#i can apply em to other universes
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So Funny Story (I'm Fucking Your Daughter)
Funny Story Universe
Pairing: Jake Seresin x Mitchell!Reader
TW: allusions to smut, swearing, angst kind of, I think thats it?
Summary: You've had a thing with Jake for a while now. The thing is, your dad doesn't know and your brother is desperate for you to tell him.
Word Count:3.2k
A/N:if you read this on desktop and the bottom is fucked up, please know ive tried 100 times to fix it and Tumblr hates me
It was never supposed to go this far, honestly. This whole predicament started out as friends with benefits, and that's how it was meant to stay. Somewhere along the way, the boundaries got muddy and occasional hookups turned into regular sleepovers. Without either of you trying or even realizing it, the relationship blossomed into something more serious.
In the blink of an eye, the blonde aviator became integral to your life. It's really not your fault; falling for him was so effortless. Loving Jake Seresin is as easy as breathing once you get past the arrogant bravado.
There's just one problem. One giant, monumental, bat-shit crazy issue. Your dad Maverick doesn't know. In fact, when you waltzed into town, the first thing that he told the aviators was that you're off limits, especially to Jake Seresin. Mav knows his type because he is his type.
The love em and leave em type that can't be tied down. That's not good enough for his little girl, and he won't allow it.
Ironically, that's how it all began. Telling Jake he can't have something is like dangling candy in front of a child, and you love to push the boundaries and do things to prove a point.
The point being that your dad can't tell you what or who to do. It took all of three weeks to find yourself in the aviator's bed, and you never left. With each day that passes, your anxiety grows, and you know that as you approach your six-month anniversary, you're teetering on hurting Mav when he does find out.
The only person in on the secret is your big brother. Well, he's not technically your brother, but the two of you have been raised together since diapers, even going on to apply to the academy and flight school together. The way he found out was less than ideal.
You and Jake are basking in the afterglow of mind-blowing sex, your naked bodies pressed together as you come back down. You're less than decent with the comforter strewn over your ankles as Jake drips out of you.
Jake's breathless laugh fills the room as his hand rakes through the dark blonde locs your fingers were just tangled in. This has been happening for almost a month now, and you've fallen into a comfortable routine.
You couldn't stop if you wanted to; truth be told, you'd rather pluck out each of your teeth one by one than never feel Jake Seresin on you again. You've found yourself in freefall, plummeting face-first toward love.
You're too wrapped up in each other to notice the heavy footsteps in the hall and you jump as the door bursts open and slams into the wall.
"Hey, Hangman, I was won-"Bradley's thought is cut short as he lets out a shrill scream and rushes to cover his eyes.
"What the fuck?! Y/N, what the hell are you doing?!"
Jake scrambles to cover the two of you up and you shrink into his arms as he wraps you in a protective embrace.
"Well, I'm not doing anything now." You mutter, and Bradley lets out an exaggerated gag.
"No, no, fuck no. Absolutely not. Please tell me this is a one-time thing that's going to the grave." He begs, and your mouth curls up into a sheepish grin.
"I can lie if it'll make you feel better." You offer, and he groans.
"God damn it, Y/N. This is the one thing Mav forbade! And don't even get me started with you, Hangman. You're as good as dead." He peeks through his fingers before snapping them closed again.
"For fucks sake, can the two of you please put on some clothes if we're going to be having a conversation?"
Jake rolls his eyes but moves to slip on a pair of boxers as you grab his shirt and sweatpants.
"We weren't really looking for a conversation, but come on in, I guess."
You give Bradley the okay to look, and he shoots daggers at Jake.
"You're not really in the position to be making smart-ass comments, shit for brains." His voice is sharp, and you snap your fingers at him.
"Hey, watch your mouth. You're the one who came in unannounced. I'm pretty sure that key is for emergencies only."
Bradley looks at you in shock and sputters for a few seconds.
"Wh- you. Are you shitting me right now? You're defending him?" He asks, and you shrug.
"That's what girlfriends do." Your tone is casual, and you can almost see Bradley's heart threatening to explode.
"Girlfriend?! Oh dear god, please strike me down now. Do you think if we put our heads together, we could figure out time travel so I can go back to a simpler time before I knew about this?" He ponders, hands gesturing wildly between you and Jake.
You snort and shake your head at his antics, allowing yourself to settle back into Jake's chest.
"You're telling Mav, right? Hopefully, the second I walk out the door?"
Jake smirks, and you already know he's about to say something out of pocket.
"I actually had other plans, and I think having Mav present would kill the mood."
Bradley's muscles ripple with restraint, and he points a finger.
"Tread lightly, Bagman. That's my baby sister." He growls, and you scoff.
"Put away the tough guy act, Roo. You and dad need to get over yourselves and realize you're not my keepers."
Bradley's features soften a bit, and he sighs. His shoulders are tense, and he begins pacing back and forth while mumbling under his breath.
"Okay, so when are you telling Mav?"
You shift under his gaze, and he can sense by the way you're batting your eyelashes that he isn't going to like your response. You only do that when you want something, and you know exactly how to get your way with him.
"Well, that's the thing," You start, and Bradley sets his mouth in a hard line.
"We- I was hoping this could be our little secret."
Your lower lip juts out, but it does nothing to make Bradley cave this time.
"No."
You climb out of bed and amble toward him, doing your best to look small and innocent. He eyes you with suspicion, and you stop in front of him.
"Come on, BradBrad. Please? For me?"
That seals his fate.
"Fuck- fine! How long?"
You squeal and engulf him in a tight hug that he reluctantly returns.
"Just a little bit longer."
He sighs in defeat, and you pull back with a bright smile.
"When you tell him, keep me out of it. I'll be buried alongside Jake if he finds out I knew, and I can't think of anything worse than an eternity next to that dickhead."
You slap his arm lightly, and he turns to leave.
"I can't believe I got drug into this bullshit."
That was almost six months ago, and it turns out you and Bradley have different definitions of just a little bit longer. He's resorted to calling you every day, pestering you relentlessly about when you're coming clean.
You're sprawled out in Jake's bed while he gets water in the kitchen, and your phone rings on schedule. You answer the FaceTime call, and Bradley's distressed face pops up on the screen.
"When are you telling him?" He asks, skipping niceties altogether.
"Well, hello to you too." You jest, but he doesn't look the slightest bit amused. You swear you can spot a few new wrinkles coupled with gray hairs, and guilt eats at you. It fades quickly when you hear the bite in his tone.
"Y/N, I'm serious. When are you going to tell him?"
You groan and roll onto your side, a migraine settling in.
"I don't know, Brad! The wedding? Why would I tell him when I'm just going to get a lecture? The two of you aren't exactly the most level-headed people when it comes to me!"
Remorse swims in your brother's eyes, and he takes a deep breath.
"Wedding? Are the two of you really that serious?" He questions, and your free hand comes up to rub your temple.
"I don't know, maybe? The thought has crossed my mind."
A ghost of a smile covers his face, and he rubs his jaw. There's a knock at the front door, but you don't pay it any mind as he starts speaking again.
"Well, little sis, if it's really tha-"
You cut him off when you hear voices float up the stairs and shoot up in bed.
You vaguely hear Jake say, "So, funny story." followed by another man's voice.
"Shut the fuck up. Hold on." Your ears strain to hear better, and Bradley frowns when your face blanches. "Oh my god."
You jump out of bed and start scrambling around, desperate to find an escape.
"What's going on?"
Your head snaps back to your phone, and Bradley hasn't seen you this frantic since he caught you making out with your high school boyfriend that you snuck in.
"Dad is here!" You whisper shout. "Why the fuck is he here?"
Bradley scowls and tries to sort out the situation in his head.
"Are you sure?"
You scoff as you climb out the window and curl up on the roof, shivering as a cold breeze whips around you.
"What do you me- yes, I'm sure! You think I don't recognize my own dad's fucking voice?"
Your voice is hushed, and Bradley's eyes widen when he realizes you're serious.
"Well, what the hell is he doing there at ten pm?" He asks and the pointed look you give him causes him to snap his mouth shut.
"Just shut the fuck up before you get me caught!" You bite, and you vaguely register him moving around. This is absurd. You're not a teenager in high school. Why the hell are you hiding from your dad on your boyfriend's roof?
"God, I have the worst luck. It could be raining dicks, and I'd look up and catch a titty!" You complain, and Bradley snorts on the other end.
You wait with bated breath, praying it's just a quick visit, but you have no such luck.
You hear the door to Jake's room open, and Bradley searches for his keys. So much for leaving him out of it.
"I'm on my way." He informs you, and your eyes are wild as you acknowledge him with a nod. Your breaths are erratic as panic claws at your throat; for once, you don't argue with him.
The second you hear the window slide open, you know you're done for. You're met with your dad's hard eyes and try to muster an angelic smile. His jaw is set, and there's a burning crimson peeking over the collar of his shirt all the way up to his cheeks.
"Hi, daddy."
You don't even get a chance to stand before a loud crash rings out, and you rush back inside, almost falling in the process. He has Jake pinned against the wall with his arm across his throat, murder clearly not off the table.
Jake just takes it, his face relaxed and posture open. You know better, though. You've managed to get past that unphased exterior, and you can read the fear in Jake's eyes like a book.
"What is the one thing I fucking said?" Mav growls through clenched teeth, and you're on him in an instant.
You try your best to pull him back, desperate for space between the men, but it's no use. Mav only has maybe half an inch on you, but the man is a lot stronger than he looks. The adrenaline pumping through his veins does nothing to help and you resort to pleading.
"Dad, stop!"
He turns to look at you, and for the first time in your life, there's no mercy or gentleness on his face when he stares at you.
"I'll deal with you in a minute."
You've never seen him like this, which sends a shiver down your spine. You knew it would be ugly, but never in a million years did you think he would go this far off the rails.
Thoughts race through your head at a million miles an hour as you try to think of what to do, but the problem is solved for you.
There are loud thumps as Bradley bounds up the stairs, and the scene unfolds quicker than you can process. You watch as he picks your dad up and removes him from Jake, your feet carrying you to your boyfriend at lightning speed.
"Are you okay? I'm so sorry." You weep, and you can't recall when you started crying.
You try to look behind you as Mav struggles against Bradley, but Jake cradles your face and forces you to stay looking at him.
"Hey, I'm fine. Look at me, sweets. Don't worry about that right now, let Rooster calm him down."
Mav fights against the larger man with a valiant yet futile effort. Bradley considers wrapping his arms around him entirely and forcing him to stay in place but decides not to push his luck.
Just as the thought enters his mind, Mav slams face-first into realization and stops abruptly.
"Did you know about this?"
Bradley swallows and retreats with slow steps as Mavs wrath is re-focused on him. He feels like he's going toe to toe with a wild animal and wonders if playing dead would work.
"I may or may not have had a teeny bit of knowledge about the situation." He says cautiously, and your dad's eyes narrow into thin slits.
"You didn't think to tell me?" He snaps, and Bradley raises his hands defensively.
"It wasn't my place. Besides, based on this reaction, can you blame us for keeping you in the dark?"
He immediately wishes he could take it back when Mavs fist clenches at his side. You briefly consider making a break for it and going into witness protection, but you don't have the chance before your dad's attention is back on you.
"You know how this ends, Y/N. I have told you time and time again not to get caught up with men like him."
His voice is softer now but still holds an edge, and Jake's arm tightens around your waist. Mav doesn't miss the subtle shift; his jaw ticks upon seeing the man's hand on his only daughter.
In his defense, he's been through this with you before. He and Bradley are so protective because you've had your heart broken more than once by hotshot military men, and you never seem to learn your lesson.
You know this time is different, though. You just have to get your dad to see it.
"He's not like that, dad. He's different. I trust him." Your voice is small and Mav shakes his head.
"You always think that! They're all different in the beginning, but it always ends the same. Let's go." He motions toward the door, but your feet stay glued in place.
"No."
His head whips around to look at you, and you almost laugh at how high his eyebrows are raised. You've got a history of defying him, but you've never blatantly told him no to his face before.
"Excuse me?"
You stand a little straighter now and take a step forward, but Jake keeps his hand on the curve of your spine.
"I said no. I'm not leaving, and I'm not wrong. This isn't the beginning when you're still under some spell, and this isn't going to end with me heartbroken."
Your dad scoffs and places a hand on his hip, clearly over this entire ordeal.
"What do you mean this isn't the beginning?"
You take a deep breath and try to steady your voice before answering, and Bradley looks like he wants to die. Being buried next to Jake doesn't sound so bad if it gets him out of this.
He knows your response will send Mav into another tailspin, and he braces himself, ready to jump in again if he has to.
"Jake and I have been dating for six months. I love him, and he loves me."
There it is, the nuclear bomb. The words hang in the air as Mav processes the information, and his eyes dart back and forth absentmindedly as he does the math.
"You've been seeing him since you got here?"
You can see the hurt on his features for the first time since he arrived, making your stomach twist. His shoulders drop, and all the fight leaves his body.
"It started out as a fling. We never meant for it to get this serious. We were going to tell you but time just kept passing and it got to the point that we didn't know how to anymore." You explain gently, and he sits on Jake's bed before jolting back up.
"God only knows what's happened in those sheets, can we go to the living room or something?" He asks with his face scrunched in disgust, and you huff a short laugh through your nose.
The four of you go downstairs and sit in the living room as your dad continues raking over every interaction he has ever seen you have with Jake in his mind.
"How did you manage to keep this a secret from everyone when you all work together? Or am I the only one that doesn't know?"
You shake your head and lay on Jake's shoulder. Your migraine has upgraded to a jackhammer doing to town on the inside of your skull, and you want nothing more than to take a painkiller and close your eyes.
"No one else knows. We haven't told them, at least."
Mav nods and settles into the armchair, clearly making himself at home as he props his feet up on the coffee table. You feel the waves of displeasure rolling off of Jake. The man is religious about keeping the house clean, and his eye is already twitching at the fact your dad still has his shoes on.
You're about to say something when a more pressing matter comes to your attention.
"Wait, how did you know I'm here?" You frown, and Mav freezes. You give him the signature Mitchell look that tells him not to bullshit you, and he shrinks back a bit.
"I tracked your phone when you didn’t answer my calls." He mumbles, and you lurch forward in your seat.
"Pardon? You tracked me? How do you even have access to that? No, better yet, why do you have that? You don't think that's a tad invasive?" You half shout, and Bradley winces.
Two angry Mitchells under one roof is never a good thing. The last time it happened, he had to make up a story to send the cops away.
You're brought back down when Jake's large hand squeezes your thigh, and you close your eyes while taking a deep breath. That's one thing you love about this man. He's the only person you've ever met that can bring you back from the edge.
Bradley and Mav share a look at your sudden shift in demeanor, and you know they're both thinking the same thing. Neither of them has ever been able to snuff out your temper once the fuse is lit, and the fact Jake did it without so much as a word speaks volumes.
"Okay, I'm fine. Everything is fine." You breathe and Jake smiles. He's proud of the way you've grown since dating him. Your spitfire attitude makes him look tame. He never imagined he'd love a woman who encourages his antics rather than trying to control him.
That's why you two work so well. You bring out his chaos, and he brings out your calm. It's the perfect ratio of give and take. The two of you bring out the best in each other, which is part of why you fell so fast.
"Listen, dad. Jake and I are going to keep seeing each other whether you like it or not. He makes me feel safe, wild, and loved; I couldn't ask for a better man. If you could try and pull your head out of your ass for more than three seconds, you might be able to see that."
There's another thing Jake adores about you. You never shy away from speaking your mind, and you never sugarcoat the truth. He's seen you make grown men cry, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that you're the only one who could ever put the legendary Maverick in his place with little to no effort.
Mav goes to bite back, but the look you give him has the words dying on his tongue. You're a clone of him, yet somehow even more of an immovable force. He knows there's no point in arguing; you're not going to budge.
"Okay. I'll try to get on board." He relents, and Bradley's eyes dart between the two of you.
Mav turns to Jake, and your boyfriend sits up, ready to take a verbal berating.
"If you hurt her, I will ensure you never touch an F-18 again. She better never call me crying over you, Seresin, so help me god."
You feel Jake nod next to you, and some of the tension dissipates from your shoulders.
"Oh, and for the love of Christ, don't get my daughter pregnant."
Bradley chokes on his spit and your eyes widen with horror.
"Dad! Oh my god." You groan, but he stands firm in his statement.
"I mean it. You're still at the height of your career. The last thing you need is a baby out of wedlock."
You know it's coming from a place of love and concern, but it doesn't make it less embarrassing. No one expects Jake's response, and Bradley raises his eyebrows at you.
"What if I marry her first?"
Mav looks genuinely taken aback, and the mouthy pilot is struck silent for the first time. His mouth opens and closes a few times, and you watch with amusement as he tries to make his brain work.
"One thing at a time."
At that, Bradley stands up and shoots your dad a look.
"We should get going. It's late, and I think I speak for everyone when I say I'm ready for this to be over."
Mav nods, and you stand to give him a hug before Jake shakes his hand.
"Love you, dad. Love you, Roo."
"Love you too." They say in unison, and you release a breath you didn't know you were holding when the front door closes.
You turn to Jake with your arms crossed, an arrogant smirk painted on your lips.
"So you want to marry me and get me pregnant, huh?"
“Is that okay with you?” He asks and you wrap your arms around his neck.
“More than okay. Why don’t we start practicing tonight?” You suggest and his eyes darken before spinning you around to face away from him.
“Lead the way.”
#jake seresin#top gun maverick#top gun imagine#hangman top gun#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin top gun#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin#hangman x reader
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kim sunwoo (the boyz) x gn reader - crack, fluff , implied leading to smut (minor dni), conversation about sex, slice of life, basically sunwoo being an idiot boyfriend trying to make his partner smile and relax
imagine sitting in the cafe of your university when your boyfriend sunwoo joins you. he leans down to kiss your cheek, meanwhile you simply hum out a soft hello continuing your work. your nose down in a book, you don't look up right away until you hear him sucking down the last of his drink to draw your attention to him.
a smirk crosses his lips when your eyes slowly rise from your book to look over his sweatshirt and the shit eating grin on his face. you can feel your cheeks start to burn, your eyes glancing around the cafe to other students who have already scoffed at him and shook their head.
