in the backyard. It was a good thing too because that’s when the big one hit or so my dad believed. The stress caused my mother to go into labor and I was born in our underground home. I never thought anything was odd with the way I grew up. I had a mom and a dad and plenty of love. It just so happened I never saw the sun or clouds or the sky even. I had plenty to keep me occupied. My dad started teaching me the alphabet at two and by three I was reading whole books on my own. I always had a lesson to go to. Either it was dancing with my mother to the sounds of Dean Martin; Or boxing and learning every language known to man from my father. At night is when I could be like any other kid in America. We all gathered on the couch to watch Colgate Comedy Hour hosted by the best comedy duo in history Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. Dad was a big Jerry fan recording every episode of Colgate Comedy Hour with them and Jerry’s solo work too before we lived in the shelter. He had equal respect and admiration for Dean of course. I was always amazed how the man with the smooth singing voice I listened to every afternoon could at night do the same zany, physical stunts Jerry did. But most importantly you could see the love they had for each other and how much fun they were having not even noticing the audience. My dad and I took turns playing the Jerry. Imitating their one liners and to my mother’s dismay their prat falls too. I grew up idolizing the team and the friendship Dean and Jerry had. When I was thirteen my father felt it was time to show me his scrapbook. There were newspaper clippings of Dean and Jerry. I looked at one in particular. It said Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis were no longer a team as of July 25 1956. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. How could that happen? I asked my dad “how could they get divorced if they loved each other?”
My dad’s answer was simple, “sometimes people get divorced eventhough they love each other.”
Tears ran down my cheeks as I said, “but if Dean and Jerry can’t stay together; how can anyone?”
“I know what a shock this must be to you. That’s just apart of life. Some people get their happy ending and for others it doesn’t work out. They grow apart or outside forces push them apart. The important thing to remember is that it's worth the risk to develop relationships with people. You're a direct result of me taking that risk with your mother. Human beings need other human beings. Your mother and I have tried our best to give you that social interaction. A man needs more than just his mother and father. When it’s time to go back to the surface you’re going to need to find a companion. Hopefully that someone won’t glow in the dark.”
My dad was a genius in science and in all other things. I learned a valuable lesson that day. Sometimes in the real world or up there on the surface things don't always work out how you want them to. There's pain. You could get your heart broken. Jerry went through the most tremendous traumatic experience. He lived through it and didn’t shut the world out and all the pain it could give him. He went on to give the world, including me and my family, laughter. Jerry kept our minds off the possibility that we were the only ones left. Life was worth the risk for Jerry and for me as I would soon find out.
It was the night after my thirty fifth birthday. I was fast asleep in my bed when I heard a loud noise and my parents voices. I tracked down the source of the noise and found my parents dancing what looked like the watootsie "Ma, pop! What's going on? I was sound asleep!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Adam," replied my mother. "Your father and I have wonderful news! The locks are opened. We can finally go back up to the surface! You will get to see the sky! and you will get to see the ocean!"
"We don't know what's up there," my dad interuppted her. "You can't get his hopes up like that. We don’t even know if there is an ocean anymore. Besides only one person can go up in the service elevator and it's going to be me. It could be dangerous up there."
"If it's dangerous I don't think you should be the one to go up," said my mother.
"What do you mean by that," replied my Dad putting his hands on his hips.
"No offense Calvin, but you're not a young man anymore."
"I can defend this family.”
"I know you can, Dear,” Mother said softly. “It's just if something happened to you how do you expect us to live? You built everything. You're the only one who knows how to work anything. I just think Adam is the better choice. A sixty five year old man or a thirty five year old man who would you rather pick?"
Dad sighed, threw up his arms and said "Alright, Adam. This is your big day." He put his hands on my shoulders and told me all of what I had to do. When he was done he kissed me on the cheek and gave me a tight hug. I hugged my mother who had tears of joy in her eyes. Then I put on the yellow hazmat suit that would protect me from fall out and polluted air. Taking a breath to steady my nerves I stepped onto the service elevator. My eyes gazed upwards to the sky I would hopefully see. Unfortunately I was greeted by a frieghtened man with a tattoo on his forehead. At first, I wondered if it was a birthmark created by the radiation. "Hello!" I gave him a cheerful greeting. "I mean no harm," I assured him.
