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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

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mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 4

4. i wanna know what’s your quietest feeling

Summary: So you’ve met his friends, and now his daughter, who’s the only other person who knows that this whole thing is a setup. But all she wants is to make sure that you’re not gonna break her dad’s heart; it shouldn’t be too hard to convince her that your intentions are good.

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples @oopsiedoopsie23 @mayaslifeinabox @mrs-machinegun-norris @hxbbit

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Colson writes. A lot. You’d noticed it here and there being close to home, being close his studio, he’s buzzing with new ideas. There’s a ratty notebook that he keeps in the front pocket of his suitcase, held together by fibers and hope, that seems to be worth it’s weight in gold to him, full of lyrics and ideas that he’s been hoarding for as long as he’s been writing. About ten percent of the book has actually come to fruition, but that’s not what’s important about it, it’s that it’s positively brimming with potential as much as it is memories.

It’s been less than a year since his last album, and he’s made a few songs here and there, but now he writes, when inspiration strikes him, after work, or between takes. He’s in talks with Motley themselves, apparently, working on a part for one of their songs, rereleasing with the release of the film. For now, he writes, and he hums, and tests out lyrics under his breath.

“That sounds good,” it’s Sunday morning; he’s up earlier than you, which isn’t necessarily an unusual occurrence. He’s wearing sweatpants, hair curling a little at the ends where he’s letting it air dry, sitting up beside you on the bed. He’s got his notebook balanced on the one knee he’s got drawn up to him, while the other leg is kicked out in front of him, and he’s humming something while scrolling through his phone. He’s muttering something, lyrics you’re pretty sure, while something plays from his phone.

He seems a little surprised, like he’s coming out of a trance that the music had put him in, and smiles with an honest sincerity.

You yawn, and wiggle a little beneath the covers to properly face him, face half-smushed into the pillow. For a beat he looks at you like he wants to do something, like he wants to reach out and touch your cheek, trace his thumb across your lip -

Wishful thinking. Probably.

“Rook’s been working on some stuff; he sent this through last night,” and he tapped away at his phone for a moment, replaying the track on his phone. It’s an instrumental, beat-heavy and the bones for a solid bop. You nod along to it, and he starts rapping under his breath again.

“I think it could be something good,” he sounds quietly hopeful; he doesn’t sound like that often.

“Of course it’ll be good,” you say around a yawn, and this time he does reach out.

“Go back to sleep,” he pinches gently at your cheek, and a warm rush of affection floods through you. Without thinking, you turn to press a quick kiss to his palm, a moment of gentle familiarity, and turn away, to go back to sleep, without thinking to watch for his reaction. You hear a faint, almost disbelieving huff of laughter, before the music starts back up again.

It’s not long before you’re ingratiated with his friends, who’ve all taken you and Colson in stride. Mostly it’s drinking and smoking and making music and playing video games, so even your initial anxiety is quick to fade.

That first morning, Wednesday, cool but sunny, it’s easy; Rook’s the only one awake when you and Colson arrive. He’s sitting at the kitchen island, perched on a stool with a pen stuck in his mouth, and a laptop and drum pad machine sitting on the counter, and when you walk in, he gives you a long, evaluative stare, a joint in between his fingers, idle.

“Hey man, this is Ducky,” Colson doesn’t seem to notice how you’ve frozen awkwardly in the doorway, moving past you to start searching the cupboards for food; Rook nods to him, before looking back at him, “Ducky, this is my man Rook,” and at that, he holds out his hand for the joint, and Rook passes it over, before looking back at you. You give a little, uncomfortable wave.

“Ducky?” He asks, curious rather than hostile, and you let yourself breathe, stepping into the room.

“Or Duck,” you explain, heading to the counter where Colson’s now wrestling with a packet of Doritos, “or [Y/N].” And you put your bag down, taking the seat beside Rook as Colson passes the joint back to him to get a better handle on the bag.

“Tight,” Rook says after a moment, apparently finding something in you that he approves of, because he follows it up by turning the laptop towards you, asking if you were into music. Of course you tell him you are - who isn’t? - but you don’t have a lot of experience in the production side of things.

“I mean,” you concede briefly, “about two years ago there was a trend going around on YouTube where you make a diss track about yourself -” Colson’s entire face lit up.

“You wrote a diss track about yourself? Don’t you do like cutesy vlogs and shit?” He asks, and it’s not meant to sound as unkind as it’s worded, though you still roll your eyes.

“It pays to be on trend,” you shrug, still a little embarrassed at the memory, “but it was fun.”

Colson is looks actually impressed, while Rook is still chewing on the end of his pen, typing away frantically. After a beat, Colson turns to him -

“Her channel name is DuckDuckBooth -”

“I’ve already found the video,” Rook says with a smile, and you have to hide your face in your hands as they watch with equal parts fondness, and a little bit of second hand embarrassment.

Colson posts to his Instagram story a video of Rook jamming out to your self-diss track, before the camera swings around to see you flipping them both off with a fond smile. Your video is the only sound that can be heard for the full duration of the ten second video -

“Too scared of you’re face on the big, big screen, you think YouTube’s gonna be more stable / even though you use your bro for views every chance that you’re able. / With all of the time that you spend around sets, they all think you’re a professional stalker / and you spill you’re guts when you’re NDA free; you’ve made a career as Hollywood’s biggest talker. / [As if! Who asked for the Perez Hilton of the production crew?!]”