"what are you doing? we clearly don't go to yale, sunwoo. so I don't think your joke is going to really get the reaction you want, baby."
he laughs, leaning forward to rest one elbow on the table as not to obscure the large block letters proudly stating YALE EST. 1701 across his chest. while he seemed to not care about anyone else you wanted to sink under the table and hide from his antics.
"I thought it was a very cute sweatshirt, if they can't take a joke...fuck 'em. or...if you are just really wanting me out of my clothes we could make that happen too."
your boyfriend was never known for subtly or a quiet voice, so even his proposition for you to get him out of his clothes seem not to go unnoticed causing a snicker from a passing girl who raises her brows at you.
"or...I could murder you. headlines would read; "student loses their mind when boyfriend pushes them too far during exam season".
sunwoo laughs again reaching over to run his fingers along your cheek feeling how warm them are. he had wanted to make you laugh, smile, just something to get you to relax. you were so wound up. he was afraid you were going to be like a spring that shattered if he couldn't find the right way to release that tension.
"you just want your own yale sweatshirt, is that it? I'll let you have this one. just think how fucking cute you would look in mine, nothing on under it."
you can't help but to crack a smile causing sunwoo's cheeks to lift towards his eyes getting what he wanted. he was going to get you to chill out if his life depended on it.
"you are impossible kim sunwoo."
"and you study too much. come on..."
words start to fall from your lips when sunwoo stands to collect your book slipping it into your bag putting it over his shoulder but his fingers lace with yours and you can't seem to find the complaint you were looking for. instead you seem to melt under his gaze with a soft sigh.
"where are we going? i have so much studying to do."
"we are going back to my place, where you can study...after I fuck you silly. you'll have to relearn everything, yale will be astounded to receive your application."
sunwoo drags you towards the door as you groan out a laugh at his vulgar words. you can't help but to shake your head even as you try to keep up with his long strides.
"I'm not applying to yale."
"yet, but you might one day and just think you already have a sweatshirt. 'omg sunwoo you are such a good boyfriend, please fuck me tonight.' of course I will baby."
you simply stare at your boyfriend in amusement and disbelief as he plays out both sides of the conversation for you before meeting your eyes. with a laugh he lets go of your hand in place of throwing his arm around your shoulders pulling you close as you both walk in the direction of his dorm.
"I know, I render you speechless. I'll continue that trend tonight."
"how did I fall in love with such a complete idiot?"
sunwoo grins glancing over at you, he leans the couple of inches to press his lips to yours briefly before looking back towards the sidewalk to make sure neither of you would fall under his watch.
"pure luck, baby. you hit the jackpot."
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tag list; @otterpopchan @xuxibelle @foxdaisy @smileysuh @ver0nsworld @yeritheloml @enhacolor @yeosayang @guavagyu @gyuhanniescarat @yoonguurt @jwnghyuns @xoxodino @sakurasangcl @woniewhite @fantasy2wonderland @junhui-recs @woozis-wife @sunnyteume @multi-kpop-fanfics @sstarryoong @hoohoohope @tigermoonbiss @onlyseokmins @yourfavoritefreakyhan @lolathebest
#sunwoo smut#the boyz smut#tbz smut#sunwoo crack#the boyz crack#tbz crack#sunwoo fluff#the boyz fluff#tbz fluff#sunwoo imagines#the boyz imagines#tbz imagines
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Soooo….I made some nationality headcannons! At first I was a liiittle bit unsure if to do so cuz then again.. they live in ninjago…. And im pretty sure countries like argentina or Morocco don’t quite exist in the ninjago universe LMAO. Butttttt. Already seen others make headcannons, so hell, why not? I uses they apply to some irl au or what if they lived in our world uk? And what different countries would I see them coming from and etc.
I can imagine that the EM might have travelled all over the world, either to go into hiding, or missions, or escape conflict, etc. Or maybe simply that’s where they came from! So yeah that’s my little explanation that is mostly for myself cuz im a little bit too literal sometimes lol.
When thinking about nationality I always think a lot about where they grew up and what nationality they grew up with and would later on identify with the most. It’s a complicated concept when your parents are from a different nationality and theyre immigrants in a different country- so you grow up in this country, surrounded by this culture and people, but your. Also. Raised by your parents who also have your family living in this completely different country- where you also find home and relate to the people considering how you look, the language you speak with your parents- or the specific culture and environment your parents grew up wiooith, impacting your home life and the way your raised. Perhaps you lived in both places, or travel a lot to your parents homeland. Perhaps you live in one of your parents countries but the other. Not. but you still identify with one of your parents nationality because of the rest of your family from that side and the culture your take in from them. So it’s always very personal! So for Kai and Nya, I imagined that ray was Argentinian and Maya Filipino. And perhaps - because I want to project onto my faves- they were born and grew up in Argentina. But have always also identified a lot with their mothers homeland, since not only does their race impact the way they might feel more different and set apart from kids there, maya loves talking about her childhood in the Philippines and is always talking over the phone with their aunts and cousins, meaning Kai and Nya def were taught some Tagalog, tho theyre not incredibly fluid with it. In their early teens they probably travelled to the Philippines, (took ray and maya some time to settle down and get enough money to travel, as well as find time) and met their whole family, and the place they reside in, habit that would turn quite common as they would continue to travel other times the following years.
For Lloyd, I really wanted to make him Asian -Brazilian. It just felt right. So imagined that my queen (don’t you judge her >:() Misako would be Brazilian, meanwhile Garmadon,Japanese. i imagine that Misako adores traveling, so she met Garmadon on her trip to Japan, and decided to stay there for a WHILE because of the brothers. During her time there, she had Lloyd. Since her family heard of her new baby, she travelled back to Brazil with a two y/o Lloyd to have her family meet the him and catch up overall. but as the serpentine wars rose In japan (ill hc it happened in japan let me know what u think of that) Misako was told to wait in Brazil. Misako didn’t really like that though, and while she dreaded having to leave her son, she was sure shed come back soon after helping out the Brothers in the battle against the serpentine. So Lloyd was left to live with his aunties and grandparents in Brazil. Of course, after Misako found out about the whole Green Ninja thing and all that crap, she pulled the same stunt as in the series and ✨ vanished ✨. But then Garmadon came and fucking took him like divorced parents sometimes do uk? So then he spent some other of his childhood years growing up in, ya guessed it, Japan. This is how Lloyd identifies both with being a Brazilian and Japanese. As for the rest, I just envision that they lived in their respective countries their whole lives till they were recruited!
#ninjago#lego ninjago#ninjago headcannons#sora wyldfire and arin are in the making btw!#ninjago cole#cole ninjago#cole brookestone#Kai ninjago#ninjago kai#kai jiang#Nya jiang#Nya smith#Ninjago nya#nya ninjago#Kai smith#jay walker#ninjago jay#jay ninjago#Zane Julien#ninjago zane#zane ninjago#lloyd garmadon#lloyd#lloyd ninjago#Ninjago Lloyd#ninja headcannons#ninjago hc#headcannons#hc#nationality headcannons
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in what universe is someone going to see a DNI that applies to them and think "this person is definitely someone im going to enjoy following and get along with". do you go on twitter and see nazis saying they hate trans people and decide to follow them out of spite? of course not, and literally nobody else does that either, even on the other side. hell forget DNIs, I get less conservatives in my notifs than I used to just by having they/them pronouns in my bio because they see it and go "ew, I'm not following them". people dont typically follow people theyre clearly not going to feel welcome around, a DNI is just another way to communicate that.
1 - you don't have to Get Along with someone to follow them. people can and will hate-follow or follow to annoy you, block evade, etc out of spite. some people will interact with you just because you told them, or people like them, not to.
2 - your experiences are not universal. nazis, terfs, bigots in general, they can and will follow and harass people they don't like online. this is spoken from my own experience as someone who has seen his transfem friends be followed and harassed by alt-right nut jobs online.
3 - "forget DNIs, I get less conservatives in my notifs than I used to just by having they/them pronouns in my bio" ← you're right. this is effective because the vast majority of people regardless of political stance or belief will only ever read your bio. not many people are going to jump through hyperlinks to read your DNI. if they don't like what they read in your bio, they'll just leave [or possibly harass you, if they're particularly malicious]. ergo, making a DNI is largely just for yourself and not at all a real, useful barrier people must pass through in order to follow / engage with your posts.
no one is stopping you from making a DNI. you can write a terms-of-service length novel of a Do Not Interact list, put it on its own Carrd and make it aesthetic and pretty with flair. you're completely free to do so and tell people to read it. a few will, sure.
however. the post you're referencing is specifically addressing the glaring reality that most people, regardless if they fit your DNI criteria or not, are simply not going to go out of their way to find and read it. abusive people aren't going to see "DNI abusive assholes" and be deterred because they themselves don't consider themselves abusive. this post, particularly what OP wrote, is saying how it's much more proactive to curate your own space through utilizing the block button and tag filters when you see things and people you don't want to engage with instead of trying to impose your personal boundaries on strangers online.
addendum // i don't really care if teens are making DNIs and being aggressively annoying about em. i remember the era of setting weird arbitrary rules in my developing years while i was forming Who I Was as a person. they're figuring out who they are and what their comfort levels are. i get it. it's the grownass adults that are hyper-virulent about DNIs that i worry about - and i'm not talking about when they're trying to establish an adults-only space with a stern "minors DNI".
note: what i'm talking about below, i am Not referring to literally illegal and harmful activities / content. just want to be clear.
now, i'm not saying you have to welcome and embrace the content you don't like, but it's important to challenge yourself and toe your comfort boundaries. if you over-prune yourself trying to be the bestest morally correct person, at some point you're going to start boxing yourself into this narrowed teeny tiny worldview. you may turn into the person you claim to have loathed, imposing personal beliefs and morals on others, and brandishing your DNI like it's a certificate of righteousness; not unlike how conservatives wave around religious scripture while pruning away LGBTQ+ rights because it goes against their morality. a few examples of this are topics such as: kink at pride, and the language discrepancies between the younger and older generations of the LGBTQ+ community - particularly in regards to self-identifying with words such as Queer and Dyke and Transsexual.
i probably derailed a bit here, i'm answering this before my caffeine's fully kicked in. if i vaguely worded something or yall want more elaboration on something, don't hesitate to ask
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what do you do for a living? (/job?) I am currently in a crisis and need some guidance. I look up to you a lot, I love your blog, we have the same passions for poetry and writing and music, even daredevil! My crisis is that I dont know what to do. In university I take classes but I dont know what I want to be. My art and writing feel pointless sometimes. All the jobs i want to do I know im not skilled enough to achieve or itd be very hard to get by. If you dont mind giving out advice... please help! ❤
hi anon <3 i think that figuring out what we're supposed to do for a living often gets tied to the idea that we're supposed to find that one niche in the world where we fit, where we're meant to be and where we're meant to contribute; where we're meant to shine, and find deep meaning in our own lives. and maybe that does happen for some people. but in reality i think we're all capable of doing many different things, and finding purpose in many different things. and in working toward many different skillsets we acquire different skillsets that apply to many other types of work.
and i don't think anything is ever set in stone. i got my undergrad & grad degrees in music, and then i found that i didn't have it in me to be a part of that world anymore. and i felt that i had no meaning in my life without it. i was No One without music, i had no identity outside of my voice—despite the deep sense of purpose and fate, even, that i felt for my life up until that moment in music, in singing, in acting. up until that moment i knew in my bones my purpose in life. and then the ground was swept out from under me. it didn't matter that i had known with certainty what my life was supposed to be because it wasn't that any longer. and i realized that i could never again tie my identity to my art, to my music, to my writing, to my job. my voice has a purpose not because it must be enough to sustain me financially or because enough people have validated my talent but because it brings me joy. i came back to music because singing brought me joy again; i thought i would never feel that again.
something i have learned through this is 1) music, like most other art forms, is not a meritocracy; there is no such thing as "you are an excellent [artist/singer/writer] and therefore you will have the career owed to you" because so much more than merit and hard work go into careers like this. it takes not only talent and work ethic but circumstance and luck and wealth. lessons cost money, coachings costs money, auditions cost money, applications cost money, travel costs money, wardrobe costs money. 2) the process is not the career. i love to practice, i love to learn music, i love to get into character, and to engage with my colleagues in rehearsal rooms and onstage. i don't love the abuse thrown at singers from directors and teachers and coaches, i don't love auditions, i don’t love the unpredictability of gig work and contract work, i don't love the expendable lens through which singers are viewed by the industry. i've come back to music but my goals have shifted.
all that to say, i don't think we have to know what we want to be. we don't have to want to be anything. our lives have deep meaning whether we have "successful" careers or careers that just pay the bills while we continue to pursue our creative loves. i wouldn't place too much importance on needing to find what you are supposed to be because you will become who you are supposed to be regardless. it is never a waste to pursue something we love, and we will acquire and internalize new skills in any field that we can apply to other fields. and maybe your interests will dramatically shift, or maybe not. i think it's very natural to have vocational shifts throughout our lives, and it's not indicative of failure. art that is made personally or professionally doesn't have more or less value based on its financial profit. the money i make from singing isn't enough to sustain me—i have to do other self-employment gigs to make up the difference. most artists do. but i don't regret the time and the heart i have invested in music, and i am sustained through the work i put into it, and sustained by the relationships and friendships that i have developed through it.
i send you my whole heart. i know how it feels to look at the future and not know what you're supposed to do with your one, precious life. sometimes we have to live in the uncertainty and know that it won't be like that forever. on the flip side, the moments of certainty won't last forever either. and in-between there is all the living we do. i promise you're not alone in this <3
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not going to give the blog any attention or time of day but this is your reminder that the leverage crew would never be zionists or support israel whatsoever
I wasn't going to engage with it because I value my mental health but yeah. absolutely fucking NOT
y'all really think that this group of people that actively go out of their way to go against the rich and powerful, who make it their goal to help people that are oppressed, devalued by society and taken advantage by those more powerful would at all EVER align themselves with israel? bffrrn
I'm going to go off for a few paragraphs about why this is such a horrendously ridiculous and delusional idea, but I'm not going to clog up your dash so it's going under the cut. I want to respect people who already participate in activism and need fandom space for lighter things
tw for discussion of the atrocities and war crimes happening in palestine
over 25 THOUSAND innocent people have died as a result of israeli terror the last few months alone. over 10 thousand children. entire family lines have been erased from the world forever- grandparents, parents, children, grandchildren all martyred, often together as they are sheltering from bombs and bullets until they are murdered by soldiers that laugh as they shoot and detonate bombs.
you really think that eliot 'I adopt every child I see' spencer would support a regime that let a child stay trapped in a car where her family members were martyred, not let paramedics in for days and then when they finally let the paramedics approach they kill both her AND the EMS? you think he would stand with the government that arrests children as young as 6 years old for *checks hand* being terrorists (because what fucking 6 year old is a terrorist let alone any kind of national threat. they're fucking SIX). that snipes children for throwing rocks at tanks and their apartheid walls
he and all of them would weep at the picture released the other day of the little girl handing from rubble with her legs blown off.
all of them would be horrified of the bombardment that has murdered tens of thousands of innocent civilians, women, children, men, elderly alike with no fucking care. that shoots people with their hands up waving white flags. that bulldozes graveyards and digs up bodies and probably steals organs from they dying and deceased. that bombs hospitals, governmental and archival buildings, mosques, churches, holy sites, schools and universities. whose soldiers have a trend where they go through women's underwear drawers and make lewd comments about their lingerie and how kinky they must be. who make tiktoks of them playing in decimated playgrounds and signing their children's names on bombs. who force parents to collect pieces of their children in plastic bags because they have been blown apart by relentless bombing. who shoot a grandmother holding a child's hand. who murdered a woman that dared say that she was older than the 'state' of israel.
the fact that you're posting this as israel relentlessly bombs rafa, the place they were told would be the only safe place to be, where 1.6 million people are living in tents living off animal feed because no sufficient humanitarian aid (if any) has been let through
these people that advocate for comeuppance and exposing wrongs would not support a regime that actively targets and murders journalists and their entire families.
you really think any of them would actively support a genocidal sociopathic government? fucking delusional
to a certain extent, I know that people want to keep fandom and advocacy spaces separate and I acknowledge and relate to that- when we are logged on every moment of the day we sometimes need to take breaks and engage with something else for our mental health. I need that too. and there is a very thin line when you try to apply fandom to current events because in all honesty, making headcanons about how your faves would react to X horrendous event can come off as extremely tone-deaf. I get you love your blorbos (I do too!), but actual people are suffering and it can come off as disingenuous to a lot of folks when you try to talk about your characters instead of the very real harm that is going on. HOWEVER, the other account posted in the leverage tag that the crew would be zionists and started that discourse and since it was already out there in our space I wanted to make sure that people know that this blog does not support that whatsoever.
and before this gets misconstrued: antizionism is not antisemitism. I have a lot of love for my jewish friends and followers, but saying that we can't be critical of war crimes and incessant aggression because it is a jewish state is fucking ridiculous. we should be able to hold any and all governments accountable when they do bad things (this absolutely also means I think we should hold the US accountable for enabling them and I live here. every country that is complicit needs to face consequences). saying that israel is exempt from criticism because jewish people deserve a right to a homeland isn't a great take. I completely understand fear of antisemitism and discrimination, but at some point we have to think critically and acknowledge that people are dying by the thousands and standing up for that and calling out atrocities takes precedence. jewish voices for peace has some really good content about this topic
anyways there's a random blog out there posting about how your faves are zionists splattering their rancid sponge and I want to make sure my stance on this subject is very clear: fuck israel, free palestine, and no one is free until everyone is free
#i got really fucking angry and this was kind of cathartic but honestly i'm just really fucking tired of this shit#thank u digitaldiscipline for talking me out of reblogging it with a response because that would just give the blog more undeserved attenti#free palestine#palestine#gaza#anti zionisim#fuck israel#fuck isntreal#leverage#leverage redemption#your fave is NOT a zionist#tw war crimes#also raf 'splattering their rancid sponge' is such an iconic phrase thank u for sharing that w me#I'm not going to talk about my real-life activism for privacy and security reasons but I regularly interact with people from jvp#and they are super awesome and lovely and courageous people#i really respect them. they are treated so awful in my area when we have protests at city hall from local rabbis. it takes a LOT of courage#ALSO there is a lot to be said about eliot as a character and how he isn't the best person but for the sake of him loving children i wrote#it that way. also hardison would be disappointed in you for supporting israel#mine
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Choose a frozen character-YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE-EVERYTHING
I hope you enjoy!