"Who-who-who are you?"
"My name is Adam," I replied trying to be as friendly as I could. The poor man was trembling and looked like he was on the verge of a break down. Of course it wasn't every day a man pops up through the middle of your floor. That would leave anyone a little shaken. If not they would be pretty strange. But I couldn’t shake the feeling It could be my father was right and the surface was a much scarier place than the comfort of our shelter I always considered home. The man stared blankly in my eyes not saying a word. "Well, I have to go now. Try not to be so scared okay? I know it's hard living here. When you start feeling that way just think of the sage words from the King himself "Doooooooon't lick it!" Those words always made me feel better. The man didn’t even chuckle. His expression didn't change as I walked away. I stepped outside the doors and a miracle was happening. Rain! Real live rain the kind I had only read about in books or seen created inside movie studios. The guage told me the air was safe to breathe. I stripped the suit off of my body and took off the helmet. My eyes closed as the rain droplets fell down my eyelashes. I tilted my head up feeling every drop of precipitation.
"You're gonna catch a cold doing that," said a nearby voice.
I turned to them and said, "Does it always do this?"
"Do what, Honey? Rain?"
"Yeah," I replied with my hands out feeling the droplets on my skin.
"It doesn't rain where you come from?"
"Oh I'm from here," I said then quickly caught myself. "I've been away for awhile...in the desert."
The person stared at me. "The desert huh?"
"Yeah, I guess I just forgot how it feels to stand out in the rain."
They looked away then dug out a pack of cigarettes from their purse. They put one to their lips and I brought out the lighter my dad gave me, lighting it for them. They looked at me. "Nice to see all the gentleman haven't disappeared off the face of the earth."
I smiled nervously and closed the lighter. "Have things been bad here since the blast?"
"The blast? Just look around sugar. You tell me."
I looked around, though it was dark, and there were no streetlights it still seemed like a place I could call my home. "It doesn't seem so bad." Just as I finished my sentence a man vomited in the street. I looked back at her. "You look like you're doing okay."
"Like the song says a country boy can survive."
"Did you say you were a boy?"
They smiled at me "Young man, if you want a boy I can be a boy; if you want a girl I can be a girl."
"Really! that's neato!"
They just smiled and gave me a little chuckle.
"It was amazing!" I said to my parents while we sat around the kitchen table. "Ma! I felt the rain! I didn't just see or hear it. I felt it on my face and on my hands! It was the most marvelous experience of my life."
"Oh, Adam that's wonderful!" My Mother cried out with joy.
"What about the people, Adam? What were they like?" My father listened to every word with fascination.
I swallowed before speaking "Some people are scared like you said. There was this man who lives above our shelter."
My parents gasped.
"I came up right through his floor! He was so terrified he could barely speak. And yeah if someone just popped up through our kitchen floor right now we’d be a little scared but I don't think it was because of only me. I told him a Jerry joke and he didn't even crack a smile. It was so sad. And for some reason I saw a man puking in the street."
"In the street, Son?" My father seemed disturbed.
"Oh my goodness," said my mother then her hand covered her mouth.
"I don't know what was wrong with them...maybe it was just food poisoning."
"Or radiation poisoning," replied my father.
"But I met a lady!" I said trying to change the topic.
"Oh you did?” My mother’s face lit up. “Oh, Adam that's wonderful! Is she a nice girl from Pasadena?" My father stared at my mother. "Not that girls from the Valley aren't nice it's just been my experience that Pasadena girls are just a little bit nicer." she made a cute gesture.
"The important thing is does she glow in the dark?"
My mother spurned my father for his comment.
"What you were thinking it too,” he said to my mother. “Come on, Son. Was she a healthy young woman?"