He tags both you and Rook, and captioned the video with a question: Should we remix Ducky’s self-diss track from 2016? With two options for fans to choose: Yes. or Definitely.

But Rook’s not who your worried about. None of Colson’s friends really worry you.

Casie arrives a week and a half after you’ve all moved locations, to see her dad, to meet you, and to sit in on production for about a week.

When you finally meet her, her cocked hip and crossed arms reminds you of Colson; she’s four and a bit feet of skepticism and an unmatched, effortlessly cool energy, and you realise too late that you’re kind of intimidated by an elementary schooler.

“I’ve seen your videos,” is the first thing she says to you, and you find yourself smiling, bewildered.

“Cas -” Colson’s voice holds a note of warning where he’s currently getting his tattoos covered. He’s standing with his arms out, looking straight ahead while Corey, the key makeup artist, and his team, airbrush and colour correct like their lives depend on it.

“I’m making sure she’s taking care of you,” Casie, unwavering in both her conviction and her loyalty, shifts her weight to her other foot. “The drum video was cute.” And you’re not quite sure if it’s a compliment, judging by the cool tone of her voice, but she’s wearing a slight smile that you’ve seen on Colson far too many times to not recognize it. This feels like the first of many tests.

She’s adamant that she’s not someone to be bought, though the thought had barely crossed your mind. When she nods approvingly at your dismissal of the suggestion, you can’t help but frown.

“How many girls have tried to get on her good side by buying her stuff?” You ask Colson quietly, out of Casie’s earshot later that night. For a moment, he looks as close to guilty as you’ve ever seen him.

“Not a lot, like one or two maybe; not a lot of girls meet her,” he admitted, “but the ones that try and buy her gifts and shit, they always turned out to be the worst ones,” and perhaps the guilt intensifies a little more, “she’s a good kid; always saw that before I could.”

“She’s a good kid,” you repeated, softer this time, with a faint smile, and when Colson comes back to reality, he gives your shoulder a squeeze.

She’s on set a lot for the days that she’s staying with you all, and when she sees you at work, she appears to warm to you; you’re not sure when you forgot that she was just a child trying to protect her father, but you’re reminded when you see the starry-eyed look she’s giving the makeup artists.

“Hey Corey,” you ask, smiling a little, and the makeup artist who had been in the middle of his lunch looks up from his phone with wide, alert eyes, “could one of your people give Casie here a little bit of 80s glam?” You ask sweetly, and his expression tuns fond as he nods. Casie turns wide-eyed and a little abashed at request, and murmurs that she doesn’t want to be any trouble. Both Corey and yourself wave away her concerns, and Amy, one of the makeup assistants, is more than happy to give the young girl a bit of glitter and gloss to the excited young girl.

She’s got glitter on her eyelids, and blush and highlighter adorning her cheeks, and a shiny, clear lip gloss making her smile that little bit brighter by the time the makeup woman is done with her, and Casie is practically glowing.

“How in the hell,” Colson starts with a grin when she goes to him to show off, “did I end up with the most stylish kid in the world? Cas, you look like a model.” Pride is radiating off of him in waves, and he pulls out his phone, “babe, get a picture, she looks so fuckin’ cool,” he enthuses, and if your heart skips a beat as his casual use of a pet-name, you’re enough of a professional not to let it show. Casie is calling him embarrassing, but is still beaming, and with him in full costume and her all made up, the picture you take - he’s standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders, and she’s got her arms crossed, both of them looking serious and menacing at the camera - you think they might be the coolest people you’ve ever met. Certainly one of the most photogenic father/daughter duos you’ve ever come across.

“Do not make it your phone background,” Casie presses her embarrassed smile into his shoulder where they’re reviewing the photo back in his trailer.

“But I’m not allowed to post it, and I wanna admire it every day - look at you!” He’s pointedly zooming in on her stony expression in the photo.

“[Y/N], tell him he’s being ridiculous,” Casie implored you, and you threw your hands up in surrender.

“I’m not allowed to say what is and isn’t a ridiculous phone background,” you say automatically, which piques both of their interests, and you immediately regret saying anything.

“Babe,” Colson says, prompting you, and you feel yourself growing flustered, both because you’re going to have to admit that your background is a photo of you two, and that he’s called you that twice in about half an hour. Casie’s amused now, smiling, her arms crossed as she raises her eyebrows at you expectantly. Taking a deep breath, you unlock your phone.

“I’m just trying to be a good girlfriend,” you say, avoiding their gazes as you show them your home screen, and your background; the paparazzi photo of you and Colson beneath the boardwalk.

“Is that how you organise your apps?” Is what Casie has to say, which has Colson snorting with laughter, though when you finally look at him, you see him wearing a weirdly pleased little smile.

“Ducky, that’s weird and adorable -”

“It’s not weird!” You protest, snatching back your phone, flustered, but Casie just rolls her eyes, pulling out her own phone.

“Come here, both of you,” she instructs, sounding terribly put upon by the both of you. You both crowd around her, with only slight confusion. “Look convincing.” She holds up her phone, and you both frown a little.

“What?”

“Look convincing,” she insists again, gesturing between the two of you, and finally coming to understand her meaning, Colson gives her an endeared, almost proud look, and you in turn are looking fondly at him. Neither of you have noticed that she’s already taken the selfie. After a beat, she lowers the phone and starts looking at the few photos she’d taken, and both you and Colson seem a little surprised at her speed. “Dad, I’ll send it to you, you send it to her; you can have a photo of both of us looking cool, and a photo of your ‘girlfriend’,” she explains with implicit air quotes, “and [Y/N], you don’t have to have a creepy pap’s picture as your background.” She taps away for a moment before swiftly sending the best photo to Colson, “plus you’ll match.”