Pile 1-
Pile 1, your future spouse is a very private person per se. They might be your opposite too. They’re very successful and abundant in their career, however, their personal life may be a bit wonky. They’re a very giving and materialistic person, however, they may not be the most caring or affectionate. They probably have an iPhone 11? That was specific lol… They may like dancing and may be into sports of some kind, I’m also seeing balanced energy between themselves, masculine and feminine both, with the masculine coming out stronger than feminine but the feminine leaving a harder impact than the masculine. I’m hearing that they have had an unhealthy cycle in their relationship, and the end of that cycle will be you. They will be holding onto you very tightly. This is a very valuable relationship, seems like they’ll never let you go and are quite possessive of you. Damn this person has a lot to say and to show, literally all of my thoughts are overlapping each other-They’ve broken down a million times and put themselves back together again…okay one thing they may not be big fan of animals though, especially rodents of some kind. They’re very mature, stable and practical, and grounded, which can make them a bit boring or dull sometimes but they’re usually really fun and nice to hang out with even if it’s not too extreme. Your person’s love language is giving time, gifts, effort, and money. I’m getting a lot of Virgo, Taurus, and Capricorn plus a bunch of mutable energy. OKAY OKAY extreme message, their house might have been destroyed in a fire once? Your person is a summer person and loves seeing you in flowy and comfortable dresses.OOH okay, they might be a POC, if you’re black then they might be the same but this applies to anyone who’s a POC! OKAY, so your person may have had a backward ascendance, like they might have been spiritual once but then lost faith? I’m also hearing that its no point in convincing them again tbh, let them be, it’s their journey and the universe is honestly okay with it. Your fs might be really close with your mom in the future or their mom too, but I’m hearing they’ll be close to yours, I don’t think they had a typical family environment. HOWEVER, they have definitely healed from this though, I get so much positive energy from them. They’re pretty confident about themselves and may be working on a major project currently? Most probably financial and material stability. If they’re a girl, they like to wear off-shoulder tops and if a boy then shirtless- if gender-neutral then according to their birth gender I’m hearing. They might like seeing you in boots, high heels, and drunk for some reason? (if you’re a girl) OOh, you will make them the happiest person in the world after agreeing to marry them/being a long-term partner. You two may have kids together if u want. They have a very fair mindset, sometimes a bit too much. Maybe they’re in law as well, and they value truth a lot. Even white lies would hurt more than the cold truth. They have a lot of compassion for the world, and charity seems to be important for them.
Pile 2-
OOOOHHHH yall are soulmates no cap. However, you may ignore your future spouse for the first time. They may be a player, and you might think they’re playing you the first time they ask you out or something. GURL, I UNDERSTAND NO WORRIES. There’s gonna be a whole lotta passion here, I also see new beginnings so you may be leaving something, a relationship may be, (friendship too) and going into this relationship. They CAN be a bit emotionally mature and sometimes a bit less understanding with a heavy demeanor, but in the end, they pepper you with kisses and cuddles, and hugs. I’m seeing in their previous relationships, they used to act tough with their sp when their friends were present, but with you, they are cuddly and baby even with their friends, oh and btw they probably got new friends LMAO-I get that they think you’re very smart, logical, practical, emotionally detached and commanding, and they absolutely love it, they go crazy for you HSDHSHSJSJSJ. HOLY JESUS SO MANY HIGHLIGHTS OF YOU TWO BEING TWINFLAMES/SOULMATES-ERNFJRJERF. UM basically, they’re also financially stable and love kids and pets. I don’t think they were born with a silver spoon, they worked hard for it and got it in the end. I’m getting major ‘daddy’ vibes from them SJSJSJ so maybe they’re a lot older than you? You’ll also be ending some sort of cycle with his person, like maybe negative thinking, anxiety and all of that will go to trash. You’ll also let go of some de@d family members, that you couldn’t ever let go of? BOIIII THEY HAVE CONQUERED all the challenges life has to throw at them, theyre one tough cookie.They will be majorly in business or in managing, i dont see a very ‘artistic’ person ig? But theyre very romantic, so they’ll probably try to be romantic. I’m seeing different people a lot, so maybe they change their appearance quite a bit, like dying their hair and putting on fake nose rings? I’m seeing you’ll gain a lot of confidence in this relationship, and also get more connected to nature and to earth. ALSO, YOU’LL START GETTING OUT OF BED SOON some of them could wear a turban or tie their hair up in that kind of way after showering? Specific NDNDJD.I’m seeing you two will majorly be the cool aunt and uncle, i don’t see you have kids if you don’t want to, but there are more chances of you two having nieces rather than your own kids. Your person could be Saturn dominant, and they always have instant karma either out to get them or to protect them.
PILE 3-
Your person is trapped in a difficult situation for now, and they have to be careful with what they do, and speak. They have a bucketload of work that’s been stressing them out, plus people are annoying the f out of them LMAO- they might be going through their first spiritual awakening? And they’ve become a bit immature during the process, but will come out better than ever after it. Oooh yeah, they've been going through it right now. Maybe they just swerved their way out of something (relationship maybe), and they recently might have lost a friend.For their personality, they’re definitely very sweet and creative and artistic, they love to experiment with colors and can be childish when they want to, but after this awakening, they’ll be a lot more mature and elegant in the way that they express themselves. Also, the crown chakra may or may not be important to them, maybe they’re focusing on rebalancing it after their work. They have messed up quite a few times this year, and they are working on moving past that shame and regret and guilt. I’m also seeing that blue may be important to them? As well as cars. They’re romantic too, and they set up the mood before asking you out on a date, possibly a Leo venus. They might also have been physically hurt once or more than that? There’s a need of going to the hospital a lot..mAYBE THEY’RE A DOCTOR? Oh, of they are, they work with infectious diseases and have to be really careful. I also see a toxic workplace, maybe their boss is really annoying and coworkers are not willing to compromise so everything is just wrong right now. They probably like traveling tho. They may have mars in 3rd and love debates. This person is really secretive I’m not getting anything here-AS for appearance, they could wear glasses, dye their hair grey, and have tanned skin. They also probably were impulsive once and that made them have a lot of anxiety but in the end, they got through it all. You could meet them through friends and online, but I’m also seeing a very dramatic meeting where y'all are MOVIE STARS OR SOMETHING. Sorry for it being shorter than the other piles, but i took half of the deck out and the majority of it gets vibes of renewal, toxicity, and hurt.
This is an old post. It is mine.
All coprights reserved to @amoretarot
#pick a card#pick a pile#pick a cards#pick a picture#pac#pick a picture.#future spouse#tarot reading
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YOUUUUUUUU
Yes, you. I adore you so much you have no idea. FUCK.
I love your latest oneshot about the boys "stare directly at the sun" and I'm going insane. I AM UNWELL. I could write a whole ass essay about how much I love it, how you've written the characters felt so authentic and how you've emotionally broke me in the worst places possible, I've read ROTTMNT fics before, but this one stood out being an alternate setting with character being HUMAN and living normal mundane lives. How much their lives differ from what we know in the OG series yet we can spot things that stayed the same.
I love how instead of being crime fighting Ninja's, while I know that's pretty badass, But these kinds of fics makes the characters feel real for me, there's not much human setting fics of the boys which I'm sad about, (kinda wish there's more) I could literally write my own fic about em but sadly I'm not built like ao3 authors with the time and energy to do so :(( which your fic touched me on a personal level, they are going through school problems, SPLINTER HERE BEING A GOOD PRESENT FATHER GAAAHHH and then having more access in mundane things it holds a special place in my heart omfg...🫶✨
And the fact Leo wants to be a doctor my heart goes out to him 😭😭😭 I'd like to ask what do the other brothers dream to become in the future? What careers they wanna do? I have a few guesses, but I truly wanna know it in your inverse human au you've cooked up with and totally cool if you ignore this part– I don't wanna take more of your time— buuuut I really wanna know more about your human au about the boys;
Are other canon characters still there?
How drastically did you change the world to make it more humanely normal for them?
Do Yokais still exist?
Will this just be a oneshot one time thing or can we expect more of the human verse of your world?
Oahskwbw anyways, thank you so much for existing and writing your beloved fics, I love your works sm you're literally one of my favorite ao3 authors, it's making my heart explode!! Pls do take care of yourself also!!!! <33
STOP you are far to kind to me omg
i am incredibly influenced by the fact that i've read 'problem child' by taizi approximately a MILLION times. also shoutout to 'teenage mutant ninja what now' by tangledinink and the related 'scotch gambit' by like_theletter. OH and of course 'running on low (all the way home) by gibbouslunation. if you've never read human au's before and liked mine, DEFINITELY check out these!!!
writing 'stare directly at the sun' was literally because i had this idea of leo not wanting to be a doctor anymore being like a HUGE red flag and essentially built a story around that hahahaha.
i have zero intent of writing more in this au (i wrote it in 11 days like a fever dream and now i am turning my attention back to firefight haha) but i will answer your questions regardless:
no idea if there's other canon characters. it is genuinely just the real world lol, so no yokai.
raph is currently in university for education to become a teacher, undecided for what age but probably younger. mikey has changed his big ambition at least once a year, anything from chef to professional gymnast to zookeeper. donnie is going to take engineering (to start, he wants to milk the education system for all it's worth so he may get multiple degrees) and he would be accepted at any school he applies to so he will choose whichever one accepts leo haha
cheers mate thank u for the kind words ;__;
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A Whole Man is Hard to Find -chapter seventeen
-Summary: Rosey conducts a series of interviews with those who know the Captain intimately but through wildly differing association, a prostitute, his quartermaster and his doctor. Meanwhile above decks Captain Presley deflowers a new river with the support of Johnny Cash. Both lovers live for the few moments they can steal at the end of the day to savor each other.
-Warnings 18+: usual universe warnings apply with this addition of caning, mentions of past female rape, past murder and talk of Syphilis and the use of the archaic word “sodomy”. Along with current smut, which mostly includes gratuitous descriptions of sweat, sweaty balls, men being very hot when they’re sweaty so long as they’re Elvis and -it’s a lot of sweat porn ok?!
“Beaumont.” Aida acknowledged from her place on the floor, arm deep in the Captain’s personal trunks.
“Overton.” Rosey snickered at the stand off, keeping her pistol raised all the same. “What’re you in here for?” she repeated.
“So the captain didn’t send you back after all.” Aida ignored her, “My, my, isn’t he gettin’ brave now, defyin’ the colonel every which way.”
The power of her sneer nearly swayed Rosey. “A change of plans,” she diverted, “the Captain can do that.”
“Oh can he?”
“Yes.”
“That's new. He never could before.”
“He’s not beholden to his partner.” Rosey took aims to measure her language lest she commit an indiscretion, “They are, after all, just partners. Equals, there was a change of plans, that’s all.”
“Equals.” Aida savored the word as she rose to her feet before letting out a grating cackle that made Rosey flinch, “I’ll give ya credit for your ignorance, child, s’not like you’ve seen what I’ve seen.”
“No, no I suppose that I haven't seen what you’ve seen.” Rosey conceded, her voice dripping with disdainful accusation.
“No, how could you?” Aida hemmed her in against the door and Rosey felt torn between shoving this witch off or making an ally of someone who knew him so well, “Word on the boat is you’ve been kept quite remote on that little plantation, and sure, sure, he’s tidied himself up real nice for you, hasn’t he? How would you know what kind of man he is?”
The urge was strong to spit back in Aida’s face the proof that she had known him longer than she, that Rosey had ridden atop his young shoulders in peacetime and held him nowadays aboard while he cried his memories out. She wanted to protest that she knew him well. But those were not things due to Aida, the Captain had been upset she’d even seen them in the bath together, how much more would he object to their history being exposed. And besides, these were things to prove Rosey knew him, but Aida was right, she knew precious little *of* him. “I know the kind of man he is with me, and he’s a good man.” she murmured instead.
“Is he?” Aida wasn't sneering, she looked intrigued and Rosey’s heart thudded in fear of a misstep. Vaguely she recalled Elvis having told her in their early days that he had a reputation to maintain, to keep folks in line. Being a feared man didn’t deter him from tossing gifts into the crowd or holding babies or patronizing school charities. Rosey figured that admitting he was good to her could hardly damage his reputation. But the way Aida’s maimed eyes kept searching hers made her frightened of betraying him.
“Incredible the lengths men’ll go to for virgin cunt.” the woman declared at last and Rosey flinched at the language. “What’ll it last ‘em? A minute? Fifteen if he’s got willpower? And then poof, done, gone, you’re just like anyone else to him, after he’s done.”
“What were you snooping for?” Rosey didn’t dignify this sad prophecy with an answer.
“Oh, just some things-“
“Of yours?” Rosey snapped, the weight of her still clutched pistol reminding her of her worth and her dearness to him.
“You could say I have a stake in them.” she shrugged.
“What do you mean by that?” Rosey pressed her scornfully.
“You seen any photographs laying about? Or buried under all them books he hauls?” Aida asked her and while Rosey contemplated how to play her hand when she’d not only never seen photographs aboard or even imagined he’d possessed some, Aida went on while turning back to the trunks, “Id’have thought he’d make certain to have at least something in his arsenal if he’s gonna be a brat. ‘Stead it looks like his partner has everything required to sink him and Elvis hasn’t got anything but a stuck up girl-child to defend himself with.”
“Why would the colonel sink his own partner?” Rosey maintained, choosing to leave her place by the door and take a seat on the bed, sheets still thrashed and unmade from his devouring a few hours before. Her legs clenched at the memory.
“You’re good.” Aida proclaimed and some stupid and starved part of a Rosey actually preened at being praised by such a hardened individual. “You’re real good. What’s your deal with the Colonel?”
“I haven’t anything against the man, he’s just tiring.” Rosey insisted.
“No, I mean, what did he offer you to come along?”
Rosey pondered this line of questioning with a perturbed heart, realizing she either had a chance to spin a lie here or else get caught in one. “Who says we’ve got any deal?”
“Do I need to name your predecessors for you?” Aida asked, sitting back down on the floor with shameless confidence in the Captain’s prolonged absence, “Let’s see, of course there was Aida first,” she chuckled that harsh chuckle of hers at this self narration, “and then there was a Polly and a Tamara and we can’t forget the pretty, pristine Lucilla who had him turnin’ himself inside out to please her, all for not, all of them unable or unwilling to stay when the colonel yanked his chain. All of them reportin’ dutifully to the colonel on his wakings and his habits. And those ones were just the ones he made promises to, that promised him back. There was Etta, though she lasted all of a sneeze ‘cause the colonel was against her.”
“Is this your way of telling me you’re his spurned lover?” Rosey asked, amused.
“Ha,” the woman shook her head, “there ever been a woman spy who hadn’t had to play lover?”
“You’re a trash spy.” Rosey found it in herself to jest, “Look at your work,” she gestured to the clutter on the floor, “and halfway in you just spill it out that you’re a spy? Aida, I had some hopes you hated me but I trusted you didn’t think me a fool.”
“Didn’t say I am.” Aida smiled that awful smile of hers, wider than ever this time and Rosey noticed her gums were shiny and silver. “Said I was.”
Rosey kicked her leg out boredly and hummed. “During the war?” she ventured.
“Mm..” Aida just shrugged. “He really not paying you anything?”
“I’m not acquainted with the colonel.” Rosey summarized, “I’m here at the Captain's disposal, he’s the one who pays my wages. And you knew that already.”
“Lord girl.” Aida rose to her knees and began repacking the half emptied trunks, “Whatever it is you’ve done back home, won’t be worth sticking round here to escape. Trust me, they’ll string you up alongside us all if not worse. The world out there’s got a particular distaste for whores, they’d look kinder on a murderer.”
Rosey didn’t protest either title. “Leave the stuff be,” she commanded “with the way you’re cramming it back in -he’ll know someone’s been going through it. Trash spy, you are.”
“Mm, alright.” Aida dropped the books she held back to the floor. “Weird feller he is, to keep this but no photograph apparatus. Colonel must have it.”
“What on earth is that?” Rosey asked her, pointing to that something on the floor that looked akin to an oversized musicbox and had as its extension a wand at the end.
“A hysteria treatment.”
“Hysteria?” Rosey savored the word carefully, only having heard of it from books.
“Yeah, real handy for the uptight ones,” Aida leared accusingly at Rosey’s prim pose, “the ones so proper they’re liable to get strangled with their own collars.”
“How does it work?” Rosey ignored the barb, soothed by red hot memories of indulging the captain in ways that could never be dismissed as prudish.
“It vibrates.” Aida picked the thing up by its box and plopped it in Rosey’s lap. “Crank it.” she goaded as Rosey fumbled with her new burden and carefully began to turn the lever. It was a steam mechanism of sorts, that was obvious from the hissing sound alone and the way the wand’s
outer skin began to pick up in rotational spins, powered by the cord tethering the two women to each other. When she was satisfied as to its pace, Aida took the wand and held it to Rosey’s exposed shin and the girl felt her whole leg rattle from it.
“Hellfire!” Rosey snatched her tingling limb up and away from the device after a moment's indulgence.