"Adam, you are not to leave this shelter ever again! I'm going to go up to the surface, get supplies, and this will be our home from now on."
"You can't do that!" Both me and my mother yelled at the same time.
"Adam cannot spend the rest of his years in this shelter with us,” my mother pleaded. “He deserves to have human contact!"
I stood up from my seat and put my hand on my dad’s shoulder. “A wise man once told me life is worth the risk. People are worth the risk."
He looked at me with emotion in his eyes remembering the words he had said nearly over twenty years ago.
"Stay in the shelter. Set the locks if you want even. Just give me a month that’s all I ask. I will prove to you it is worth the risk to live up there.” My father nodded silently and I gave him a great big hug. For the second time I said goodbye to them both.
I hadn't been out in the day time before. I looked up and it was more miraculous than rain. The sky! Light blue and ever reaching. Just like my mother had described it. More beautiful than could ever be captured by a camera. Especially in real live color. I noticed people staring at me but it didn’t matter. I just walked with my head turned up towards the sky. How could anyone ever look away?
I walked into the sports shop hoping to get some usuable spending money not the hundred and five hundred dollar bills mom and dad gave me. The box of baseball cards surely would be worth something. I was talking to the owner of the store when I saw her. blonde hair in ringlets framing her face and sparkling green eyes
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
I had never heard such a word come from the mouth of someone so beautiful. Actually I never heard that word before.
“Watch your mouth, Sweetie,” the owner of the store said to her not very nicely.
“You see this card,” she said picking up the rookie card. “this card all by its little itty bitty self is worth as much as he was going to pay you for all of them.”
“That’s it! I’ve had it with your mouth. You’re fired! Get your things and go now!”
“Fine by me,” she replied. “I don’t know how I lasted this long working with you,” She said getting her purse and walking out of the door.
I took my card back from the owner and followed her out. “I’m very grateful for what you did.”
She turned to me breifly and said “Yeah, well....”
“I mean it.” I told her. “You lost your job. Not many people would do that. What you did shows you’re a good person.” Perhaps the kind my father needed to see.
She turned to me and said, “Are you for real?”
I could feel my heart skip a beat. She was the one. “May I ask your name?”
“It’s Eve. What may your name be gentle kind sir,” she said mocking me. Her sense of humor and comedic timing was breath taking.
I smiled. “It’s Adam. Adam and Eve. It’s like meeting each other was meant to be.”
“Great” she drew out the sylables. “Listen, I can’t stand watching that guy rip people off anymore. That’s all that was. There’s no fate or the cosmos bringing us together. I am not your dream girl and you need to go home. You do know where that is right?”
I thought about it trying to retrace my steps and then the bus ride...”I don’t know!”
Eve nodded her head. “And let me guess you’re from out of town somewhere small with not a lot of people.”
“That’s right!”
“And you decided to brave it out all on your own and visit lala land.”
“yes!”
“And you are staying at the Holiday Inn.”
“How did you possibly know all of that?”
“I’m psychic,” Eve replied.
I wondered if that was a side effect of the radiation but I didn’t say anything.
“I’ll get you on the next bus and point you in the right direction.”
“Do you have a car?”
“Oh no. Rule number one of living in LA don’t give rides to strange men and you seem very strange.”
“I meant no harm, Eve.” I reassured her. “It’s just I was on that bus all day and the people there they aren’t always very nice and I don’t want to go back there, Eve. Please don’t make me go back on that bus. You’re the nicest person I’ve met today.” It was all true what I was saying but I also wanted an excuse to stay with her. I just knew if I could get her to meet dad then it would change his mind about the surface forever. Plus I liked being in her company. “If you could just please drive me to the Hotel.I could pay you. I’ll give you this baseball card.”
“It’s worth a thousand dollars.”
“I don’t care I have two of them,” I replied holding them up to show her.
“You’re going to give me a thousand dollars for just driving you to the hotel?”
“That’s right.”
“And I don’t have to take a ride on your spaceship either?”