“You’re a little genius,” you tell her once Colson’s sent you the photo. Casie beams at you.

“I know.”

And the way you’re smiling in the photo is more than convincing.

[ID: A series of three tweets from @machinegunkelly:

1: Retweeted with the caption ‘🥰🥰’, originally posted by @duckduckbooth with no caption: Two pictures of Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn 99 holding a golden retriever puppy with an edited caption reading ‘I’ve only known CASIE BAKER for a day and a half but if anything happened to HER I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.’

2: Tweeted: when me n my girls (my daughter and @duckduckbooth) hang out i realize i’m somehow the least fashionable in the group. when did that happen wtf 😳😳

3. Tweeted: maybe you'll skip to the end and pass all the irrational decisions, patch up all the passion that was missin'. i think that's enough. i'm feelin' lovesick.

End ID.]

Maybe it’s that she likes you, maybe she’s just trying to keep an eye on you to make sure you’ve got her dad’s best intentions at heart, but Casie takes it upon herself to almost shadow you while on set, at least when she’s not with her dad.

“What’s your next video going to be?” She asks one afternoon when you’re both waiting for Colson in his trailer as he gets his makeup removed for the day. She’s watching a video on her phone and you’re reading emails on yours, and you look up, interested. After a moment, she pauses her video, looking up, looking back at you, “I like your ‘day in the life’ ones.”

“I didn’t realise you liked my videos,” you said with faint amusement, and she gives a small smile.

“I’ve been binging them,” she admits, and shuffles a little, sitting up further where she’s reclining on the uncomfortable little sofa, “your editing is really nice; I liked your Euro-Disney video, it was really pretty.”

“Thanks,” you find yourself a little humbled at her compliment, and find yourself musing that you’d like to get back to that style of video, “hey,” you find yourself coming up with an idea, something Colson had said during your first actual date, and with Casie herself now here, it was the perfect opportunity, “do you wanna be in a video?”

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! I’ve been feeling rather nostalgic for some of my older content, and was inspired by none other than Miss Casie Baker, so what better day than this beautiful Friday afternoon, to take you all along with Casie, Kells, and I as we head to a boardwalk fair.”

It’s a short drive to the boardwalk, and once you’re there, it’s almost unbearably cheesy. Rides, candy, you and Colson in competition trying to win a prize for Casie at one of the cheap game booths.

You’re filming on and off the whole time, getting aesthetic shots, your heart growing warmer with each genuine smile you manage to catch on camera. You take endless candid photos of Colson and Casie, and even though you know you can’t be out too late because you and Colson are due on set at eight, you make the most of the time you have.

After an hour and a half, you stop at the food vendor, craving hot chips, and Colson orders, while Casie takes your hand, the two of you hanging back.

"Can we go on the Ferris Wheel?"

"Just a minute kiddo, food's almost ready," Colson tells her over his shoulder, but she tugs at your hand, making her meaning more clear.

"You can catch up, we can go around twice; I wanna talk to [Y/N]," she tells him plainly, and you give her a smile, already acquiescing to her suggestion. Colson makes a noise of gentle protest, but he sees her hand in yours, and the reassuring look you've leveled at him.

"Take care of my girl," he tells you with a faux seriousness, and Casie gives a small grin at that.

"I'll protect her with my life," you promise, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"You better," he grinned, tone fond and a little teasing, before assuring that he'd meet you both up there, and you're left wondering what about you screamed 'let's have a serious conversation on a Ferris Wheel' because if it happens again, it goes from a coincidence to a pattern. Casie drops your hand and trots easily through the crowd to the Wheel that had cast the rest of the fair in shadow as the sun set behind it. The ride operator gives you a toothy smile as she secures the door behind the two of you, and Casie links her fingers, resting her elbows on her knees, and her chin on her hands, evaluating you with an inscrutable look. She waits until the basket is about a quarter of the way around before saying anything; for your part, you’re silent, she’s the one who wanted to speak after all.

“Dad doesn’t do fake,” she says finally, sitting back, and lets you wonder in silence for a few moments, what that even means, “I know he did, I’m not blind or deaf, people… people talk to me. A lot. About things my dad’s done.” This piece of information has your expression souring - she’s just a kid - but she doesn’t seem bothered by it, she just seems… almost confused.

“I’m not going to -”

“I know.” She cuts you off before you can even voice what reassurance you could manage, “I’ve gathered that; you’re good. Better than probably any other girl who’s gotten with him for clout.”

“I’m not -” You try to protest and she does look a little apologetic, but after a moment, you stop yourself, and let her continue, trying to understand where she was coming from.

“I know why he likes you, I get it, you -” she averts her gaze for a moment, suddenly a little embarrassed, “you’re actually really cool,” she admits, and your heart softens, but you keep quiet, and let her build back up to her bravado, “but back when his manager had him with like, models and actresses and things, they were all - I mean sometimes they were nice, but they always thought they were better than him, or they just treated him like dirt when people weren’t around, so now, dad doesn’t do fake.” It’s said definitively. You’re at the top of the Ferris Wheel now, stopped for a few moments, and she looks out at the rest of the fair, and then down to the base of the ride, letting herself smile when she spots Colson at the bottom, giving him a wave.