Aida laughed at her again. “Husbands pay him a lotta money to hold this to their wife's frigid cunts.” she explained, discarding the wand on the scattered heap of books and neck clothes as she rose to her feet, “And plenty of women risk divorce just to feel it again. Reckon it turns ‘em hysterical, ‘stead of the other way ‘round.”**
Rosey thought of the bathtub -their first tryst- and colored, a grimace forming as that sweet memory became tainted with the knowledge that everything the Captain did with her had been done by him to multitudes before her. As transactions, no less.
“Don’t pity him, girl.” Aida warned, “That money keeps him soft and happier than most, and it keeps you spoiled and fed.”
“I only pity those who do it without alternative.” she muttered. “Captain Presley’s put that behind him.”
“Ha, right behind him. So close behind him it’ll snag him by the britches before the year is out.” Aida shook her head, “You’re a foolish idiot talkin’ him into a rebellion.”
“It’s no rebellion when it’s between partners.” Rosey sneered.
“I keep forgettin’ the whole ‘equals’ part.” Aida admitted with mock regret before continuing, “Bit hard to do if you’d seen what I’ve seen. If you’d seen one of those equals let the other cane his bare backside like a green school boy over a tiny defiance. Equals my ass. How much trouble have you gotten him in that he’d risk this much?”
Aida had approached Rosey during this sickening divulgence and Rosey fast felt her power in the situation escaping her but was too rattled by it to wrestle back her rightful dominance.
“I suppose you’re real proud of yourself for standing by during such an event.” Rosey managed to spit while shrinking against the wall. Her hands began to sweat, she tossed the hysteria box off her lap and gripped the sheets beside her to dry them, feeling for her discarded pistol “And for a man who gave you so much. You’re not even mad for him.”
“An event? It was a weekly pastime some years, that cane saw more of him than it did the pavement.” Aida puzzled, “He’s really told ya nothin’, has he?” that revelation brought Aida more amusement than Rosey could ever imagine so hideous a face could express while Rosey felt sick at the idea of how much harm one stupid piece of wood could inflict, “Are you sorry for the dog that’s made to do a party trick before it gets a bone, Miss Beaumont? Do you give a dog a bone when he refuses? Mad for him, hmph.”
“Why’re you telling me all this.” Rosey asked, shame and anger battling inside her.
“Stop that.” Aida ordered and shortly after Rosey felt a sting to her cheek as she was slapped. Too stunned to respond in kind she sat there with a gaping mouth as Aida inspected her reaction.
“Stop what?” she hissed, palm to her her tingling cheek.
“Actin’ like you ain’t starved for details.” Aida smirked, “Clever girl like you, must’ve found Miss Etta most boring -so much talk, so much talk, so little history actually said. You’re downright panting to snoop yourself, don’t deny it.”
“I-I-I’m not!” Rosey defended, “I’m not denying.” she amended.
“Prove it.” Aida smirked.
Rosey knew this was a test that a normal child would have passed years ago, school bullies or debutante rivals would have buffeted her so that a manic, washed up prostitute’s goading would have little effect. But Rosey was no normal child, sheltered and so little buffeted in the gentler forms of cruelty, she knew only the hard scrabble, hard edged tests of life. With a sinking feel of doing wrong yet a pulse quickening excitement for daring it anyway, she looked about the room for a prompt. Her eyes fell to the bindings the Captain had used on her bosoms, and beneath it the masculine costume Aida herself had loaned her.
And she recalled his blush.
“When you loaned us that garb,” she began and no matter how hard she tried to be brazen she couldn’t manage more than a hushed whisper, “you mentioned…equipment. You asked if he wanted the ‘equipment’ with it.” She looked up to find that Aida was holding her peace, more restrained than Rosey had ever seen her and far from being comforting it made her feel like she was about to be sprung upon by prey. “I want to know what that was. What you meant. What you use it for.”
-‘Depraved things’ -the captain had called them sternly, but he’d stuttered and hardened all the same at the mere suggestion of them.
“How did he respond when he saw you in ‘em?” Aida pried and Rosey thought maybe she’d misjudged her, and she was merely a lonely gossip shut up in this dark hold for too long. Rosey caught a glimpse of herself in the future. “Did he find you arousing?”
Rosey wasn’t about to divulge that but the rosy blush that earned her his nickname was quick to answer for her. “What’s the equipment?”
“A wooden cock.” Aida replied with commendable bluntness.
Rosey hadn’t even contemplated the existence of such a thing. Her marveling face must’ve said so.
“Attached in the common place on the wearer with a harness.” Aida was eager to share and Rosey felt unsettled again at the knowledge that cruelty and degeneracy were the only two subjects that seemed to bring the woman joy. “Plenty a’men like bein’ with men that way but there’s those that like a woman to take ‘em thataways, too.”
“So they-“ Rosey couldn’t help herself, the curiosity too burning to be tamped down, “-they…suck on it?”
Much to her surprise, Aida looked a little puzzled herself for a brief moment before replying, “Well, no, not usually. They pay me to fuck ‘em.”
“In the mouth?“ Rosey persisted, annoyed at the splitting of hairs between taking and being taken orally.
“No, in the ass!” Aida was equally annoyed until she realized by watching Rosey’s bewildered expression that the girl wasn’t playing dumb.
“How does…how does anything fit up there?” she balked, certain Aida was having a laugh at her expense. From the stigma of sucking a man that she had learned from youth, she naturally assumed it was because it was associated with acts performed by sodomites and was the one way men could pleasure each other without a cunt. “How large is this wooden -object?”
“Girl,” Aida smirked, “we’re talkin’ cock, wooden and otherwise, goin’ up the back way. A throat ain’t got nothin’ on the squeeze of a tight ass.”
An array of emotions and wonderments hit Rosey all at once, converging in her mind to fill her with that tantalizing tingle of newly acquired knowledge mixed with a substantial amount of shock and concern over the likelihood of the Captain having engaged in this activity. Which further exacerbated her curiosity as to why he would find the mere suggestion of a renewal of that type of indulgence arousing. “Does that not hurt?” she asked.
“Like hell if you ain’t prepped right.” Aida’s graying tongue flicked at her lips and Rosey felt a pang of dread in her stomach.
“How does one prepare for that?”
“Stretchin’ the rim out.” she shrugged, “All my clients pay for that -after all, if they’ve got time and money to pay a woman to bugger them, you can count on it that they’re much too delicate to take it raw.”
“But if you’re just, out and-“ Rosey bit her lip to try to find a kinder word but it was ugly business no matter how one put it, “if one was out hawking oneself?”
“Beaumont,” Aida lifted a tattooed brow at her transparency, “you can count on it that the Captain done felt like his insides were getting scraped raw most times. Ain’t no oil in a back alley or bent over a barrel, but sometimes, sometimes it must’ve been good. He’s got a lingering taste for it, or maybe he just likes pain.”
“You’ve done this, for him?” Rosey asked dismally and wished she hadn’t even before it rolled off her tongue.
To her surprise Aida answered, “No. reckon he took enough real cock to keep him staggerin’ well into the weekday most times.”
“But not anymore.” Rosey noted once more while raising her chin, and as if noticing her shift in mood, Aida began to retreat towards the door.
“No, not anymore.” she agreed before spitting out, “Gone a whole year without sellin’ ass and he already misses it. Some folks are born whores.”
“Say that of him again and I’ll blow your brains out.” Rosey promised, and by then she had retrieved her pistol.
“Keep your eye out for those photographs.” Aida responded tersely, making as if to go.
“You’ve a claim to them?” Rosey leant forward in the cot, persisting in pressing the issue.
“Mm, yeah, I do.” Aida eyed the pistol warily.
“What- what kind of photographs am I to be looking for?” Rosey asked, exasperated and curious only for her own sake. And his. “If he had such an apparatus there could be all manner of prints! And I’ve heard with the mechanism that some may be undeveloped-“
“These are developed.” Aida laid her hand in the door knob, “Older, too, you’ll tell by the style.”
“I’ve never seen one in the flesh! How am I to discern style?” Rosey protested. “What kind am I looking for?”
Aida stared hard at her before her mouth twisted, “Oh, you’ll know what kind when you see them, Beaumont.”
Rosey’s hands had turned from clammy to frozen in her attempt to disguise her panicked breathing. “Beyond the photographs, what is it you want?”
Aida stood by the door of the small room and swayed, side to side like a considering crow and Rosey gave her all the time she needed.
“I know you wanted me to catch you.” She insisted gently.
“Hmph.” Aida grunted, contemplating a confession it seemed, or else another mode of attack. Rosey would never know.
A knock rang out from the other side of the door and Aida’s hand flew to her own mouth, signaling with a finger to the lips for Rosey to be silent. To play that the room was empty. Rosey wouldn’t be caught abetting a woman as displeasing to the Captain as Aida and chose to ignore her.
“Enter!” Rosey answered instead, clear and assertive.
Aida was forced to move back from the opening door as the formidable bulk of Sister Rosetta entered, looking first at Aida and then down to the spilled trunks, then up and across to Rosey on her rumpled cot.
“Miss Beaumont,” ever the stickler for etiquette, Rosetta ignored the intruder for the time being and addressed herself to the one she was seeking, who also happened to be the lady of the boat, “Dr. Nicholas informed me that yesterday you charged him with a meeting this afternoon to review…certain questions you had?”
“Oh, yes, yes I did.” Rosey recalled her fiery stipulations for allowing the doctor to stay aboard. She didn’t miss the way Aida watched this interaction with avid interest.
“He’s asking a time, ma’am.” Sister Rosetta prodded, she was being awfully respectful and Rosey wondered if the woman knew of her recent marriage or was merely setting an example for Aida. Either way, Rosey appreciated it.
“How about, a umm, an hour from now?” Rosey calculated, “We ought to be on our way by then, and the more nauseating swells should have subsided. Nothing like going over numbers when the boat’s rocking.”
“I’ll see to it he’s conscious by then.” Rosetta replied with deferential irony and Rosey filed that remark away for later. “Exactly what are you doing in here, Overton?” she asked the old prostitute next.
“I was returning her clothes to her.” Rosey spoke up and Rosetta, in line with her newly found deference for Rosey Presley, accepted this fib with narrowing eyes but tight lips. “And, as that’s done with,” Rosey went on after a burdened silence in which Rosetta’s judgmental stare impressed upon her the need to do…something, “you may go, Aida.”
Aida did not exit in haste, she slipped behind Sister Rosetta’s considerable bulk and gave a searing, lasting, parting look of what Rosey feared bordered on conspiratorial camaraderie before shutting the door behind her.
Rosey sat on her cot and fought the urge to fidget on the cot, to kick her leg and scuff her boots under Rosetta’s unwavering observation. That hideous, vibrating apparatus was still lying sideways on the floor.
“Child?” Rosetta broke the silence at last and Rosey ground her teeth at the sudden absence of all respect and deference, merely parental concern remained and no small rebuke in it. It had been a show for that whore, then, and nothing changed. Nothing ever changed, Rosey would always be stuck as that cloistered little girl who grew up to be a stunted young woman.
“I’m glad you came by Sister, I’ve a complaint against you.” Rosey spoke up, daring this due to the sting of repeated losses of authority, first to Aida and now to her.
“With me?” Rosetta repeated, seemingly astounded.
“Yes.” Rosey smoothed her hands out on her lap, “It would seem a confidence I trusted you with a few nights gone, a confidence I would have kept to myself if not so shaken, was repeated to the Captain in its most gruesome and twisted manner.”
“By me?” Rosetta repeated, eyebrows raised nearly to the band of her exquisite turban.
“There was no one else to insinuate what he now believes as gospel truth.” Rosey pointed out icily, “He is under the impression, Sister, that he forced himself on me the other night.”
“Unsuccessfully!” Rosetta protested, “He knows he was unsuccessful. There’s no harm done.”
“The harm is in the intent!” Rosey cried out, “And in the fact he believes himself capable of it! He won’t even-“ with effort Rosey reined in her narrative to the details proper to be shared, “he would barely trust himself alone in his own room with me. And while that has been surmounted by vows and begging on my part -he is…tentative.”
“Not a bad thing.” Rosetta pointed out, chin lifted, “A man that -hungry, a man like that oughta be tentative. And that night should have proved it to you.”
“What occurred that night was not unwanted.” Rosey enunciated, near to a rage, “And I would not have him think otherwise. I did not tell you otherwise. I confided my wants to you and admitted my sins, that I wanted his babe! His love! And you took that, took that temperance of mine and told him he was a brute?”
Rosetta swiped her hand over her brow a half a dozen times as if battling something quite heavy before deciding on a course of action and hauling up the rickety chair to sit in front of Rosey, amidst the wreckage of the trunks. “You think well of him.” she noted and before Rosey could more adamantly rephrase this moderate sentiment, she held her hand up for silence, “And it’s well that you do. And it is well for him, too. But with such a man, it is well for him to know what he is capable of, and to not think too highly of his own restraint. Not when we are speaking of something as heavy as this.”
Rosey did her best to listen and give such a statement it’s due weight and consideration, but peeved at continued insinuation of her own naïveté felt compelled to retort, “Ma’am, I’ve seen a woman forced, my own sister in fact, I don’t need to be told about heaviness. I’m telling you now, I object to saddling a man, however volatile and, and, and hungry as you call it, with the taint of such cruelty. He would never.”
“You think I care about the act?” Rosetta scoffed but gently added, “Child, there’s sins and then there’s harm. And then there’s bringing a child into a world not fit to care for it. And that’s what I object to. That’s what he objects to. And that’s what deserves heaviness and fear from such a man, and you should fear it too.”
Rosey swallowed hard, the shift in Rosetta’s tone becoming softer than she’d ever seen and it took her unawares. In vain did she summon back her old ire, instead like a helpless student, she waited for more.
“Don’t be so eager for a babe, girl.” Rosetta murmured sadly, “Not in times such as these. Even good men betray you, and even the ones who don’t -they’re not promised tomorrow to provide for you. And in your case, without him, there’d be no Captain Presley to buy your child and bring him up as his own.”
Rosey tapped her boot on the floor rhythmically as an assorted pattern of clues formed in her mind and suddenly it was quite plain, all those hours teaching him math in her presence and watching her watch him frolic with the captain and her so very angry at the colonel for threatening him- “Cal is yours.” Rosey realized, “He’s your son.”
Rosetta pursed her lips and nodded, more vulnerable looking than Rosey had ever seen her stoic face, “And it would do him no good to know.” he mourned, “For I had a man, and he was a good man with ivory skin, blue eyes and a wife, and he told me he’d come back for me. That was a whole war ago.” she noted, “And the only man who came was Elvis, bought us both out of our debt. Freedom ain’t sweet when ya can’t eat and when the color of your skin affects your child’s chances. If you were to have a bastard, you’d be nearly in the same case as me.”
Rosey leant forward and tentatively laid a comforting hand on the stalwart lady’s knee, “I’d no idea. Not when I was teaching him -and you, right there, holding your tongue. I cannot fathom it.”
“One day,” she murmured, “you’ll love someone enough to hold your tongue, even if you want to claim them. And what kind of parents would you be? A man of pleasure and a murderess? This isn’t a just world and it’s certainly not a kind one, you’d never get to keep your child. Promise me, never a child, if I could spare either of you that, I would, that’s why I’m sayin’ what I am saying.”
“I can’t make that promise.” Rosey gasped, heartsick and persuaded, “I-I can’t, it’s not for me to make. Not alone.”
Sister Rosetta received this with grudging admiration for Rosey’s loyalty to his headship over her.
“There was a woman aboard, little over a year ago,” Rosetta’s tone turned dreadfully measured after her brief vulnerability and Rosey braced herself, knowing the tale was worth heeding if so circumspect a woman took to divulging secrets, “she was wealthy as was her husband. And the Captain had a fear that she had begotten a child off him.” Rosetta paused as if weighing her narrative once more, “He was most careful about that, you see, with his work, such as it was, most careful. It was paramount to him. But with this woman it was feared. Some couples are harmless, some women are needy, and some are depraved. They all pay the same. But,” she folded her hands again and again before rising and speaking to the door, “but this particular couple, they were crueler than most. Thwarted his precautions knowingly. Seemed to delight in it, like it was a lark to taint themselves with him. It’s a common thing paid for, a sort of abetted cuckolding with the husband engaged. It wore on him, Miss Beaumont, years and years of seeing marriage so demeaned and him being the instrument for it but -never to such ends as this. I don’t know what Etta tried, and I don’t know what Aida planned, but when these helpers failed he came to me.”
“What -what did he want?” Rosey begged. “What did he intend?”
“I don’t know.” Rosetta sounded like a jaded witness, “But he told me of it, told me he was begging God to finish that woman, anything to prevent a child of his to be raised by such degenerates.” Rosetta turned back to her, looking over Rosey’s head, “He gave himself back to God that night. And stuck to it until you came along. The next port of call he sent me to their room to deliver a telegram that had come in. It read of an emergency, the couple demanded a ramp be lowered before the boat had fully docked, they were eager to be off. Considering his passenger's request paramount to an order, the Captain lowered them a ramp.” Rosetta locked eyes with Rosey as the girl guessed a million endings to this harmless tale, “That was the only time Captain Presley has ever lost passengers while unloading. Crushed them between the hull and dock.”
Rosey found her mouth had gone dry when she tried to swallow her shock, choking on her own emotion, Rosetta went to the wash basin and brought her the pitcher, encouraging her to drink.
“Don’t you ever think that man takes the prospect of a child lightly.” Rosetta ended her caution quite simply and Rosey gave the pitcher back with nerveless hands.
“You think he-“ she could not say it the first try, which was ironic enough considering what unaccounted and horrible things she’d laid to his account when she first met him, “-killed them?” she whispered.
“Court ruled it was an accident, Me. Cash was an advocate.” Rosetta acted suddenly as if she was arguing against her own narrative, “And since then the Captain became a most revernat disciple of the gospel of his youth. There’s nothing more to be gained from guessing. Till you.” she added, “Now it bears some worth in repeating. Just, bear in mind when you’re fooling and he’s suggestible -he don’t take it lightly, child. He don’t take it lightly.”