I stared at her blankly. “Lady, I don’t have a spaceship but you don’t have to come up to my room and see my collection of salami ends if thats what you’re asking.”
Eve stared blankly back at me. “Come on let’s go.”
Her car was unlike any car I had seen before and so was her driving. This must be what it was like to be a passenger with Jerry Lewis behind the wheel. I hoped she wouldn’t close her eyes as she weaved in and out of traffic like he was known to do.
“You mind if I change the channel?” She reached over me to the radio pressing buttons. I heard a familar voice.
“Stop! Go back.”
“What?”
“You had Dino.”
“What?”
“Dean Martin,” I replied while listening for his voice. “There he is stop right here.”
“You’re a Dean Martin fan, huh?”
“All my life. Isn’t everyone?”
“I hadn’t thought about it before but my guess is those darn kids today aren’t interested in listening to music older than their parents.”
“Well, they are missing out! I listened to Dean Martin every day of my life. Just listen to that smooth voice! That’s probably exactly what Jerry Lewis would tell people”
“Jerry Lewis?”
“Oh, Eve, please, tell me you know who Jerry Lewis is.”
She stared at me then I felt the car go across several lanes. I held on for my life. “Eve!”
“I’m sorry Dino does this to me every time I just go crazy!”
Now it was my turn to stare.
The room was incredible. I opened the curtains and fell straight back. There were so many lights it was like watching a science fiction movie. I got a call telling me someone was waiting for me in the lobby.
“Eve,” I smiled. I was worried I would never see her again.
“I’ve thought it over and I can’t accept this.” She handed the baseball card back to me.
“That’s yours, Eve. I don’t go back on my word.”
“Look it was really hard for me to come back here. That money could help me a lot but it’s wrong to take it.”
“That’s because you’re a good person.” I replied.
“Yeah, well you aren’t going to make it here very long if you give people you just met all this money for giving you a ride. You’re a nice guy I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”
“What if I paid you for something else?”
Eve looked dubious. “What is it?”
“Teach me the things I need to know to live in Los Angeles. That way I won’t get taken advantage of like you said.”
Eve bit her lip while she thought it over. “I guess I could do that.”
“Great! so keep a hold of that card and we will start bright and early tomorrow. You can pick me up right here in the lobby and then show me around town. You know the places a local should know. Sound good?”
“I guess so. yeah.”
I had been up for hours when Eve showed up in the lobby. I took her hand in mine making her think I was going to kiss it but I pretended to lick instead. When Jerry did that to girls they seemed to like it but not Eve. She took her hand back and gave me a strange look. “You don’t know who Jerry Lewis is!”
“What the hell does Jerry Lewis have to do with you licking my hand?”
“That’s what he does when he meets a nice lady.”
“Adam, there’s one thing we need to get straight right now. I am not a nice lady.”
I gazed at the floor my hands crossed in front of me and a slight smile as I said, “whatever you say, Eve.” I looked up. “But you don’t know Jerry Lewis, do you?”
“Yes, Adam. I know who Jerry Lewis is. He was in that movie where he plays a professor that has never been to a dentist.”
“What!”
“But then he takes that potion and it’s like twenty years of visits all in one shot. I bet Colgate was furious they didn’t think of it.”
“What are you talking about? Jerry Lewis is Dean Martin’s partner.”
“Jerry Lewis had a partner, huh”
“Did Jerry Lewis have a partner? Only the greatest in the history of the world! Oh Eve, you don’t know about Martin and Lewis!”
“Why don’t you tell me all about it on the way to the car.”
“Okay,” Adam said following after Eve. “Where to start...Well Jerry said they met in New York City in 1944 but my dad has an interview that said they met in 1942 when Jerry was sixteen and Dean was twenty five. That makes sense with Jerry seeing Dean sing in 1943. I talked to my dad about it and he said Jerry wasn’t lying because only the date was different. My dad said its’ just like a different version of the truth. That happens a lot with Jerry when he talks about Dean. It took me five years of going through my dad’s old scrapbooks to figure all the dates out.” Adam opened the car door and closed it behind him. “It really started in 1942.”