Somehow, sitting in this basket in the sky, it feels like a mafia movie, like this little girl is implying she’ll break your kneecaps if you hurt her father. Or she’s implying something that your heart dare not read into, lest you get your hopes up.

“Dad doesn’t break his rules for just anyone,” Casie finally sits back up, and there’s a new, kinder quality about her voice, before it turns young, turns plaintive, and you’re reminded that she’s just a child looking out for her dad, her hero, “please don’t make him regret it. He’s a good person, I know what people say but he’s -”

“Casie, I care about him. A lot.” You tell her honestly, gently, and she blinks wide and surprised for a few moments, before her expression turns to almost weirdly pleased, maybe even a little smug.

“Good.” She says with conviction, before looking out at the horizon, “this would be a nice shot.”

“It’d be nicer with your dad,” you hear yourself saying, and Casie huffs out a laugh that sounds so much like her father, agreeing quietly. When your basket stops at the bottom of the wheel, Colson flashes his ride wristband to the kid operating it, and he slides into the seat beside you. Casie’s still smiling as she takes a chip from where he offered them.

“Nice chat?” He asks, and offers you the chips too.

“I like her,” Casie announces, and you grin to yourself, “dad, I love you, but you’d better treat Duck right; we’re friends now.” Which sets Colson off laughing, and you turn on your camera.

“You were meant to be on my side,” he laughs, and Casie shrugs.

“I am, I’m on both your sides.”

#mgk #mgk x reader #mgk imagine #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #the dirt #the dirt cast #the dirt cast imagine #the angry lizard writes

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youllallriseintheink · 4 years

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Like it Never Happened, chapter 1: Welcome Back

Sorry this is late. I don’t know if this is going to be a one-off or if there will be more. Either way, I hope you enjoy this post-ink hell Samsie story.

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Susie’s first day back in the real world had gone so well. After she’d tumbled out of the ink machine, which had been moved into a government research facility after Henry Stein had escaped their dimension and alerted the authorities, she’d been greeted by the researchers there. A worker on site had helped connect her to her nearest living relative and arranged her to meet with a lawyer in roughly the same area a few days later- as one might imagine, many strange legal and practical difficulties are bound to pop up when one is assumed dead for nearly twenty years. After that, she’d a long trip back to her sister, who had welcomed her with tear-filled eyes and open arms. She’d gotten to pet her sister’s German Shepard and eat real food for the first time in ages. After she’d settled into the guest room, there was only one decision left for Susie to make, and she thought she was ready. Taking a deep breath, she dialed the number that the woman at the research lab had given her. She’d been told that the man it belonged to wasn’t sure if she’d want to talk, but had wanted to give her the option.

“Hello?” a voice answered. Was that how Sammy had sounded before his inking? Susie couldn’t remember.

“Hello, is this Sammy Lawrence?”

“Yes, and this is?”

“Susie Campbell. The woman who revived me gave me your number. She said that you wanted to speak with me, but only if I was willing to. So… what is it, Sammy?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. I sent the same message to Jack, too, and a few others that I knew before everything happened. I guess after being their leader for so long, it just felt weird to suddenly be out and be told that it was in someone else’s hands.”

Susie blushed. “Oh.”

“What? What is it?”

“Sorry, I guess I was just jumping to conclusions. I thought that you might’ve given me this number because you wanted… I don’t know- forgiveness, or…” the thought honestly seemed to silly to say aloud now. And Susie wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to see him- lord knew what a tangled ball of emotions that was- but, she did sort of want him to want to see her.

A slightly irritable tone crept into Sammy’s warm voice. “I’m not begging you for forgiveness. Same way I’m not blaming you for- well, you know. Point is, let’s leave that world behind us.”

“Okay. Sorry, I kind of only got out this morning.” She paused. “Do you ever see any of the others, Sammy? Do you still talk?”

“Not really. I still talk to some of my cult members over the phone, but they’ve all kind of scattered to the winds. Where are you living right now?”

Finally, an indication that he wanted to see her! “I’m about an hour from New York City. I’m living with my sister right now. Of course, I’m going to try and get a job and my own place as soon as possible, but yeah, for now I’m here.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m living in New York. So… would you be willing to see me? Not as a date- just as an ex-ink creature to ex-ink creature sort of thing.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“So, tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

So, the next day, Susie found herself in New York City, waiting in a Café for Sammy to arrive. This was exciting, and a little nerve-wracking. Would they get along as though nothing had happened? Would she scared and wary around him, just as she had been between her transformation into Alice and her imprisonment? She hadn’t noticed it until she was back in the bustling city, but she had gotten awfully jumpy- like a part of her hadn’t realized that death wasn’t lurking around each corner anymore. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too obvious to Sammy. And then- would Sammy be different as well?

Finally, Sammy arrived. He looked just about the same as he always had- the scientists had really done a good job at reconstructing their bodies. The fact that they’d neglected to put details like pores or veins on their skin made them look either like wax figures or like airbrushed models, depending on who you asked.

“Hey. Enjoying being human again?” Sammy asked, sitting down across from her.

“Sure beats the alternative. So, how long have you been out?”

“Thirty-two days. Oh my God, are they still handing out those, ‘your new body’ brochures?”

Susie laughed. “The ones that are half like one of those books you give kids who are goin’ through puberty and half like an ad for a super-realistic doll? Yep. I bought us some scones, by the way.”