Rosey repacked the trunks when Rosetta left her, unable in her rearranging to help herself from snooping in some small way. There was nothing very remarkable save a large assortment of knives that looked as motley as possible with different inscriptions and initials on them, suggesting other owners. There were strong ribbons of silk, too, 10 times longer than needed to tie up even Rosey’s long mane of hair, and clasps too, cosmetics of coal and rouge in tidy little containers. And a hairbrush that looked innocuous enough until one examined the phallic handle. Rosey nearly dropped the thing in startelement that she was holding something with veins and ridges so similar to the real thing while being pantomime.
It felt disloyal and she dropped it back into the trunk. It thudded dully on the wooden bottom and still no photographs were to be seen. A single cameo was wedged amongst books and when she cracked its decaying hinge open she found a picture of Captain Phillips looking ten years younger and without a lick of gray. Wartime portrait. She tucked it back in place and threaded the strange assortment of thin silk shifts and a large corset, as if for a big boned woman, around the more delicate things and stacked the books as best she could manage.
This done she went to her meeting with the doctor, such as it was with a table set up in a closet beside the Boilers that held pitchers and hoses in case of a fire in them, foggy and lost in early memories of the captain. Not the sunlit frolics of childhood that were dimly returning to her the longer she stayed with him but that dreadful first night they met. She wracked her brain for the little details she’s once worried to shreds in her fear of him but had since been smoothed out like so much jagged ivory in a near completed sculpture. She recalled the way he shoved through the New Orleans riff-raf with unblinking authority and the way he’d snapped his fingers and bought her with only mild protest from other bidders. She thought of his playful refrain to her these day “No murder, Rosey!” and realized with an ache that he may not have meant it so lightly. He was begging her off a path he had been down. The more she thought of him in those early days and the fear he elicited in her, the more she realized him capable of the tale she had just heard.
“Just once I wanna hear Old Beaumont’s daughter say ‘cock’ while grinding back on mine.” he had been so mean with his words that first time, goading and venomous at her for her lofty origins. Or was he just used to speaking like that to highborn ladies who got a thrill from a working class man soiling them?
It was more of a wonder that he was capable of love now, and hated himself as faintly as he did, with such a history. Each new little discovery of it that she made was like pricking her fingers on hidden pins in a seemingly complete cross stitch. If she could run above deck now and hug him and have him lave her pricked fingers with his tongue and promises -she would.
Instead, “Good afternoon, docter.” She greeted and closed the door of the closet behind them.
She took the seat on the far wall, which was only about three feet apart from himself with a rickety board serving as a desk. Rosey laced her hands around her ink pot atop her accounting books with admirable poise and gave him a smile. Dr. Nick’s smile wavered but he returned it all the same.
“To be perfectly honest, Miss Beaumont, I am confused by this, uh, interview, shall we say?” he admitted as she laid out her papers and asked for a list of drugs and medicines used in the captain's care. “I am not beholden to you or owe you any information, the art I practice is guarded by oath and the law of this land states no boat of this size can traverse without a doctor, i am thus immune to any threat you may make or change you may attempt. You are a purser, ma’am, and I am a physician. I suggest we keep to our respective callings, the better to pass this trip in a harmonious manner.”
“I am indeed a purser,” Rosey dipped her pin in the ink with methodical precision, “and as such I am to make an account of what comes and goes in our revenues. I am not here to play chemist sir, I am merely here to ascertain to what purpose we spend nearly 40 dollars monthly on Mercury. salts?”
“Pah.”
“The boat pays for that, sir.” She reminded, “Another ten for opiates, another thirteen for -“
“You are new to book keeping, yes?” Dr. Nick interrupted.
“No, I am not at all new to it.” Rosey answered truthfully.
“Book-keeping in a brothel, then?” he guessed, “Just as you would pay for lye or salt marsh to seed your fields, this vocation requires a vast array of…fertilizers. Stimulants and relaxants and numbing drugs -the human body can only sustain so much on its own power, Madame. I shall spare you the details but there are illnesses to treat as well. Rife amongst such work.”
“Spare me no details, which illness is which drug curing, Doctor?”
“The Mercury -Aida ingests that morning moon and nightly on my orders.”
“That’s why the entire woman is turning silver, I suppose?” Rosey shuddered and noted it down.
“An unfortunate side effect.” he conceded, “Along with vomiting and wasting, the disease can be attributed for the rest of her symptoms, the mind and vision. The rotting of brain matter and soft tissue that you have no doubt smelled. She is not alone, half the boat relies on Mercury to keep the rot at bay.”
“How long?” Rosey asked, “How long must they be on it for a cure?”
“Girl, there is no cure for such filth.” he grunted, “We are talking of back alley, degenerate diseases, lowborn blood and the judgment of God on all such products of lust combining to waste them away.”
“And what are you treating the malaria with?” Rosey moved onto another Devine pestilence that she was certain the captain suffered from.
“I don’t recognize anyone with it.” he objected, “No swollen tongues or yellow eyes.”
“It can be chronic-“
“-no, not in my study of it, it can’t.” he shook his head with surety, “Syphilis, that’s what we’re fighting aboard, and the Clap. I suppose we should think of getting you on a regimen if you’ve been having -relations.” he muttered with what Rosey truly thought might be blunt concern for her welfare. “There’s no cure, but these medicinals they are -essential for any quality of life to be maintained and for comfort to be found at the end. Essential. Syphilis, It’s a spirochete you see, not at all like a bacteria, under a microscope it looks rather like a corkscrew drilling its way into each cell, siphoning off the life from it.”
Rosey swallowed thickly at that image and jotted down another column, “What symptoms was the captain experiencing that such a disease was suspected?” the difference between himself and Aida’s derangement were obvious, but perhaps that was just a matter of time.
“He runs fevers, he has sweats, he is fatigued,” the doctor rattled a mundane list of ailments boredly, “he engaged in sodomy. It’s clear.”
Rosey bit her lip at the recent revelation as to the details of that act and retorted softly, “He vomits, almost every morning, he vomits. Does that not sound more of cholera, at least?”
“Where would he have gotten cholera?” The doctor scoffed.
“He was abroad for years during the war!” she retorted heatedly, “And was held prisoner in Elmira of all places -do you not think that sufficient to contract an illness without contracting the wrath of God, too?”
“Was he kept there?” Dr. Nick showed grave surprise, “I didn’t know him then.“ He explained as if that were an end to it, nothing remarkable about having judged a patient’s case without any history given. “I was hired by Colonel Parker to help ease him in his vocation, and for the occasional assist when sleeplessness took hold. You’ve nothing against sleep drafts do you?” he suddenly asked in horror at her ignorance.
“I’m here to account, sir.” she managed in a horse whisper and marked the Mercury salts for two, all the rest having been discharged from service. She started another column for unaccounted drugs which she figured she could assume with some surety that the Doctor himself indulged in.
“We really ought to get you on something, it spreads you know.” he insisted not unkindly.
Rosey shifted in her seat and thought of her innocence still so resolutely intact. “I think you’ll find that won't be necessary, sir.”
Come evening they were still at it, tallying figures and dosages that ran like Greek in Rosey’s head to the lulling of the familiar boilers clang, making white noise beside them.
A grating scrape silenced them both as the jarring sensation of the boat catching on some unknown barrier below them cast the fear of God on them both. Not in all her time aboard had Rosey heard something remotely similar. Not even when the Captain sidled the great monstrosity up the docks. He parked his boat smooth as a dance master, a little bump and sway and they’d settle as the ropes tethered them.
Not so this screech, it reminded Rosey and the doctor both that they were in a floating cask. Following was a disorienting little tip where the ink pot began to slide towards her and she caught it, unnerved by the small but unmistakable turn the boat was taking.
“Have you ever-?” she broke the silence as they still stayed unbalanced like a buggy relying on a single wheel for a reckless curve.
“No.” Dr. Nick had his eyes searching the ceiling as the lamp above them stayed slanted to the side like their balance. “He’s makin’ the turn,” he surmised sounding a little awed, “we’re headed into the Missouri.”
Rosey wondered if she’d feel it when the water changed, beyond the boat righting itself after the turn. She wondered if the Captain would at least, with those keen hands and attuned senses. Would the current change? Would the depths affect his grip on the wheel? Was the strain of the boilers her imagination or was it like they were truly fighting for access into the giant tributary. Would the river gods let him in? Hand braced on the wall as her chair went slightly askew beneath her weight, Rosey let up her first little prayer in ages and it sounded strangely directed towards the captain’s talent instead of God.
Up above decks the Captain’s eyes smarted from kerosene fumes and hours of squinting into the pale lamp-illuminated river mists, they gathered like shrouds on the old Mississippi’s surface as the inky waves danced into the edge of the black sky. Elvis felt like it was a funeral procession of sorts, all black robes and white smoke like he’d seen in New Orleans
‘Don’t count me out yet, ole Miss,’ he thought fondly, ‘watch me come back to you old girl’.
Jerry was to take the evening watch and still refused to go down below to catch his nap, too anxious for the damn turn into the tributary like the rest of them who knew anything about anything. Elvis tried to comfort himself that if he ran them into a sandbank and drowned them all, first day of the job, he’d at least be responsible for killing General Sherman.
As it was Elvis sniffed away the smarting fumes and gritted his teeth at the gnarly scrape that wailed into the night as he toggled the massive wheel to his left, a little too much, too soon? Or was he too late to thread the damn needle? The current felt like a damn whirlpool keeping him at bay and he had to stick out a foot off his high stool to force the wheel straight on his course. It was unnerving the way it would have spun and spun them to oblivion if he’d let go the slightest bit.
“Ya got it, ya got it.” Cash’s rumble sounded steadying in his ear and once again Captain Presley gave thanks for the Divine intervention and kind suspicions of Mr. Binder who didn’t trust his investment that far westward without the Waterway Committee’s watchdog tagging along to guard it. The fact it was ole Johnny Cash from dear dead days gone by and more recent redemptive ones, only made it kinder. Between Rosey’s pardon and Cash’s presence, Elvis was ready not only to repay Mr. Binder generously but even to like the man. “Ya got it, don’t spook, man.”
Johnny kept the damn unhelpfully small print map up in the right half of Elvis’ view, thumb tacking it to the top of the wheel for the past half hour as Elvis’ glued his eyes to each treacherous little bend of the entry way he’d never probbed before.
“Which one is it, damnnit?” he hissed to himself as every little juncture was running together on the map and maybe he shoulda brought his glasses if he knew this was going to be more about reading for hours straight and far less about seamanship.
Cash reached over him and wiped the off the compass with his jacket cuff and that was all the rebuke Elvis needed for his small tantrum. “Instruments ain’t lyin.” Cash grunted.
“Either of you bastards wanna ease us into this whirlpool, be my guest.” Elvis had to get his anger out or else tip them and he felt better right away at the guffaws it inspired.
“Fuck no.” Jerry chuckled nervously in back and Elvis hated him for the way he was just shy of talented enough to do this and thus could warm his hands around a hot canteen of coffee while Elvis’ numb and braised hands cramped on the wheel.
“Ease is the right word.” Johnny chuckled, “don’t let Lamar spook and gun us in.”
“I know, I know.” Elvis grunted as he felt himself get in a groove, the current finally splitting at the bow on either side like a welcomer instead of a barrier, “I-I think I’m in, I’m -I’m in somethin.” he added unsure, “Lemme me in sweet Missouri, lemme in Big Muddy.”
If one of the soldiers beneath them had been atop he might have laughed at the language or thought it pantomime but it wasn’t, none of the rivermen laughed, they just bit their lips at the necessary double entendrés and prayed the fickle water would listen.
“Mhmm, nice n’ easy you’re in, I feel what ya mean -tell Lamar not to spook.” Cash urged Elvis again as the boat began to tug into the bend as it ought, causing the deck and the whole dark horizon to tip to their right as they turned west.
“He knows!” Elvis bit back, knuckles white as the wheel tried to tug him fully to the side, his thigh working harder to pull him upright again.
“Does he? If it were me I wouldn’t trust a single fella who ain’t a professional lover not to gun it in, full steam ahead, right about now.” Cash admitted.
“Lamar don’t ya Fuckin’ do it!” Elvis grabbed the horn and hollered down to his boilers, “Make her swallow us whole if ya do!” and it was just in time too, the boat began to rattle and hum as if a few more scoops had been added and the bellows worked a few pumps beyond direction. “Quit pumpin’ so hard, damn you.” Elvis hollered again and his amplified voice rattled around the boilerdeck like Hades sending out a decree into the underworld, it made Rosey perk up across from Dr. Nick. “I tell ya when to add coal, fucks sake -no intuition for feelin’ it give, some folks…” Elvis trailed off in a grumble and let the horn fall with a clatter back in place.
The current of the Missouri runs southernly from its source in the great northwest and where it meets the Mississippi just north of Saint Louis, it forms a churning caldron of wrecks, tide pools and sediment. Enough steam is required to make the turn and keep one’s progress against a current that flows over eight miles an hour, yet too much steam and it will tip you right into the swirl of the conjoining streams.
“Sweet Jesus I feel like I’ve been turnin’ for hours.” he groaned, his shoulders burning from the strain, “Gonna run into the opposite bank this way.”
“How she feelin?” Was all Cash replied.
“Looser.”
“Looser bad or looser good?”
“When is looser bad?” Jerry asked with a snort.
“Looser’s bad when your fuckin’ wheel spins like a roulette wheel, ya idiot.” Elvis helpfully supplied.
“Yeah, never seen that yet.” Jerry conceded that he was a very good first mate and hadn’t allowed such a thing to even happen.
“I-I dunno man she’s loose but- but I feel her tug-“ Elvis bit his lip and tried to process both the instruments and the leading of the wheel. “-left.” he decided, “She’s tuggin’ left.”
“Then show her who’s boss.” Cash grinned and thumbed at the droplets on the map, squinting himself at the small type. “You plan to tuck us in before Kansas City for the night? Nice lil cove right about there.” He pointed at the map with his big blunt finger but Elvis had his tongue between his teeth and he leaned on the wheel spokes to pull the boat right.
“Just trying to get past this bend then I’ll think about goddamn coves.” Elvis grunted, “She won’t stop sucking m’bow to portside.”
“Want a hand?” Cash asked mildly.
“Fuck me it’s like asking the wife to fuck this mistress.” the captain muttured instead, switching from pleading with the river to begging his boat to go where it wasn’t built for, its high top decks -so spacious and regal for entertainment or speed- precariously teetering in the rough n’tumble of the backwoods river. “Ooooh hell she's tuggin’,” he exclaimed finally, “Lamar, Lamar! Gimme more now!” he yanked at his own controls, a stick that precariously opened the steam valves at whim so long as enough coal was supplied below, and the Proud Marie lurched into the turn with all the rage of an offended deity. “Cash? Wanna help?” he barked, wild haired and sweating in the gas light and looking more in his element than Johnny had seen him in ages.
“Bless me no, you juggle your own women.” he smiled instead. “Pay attention to that tuggin’, now. Don’t wanna die now we’ve threaded the damn thing.”
“Oh I’m payin’ attention, alright.” Elvis laughed. “But now she’s tuggun’ like the current’s suckin me ‘stead of pushin’, Cash.”
“How fickle is woman.” Cash mused while lighting up a cigar.
“Just think,” Jerry piped up encouragingly, “couple more hours of this then you can go lay on soft bosoms and catch some shut eye.”
Seeing as how it was already past ten in the evening, the thought of more hours was more tortuous than conciliatory. “Jerrah, how about you fuck off and make yourself useful. Light my cigar f’me again, damn mists keep puttin’ it out.”
“You can’t just breathe tobacco up here.” Jerry pointed out even as he struck a match and cupped it to the Captain's face.
The captain glanced at him, all sooty lashes and water speckled cheeks in the warm glow of the kerosene wick, “Watch me.” he puffed, as he felt the river give him a lane and he slotted in, pulling his wheel straight again. “This got me sweatin’ like a whore in church.” he whistled, no longer jealous of Jerry and his coffee.
“Works every time.” Cash agreed with a knowing smile and Elvis grinned back.
“We’re in boys, we’ve well and truly entered her.” he announced a mile in and half in, and had there been daylight, the mouth leading to the Mississippi would have been seen slowly shrinking behind them like a portal to the known world.
“Done so gentle, I'd bet she didn’t even bleed.” Cash patted Elvis' shoulder and he smiled back, fighting the urge to slump over the wheel and fall asleep now the day’s worst was over.
A few hours passed and the Captain did tuck them into a cove for the night, running the ropes out the hawser holes to secure them to the beached wreck of a more unfortunate predecessor on its banks. He woke Jerry where he’d slumped in his chair for his watch.
“Say hi to Rosey for me, EP.” he mumbled and Elvis didn’t begrudge him after having slapped him around a bit to thoroughly wake him.
“So you kept her aboard?” Cash asked him as they tromped down the multiple flights of ladders to the lowest deck, handrails and boot grips slick with mist and the single lantern Elvis held doing little to light the way.
“Cash, she killed for me.” the captain reminded in a dazed murmur.
“She’s really somethin’ then?” Cash made conversation as they creaked open the side door, an absolute racket of a sound in the otherwise sleeping boat, and stepped into the starboard side of the stables.
“Whadda you think?” Elvis sassed with smug awareness that Rosey really was something else.
“And ya love her?” Cash rumbled on in that easy way of his that would have you declaring shit you didn’t have figured out yet.
“Whadda ya think?” Elvis answered again and started weaving through the horses instead of going to his little closet and its cot and warm bosoms, “Hellfire, it’s a sea of horses down here.” he muttered as he walked down an aisle of where the tethered yet majestic creatures nipped at him with eager muzzles or else swished him with elegant tales, “Poor Beans, s’like berthing on a transport. Bullshit steerage accommodations for m’boy.” he bemoaned when he found him and Cash assumed Beans forgave all with the nearly amorous way the horse flung his head neck around Elvis’ and the two swayed in a cheek smashed embrace.