I was up to 1949 and the story of Jerry’s first screen test when a man sat in the back seat.
“Adam, this is Troye,” said Eve. “He doesn’t know ANYTHING about Dean Martin or Jerry Lewis.”
I turned in my seat to look at Troye. “Really? Well it all started in 1942 on the corner of Broadway. A sixteen year old Jerry Lewis with three inch high hair and pants pegged three inches above his ankles....”
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H G Wells and household possessions
*He has learned to prefer mass-produced, disposable ephemera. This is among a series of early magazine essays that were lightly fictionalized.
THOUGHTS ON CHEAPNESS AND MY AUNT CHARLOTTE
The world mends. In my younger days people believed in mahogany; some of my readers will remember it—a heavy, shining substance, having a singularly close resemblance to raw liver, exceedingly heavy to move, and esteemed on one or other count the noblest of all woods. Such of us as were very poor and had no mahogany pretended to have mahogany; and the proper hepatite tint was got by veneering. That makes one incline to think it was the colour that pleased people.
In those days there was a word "trashy," now almost lost to the world. My dear Aunt Charlotte used that epithet when, in her feminine way, she swore at people she did not like. "Trashy" and "paltry" and "Brummagem" was the very worst she could say of them. And she had, I remember, an intense aversion to plated goods and bronze halfpence. The halfpence of her youth had been vast and corpulent red-brown discs, which it was folly to speak of as small change. They were fine handsome coins, and almost as inconvenient as crown-pieces. I remember she corrected me once when I was very young. "Don't call a penny a copper, dear," she said; "copper is a metal. The pennies they have nowadays are bronze." It is odd how our childish impressions cling to us. I still regard bronze as a kind of upstart intruder, a mere trashy pretender among metals.
All my Aunt Charlotte's furniture was thoroughly good, and most of it extremely uncomfortable; there was not a thing for a little boy to break and escape damnation in the household. Her china was the only thing with a touch of beauty in it—at least I remember nothing else—and each of her blessed plates was worth the happiness of a mortal for days together. And they dressed me in a Nessus suit of valuable garments. I learned the value of thoroughly good things only too early. I knew the equivalent of a teacup to the very last scowl, and I have hated good, handsome property ever since. For my part I love cheap things, trashy things, things made of the commonest rubbish that money can possibly buy; things as vulgar as primroses, and as transitory as a morning's frost.
Think of all the advantages of a cheap possession—cheap and nasty, if you will—compared with some valuable substitute. Suppose you need this or that. "Get a good one," advises Aunt Charlotte; "one that will last." You do—and it does last. It lasts like a family curse. These great plain valuable things, as plain as good women, as complacently assured of their intrinsic worth—who does not know them? My Aunt Charlotte scarcely had a new thing in her life. Her mahogany was avuncular; her china remotely ancestral; her feather beds and her bedsteads!—they were haunted; the births, marriages, and deaths associated with the best one was the history of our race for three generations.
There was more in her house than the tombstone rectitude of the chair-backs to remind me of the graveyard. I can still remember the sombre aisles of that house, the vault-like shadows, the magnificent window curtains that blotted out the windows. Life was too trivial for such things. She never knew she tired of them, but she did.
That was the secret of her temper, I think; they engendered her sombre Calvinism, her perception of the trashy quality of human life. The pretence that they were the accessories to human life was too transparent. We were the accessories; we minded them for a little while, and then we passed away. They wore us out and cast us aside. We were the changing scenery; they were the actors who played on through the piece. It was even so with clothing.
We buried my other maternal aunt—Aunt Adelaide—and wept, and partly forgot her; but her wonderful silk dresses—they would stand alone—still went rustling cheerfully about an ephemeral world.
All that offended my sense of proportion, my feeling of what is due to human life, even when I was a little boy. I want things of my own, things I can break without breaking my heart; and, since one can live but once, I want some change in my life—to have this kind of thing and then that.