Sammy took one and thanked her. “I never thought of them that way, but that hits the nail on the head. ‘Make sure to wash properly! Your hair and skin are like real!’ Yeah. Sure they are. Real enough, though.”

“And I just love the fact that they decided to give me a pulse, but only on my left wrist. I mean, what- did they think that I’d complain if I couldn’t check my ‘heartrate’?”

“Wait, you have a pulse?”

“Oh, is that new?”

“I guess. I wouldn’t spend an extra month in the studio for it, that’s for sure!”

Susie laughed. “Oh my God. So someone did complain about it!”

Sammy laughed a little as well. “So, do you have anything that you always told yourself that you’d do the second you were out of that place?”

“Well, we had some plants in my area of the studio. They were the same colour as everything else, of course- and they felt like paper. Only living thing that I wasn’t destroying and they only made the place feel deader. I told myself that if I ever got out, I’d never take living things for granted again.”

Sammy smiled. “Yeah. I was a lot like that, too. Well, it’s your first day out. Want to go appreciate some living things?”

Susie heartily agreed to the idea, and so as soon as the two of them were finished with their scones, Sammy led her to a greenhouse. Susie loved it. There were flowering plants in every possible colour. Sammy ended up buying her one that she could keep in her room- a beautiful purple flowering plant called a “Gloxinia.” For a moment, the two of them could have almost forgotten that anything had happened, and for Sammy that was rare. It seemed to Sammy that almost everything was aesthetically different now, and he had never quite shaken off the feeling that he was some kind of time traveller. With Susie here now, though, gushing over stuff like she used to, he almost wanted to kiss her and ask her if she wanted to see Kings Row at one of the new fancy in-colour theatres.

After walking Susie to the bus stop, she’d stopped and looked back at him, as though considering giving him a kiss. Sammy hadn’t stopped her. Maybe, he thought, he should have.

He couldn’t base their relationship on the lie that nothing had happened. Something had happened. And Sammy felt it the moment her bus had taken off. He’d heard something- he wasn’t sure what- that reminded him of the Projectionist’s roar and stumbled away in fear so quickly that he nearly ran into oncoming traffic. He was used to that kind of thing by now, and was able to take a few deep breaths and calm down, the only consequence of his outburst being a few strange looks. It hadn’t been that way when he’d only been out a few days. Something had happened. And if Susie hadn’t felt it yet, she would.

It would be nice if they could support each other through this. But their relationship had been so flimsy back in the 1930s. Could it even survive while they were both battling demons? Not unless it was much stronger than it was back then. And Sammy was tempted to just let things keep going in the direction they were going, to let things sort themselves out. Things would not be as picture perfect as this… (is it still called a first date when you were dating decades ago and never really broke up so much as betrayed each other horribly and became bitter enemies who did horrible violent things to each other while under the influence of a supernatural substance which is no longer in the picture?) outing, moreso than it was for all relationships compared to their honeymoon phase- that was for sure. But, if they were both enjoying it, what was the harm? They were different people now. Maybe they could make it work.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #susie campbell #sammy lawrence #sammy x susie #my fanfiction #Like it Never Happened

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junker-town · 4 years

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Inside the heartwarming world of Hot Wheels collecting

What seems like a simple hobby can take you across the world.

In 1995, Sheri Abbey was at a swap meet in California when something small caught her eye: a classic model Radio Flyer wagon Hot Wheels car, with a spoiler, rear-mounted engine and butterfly style steering wheel.

Abbey had always appreciated machines. She grew up in Michigan, where she lived in a household of car enthusiasts. Her dad owned a body shop and would occasionally race. Together, Abbey and her father built hot rods, American muscle cars with large engines modified for speed.

It made sense her love of big cars might translate to an affinity for small ones. But when Abbey picked up the toy, she couldn’t have known where it would take her.

“I didn’t realize how collectible they were,” Abbey says. Soon, she was sharing the hobby with her son, who was three at the time. “We would go to car shows and because of Hot Wheels, he would know the names of all the cars.”

A lifetime of collecting had begun.

Mattel released the first Hot Wheels toy line in 1968 with 16 cars, which included custom versions of the Camaro, Barracuda, Mustang, Thunderbird and Beetle. They have become known in Hot Wheels lore as the Sweet 16.

Hot Wheels quickly became a force in the toy market. They sold for a dollar, making them a perfectly affordable toy for parents whenever they went to grocery stores with their kids.

Hot Wheels have evolved in the decades since. The mainline cars — the dollar cars you might find at your local Wal-Mart — still exist, but now premium-series cars, with more complex designs and better materials, are sold at a markup. Mattel also makes Treasure Hunt cars, which are special edition versions of the mainline cars.

Hot Wheels is no longer marketed strictly for children. The fact people who grew up with Hot Wheels, like Abbey, still love them so many years later isn’t an accident. Mattel has consciously made Hot Wheels more appealing to adults.

Amy Boylan started in the software division for Mattel in the late-1990s. While she was with the company, Boylan noticed there were thousands of Hot Wheels collectors around the world, and built an official site and forum to bring enthusiasts together. The Hot Wheels Red Line Club was established. For an annual membership fee, collectors had access to purchase higher-end cars.

“We ended up having 5,000 members in the first six months,” Boylan says. “I realized right away how big it was and how rabid our collectors were. Collectors always collected, but we brought order to it. We built a community of almost 100,000 people worldwide.”