Removing himself from the equine reunion, Cash busied himself with going to the far side where the racks of loose hay puffed out between wooden slats and grabbed himself a bundle to replace Bean’s trodden supply. When he returned he found Elvis in discussion with someone, and after initially assuming it to be his tetched horse, Cash realized there was another fella down here with him, not one of the crew, just a sleepless soldier come to keep his horse company, or the other way around.
“Best cure for it.” Elvis was agreeing pleasantly to something the man had said and Cash assumed it was insomnia, “M’boy here’s always my first choice. Is your berth comfortable, got everythin’ ya need?”
“Yeah, it’ll do.” The man replied a few horses deep into the row and Cash squinted trying to make out a discernible facial feature in the gloom and all he succeeded at was recognizing yellow colored hair. “Sleep a whole lot better of they’d kept the female comfort aboard.” the man added with a joke.
“Ain’t fittin’ on a government boat, they says.” The Captain maintained a neutral tone and took to unsnarling one of the braids in Beans withers.
“I bet the rich bastard who ran this kept a few, ya know?” The man disagreed with a grin, “The guys have pooled together, we’ve got a decent amount of cash for anyone who wants to give us a tip to where we can find the maids. Can’t run a boat without maids.”
“You can.” Elvis replied a little harshly, “Leastwise they’re all men.” he added.
“Well, if we get desperate enough...” The fellow joked.
“If ya get desperate enough you’ll find yourself sucking lead outta my pistol ‘fore I let you mess around with my folks, that clear?” The captain crouched and yanked up the lantern he’d set on the floor and pushed it into the crowd of horses to make out the man’s face for future reference and illuminating his own. The man was nearly middle aged and was unremarkable really, in every way, except for the glinting brass uniform buttons running down the front of his navy blue jacket.
“Wh- shit me, you the captain?” the man asked in surprise, putting his hands up in a pacifying way, “Sorry sir, just kidding is all. It’s gonna be a long trip.”
It was indeed, nobody knew that better than Elvis and he decided the fellow was jovial enough, hell- if it weren’t for Rosey’s presence the captain would have taken such a joke in stride and he knew he was being irrational about it. He’d let rip with such humor himself at times and it didn’t mean anything, it didn’t and there was no use antagonizing his human cargo on the first day over a joke. The scuff of Cash’s boots behind him reminded him he didn’t need to be bowing up at everyone, mildness was the order of the day.
“Yeah, gonna be real long.” Elvis agreed and they exchanged tired smiles at each other, the fellow was missing a front tooth on his lower set and had a shock of golden hair that had turned a little straw-like from hard living. “You got a wife or kids?” he asked, stepping aside so Beans could munch on the hay Johnny brought.
“No, no I’m unattached.” the fellow replied, “It’s better that way I figure.”
“Whores don’t miss ya.” Elvis deducted with a conciliatory grin and the man took the offered olive branch with a knowing smile.
“I suppose they don’t.” the man laughed back. “You seem awfully familiar,” the man went on, “have we met? Did you used to work transport during the war?”
Elvis didn’t quite have the heart to tell the guy that even if they had met he was about as remarkable as a piece of straw and thus not memorable, a nice person didn’t deserve the insult so Elvis said instead, “Judging by your accent, I highly doubt I’d have been carryin’ you down river.”
“You an old Rebel then?”
“You’re a New Yorker?”
“I am.”
“Yeah, then, seems not.” Elvis shrugged, “Unless,” an awful thought struck him, “-you always been in the Calvary?” he inquired, his own interest peaked, knowing without a shred of vanity that his own face was not particularly forgettable and so when folks told him they’d met before he tended to believe them.
“No, used to be infantry.” the man was puzzled by this line of questioning, “Bought my own commission five years ago.”
“Shieet!” Elvis exclaimed, thinking he’d cracked it, “You ever guard at Elmira?”
“You were held in Elmira?” the guy repeated in disbelief.
“Uhuh, you ever guard there?”
“Hell no, a shit detail that.” the man was offended, “I was down chasing General Hood in Alabama.”
Elvis squinted at this dead end and stippled his fingers on Beans’ back, trying to think of an alternative meeting. “Hood was doing the chasin’, if I recall.” he snarked.
“And we were doing the killing.” the guy smiled back and Elvis let it be.
“Don’t leave the damn candle goin’ till it burns down,” Elvis warned as he and Cash turned to go, “the hay would be happy to catch and keep us from ever makin’ it to the Dakotas.”
“I won’t!” the man replied and as they walked down the cramped hallway that led to Hodge’s room and then Rosey’s, Elvis felt with the keen discernment of too much time spent in dark alleys that there were eyes pinned to his back in the dark hold, watching where he and his lantern went for the night. Elvis could curse the builder of this ship for all its lonely little cubbies, but he knew how to make use of them. Those eyes burned him all the way to his turn and he felt like scratching his shoulder blades, the itch was so strong.
Natural curiosity was a reasonable reason to give the man, but Rosey made the captain unreasonable, and before he turned he doused his wick and Cash stumbled straight into his back.
Instead of grumbling, his friend muttered, “lead on.” in a quiet tone that suggested he got the Captain’s ploy.
“You’re in here with Lamar,” Elvis opened the door to one tiny berth with double hammocks, “Charlie and Cal are across and I’m in through there to a storage closet.”
“Your girl got a gun?” Cash asked instead as he stood on his threshold, “I don’t like that sonuvabitch.”
“What do you take me for?” Elvis smacked his shoulder, “Course she does and not just any, I got her Stan Whatie’s lil ivory project.”
“No, hell, the Cherokee’s?”
“Mhmm, won it over cards.” Elvis said.
“I’ll be damned, you romantic bastard.” Cash marveled, “Don’t tell my June, it’ll heighten her standards and I don’t trust her standards on a game of cards.”
“I won’t.” Elvis snickered and bid him goodnight, creeping through the dark into the next room and fumbling between the cots till he thought he’d found Cal and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.
“You’re precious, ya know that?” Charlie’s voice murmured back instead and Elvis’ head reared back with a shocked snort before he turned to the other bunk and its far smaller and utterly unconscious snoozer and repeated the kiss on the forehead originally intended.
He then felt along the wall until he felt the small latch and he pushed it open to find Rosey in nothing but her nightgown, still burning the midnight oil with her nose in a Pharmakea encyclopedia.
“Baby.” he whispered in greeting, tip-toeing past the chair and the trunks to their cot and being pleased as punch by the happy little cry she gave as she flung herself up in the bed to receive his kisses.
“Elvis!” she acted as if it had been years and her love had grown in the meantime and the small kiss he meant to give turned into a full embrace and his intentions for keeping away until he could strip from his work coat and keep her nightclothes unsoiled were irreparably thwarted by her vigor. “Today was a year long, I’ve waited and waited.” she moaned into his mouth and he grinned pleased against her cheek and peppered it with kisses that smelled of tobacco, “You smell of kerosene.” she laughed once she finally released him and he grinned down at her happily.
“You alright, darlin’?” he asked as he began to unbutton his coat, “How’re them bruises.”
He nodded to her chest and she rolled her eyes before assuring, “They’re fine.”
“I wanna see.” he insisted, but made no motion to make her, just kept popping buttons on his leather coat and she rather shyly tugged the wide scoop of her neckline down to show the tops of her breasts, unsure if this was routine or if she was meant to be seductive.
“Aww poor bubbies,” he mourned at the still present marks of the bindings, “Hoist ‘em up a little, I wanna see the undersides.”
With burning cheeks, Rosey scooped a breast in each hand and pushed them above the covering of her linen gown. The flash of hunger that seared though Elvis’ compassion made her shift in want on the cot.
“You been puttin’ the oil on ‘em like I told ya?” he asked.
“Yes I have.”
“S’very important, don’t be lazy about it.” he insisted. “Poor pretty babies, can’t believe I hurt ‘em like that. Gotta put oil on ‘em.”
“I know Elvis.” she agreed, “And what about you? How was it? We felt when you made the turn!”
“Did ya?”
“Yes, and I heard you yelling at Lamar.” she smiled shyly and he didn’t know why she looked so pleased about it.
“Oh.” he exclaimed, “Sorry ‘bout that, didn’t mean to be so angry. He's just such a bull about these things and ya gotta just ease it in, insistent but not forceful, ya know?”
“Don’t be sorry.” she simpered breathily and licked her lips, “You sounded like you were-“
“Like what?” He asked, genuinely confused, as he tried to find a place to hang his coat, “We really need more pegs in here.”
“You sounded like -a lover.” she hissed the last part, knees drawn up to her chin on the cot and he could pinch her cheeks, she looked so cute in her bashfulness.
“Did I?” he hummed, turning towards her as he emptied his various pockets of knives and timepieces and the like. “And did that excite my lil girl?”
“Maybe.” she whispered.
Oddly, he sniffed the air at her answer and squinted as if the findings puzzled him, “You ain’t played with yourself though, have ya?”
“Why- no. No I haven’t.” she gaped in some surprise.
“See, I’d know.” He told her with surety, “When I’ve been above deck all day I get my senses cleared, ya see? And when I come back down I can sense anything.”
“Oh.” her cheeks still flamed.
“Who else has been in here?” He asked after another sniff and his face darkened.
“Oh,” Rosey startled, “Sister Rosetta, she stopped by to remind me of my meeting, and Cal too, for a bit.”
“An-who else?” he asked with the look and tone of a man who already knew.
“Uh, well then there was Aida” Rosey kept her voice light, “she came so I could return her clothes to her.”
“Why’d you return them?”
“We’re done with them.” she replied, puzzled, “Aren’t we?”
“No, no, not necessarily.” he frowned, “And what’s the rush to return ‘em? She ain’t goin’ nowhere?”
“I just- I didn’t think. Sorry.”
“I don’t want you near her, you hear me, Rosey?”
“I-I do. But it wasn’t…she just came by.”
“I bet she did.” he seethed and he undid his vest with savage jerks and Rosey swallowed hard.
“I understand. But -no harm done this time.” she tried to pacify.
“You don’t need to seek out whores for friends, alright?” he went on, “And you don’t need to listen to whores for nothin’ regarding us. If I wanted a whore I’d go get me one. Some things are left better untouched, lil girl’s brains bein’ one.”
“Is she dangerous?” Rosey asked.
“Oh she done a thing or two in her time.” He agreed mirthlessly, “And been done a thing or two back, I suppose.”
“The doctor says her brain is rotting from the illness.” Rosey crossed her arms uncomfortably at the recollection and the rather obvious proofs of the same that being around the woman gave. Even the stench of flesh rotting that lasted hours after she’d gone. No amount of perfume or douched lemons could contain it.
“Why was he tellin’ you ‘bout her case?” Elvis demanded again. “He don’t need to be tellin’ a lady like you ‘bout syphillis’n’shit.”
“Is that what’s killing her?” Rosey asked.
“Most likely.” he shrugged, “They injected the mercury salts into her eyes for it a couple years ago, didn't do shit to slow it. I take ‘em orally and they burn. A- a-a-and I ‘member thinkin’ while I was holdin’ her down for it: nobody ever paid us more for a bit a pain as I paid for that fuckery.”
“You paid for that procedure?” she shuddered.
“She begged me, they said it would help. I-I-I hate her but -I couldn't just let her…rot.” he shook himself, “I'd rather someone shoot me ‘fore I get to that point. Why was he tellin’ you all this?” he argued again, brows knit and a hurt expression on his face, “Why you diggin’ into all this?”
“Elvis,” Rosey sighed and he took a breath too, as if aware he was tired and cranky, “the meeting was to discuss medications, you recall? We -our boat- spends an inordinate amount on medicines and opiates for our…so-called employees.”
“Yeah, cause this way a’livin makes you sick, Rosey.” His hands smacked his sides listlessly. “S’why Aida’s so doped up. Fuckin’ terrifies the shit outta me, and if I didn’t think God wouldn’t like, it I’d toss her overboard as bad luck. But no way around it”
“But you couldn’t have always felt that way,” Rosey reminded, “you were lovers once.”
The captain stopped what he was doing and spun round to face her with some alarm on his face, “That what she told you? That we was lovers once?”
“Well,” now that Rosey thought on it, Aida hadn’t explicitly said so, she’d just listed herself in a line of the Colonel’s erstwhile spies and remarked how seduction was integral to such a role, “no, she’s didn’t say so exactly-“
“-Well we weren’t!” he declared adamantly, as if for his own benefit as much as hers, “Doin’ shit to another body so folks pay ya don’t make ya lovers. It jus’ don’t, Rosey. No more’n me shoveling coal with Lamar makes us married.”
“Alright.” she replied just as adamantly in order to calm him and held up her hands while she was at it. “So y’all did…work…together?”
“I reckon you already knew that.” he muttered, yanking off a boot rather clumsily, “Why’re you so nosy tonight, anyways, hmm?”
“I-I just wanna know you.” she sighed.
“You do!”
“Know *of* you.” she clarified what bit of self recognition she’d come to realize this morning.
“Know Of? Wh- what’ve you been drinkin’ down here girl?” The captain laughed, “Gettin’ all philosophical on me. Ya know me, historically, biblically and a lil too well. I ain’t got any notion ‘bout takin’ you into sordid lil avenues of my life that don’t make no difference now.”
“But I think they do!” Rosey protested a little vehemently and he stopped midway through easing off with his workboot, hand cupping the scuffed heel as he stared her down. “I think it’s pertinent! All this stuff we don’t speak of! Why -you don’t sleep some nights and I dream terribly and -you haven’t even showed your interest to me since you learned who I was!” she managed to insert the most pressing aspect there at the end and felt proud of herself for carrying on through his stare.
“Lil girl, you gone tetched?” He asked mildly, stumbling over to the cot, one clunky boot on and his other a sock foot, laying his beautifully fashioned and wheel calloused palm against her forehead, “Why, I ain’t barely drank anything all day for fear of washin’ away the taste of you this mornin’. Not shown interest? -huh.”
“I mean -your own.” she pointedly stared down at his belt buckle, or rather, the prominent seam below.
“Rosey!” he laughed at her, “I’m dog tired a-and I -my interest has been shown. Sweet Jesus I ain’t got the brains for this. Not tonight.”
“So you can manage it dog tired with Aida but not with me!” she shot back and they both seemed to be equally surprised that she was harboring such expired jealousy.
“I can manage it fucked outta my mind with a gal who didn’t use to look the way she does now.” he growled and then went on in a mocking voice, “And it’ll cost ya only three silver dollars to watch, ma’am.”
Rosey sniffed and shrugged off the barb, figuring she deserved it, “Etta gave me a remedy for this.” she whispered hopefully instead.
“Oh I bet she did.” He eased off himself and stood straight again to work on his remaining boot, “And I’d rather eat fire ants, thank ya.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Oh it’s great!” He assured with a laugh, “For the first five hours. Then ya start thinkin’ bout amputation. If I catch you slippin Horny Goatweed in my tonics’n’shit I’ll take you over my knee girl, I ain’t teasin.”
“I won’t.” she swore, disturbed at the mere notion of slipping anything into anything he took.
He patted her cheek in acknowledgment before sitting down heavily beside her and setting to yanking off his grimy shirt, the pit stains dark and visible as he raised his arms and struggled with the garment.
“What’s this really about?” he asked softly as the fabric cleared his flushed face, his hair soft and mussed, grease defining each half-hearted curl at the nape of his neck.
“I’m bein’ silly.” she acknowledged with a shy smile.
“Ain’t no crime that.” he smiled back, “Not on my boat. Hell, there ever been a time you ain’t silly, girl?”
“Maybe not.”
“Didn’t think so.” he teased, leaning back against the wall in a slump on the cot’s sagging bedding. “Can’t I jus’ be tired, Rosey?” he asked again, “And I’ll let you be silly.”
“Fair enough.” she sighed.
“Well go on now, be silly. I done told ya you could.” he prodded with a finger to her rib and she jerked from the tickle.
“I know you don’t wanna talk about it.” she shook her head, “And you're tired so- so I won’t make you.”
“I don’t wanna.” he agreed but added sweetly, “I don’t wanna talk about mine but I’ll listen to yours, long as you need. What’s goin’ on up in that noggin? Too many figures, hmm?”
“Secrets more like.” Rosey mumbled petulantly.
“Lord, you got more?” he sighed and didn’t seem angry but she let out a scoff that he’d think she meant her own, she thought of the photographs.
“No,” she chose to leave it be, “no, I’m talking about more curatives.” she teased.
“Girl, just cool it.” he laughed, “I’ll lick ya again.” he offered hopefully and with a little twinkle in his eye that could almost pass for energy.
“What about turtle soup?” Rosey dodged, hopeful that a teasing reference to the first night they met and her naivete and his flustered concern for her eating the aphrodisiac back would rouse a smile.
It did. Predictably his mouth quirked and those pillowy lips looked twice as lush and full now set in a heavy thatch of two day old stubble. He let out a groan of playful aggravation with her preoccupation.
He gently grabbed her listless hand from her own lap and placed it on the rough denim covering his crotch. “You do what ya like.” he sighed, “Can’t promise nothin’.”
The seam was rough but not stiff, as if he’d worn those trousers into softness even at that most vulnerable juncture. As always with his package there was something to pet, even as she ascertained he was not fibbing, he was as soft and tired as he ever got and remained so despite her touches. Even in sleep he was stiffer. She let her hand cup the soft stones spilling on either side of the thick seam, far down between his legs, rubbing at their full undersides and wondering if they ached like her breasts when confined. He shifted on the cot, not in a restless movement at all, but rather as if to settle in for whatever she wished, his legs spreading wider. He even bent his knee and raised his leg to plant one bare foot on the cot, spreading himself as wide as a girl for her attentions, his tall frame cramped and folded by sitting sideways on their little bed.
His soft state inspired soft touches and Rosey found some stupid contentment stroking his sack through the worn denim, running the back of her knuckles up to his shaft that he had tucked nearly to his belt. She realized that despite her boredom with today she was tired too, tired of thinking and tired of mental exertions and ever since he’d taught her, she found this physical outlet far more relaxing than a sleeping tonic.