I never valued Aunt Charlotte's good old things until I sold them. They sold remarkably well: those chairs like nether millstones for the grinding away of men; the fragile china—an incessant anxiety until accident broke it, and the spell of it at the same time; those silver spoons, by virtue of which Aunt Charlotte went in fear of burglary for six-and-fifty years; the bed from which I alone of all my kindred had escaped; the wonderful old, erect, high-shouldered, silver-faced clock.
But, as I say, our ideas are changing—mahogany has gone, and repp curtains. Articles are made for man, nowadays, and not man, by careful early training, for articles. I feel myself to be in many respects a link with the past.
Commodities come like the spring flowers, and vanish again. "Who steals my watch steals trash," as some poet has remarked; the thing is made of I know not what metal, and if I leave it on the mantel for a day or so it goes a deep blackish purple that delights me exceedingly. My grandfather's hat—I understood when I was a little boy that I was to have that some day. But now I get a hat for ten shillings, or less, two or three times a year.
In the old days buying clothes was well-nigh as irrevocable as marriage. Our flat is furnished with glittering things—wanton arm-chairs just strong enough not to collapse under you, books in gay covers, carpets you are free to drop lighted fusees upon; you may scratch what you like, upset your coffee, cast your cigar ash to the four quarters of heaven. Our guests, at any rate, are not snubbed by our furniture. It knows its place.
But it is in the case of art and adornment that cheapness is most delightful. The only thing that betrayed a care for beauty on the part of my aunt was her dear old flower garden, and even there she was not above suspicion. Her favourite flowers were tulips, rigid tulips with opulent crimson streaks. She despised wildings.
Her ornaments were simply displays of the precious metal. Had she known the price of platinum she would have worn that by preference. Her chains and brooches and rings were bought by weight. She would have turned her back on Benvenuto Cellini if he was not 22 carats fine.
She despised water-colour art; her conception of a picture was a vast domain of oily brown by an Old Master. The Babbages at the Hall (((?))) had a display of gold plate swaggering in the corner of the dining-room; and the visitor (restrained by a plush rope from examining the workmanship) was told the value, and so passed on.
I like my art unadorned: thought and skill, and the other strange quality that is added thereto, to make things beautiful—and nothing more. A farthing's worth of paint and paper, and, behold! a thing of beauty!—as they do in Japan. And if it should fall into the fire—well, it has gone like yesterday's sunset, and to-morrow there will be another.
These Japanese are indeed the apostles of cheapness. The Greeks lived to teach the world beauty, the Hebrews to teach it morality, and now the Japanese are hammering in the lesson that men may be honourable, daily life delightful, and a nation great without either freestone houses, marble mantelpieces, or mahogany sideboards.
I have sometimes wished that my Aunt Charlotte could have travelled among the Japanese nation. She would, I know, have called it a "parcel of trash." Their use of paper—paper suits, paper pocket-handkerchiefs—would have made her rigid with contempt. I have tried, but I cannot imagine my Aunt Charlotte in paper underclothing.
Her aversion to paper was extraordinary. Her Book of Beauty was printed on satin, and all her books were bound in leather, the boards regulated rather than decorated with a severe oblong. Her proper sphere was among the ancient Babylonians, among which massive populace even the newspapers were built of brick. She would have compared with the King's daughter whose raiment was of wrought gold. When I was a little boy I used to think she had a mahogany skeleton.
However, she is gone, poor old lady, and at least she left me her furniture. Her ghost was torn in pieces after the sale—must have been. Even the old china went this way and that. I took what was perhaps a mean revenge of her for the innumerable black-holeings, bread-and-water dinners, summary chastisements, and impossible tasks she inflicted upon me for offences against her too solid possessions.
You will see it at Woking. It is a light and graceful cross. It is a mere speck of white between the monstrous granite paperweights that oppress the dead on either side of her. Sometimes I am half sorry for that. When the end comes I shall not care to look her in the face—she will be so humiliated.
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Boys Are Confusing (Mainly This One)
Alright so everyone says girls are confusing...while that is totally true sometimes, boys can be JUST AS if not MORE confusing. Let me break down the situation for you.