In 1999, family members in Montana tipped Abbey off to a friend who was selling his Hot Wheels collection, which totaled more than 7,000 cars, including some from the original 1968 release. When she acquired them, she started selling the cars as a side hustle.

Eventually, her childhood enthusiasm for taking apart real cars bled into her hobby. Abbey got into customization.

“You could make them into anything you can imagine,” Abbey says. “That’s when your artistry just takes over.”

Abbey took Hot Wheels cars that retailed for a dollar, stripped them and put them back together with new parts. They sold for $30 apiece.

Her customized cars caught the attention of the Hot Wheels community. In 2004, Mattel flew Abbey to Japan for a customization event.

“I’m a country girl,” Abbey says. “So going to Tokyo was crazy. Everything was overwhelming. It was a wonderful experience.”

Abbey spent six months working on various Hot Wheels customs. One of the most memorable cars was a McDonald’s Studebaker that Abbey turned into a Dragster.

“I had the details right down to how I wired the sparkplugs,” Abbey says. “I put in the gas tanks. You could see all the details. I roughed up all the tires so it looked like it had been doing burnouts.”

In 2009, Abbey was inducted into the Diecast Hall of Fame as a customizer. Now 58, Abbey has gone back to work as a machinist. The money is good enough to help pay for her two kids to go to college, but working seven days a week means Abbey has had to leave behind her Hot Wheels hobby for the last five years.

Now, Abbey airbrushes and customizes life-size cars.

“I’d rather paint bigger things,” Abbey says. “The small cars were getting tedious, and I’m getting a little arthritis in my hands.”

Abbey’s Hot Wheels origin story is just one of many. That’s the beautiful thing about collecting: You make your own rules. How you enter the hobby — whether it is because of your love of cars, or because they were a huge part of your childhood — is very much unique to you.

Some collectors, like Marcia Walker, take up the hobby from their significant others. Walker lives in Wisconsin, and first learned about Hot Wheels when she met her now-husband 23 years ago.

“He was collecting them,” Walker says. “And I was like, ‘Um, these are toys. What’s the big deal?’” She was soon swept up in the Hot Wheels world. Walker attended local collectors’ shows with her husband and helped him track down hard-to-find cars. She fell in love with the experience, and eventually Hot Wheels became a family bonding activity with her two sons, who are now 18 and 21.

“We took them to all these Hot Wheels events,” Walker says. “They were able to see things in the world other than the four corners of our house.”

Walker estimates her family has thousands of Hot Wheels cars in their collection.

“To be honest I would be afraid to find out,” Walker says. “There’s cases under the stairs, there’s cases in the closet, there’s boxes here, there’s boxes there. I don’t think there’s a room in the house that doesn’t have Hot Wheels in it.”

Sheri Abbey

One of Sheri Abbey’s custom designs.

Jeremy Iglesias

A look at Jeremy Iglesias’ collection, which contains more than 1,500 cars.

Some collectors are simply gonzo. James Savel, 60, joined the Red Line Club in 2003. Today, his basement is filled with Hot Wheels cars from the original collection, and every decade thereafter. The oval-shaped Sizzler racetrack he used to race his Hot Wheels as a kid still sits in a storage room in his basement.

Standouts in his collection include the Chevy Bel Air Candy Striper and the Volkswagen Beach Bomb. The purple prototype version, Savel tells me, is currently worth $300,000.

“Periodically I’ll come downstairs and just look at the cars,” he says.

Savel’s son Mark, 34, finally got into Hot Wheels last year, to the delight of his father. When Savel had his will written up recently, he divided his most valued items between his son and daughter. “My sister gets his record collection,” Mark says. “I get the Hot Wheels.”

Savel jokes that when he passes away, Mark, a real estate agent with a keen understanding of return on investment, will probably sell his dad’s entire collection the next day. “He’s probably right,” Mark says, laughing.

Mark is getting married later this year, and because of the expenses involved for the family, Savel vowed to stop spending so much money on Hot Wheels. “And then I get a call from him,” Mark says. “He tells me he bought the Hot Wheels Tesla Racer.”

The car is remote controlled and costs $400.

“Shipping is free though,” Savel says.

Many collectors are sentimentalists, chasing what they once yearned for as kids. Jason Marshall, a 45-year-old graphic designer, has also watched his Hot Wheels collection grow in the past five years. In 2015, he was walking past an aisle of Hot Wheels at a store when he noticed a new Lamborghini that was just released.

Marshall remembers watching Transformers in the 80s and the first time he saw different models of Lamborghinis — the Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Countach — transform.

“They were full of opulence,” Marshall says. “It was the style. The way the doors just went straight up. It was unlike anything that has come before or since.”

In the past half-decade, Marshall has devoted himself to collecting every single Lamborghini that Hot Wheels has produced. He’s about 15 cars away, but two will be particularly hard to track down.

The first is a plated 18-karat gold car, one of only 1,000 produced in the 1990s. It is a mail-in car, meaning you could only receive it if you mailed in specific receipts, making it a much rarer than the cars that usually sit on grocery shelves. This particular Hot Wheel currently carries a price tag of around $300 on the resale market.

The second is a 25th anniversary edition Lamborghini produced in 2000 for Mattel’s birthday. It was given to employees with a “happy birthday” message on the hood. Marshall says he’s never seen one in person, and only knows it from a picture online.

So, why not buy an actual Lamborghini in real life?