“I kneed a man here, between the legs, once.” she whispered like a child telling stories at a sleepover and squeezed his sack just the smallest bit. His eyes that had drifted shut while savoring her touches opened up in flutter.
He didn’t seem perturbed by that, by her need for violence, just drowsy from being petted. She should make him sleep. “You can smack me there…if ya like.” he whispered back, entirely serious and not even slightly hesitant. “If ya like -or, or pinch?” he added again as if he’d missed the mark oniy by sheer variety of options as she remained frozen in concern by the offer.
“I don’t.” she got out at last and he shrugged and let his eyes close again. “I-I don’t want anything but gentleness for you.” she expounded and he bit his lip and held his peace for a moment as Rosey mentally smacked herself at the realization he did tell her things, they did talk about…things. He just didn’t do it like a girl unburdening herself or a sinner in the confessional. He offered little insights freely like this one and she was too busy being horrified to notice them for what they were: confidences.
“Jus’ tonight, right?” he asked and meant for it to be teasing but it felt burdened.
‘Maybe he likes pain’ -Aida had said.
“I’d-“ Rosey weighed her options with this newfound awareness in mind, perhaps he would tell her more often what he wanted -like the first few weeks- if she remained a blank enough canvas for him to create on, “I’ll be whatever you want.” she settled for that and began palming him again, enjoying the way the fabric between his legs was still a little damp, either from mist or else his sweat from sitting at the wheel, legs unable to spread or air out. The way his shoulders were dry but the pits of his shirt could be wrung out suggested the same and some strange, torrid appreciation for his toil made Rosey’s mouth water.
There was an oil stain down at his inner thigh and she thumbed it thoughtfully and felt how the fabric was stiff from the stain compared to the rest. He made a soft little noise of contentment under her touches, his one hand busy in the most lazy way with petting her hair that fell all the way to her hip.
Touching. Being touched. God! she’d had so little of it in her life, and so much fear of it for so long and now she was leaning beside a man petting the damp seam of his trousers like a cat's neck. She wedged her hand under his thigh for leverage and bent herself to kiss at him there.
She could hear the staccato of his gasp even from there. “Rosey I-I ain’t even washed, sweet cheeks.” he warned softly.
“I know.” she answered and her voice was a moan, inhaling his pungent sweat, nothing clean about him and she rubbed her face in the pure distillation of his daily exertions like a cat in heat. “I want to smell you.” she told him and it made him swallow hard as she laid her hand on his thigh, the one spread out with his foot up in the covers, and spread him even further, that damned inherent flexibility of his being tested by the strain. His outer knee hit the mattress and it was Rosey that moaned at his ability and Elvis felt like he might shatter into fragments at the erotic pride that rushed through him at the thought of having impressed her.
“Sometimes it’s better, feeling rather than…being felt?” she tried to explain against the damp denim.
“I know!” he sounded more awake and enthused than he had all day, more than even this morning. “I-I know it’s -it’s glorious ain’t it?” and he pet her hair again with happy fervor until she rose up and knelt in front of him, beginning to undo his belt determinedly.
“You’ll wash in the morning.” Rosey decreed as she unfastened the buckle and tugged at the button holding in his warm belly.
“Yes lil’mama.” he agreed with hoarse meekness and drew up his other leg to make her efforts easier.
She opened the fly and tugged it apart, being hit by a wall of musk as he’d predictably poured himself straight into the denim this morning, sans underpants to collect the sweat. He was nearly steaming in that denim hammock. She envied the wash maids and their tasks.
She told him as much and laughed incredulously. “You’ve gone silly.” Elvis swore again.
“No, they treasure your sweat-soiled clothes, I’m sure of it.” she shook her head and reached out with the tips of her fingers to touch the dank appendage and its hammock of swollen stones, the dark curls of his wiry hair almost shiny from the sweat. “Those girls find your trousers -they fight over them i wager- and the winner holds them up and presses them to their faces like this-“ and she put her face to him like a girl kissing at the reflection of a still pond, her hands winding around his waist and digging into the damp back of his trousers, kneading sticky, plush flesh there, too. “-and then she licks at your trouser seams,” and Rosey underscored her point by doing the same to the imprint of his seam on tender pink flesh, “and she moans over the tartness she tastes and the rest of them hate her for what they can’t have. And if she’s really brave-“ Rosey couldn’t believe her own mind at this rate but face pressed to the Captain’s musky balls, she wasn’t truly in possession of any rationale beyond him, him and him, “-she’ll take them to the little closet with the feed sacks and she’ll prop herself up and she’ll touch herself to the smell of you. Wishing she could thank you for your hard work.”
“I haven’t any washer maids.” he whispered while looking down at her eyes with wide, guileless blue ones that were somehow playing a part with their projected innocence while being more himself than anything else about him. “I got rid of them all.” he says.
“Then I’ll have to wash them myself.” she murmured back, raspy and coy, “And I’ll be the one to thank you accordingly.”
The Captain sucked in a breath so hard at this predictable reply that his bottom lip went with it, pinned between his teeth ‘till the vibrant pink turned white under his cruel bite. “Can I watch?” he asked, his voice hoarse with hope. “Watch you be my lil washermaid?”
“So long as you don’t let maid know.” Rosey cautioned with a smirk and dug her hands deeper into his backside, pulling him apart absentmindedly until she felt his cock wag beneath her chin with the first ounce of interest shown tonight. She reared back and stared at the docile thing, twitching pathetically when she dug her nails in a little harsher once more. He sucked in a breath and turned his head to the side and Rosey took her hands out of his trousers to tug the front of his pants further down those sturdy thighs.
She’d no real intention of exciting him after all, only missed him and wanted to taste him before sleep. Tomorrow or next month or eternity was ahead of her to sort out why he responded the way he did. For now her duty was to put him to sleep where he belonged ages ago.
“A big man like you has got to be discreet,” she plotted with him and his face eased as they returned to their play, “the little washermaid wouldn’t know how to face the captain if he found her in such a degradi-“
“-uninhibited position, yes, God, yes!” he interrupted her with an appreciative rush and turned the subject sweet.
“You'll wash in the morning, I want to smell you all night.” she murmured again as she stood up and fully tugged his trousers off over his long feet, making him close his legs from their previous bend.
“Yes’m.” He murmured a little dazed and he looked like he was answering while asleep, the poor man was so visibly tired and she tenderly pushed his naked form to lay down the proper way, all the way flat, on their bedding.
She was not sure what it was about skipping a bath that made him seem more manly, more than he even usually was, but seeing his figure laying there naked on the ratty sheets, hairy and greasy from sweat and the stubble coming in thick -she palmed a breast at the sight of it, distracted from her debate as to keep her nightgown on.
“Strip.” his eyes fluttered in an effort to stay open but they flicked up and down her cotton gown and his eyebrow moved in a motion that was as eloquent as a hand waving it off. “You’ll be warm enough w’me.” he assured her of what she was already sure of.
Rosey drew the gown over her head and tossed it beside the Captain’s denims, only her long hair a covering over her shoulders as she stared down at him once more, savoring the beauty she was about to embrace before reaching high above her and turning the gas lamp out.
Plunged into darkness, she shuffled the couple feet left before her shins hit the cot’s edge and a large, warm hand cupped the back of her thigh and tugged her in. She fell atop him and wiggled till she was tucked into his side, her hand petting at the light fur on his chest and her nose nearly buried in the swamp of his underarm.
He grunted disbelieving at her choice. “How’re you feelin?” she asked, touching his forehead in the dark with the back of her hand, finding it a little clammy but not fevered.
“M’tired.” he replied and none of that had anything to do with Dr. Nicholas and his ponderous list of life
-threatening diseases the man beside her was supposedly harboring.
“You’re not holding off…making love to me…for fear of getting me sick, are you?” she whispered the concern of the day, finally.
“I-I told ya why I’m holdin’ off, Rosey.” he sounded a bit pained but not angry.
“You promise? You’re not just putting it off to spare me -something?“ She begged.
“There’s been nothin’ I was ever less inclined to put off, my girl.” he murmured tiredly as he turned on his side, mashing his face into her breast, giving an accentuating hump of his pelvis against her hip.
“All my life, I ain’t ever been the first choice.” she muttered and his arm tightened around her, “I’ve killed for other women, for Maddy, the ones who were chosen. Wanted, when others-“ she trailed off before picking up in a thin voice reedy with confusion, “-I was talkin’ with Rosetta earlier and I realized I-I was there. I was there for it and not even they wanted me. A dozen men, one woman, and I-I was left alone. I know I should be glad of it.”
Elvis stared at the blackness that somewhere shielded a face he longed to read, but that poor little voice told him a world enough of hurt. He clutched her closer and was going to ask what on earth she meant, who and when and what sort of want she referred to when Rosey added as through in a sob:
“Poor Maddy.”
He startled and turned to grip her in a hug, processing what he was frightened she meant. “That -child, that ain’t no compliment.” he begged her to understand. “Even some of the worst don’t go for -you were a child.”
“Was I? I don’t recall.” she whispered.
“Yes you were.” he declared it, made it truth, “Jus’ ‘cause you only recall it now you’re grown, don’t mean you weren’t a child back then.”
“I’d forgotten.” She repeated, numb in horror at the thought of what else was buried.
“You -you recall anythin’ more?” he asked what he was so very scared to know, hardly sure he could carry the weight of more but certain only a coward would make her carry it alone.
“It took ages.” she whispered, “My knees hurt somethin’ awful from kneeling behind the stove. Took forever for them all to stop.”
The captain crushed her to him and she gripped his back like a shield, “You can tell me, Little Cricket.” he soothed, “Can tell me anythin’ at all.”
“Can I?” she sniffled .
“Mhmm.”
“Then I will -if I recall.”
“Good girl.” He whispered into the damp of her forehead, placing an almost fatherly kiss there.
“So you planned on it, marryin’ me fully? Sickness and all, you swear?” she smiled at the pitch black hollow of his throat, grateful to have it out and trying to gauge with her hands whether a fever burned his life away even now.
“Rosey, I didn’t once plan on you.” Elvis admitted with an affectionate pat and promptly fell asleep.
Go ahead and scream and speculate and gush all you want, I love. Hope you enjoyed💋
**dialogue credit to Captain Smitty
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#elvis presley#elvis fanfiction#elvis fanfic#elvis imagine#elvis x reader#elvis#elvis presley fanfiction#baby elvis#elvis presely smut#elvis smut#elvis presley fanfic#elvis au
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⚙️~MAGOMARCH 2023~⚙️
yes. you're reading this right. in light of return to dreamland deluxe coming soon, I MADE A MAGOLOR BASED DRAWING CHALLENGE!! it works like all those other month-themed drawing challenges; every day you draw something based on the corresponding prompt! only required thing is that you put magolor in all of these because well. its Magomarch whod you expect to draw /lh
some prompts require a bit more info! i highly suggest you check this section as it can provide context to any prompts you're confused about!
FREE PROMPTS:
every Sunday/Magolor Day of March is a free prompt! this is where you can draw whatever you want (as long as it involves magolor ofc)!
DIFFERENT SPECIES:
i felt this one was obvious but just in case, this prompt just has you reimagine magolor as a non halcandran species! just be sure he's recognizable dhsdhsdh
CONCEPT:
draw one or more of magolor's many concept designs! he's got quite a lot of em! if i find some good images of them i'll be sure to edit this post and put them here but for now you gotta find em yourself sorry HSDHSDH
GIJINKA/CANON:
ok this one's fun, and also depends on whether you draw magolor as a gijinka more often than his canon form or vice versa! if you draw him as a gijinka more often, challenge yourself and try to draw him as he canonically looks (stylization is more than ok and is encouraged! i love stylized magolors)! the inverse ofc applies to people who draw his canon form more. you can also draw both at once if you want!
ALT. UNIVERSE
draw magolor as he would appear in any sort of AU! this can be an AU of your own creation or even someone else's (if they're ok with it)! you don't have to make an AU solely for this challenge if you have one already.
if anyone else needs a prompt explained, i'll put it here in this list!
--------------------
ok whew that was a lot of reading sorry HSDH
i hope this challenge gets some traction! i've been thinking abt it for a while and figured now was as good a time as ever to post it! if you happen to wanna take on this challenge, good luck!!!
DONT FORGET TO TAG YOUR PROMPT ART WITH #MAGOMARCH !!
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do you think another reason the chuunin exams were created (besides filtering out the "untalented" nin & introducing them to the life of a shinobi) was to create a trauma-bond between the teammates that survived/passed it? it's no secret that kid's lives or their innocence were never really valued in Konoha (or anywhere else for that matter), so I wouldn't be too surprised to find out this was done to strengthen the bond between teammates & better their teamwork/spirit
also, do you think the chuunin exams were especially traumatic during the sannin era, especially bc they were 6 (or a few years older but defo younger than naruto's gen) ??? and even if it wasn't the chuunin exams goal to create a traumabond, it certainly did for the sannin?
honestly, no. it's possible that i'm just the sort of person who tends to assume the best of people, especially fictional ones, but it's also true that i just tend to find fucked up shit more interesting when it was done with good intentions. i'm only into cartoonishly heinous motivations when they're applied to individuals rather than systems, i guess.
the thing you need to keep in mind concerning my view of the naruto universe is that literally every single character is deeply traumatized, whether they're aware of that or not. for starters, the vast majority of characters were raised to be child soldiers in a world where that's considered normal. our modern view of the 18-21 age group as the youngest adults doesn't apply there - legally, these people are becoming adults at ages as young as twelve (and that's the improved version - a lot of the older cast members have been shinobi since as young as five or six).
even the characters who never became ninja have all been through some pretty serious trauma. ayame and teuchi lived through the kyuubi attack, tazuna and his family had to deal with the whole gatou situation, and so on. no one in this world is remotely okay by our standards. but what that means is that being a neurotic mess is the norm. for the whole. entire. world.
a world based on structures so fucked up is going to be full of thoughts that to us seem entirely contradictory - how can konoha say it cares for its citizens when of the five most famous genin-by-six, the most functional is jiraiya (kakashi is a mess, tsunade is drinking and gambling away her problems, orochimaru is out there inventing to moral event horizons to cross, and itachi murdered his whole family and tortured his little brother about it)? but - and this is something that is understandably hard for people to wrap their heads around - we're shown things from people like the sandaime's point of view. we know - for a fact - that hiruzen cares deeply about his village and its citizens, and that most of the people he was personally involved in fucking up are the ones he - genuinely - cared for the most.
the second thing you need to be aware of is that the rankings in the naruto world are based on real life ninja ranks - jounin, chuunin, and genin are all real world terms that were modified to fit the world of naruto. whether irl ninja could move up in the ranks or not is something i don't know, but given that naruto is a shounen, it makes sense for the protagonist to have a clearcut explanation of the steps he needs to take to achieve his goal (ninja president) laid out early on, and that he and his friends be given the opportunity to move through the ranks throughout the course of the story (although, as many people have pointed out, naruto stayed a genin pretty much the whole time)
from an irl perspective, the chuunin exams are a way to introduce other characters, give the main trio a chance to level up, and also have a tournament arc for funsies. in-universe, the purpose is for genin to get a chance (or six chances kabuto) to become chuunin, and to strengthen ties with other villages via a show of trust - we're showing you our next generation. this is incentive to maybe not go to war again pretty please heart emoji poop emoji.
the thing is, life and innocence are valued in konoha, and likely the other villages as well, though we don't see it as much. but it's such a twisted, foreign concept to us real world non child soldiers that it doesn't seem like it (more accurately, it's valued by the people but not the system, and the people in charge of the system ignore that bc unfortunately for the entire naruto universe sakura didn't get around to inventing mental health until after the fourth war ended)
danzou and hiruzen exemplify this perfectly imo. hiruzen is full of ideals and beliefs and trust, and bc of that isn't able to see the system for what it is and can never fully understand why all of his good intentions keep churning out shitshows. on the other end of the spectrum, danzou is very aware of the world he lives in, possibly more than almost any other character. but bc of that he views the nature of humans as a flaw for shinobi to overcome - ninja are tools for the good of the village, and can and will be discarded just as easily. from a brutally practical viewpoint, danzou and hiruzen were probably genuinely extremely effective at keeping konoha together. it's just that how that worked out and how they did it is morally abhorrent to the majority of people (including hiruzen himself)
lastly, the concept of trauma as we view it not only doesn't but honestly can't exist in the world of naruto. say someone has a jutsu that allows them to create a brain scan similar to something we can do irl. the effects of mental illness on an adult brain wouldn't register as anything abnormal bc that's what everyone's looks like. you aren't having a "panic attack" or a "trauma response" or a "flashback", you're just going through the same shit everyone else is. that's all par for the course, it's just what life is like. that's how the world of naruto sees it, at least.
so where we see "children going through horrific events together and bonding bc they have no choice", the residents of narutolandia see "tuesday". so no, i don't think the chuunin exams were formed with the intent of gluing people to each other via trauma - they don't need to be. that's what life is for.
concerning the sannin, i'm not sure they ever took the chuunin exams. i honestly don't even know if the chuunin exams would've been a thing yet - the earliest one we know of is the one kakashi and his team were at, which was konoha-only and thus already fairly different from the one naruto went through. the sannin lived through all of the first three ninja wars, and though they probably didn't fight in the first one, they likely became genin just as it ended (otherwise i'm not sure how sarutobi would've had time to teach them...?). orochimaru's parents were already dead by the time he became a genin, so it's not hard to imagine they died in the first war. the sannin are actually relatively lucky - the second world war didn't happen until they were in their 20s, so they got a good two decades of not being at war (this is the longest space of time between the wars, followed by the time between the third and fourth wars (~15 years) and then the time between the second and third wars (less than 1 year)).
actually, thinking about it now, i think it's possible that spend early pre-ninja childhood with their village at war, then spending the rest of their youths in (relative) peace, and then finally getting tossed right back into shitshow two electric boogaloo might've been why they ended up more fucked up than most. so i guess the solution really was the moon coma after all
tldr: madara was right. not where i thought i was going with this but it does seem to be where we ended up
#naruto#naruto shippuden#meta#long post#ayame#teuchi#tazuna#gatou#jiraiya#hatake kakashi#senju tsunade#orochimaru#uchiha itachi#sarutobi hiruzen#uzumaki naruto#yakushi kabuto#haruno sakura#shimura danzou#tbh i find it annoying when people try to make the sandaime actively antagonistic outside of memes#like no you fools he's a piece of shit bc he's nice. he literally cared so much he fucked up everything#honorary uchiha imo#(i'm joking don't kill me)#uchiha madara#naruto is a hilarious series really#everything sucks forever and if you try to fix it you will only make everything worse and then die#just like real life
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So I've heard quite a bit about Richard "Em Dash" Marsh and his book The Beetle, but I've been quite curious: What elements about it are compelling? I refuse to read the book itself (made that mistake with... other gothic-based media (Damn you, Moore), so I was curious about your thoughts on it?