Last Tuesday, I had a date. A dinner date. I usually don’t like doing dinners on the first date because it feels too formal. You’re committed for a long time, and I just have an weird appetite/eating habits so I don’t like letting that be known so early.
However, I broke this rule for this guy (Nick). I don’t even know why. It’s not like we’d been having great convo over text before or anything. I hardly even knew how he looked! He had very few pictures on his Tinder profile (only one where I thought he looked cute). Turns out (after some Facebook stalking), the other pictures were really old. As a matter in fact, he didn’t have any recent pictures anywhere and didn’t seem to use social media much at all. That’s fine, but I just had no idea what to really expect. After my handful of failed dates prior to this, all I wished for is that he was somewhat cute and didn’t have an accent.
Well, my wish was granted. I met Nick at his place (heh) so we could Lyft to the restaurant together. I briefly got to meet his dog before we left (bonus points for having a dog). The Lyft ride was interesting to say the least. Our driver was hilarious. He started talking about his e-commerce business at one point, so I asked what he sold. Sex toys. So the conversation starts heading that way and 50 Shades of Gray and whatnot all come into the picture. Me and my date (Nick) are nervous laughing but still going with the conversation. Honestly, it didn’t bother me at all, but I didn’t want to come off a certain way as a first impression. The driver must have noticed something because eventually he asked if this was our first time meeting. It was. He started the date with quite the icebreaker. Probably was the highlight of my night (besides the food).
Anyways, we get to the restaurant--Poor Calvin’s (which, by the way, is more on the higher $$ end than I’m used to for dates in general). We had some of the most delicious food I’ve ever had. I had the salmon pad Thai and he had something that came inside half a pineapple. We also shared an appetizer that I don’t remember the name of but it was delicious! We also had two beers each which helped with the nerves. I usually don’t get too nervous after the initial meetup but this time I did because he actually seemed like a cool guy, so I wanted him to like me too. Overall, we had a good conversation but it was hard to hear sometimes because the place was actually pretty loud (mainly due to the group next to us). He even said he was going to ask if I wanted to go to a comedy show afterwards, but dinner ended up lasting pretty long (it was almost 10:30 by the end) and we were tired from the food so there was a rain-check for that.
I saw his dog one more time before I left (I went in for like 5 minutes). He walked me to my car after and hugged me goodbye and said something about seeing me soon. Overall, I thought the night went really well for a first date. Him? I DON’T HAVE A CLUE.
If a girlfriend told me all that, I would have no reason to believe the guy wasn’t interest. However, the next day comes and I don’t get a text from him. Okay, that’s fine. It’s just been one day.
Well, two days pass and I still don’t get a text. This is the first guy I’ve ever actually wanted to text me after our first date (well first guy in recent times).
Alright, so maybe he’s playing the three day game? Honestly, he didn’t seem like the type of guy to play games (which is a total turn off by the way!). I really wanted to hear from him. I know guys shouldn’t be obligated to text the girl and that the girl can too...but I also know that guys will make it known that they’re interested if they are. There were a million possibilities on why he hadn’t texted.
Was he just not interested? Fair enough.
Did he think I wasn’t interested? I don’t know...but I could MAYBE see that a tiny bit. He thought I went to school in Illinois then got flustered and felt bad when I said no. It seemed like he mixed me up with another girl (which is totally fine! I assume everyone is talking to multiple people if they’re on dating apps), but way later in the night he brought it up again and was like “I think I said that because I think I met someone at the dog park yesterday that went there”. I don’t know if that really happened or not, but I really didn’t care either way.
Was he just busy? Texting doesn’t take long--especially not three days.
Was he interested in someone else? This could be it.
Maybe he’s more old school? I do get that vibe from him a bit. I gathered that he may not be a big texter because even when we were texting a few weeks before meeting, there would be big gaps (not like multi-day though if I remember correctly--I honestly didn’t care back then).
The possibilities go on.