“Who’s got a few hundred thousand dollars for a car that you probably have to pay triple that over its lifetime for maintenance?” Marshall says. “And that’s not even considering insurance.”

The commonality among all of the collectors, no matter how they found themselves immersed in Hot Wheels, is the joy that it brings them.

Jeremy Iglesias, 18, lives in Atlanta and is studying automotive technology at Chattahoochee Technical College. In his five years of collecting, Iglesias has amassed more than 1,500 cars in his Hot Wheels collection.

“There isn’t a right way to be a Hot Wheels collector,” Iglesias says. “Cars usually get sentimental value either by being present with me for an event, going with me for a trip, gift from a person, or something from my childhood.”

There is one wrong way to be a Hot Wheels collector. Like other items that appreciate in value over time, Hot Wheels are popular among resellers.

Adam Janusick, in his mid-20s, lives in central Illinois and has been collecting since 2011. He says the most challenging thing about the hobby these days is dealing with scalpers — those Hot Wheels buyers who are only in it for a profit.

“These guys will watch the stores like vultures,” Janusick says. “Hot Wheels comes in boxes of 72. The moment those boxes come off the truck, they will be there, ripping them apart, taking any car worth of any value, buying them, bringing them back home, and instantly putting them on eBay for a markup.”

Recently, Janusick has developed a strategy for tracking down Treasure Hunts. The key is to ignore big box retailers like Wal-Mart and Target and browse local grocery stores, where scalpers are less likely to look.

He was digging one day in Hy-Vee, a local grocery chain, and noticed something suspicious about a BMV C4 Hot Wheels. The paint was a little darker, more sparkly than the mainline car. The wheels were shiny and actual rubber.

“I audibly shouted, ‘no way,’” Janusick says, his voice rising as though he was back in the aisle discovering the car for the very first time.

Instead of growing out of Hot Wheels, many collectors grew into them as they got older. The hobby isn’t just a nostalgic trip; it’s about taking their childhood dreams seriously.

Abbey is a perfect example. Though she has reached the end of her road as a Hot Wheels collector, she still keeps that part of her life close. She has plans to move to a smaller place, where she wants to shrink her collection and set up displays for her customized Hot Wheels and awards.

“As a kid, you dream of the unattainable thing,” Marshall says. “As an adult, when you make money, you can afford a few things that you couldn’t before.”

By embracing what some might consider a childish hobby, Hot Wheels collectors show dreams can be valid from any age. Growing up simply means realizing that truth.

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flowing-paint · 6 years

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Dark Imperium

So I finally gave in. I jumped on the Warhammer 40k 8th edition bandwagon. It was faster and easier than I thought though. I still have some mixed feelings about it but overall I’m glad that I did it.

Games Workshop products are known for two things: 1) they probably are the best sculptures around with the finest details 2) they are insanely expensive. Notice I did not say overpriced 'cause you get what you pay for but still, they cost you an arm and a leg. This is the main reason that was holding me back from diving directly in. This and the fluff which I am not really sure I will ever be able to fully embrace. I mean, a fascist Roman empire in the far future? Duh...!

Anyway... how did I end up starting collecting Warhammer 40k do you ask? I was drinking a beer in Kobe Chinatown with my good board gamer friend when he described me a "Dark Imperium" unboxing he saw and how cool those miniatures looked. As a long-time tabletop wargamer, I knew what he was talking about and that’s probably why I was instantly sold. Also, why I should not decide to buy stuff when semi-drunk: the last thing I know is that I went back with a sense of urgency to scan the whole eBay for the cheapest Dark Imperium deal available. I found a pretty solid deal so I asked my friend how was he feeling about that and I got a weird and certainly unexpected answer: I’m going to London next week, I’ll take care of it. And he sure did. He came back to Japan with a big bag full of presents:

Dark Imperium starter box

1 extra rulebook

2 measuring tapes (GW original)

All for half the price you can get for just the starter box in this overpriced country. I have to admit, this was a great Christmas present.

The miniatures

I am pretty sure you all know about the Dark Imperium contents but the other day when I was trying to get a full list of the miniatures in the box I wasn’t able to find one in the first Google search page so I’ll make one. Let’s see what you get in the Dark Imperium box.

Primaris Space Marines

1 Captain

2 Lieutenants

1 Ancient

10 Intercessors

3 Interceptors

5 Hellblasters

Death Guard

1 Lord of Contagion

1 Noxious Blightbringer

1 Malignant Plaguecaster

7 Plague Marins

1 Foetid Bloat-drone

20 Poxwalkers

You get a total of 53 miniatures which is probably a lot even if I feel like the rulebook covers a big portion of the cost. As usual with GW starter sets you also get unique characters and they probably add a lot of value to the box anyway.

All the miniatures you get are provided in the new GW scale which means they are 32 mm. Roughly. Of course, according to GW’s official take on the matter, the new Primaris marines were bred to be bigger and stronger than ever but this doesn’t explain why the dudes in the Death Guard grew accordingly. Maybe the power of Nurgle? Or the power of the new GW board members trying to drive new blood in the game? I don’t care: the new sculpts are exceptionally good. Like good good good... they look easy to paint with abundant but still fairly large details and with some reasonable color scheme suggestion that can make painting them a breeze, even for beginners. In twenty years I’ve seen miniatures from all the possible sources, old GW, Reaper, Fantasy Flight games, Megacon Games, etc. etc. and the level these new minis reached is amazing. I can imagine that painting them will be a lot of fun. Not to mention that this box contains a figure that is probably one of the best GW miniatures ever: the Lord of Contagion.