I think it's just the sheer amount of wasted opportunity for metaphor left laying around. Like, I know everyone likes to call it "Dracula but so much shittier," but I've always seen more resemblance to Kafka's "The Metamorphosis," and not just for the insect element.
The two characters we're introduced to as (mistaken) protagonist and antagonist are Robert Holt and the Beetle. Holt is a clerk who lost his job, applied everywhere after, followed all the rules he was taught to trust in, certain that society would naturally play as fairly with him...only to find himself homeless and starved and refused entrance even to a shelter because it was too full. He watches on in mingled surprise and envy as a fellow vagrant blithely breaks a window and waits to be arrested, thrown in jail for the sake of shelter from the rain.
Robert Holt does not throw a brick with him. Robert Holt is too shackled by his ingrained sense of If I Follow the Rules, If I am a Good Citizen, I Will be Helped.
He isn't. He walks away into the rain, still starving, still scraped off the edge of society, shooed like vermin. He reaches the Beetle's home with its window ajar. He slinks in.
And then is immediately preyed on by the Beetle, his free will suddenly ripped away, ordered to strip and walk and talk and die and live and rob and generally be violated on every mental and external level. He is literally so low as to be overpowered and stepped on by an insect.
But Holt isn't immune to his own (read: Marsh's) callousness. He refers to the Beetle, who is an Egyptian visitor here for revenge reasons, in some fairly ugly terms. How much we can shrug off as being a fear/disgust response versus being Conditioned to Other Anyone Not Anglo-Saxon Enough is up in the air in-universe.
The frustration here is that between this opening and the future cast members' rancid treatment of Holt, who tries to help and warn them, and of the Beetle, met with disdain simply for being a foreigner in England before one chitinous move can be made, there could have been SO MUCH to play with in terms of...
Human beings reduced to pests not worth dignity or care because they are Poor, they are Homeless, they are the Lowest Rung of Society, they are Foreign, they are Dirty and Different from What's White Right
The examination of in-fighting of 'verminous' people. Figurative insects living underfoot in supposedly civilized countries, now preying on and demeaning each other rather than extending the empathy they were never shown by polite*** society
Spotlighting the brutality and villainous aspects of our group of well-to-do "heroes", the main cast being mixed up in building genocidal weapons and plotting asylum stays for romantic rivals and hypocrisy and so many layers of bigotry it makes your eyes ache
A better version of the story in which the aforementioned genocidal weapon, a killer gas to be used on South America for some fucking reason, becomes the focus of the story--bonus points for the accidental 'bug spray' comparison to be made--with the potential of the Beetle and Holt switching tracks from singular vengeance and/or the desperate thwarting of this fruition; knowing that the existence of such a thing would be a prelude to 'dealing with the vermin problem' on a terrifying scale. Perhaps by making use of a new kind of 'shelter.' The insects become the heroes, the polished creme of England now turned to fertilizer.
...a better version that might have Holt ending the story with his own metamorphosis, but as a Gregor Samsa with actual strength and will of his own, and acceptance waiting for him on the other side of the change.
But no.
Richard Dickard Marsh couldn't be bothered to reach beyond squeezing out a Sydney Atherton-shaped turd onto the typewriter and calling it done.
It's so, so, SO goddamn infuriating as a storyteller to find the seeds for something that would have been amazing and groundbreaking, especially for its time period, only to see the whole thing salted and burned until all that's left is racist caricatures, a trashfire of a plot, and the most eye-watering syntax ever put to paper.
#in which I am Bitter about the Beetle#the beetle#richard marsh#I hope he's being eaten by scarabs in the afterlife
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OOO what about a Dark Fey reader like Maleficent? that was being hunted down by a dangerous group of cryptid hunters, and had a broken wing n wounded by iron bullets but kept running.
And the Creeps found them took em in. and since ferfolk cannot lie,.. caught them off guard with a question on how they felt about that creep 😉
I expect to see Slenderman!👁👁 and another ig👍plz
idk I rarely see Supernatural like readers, it's a little disappointing imo. I love powerful self-inserts ok?
Slenderman with a Fey!S/o
UWAAAA I'm sorry for taking so long to get to this !! I've kinda been sucked up in a bunch of irl stuff !! (Nothing serious, just me working on things)!!
Admittedly I have never watched maleficent; so I'll solely be going off the info given in this ask I hope that's alright ☝️😔 and I apologize in advance if it's no good 😭💔
As you specifically brought up slenderman, he's gonna be our star today!! I was originally going to do the full list of characters but my brain js
A raisin
Also also!! I totally get what you mean ab the shortage of supernatural readers!!! Not just in the creepypasta fandom; but really any fandom! Let the insert have powers, let them be super strong, ect ect !!
You'd stumble into him after trying to hide and take shelter in his woods
Normally, he'd take down any trespassers after stalking them for a bit; but he was just too curious about you to make that the case
I dont know, I always think of slenderman to carry that kind of curiosity about the world and other creatures; I feel like that makes him more interesting than the fandoms standard "stern and oddly fatherly" take... also I just live the idea of curious cryptids!!
Moving on
He'd help patch you up with the resources in the forest; I've seen mixed opinions on whether or not slenderman has weird healing powers but personally; I think he has regen abilities that can only be applied to himself! Unrelated to the ask I know, but a quick little fun aside and little bonding point for him and s/o if they have the same deal going on
As for shelter? I'm personally still on the fence on if I wanna make the manor thing a part of my personal universe and hc that I write for these silly lads; but rn I've settled for a version of it! Not as grand or tidy as the old fandom hyped it up to be; it's a lil smaller and kinda... run down
Still livable, though, and you're more than welcome inside if you need somewhere to stay
Granted, I'm not entirely sure how the topic of romance would be brought up with him, but let's say he picks up on some behavior from you that makes him start putting together a picture
Bro has zero rizz I'm sorry
Regardless, he eventually asks the question; and as the rules go, you're kinda forced to tell him how you feel
I think regardless of if he reciprocates or expected your answer, he'd be surprised
I mean how many people are out here flirting with a forest monster, to their face
I think it could work, honestly! The relationship I mean!! I wish i had more hcs since this is such a fun idea, but I genuinely dont know much about fairy stuff and all the lore regarding them
But onto some more side hcs/little ideas to make up for the lack of stuff !!
If you need comfort, about the whole being hunted thing, slenderman is a good listener; and he understands what it's like, bro probably has to deal with people trying to get a look at him all the time. He gets it
Want revenge on them? Well if the hunters followed you into the woods they probably wont last long anyways; despite the whole curiosity thing he can be... rather territorial
Day to day life with slenderman is interesting as is, but with a fellow non-human companion? Shenanigans will likely ensue
What kind? Cant say, due to my lack of knowledge 😔☝️
Too injured to move around on your own? If you need to go somewhere slenderman will either fetch it for you, or just carry you to where you gotta go
Also he totally wont make it habit; even before the romantic relationship is fully formed
It just activates his neurons 😔
#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta x you#slenderman x reader#slenderman imagine#slenderman headcanons#creepypasta slenderman#slenderman
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how would one get into fountain pens and inks ?? i’ve never liked using those 50 pens for a dollar types and only used fountain pens at school . honestly i’d love if you infodump at me about your favs pens, inks and how the tiktoks only show those glass pens with the swirls that slowly drip off ink and not any love for pens that hold ink themself
yaa sure!! and firstly i wanna say the reason you see a lotta glass dip pens on tiktok is simply because they are pretty and people think they are cool. dip pens have a lot of neat benefits of their own! dont let the bad app make u bitter abt em! (for example dip pens let you use a muuch wider range of inks made out of pigments that a fountain pen couldn't handle!)
but i digress. getting into fountain pens usually starts with an affordable one! (or a fancy hand me down if you're lucky!) jetpens & gouletpens are good shops to find fountain pens, and you may be lucky enough to live near a stationery shop that carries them, who knows!
generally good pens to start with are cheap enough that you won't feel too bad if it doesn't turn out to be your favourite but still a smooth writer. they should feel good in the hand and be refillable (since we are talking about avoiding disposable pens! but disposable fountain pens do exist.) generally these pens are in the $10-$30 range, but some cheaper pens like the platinum preppy and jinhao shark will surprise you!
especially worth taking into account with starting to get into pens is the nib size and filling mechanism!
nib size:
fountain pens generally come in Extra Fine, Fine, Medium, Broad, and Double Broad nib sizes, although there are other fancy ones like stub, flex, cursive, and left handed ones. (i am left handed and don't use them, so don't worry too much about that if you are.)
generally western nibs run a little broader than Japanese nib sizes, so keep that in mind when choosing a pen!
personally i find that finer nibs are more useful for me drawing-wise, and i enjoy broader nibs for writing (especially since i tend to draw in black and write in pretty colours i want to see more of!) this just applies to me of course ^u^
filling mechanisms:
fountain pens can come with ink cartridges (sometimes universal and sometimes proprietary) which tend to be a good choice for folks that like mess-free easy ways to reink a pen even when you're out and about. they do limit your selection of inks, though!
cartridge pens can usually be converted to piston fill/squeeze fill pens with a compatible converter, and some even come with one by default (like the jinhao shark!) some fountain pens (like TWSBIs) have a piston fill mechanism integrated into the entire barrel. (they have a very big ink capacity!) these converters/pens allow you to use any fountain pen ink you like, and also help make pen cleaning easier as you can take up and flush out water with it.
another type of fountain pen is eyedropper fill - where the entire barrel is watertight and you simply fill it with ink via eyedropper (or god forbid just pouring the ink from the bottle into it lol) these kinds of filling mechanisms are a lot messier and are generally done at home since you might not wanna bring ink bottles and paper towels along wherever you go, especially if they're big. some pens can be converted to eyedropper fill by making the barrels watertight with silicone grease on the threads & plugging any breather holes.
fun fact! ink cartridges are much more popular in europe, and bottled inks are more popular in america. idk why!
in terms of my favourite fountain pens, i very much like the TWSBI ECO/ECO T, LAMY safari, platinum preppy/plaisir, kaweco sport, and jinhao shark! they're all great and come in lots of fun colours and i want more twsbis so bad aaa
ok this is getting long but lets talk about inks!! im dying to talk about inks can we talk about inks
i already went over the difference between pigment and dye based inks here, so let's talk about what to think of when choosing an ink and also some of my favs!!
picking out an ink for your pen should consist of at least 3 factors!
make sure you are looking for fountain pen ink! (drawing inks & dip pen inks will clog a fountain pen!)
what colour do you want!!! (as a tip, light colours look even lighter when reduced to the fine line of a pen, and can sometimes be rather disappointing or hard to see. stick to broader nibs for those!)
do you need it to be water and/or highlighter proof?
most online shops let you filter to find what you're looking for, and most irl shops have sample cards for you to look through (while they may not show you about the waterproof part, generally the people working there should be able to tell you about it! most of the shops ive been to are staffed by fellow enthusiasts!)
aside from that you really can go nuts! there are inks with shimmer, inks that are suuuper bold and solid, some that vary in shade (and hue!) and some that develop a metallic sheen around the edge!
as for my favourite inks, i really like these and heres why!
pilot iroshizuku: they have some REALLY pretty colours. plus the bottles are big and very pretty!
Diamine: these inks come in some absolutely luscious colours (and TONS of sparkly shimmery options) and are known for being very consistently good performers across all their colours.
sailor: these inks are fancy and preddy and smell good to me wehehe
j. herbin: they make a green i really like >:) and also are popular for being good inks im pretty sure!
special extra shoutout to ferris wheel press: i havent actually gotten an ink from them i truly love yet (ive only ever tried a sample set of pastels and i like my inks darker) but their bottles are truly to die for.
ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR COMING!! TO MY TED TALK!!! im fully info dumped out!!!! whee!
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It's been a while since I've had a nice long fic rec list cross my dash so, as my good friend said to me earlier today, I'm going to be the change I want to see.
Anyway, here are some of the in-progress Irondad fics and series been enjoying recently! (in no particular order)
❤ A Secret Or Two by Winterturtle @winter-turtle
Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings || Rated T
A single gunshot was all it took to turn the Parker family's lives upside-down. It's been rough couple of months, but Peter and May were slowly starting to pick up the pieces of their lives. For a moment, it was starting to feel normal again.
That is, until a mysterious man barged into their apartment, leading to a secret or two being revealed about both of them.
Or a (former) Shield agent May Parker fic because I couldn't find this trope anywhere.
❤ 5 times Peter Parker falls asleep in an uncomfortable position by lemonlillybee @lemonlillybee
Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings || Rated T
And 1 time he falls asleep like a normal person
❤ 5 Times Tony Tried to Be a Good Dad by InfinitesimalDna
Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings || Rated M
+1 time he knew he was.
Or, Tony trying to navigate new waters he never thought he would have to with the kid. He hopes he can handle at least one of 'em right.
❤ Social Butterfly Spidey by Jenniboo311 @jenniboo311
No Archive Warnings Apply || Rated T
A series filled with Spider-Man's adventures in social media.
❤ A New Point of View by waitingondaisies @waitingondaisies
No Archive Warnings Apply || Rated T
Peter doesn't hesitate before ditching school to go help fight the weird, purple, goo energy type stuff that's coming out of a portal over Manhattan. Perhaps he should have, though, because when he and Tony breathe the stuff in, they end up swapping bodies. With Dr. Strange not answering his phone, Peter and Tony are stuck living each others' lives for the time being. Really, though, what could go wrong?
❤ one single thread of gold by tonystarktrash
No Archive Warnings Apply || Rated M
Tony's answer to the final question of whether he would ever allow contact to be made prior to his offspring’s 18th birthday had been instinctive. Tony had checked ‘no’ and had clicked the end of the pen, satisfied by a job well done. A quiet voice at the back of his mind, the voice of his mother, had caused him to scribble over ‘no’ until the bottom of the page was almost entirely consumed by ink. Then, his handwriting cramped but legible, Tony had written yes — in case of medical emergencies or death of legal guardian(s).
a drunken dare made six years ago leads to a phone call that changes tony stark's life.
❤ Catch Your Own Happiness by truelovetakesawhile
Archive Warnings Apply! || Rated M
When Tony finds a strange, spidery experiment locked underground in a Hydra facility, he takes it upon himself to try rehabilitating a teenager who knows nothing about the outside world.
❤ The ghost at the back of your closet by niniblack @niniblack
Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings || Rated M
The DODC makes good on their threat to charge May with child endangerment, sending Peter into foster care. But in a universe where Tony Stark is still alive, his actions have repercussions as well, and May Parker isn’t the only one fighting to get custody of her child back.
Meanwhile, Peter’s left completely alone and unable to contact any of his loved ones, trying to navigate a system he thought he’d left behind after his aunt and uncle picked him up a few weeks after his parents’ deaths. And he’s absolutely not going to let anything like what happened to him happen to Morgan, no matter what he has to do to make sure she’s safe.
❤ Tales from the Tower MedBay by Call_Me_Coley @call-me-coley
No Archive Warnings Apply || Rated G
Also known as “MedBay Adventures” with a specific focus on Irondad and Spiderson, and of course some Avengers and Ironfam will be stopping by!
Or
A series of unrelated drabbles and oneshots that revolve around the Tower’s MedBay cuz if we’re being honest, you know those walls have got some stories to tell.
Please be sure to leave these amazing authors' comments and kudos!
Also! Stay tuned for a 'completed multi-chapter' and 'one-shot' rec list in the future!
#Irondad fic recs#Irondad#spiderson#Irondad and spiderson#tony stark#peter parker#may parker#spider-man#iron man#mcu#marvel#iron dad and spider son#marvel fanfiction#fandom#fic rec list#spider man#fic recommendation#rec list#fic recs
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you'll do it better, show me how
Lovino almost blames himself for this—he should have known his microscopic iota of luck had run out a long time ago, if it ever existed at all, and at this point the universe exists to mock him personally, so, really, he should have known this was coming.
But still, Matthew doesn’t need to look so smug.
(or, alternatively, the one where Lovino is a TA and Antonio is determined to ruin his life)
oneshot, spamano, prucan, so background it's not even worth tagging fruk.
Words: 28,580, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Relationships: South Italy/Spain (Hetalia), Canada/Prussia (Hetalia), Canada & South Italy (Hetalia), France & Prussia & Spain (Hetalia)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Mutual Pining, So much pining oh my god, Slow burn, In the way that a one-shot can be a slowburn i suppose, (and in the way almost 30k can be a oneshot), Really leaning into the ye old idea that romano and canada would be besties, They’re besties to me!!!, and ofc the bft being themselves for better or for worse, They’re all buffoons with one collective braincell between them and yet they still can’t find it, Egregious use of italics/em dashes/commas, Because sentences should be fun!!!
i can't even begin to say where the hell this came from, but here is almost 30k of mutual pining university au spamano nonsense, courtesy of me re-entering a fandom i havent been in since i was maybe 11 or 12 years old.
i know its not what i usually write (and no, none of my other works have been abandoned), but i couldnt help myself. there will be more. i can feel it. middle school me would be delighted.
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