I decided to take matters into my own hands and just text him myself so I could at least move on without being as confused as I was. I said this: “Hey, sorry for texting late, but just wanted to say thanks for Tuesday. Hope you have a good weekend!”. I left it at this because it put it on him to bring up a future date if he wanted, but if he didn’t then he could easily just say “nice meeting you” and we’d both call it a day. It also showed that I was interested because I flippin’ texted him three days after the fact (in case he thought I wasn’t interested for some reason?).
His response: “Hey! I’m glad we finally got to meet! Next time let’s go somewhere a little quieter though haha”
That was probably the best thing I could’ve heard! He used not one, but two exclamation marks (tone matters) and he brought up a “next time”. Now, before ya’ll start thinking the wrong way, he said somewhere a little quieter because the restaurant was pretty loud (like I mentioned earlier).
I’ll go ahead and type of the rest of the convo...note the time ranges.
Me <Fri, 5:46>: Haha, I definitely agree. Maybe sometime next week?
Nick <Fri, 9:11>: Yeah! When will you be free next week?
Me <Sat, 9:02>: Honestly free any day so whatever works best for you
Nick <Sat, 4:42> I’ll figure something out!
Me <Sat, 4:47> Lol okay
Not sure if others would agree but the large text gaps and the “I’ll figure something out” annoyed me! I know I was bad Friday night, but that was at night and I was busy. I would’ve understood that in his case too. I don’t know, looking back at this now makes me feel silly that I cared so much about the time gaps, but I think me having to wait forever on a little crush to respond was just getting to me.
Part of me didn’t think hangout #2 would happen. Even more things were going through my head...is he just hanging out with me because I texted him and he feels bad? Would he have ever texted me after our first date at all? I want answers!
I did hear from him yesterday (Monday) though. He asked if I wanted to go on a hike. I love hikes so of course I was down. The weather was perfect today, and my dog would get to come too.
He picked me and my dog up and off we were. All in all, I didn’t think it went badly. Conversation was fine, but the dogs (especially mine who did off-leash for the first time today) kept us pretty preoccupied as well. There were so many times where he (or I...) could’ve made a move (not even talking about a kiss--just like arm touching or SOMETHING that would imply interest) but absolutely nothing happened. There were times where I struggled to jump across spots where it could’ve been SO EASY for him to lend a hand, but nope. I hate to sound like such a “boys need to make a move and girls don’t” type of person right now, but hey I texted him first 🤷!
We got to the trail sort of late because of traffic, so we couldn’t hike for an extremely long time because of sunset but it was a good hike overall. We found ourselves off the trail and in some random areas, so that was a fun little adventure. The dogs definitely made everything more fun. I was so proud of my little Pom for not running (too far) away from me and (usually) coming when I called for him!
We contemplated eating somewhere on the way back, but that sort of fizzled out and I honestly just wanted to get home and shower/give my dog a bath. Once we got to my place, he offered to help me grab my stuff (he seemed like he was going to get out of the car) [note: we weren’t in a parking spot otherwise I would’ve invited him in], but I really didn’t need any help (all I had was a drawstring and a small dog) so he stayed. I think I may have messed up here (if he really was going to get out of the car) because that could have potentially led to AT LEAST a hug. BUT, all I got was an awkward bye and I’ll let you know about Friday from him (I told him he’s welcome to come to an EDM show I’m going to with me). At least he said that, right?
Honestly, today felt a little underwhelming. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m more confused than ever. I know I personally could’ve done some things differently or even could have just have bluntly asked what’s up but I didn’t. Now I’m in the “will he ever text me” state all over again like I was after the first date.
I’ve just never felt this confused! Usually it’s easier to tell--especially with technology these days. We don’t have each other on any social media, and we don’t casually text so I really don’t know what to think. This could just be how he is--he definitely is more reserved but didn’t seem super shy or anything. Whatever. I told myself whatever happens next, happens (if anything).
I’ll definitely write updates to this if there are any to share. I really am getting the feeling I’m not going to hear from him again though. 🙁
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