The factions

As you can see in the previous section, the two factions that come in the box are the Primaris Space Marines and the Death Guard. Splitting between two friends we had to decide which faction to go with but we both agreed it could be better for him to stick to the marines: first, he likes the looks best and second, they’re easier to paint for a beginner. So I got to pick up the Death guard because models are more complex and you may agree with me that they may represent a fair challenge even for an experienced painter.

Wandering around the internet to see the whole army points you get, I found this thread on Reddit where they did some calculations: like all GW starter sets, the good guys are slightly overpowered, with the Space Marines scoring around 100 points of overhead in respect to the Death Guard. I don’t mind losing games so I don’t care that much but I saw the very same thing in the Age of Sigmar starter set where the Stormcast are way more powerful than the Korne dudes. In addition to this issue, the total points seem to be pretty low (don’t even know on which base I am saying this but bear with me) so we both decided to add some extra units to pump up the fun a little bit: you don’t get a super-powerful army from a starter set. As far as I know, my friend bought some Reavers, a Librarian and a bunch of the Space Marine Heroes (Japan limited edition) so he now has something like 4 or 5 HQs to choose from together with some ranks. I will describe my additions in the details below.

The rulebook

The last time I had a full (physical) rulebook from Games Workshop was back in the days of Warhammer Fantasy Battles 4th edition. I also had two army books (one for my Lizardmen and one for my Dark Elves armies). All the books were that kind of softcover with the glue binding on the side. I’m not a librarian so I don’t know the appropriate term to describe them. On the contrary, the new 40k 8th edition rulebook is hardcover and packed full of gorgeous imagery and fluff. It reminds me the special edition of the Mercs 2.0 rulebook. As per new GW policy, they tend not to show you drawings or renderings but more dioramas with full armies on display: case in point, the AoS books with lots of army photography but almost no drawings. I guess this way the result turns out cheaper for them. The WH40k 8th edition book, however, is packed of full-page (kickass) drawings up to the level that it feels very much the same as the old-school GW manuals but with a more high-quality look and feel. In a couple words? Fucking awesome. It’s so good that I went through it a few times and I still have to get a glimpse at the rules. Enough said.

Death Guard reinforcements

As my friend started buying a lot of additional figures I had to do the same. I did it my way, though. As usual, the first addition I did was some crap I found on the eBay (almost) for free. The auction was for 5 old Plague Marines and 5 old Chaos Space Marines (all painted). The price was more than fair as they turned out around 1$ per unit. I wanted them as test models anyway. I also got 10 Tyranid gargoyles for the same price, so good deal overall.

With such an ugly paint job, the idea was to strip them and make a tutorial out of the process, unfortunately, they were painted with some sort of metallic enamel and the paint did not fall off completely even after immersion in pure ethanol. I just primed on top of the old crappy colors and used them as test models. I had the insane idea to use pre-heresy Death Guard colors, a scheme that unfortunately involves a lot of white in the process and you all know how difficult is to paint a smooth white if you are not using an airbrush. So, God knows I needed some testing before hitting the road with the bigger new models. Talking about bigger models: the eBay dudes are 2nd edition figures so take a look what happens if you place them side by side with the new ones! I’m gonna call them my “baby plague marines” ‘cause they’re tiny!

The big boy in the pic is another of the reinforcements I got (together with some Poxwalkers), just a normal “push fit” easy to build plague marine. Despite being of different size, they will probably work well together on the battlefield as my friend is not terribly WYSIWYG but the style is still quite different. I was however surprised to see how the new sculpts are a straight evolution from the old ones: they have very similar features and you effectively feel like you are painting the same faction. Even after twenty years. I guess that showcasing the same colors and being slightly loose on the weapons etc. will do it. You can see the color scheme I chose in the picture below.

You have way more possibilities to get out some kickass effects on new models but the overall look-and-feel should be close to this one. It makes me feel good to see that even in this test stage it looks way better than the green metallic dude so I just cannot wait to paint my first new-era plague marine.

The last piece I bought is, again, another somewhat strange addition: Typhus. One of the named characters in the army. If you head to the GW page or Google for him, you can find many pictures and that’s exactly what I did. The only problem here is that the new sculpt looks super cartoonish and it’s simply not credible as a man-killing soulless machine. I do think the new sculpture is gorgeous, don’t take me wrong, but it doesn’t match the whole Death Guard look: I mean, he has smoke coming out with big mosquitoes and a Nurgling hugging him! Naah... I’ll pass on this sculpt. What do you guys think about him?

I still had to do something to add this dude to my army so I just headed to the Forgeworld page and grabbed the Horus Heresy special edition Character.

Oooh, yeah! Now we’re talking. This is what I call “Death Guard” look! Even for WYSIWYG purposes, he counts exactly as his future-self but with that badass factor that blows my mind. They also cost exactly the same amount of money so this one was a no-brainer: I pulled the trigger in the fraction of a second and the model is now flying over Russia, eastbound. Cannot wait to put my hands on him!

Ok, I wrote enough words on this. It’s time to get some paint flowing and see what I can do with a new model and my pre-heresy color scheme. I can already see a step-by-step tutorial coming in the future on how to paint Death Guard in these colors. You guys let me know what you think and stay tuned for the updates!

... game on!

#warhammer 40k #Starter box #Death guard #Nurgle #primaris space marines

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