#like he’s gonna drag me into an alley and hit me with a comically large mallet. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prince-eon · 4 years

Text

• We’ll Figure It Out • ➥ h. hotel

[ Husk / Reader ]

I made this on a whim because why the fuck not. First story published, not first time writing. GLHF, never written for Husk before but it’s an adventure we can experience together. Also, yes, this was based off of “The Stray” comic by Disteal.

— TL;DR : Some soft Husk shit. The server is a sin. Not really used to writing Husk sorry. Based off of “The Stray”

Pre-Warnings: Just some slight angst with some fluff in it ; a tiny smidge of self-loathing ; more of a platonic thing but if you squint you can see the intimacy

God damn was it fucking freezing. Who knew that Hell would have such blistering winters, then again, it was hell so what the fuck did you expect? The weather here was nothing short of imperfection, choosing to be either sweltering hot or a blistering cold. Even if there were good days, they were short in stock as this place did its best to live up to its name.

Tonight, as you’ve noticed by your numb hands and probably already frozen face, it was freezing tonight, and it just so happened that you were walking home. Today was your birthday, and you had just spent the entire day out alone drinking away your sorrows and passing out at the docks of Lake Wendigo. It wasn’t your brightest idea to go outside in this weather, especially with such a thin sweater on, but it also wasn’t the worst thing you’ve done.

You walked on, staring down at your phone as you message Rosie on what your next job would be for tomorrow. All week you’ve had nothing assigned for you to do and you were tired of sitting around. It made you anxious and adding that on top of the growing pile of depression of your birthday just made you feel all the worse.

Hey mother

When’s the haul coming in?

Read

You frowned at the ‘read’ underneath your message. A cloud of white left your lips when you sighed in frustration. Why hasn’t she replied yet? You’re sure you’ve taught her enough on how to use a phone, that and she was a fast learner, so there was no way she’d have trouble texting you back. A frown settled onto your face as you looked up to see the hotel.

This place was the bane of your existence, ever since Rosie sent you off to help Radio-bitch out to repay a favor. That was a month ago, and you were dreading every single second of it. The group of people that helped run this place or participated in the project behind it were complete morons. They were all so neurotic with their actions. It all made you feel awkward and out of place, so much so that you paused when you made it to the door, not moving an inch to reach out and grasp the handle to open it.

You stared holes into the brass piece, taking a glance behind you and questioning on whether you wanted to leave while you still could. It seemed so enticing to leave, go back to Rosie and forget like this place ever existed, back to your regular, daily, miserable life. You stared out down the walkway, going to take a step forward. That was until the doors opened to reveal a tall, skinny bitch.

“Well, look who decided to show up!” Alastor chirped from the doorway, smile ever present, “Come on in, my dear, tonight is a deathly cold night and you must be freezing!” He stepped forward, putting a hand to your back as he pushed you inside and closed the door. The warm air instantly met your skin, and it was only then that you realized just how cold you were.

“Ah, yeah..” You mumbled out, shoving your phone and hands inside your sweater’s pockets to help warm them up. You followed Alastor into the dining area to find everyone already gathered around the table. The atmosphere surrounding them was filled with a warmness that had you pausing in the doorway as Alastor walked back into the kitchen. Almost everyone had a smile on their face, seeming so casual and enjoying each other’s presence while you stood afar. You watched them all move with such up-beat energy that you nearly jumped out of your skin when Charlie shot up out of her seat and called out to you with a wide grin on her face.

“You’re late!” She exclaimed, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to the chair next to hers.

“Sorry, work kept me late.” You explained weakly, falling into your seat when Charlie pushed you to sit with a bit of force behind her action that had you lose your breath.

“That’s fine, Alastor just finished cooking anyway!” Charlie exclaimed, sitting down and smiling eagerly at you with an almost childlike glow to it, “He made your favorite!”

“Y-yeah… I see that.” You smiled awkwardly, looking away and watching as Niffty zoomed out of the kitchen with a large plate of food, one that you recognized so easily as the one your mother used to make when you were but a child. You watched as everyone reached out and started to serve themselves while Niffty kept zooming back and forth between the dining room and kitchen.

You stared out over the crowd, noticing that Vaggie and Angel were having their usual spat, yelling at each other about god knows what this time. Crymini had her feet on the table, leaning back in her chair as she stared down at her lap at the phone in her hand. She occasionally looked up to laugh at Razzle and Dazzle’s antics, who were currently messing with Baxter and getting such easy entertainment off his easy reactions (which involved a lot of screeching). Husk sat across from you, nursing from a bottle of tequila as he watched Vaggie get more heated by the second from Angel’s nonchalance. You briefly wondered if Charlie was ever going to step in, but it seemed that tonight she could care less as she involved herself in a deep conversation with Mimzy.

Upon all this chaos, you slowly dropped the smile on your face, a scowl replacing it as you stared down at the plate before you. You grimaced, the alcohol from earlier making your stomach twist at the thought of food. You shook your head, making it ache from the sudden movement as you moved your chair back to stand up. You moved to walk around the table, heading towards the door and tuning out the loud banter in the room. No one but Mimzy noticed, and when she called out to you, everyone stopped what they were doing for a short moment to look at you.

“Hey! Where you going? You just got here and you’re leaving already?” She questioned, crossing her arms.

You paused in the doorway, glancing back at them, “I’m just gonna make a quick call. I’ll be back in a jiffy, don’t worry.” You explained, turning around and jumping back a bit when you almost ran into Alastor. You looked up at him, noticing the way he tilted his head in confusion down at you as he held another plate of your favorite meal. You said nothing other than an apology, moving your gaze to the ground as you stepped aside and continued your stroll to the exit. Not once did you ever notice the pair of eyes watching you.

You stepped back out into the cold, immediately feeling the cold hit your face. Your whole body shivered in response to the chill air of the night. It had you crossing your arms subconsciously in an attempt to save what little body heat you had. You looked around at your surroundings, checking to see if there were any unwanted presence around you. Last time you hadn’t checked the surrounding area of the hotel, a zeppelin blowed a hole into the entrance.

Shivering at the memory of bitch mc-gee’s show of power, you turned and began strolling around the building. You stared up at it and took in all its glory, every crevice, every detail. The place looked like it went through three hurricanes and back, or like dog shit. In simpler words, it looked run-down and awful, but you were sure that the twizzler would get it back up and running. If Rosie taught you anything, it was that when it came to Alastor, he could do some damn impressive things in his achieving ‘entertainment’ in his own means.

You scoffed at the thought. Never will you understand the fondness your dear Rosie had for the maniac. You rubbed your temples, trying to soothe the aching in your head, but it proved to be fruitless. Groaning in discomfort, you decided to focus ahead of you and where you were heading. The tall shadows casted by the hotel left little to see, but it was no issue to you when you finally reached the back alley.

The back of the hotel was your favorite hot spot and hide away to get away from everyone. It was your haven from the loud sounds of laughter and yelling provided from the patrons in there. Out here, you had the freedom to do whatever you wanted away from the scrutinizing eye of others. It was also a place to get your smoke on without having radio shack yell at you. Now that you think about it, having a quick smoke before heading back inside didn’t sound so bad, so without second thought you reached into your back pocket and pulled out the box of cigars you had along with your lighter.

You walked up to the brick wall of the hotel, leaning against it next to the back-exit while you pulled out a stick and lit the end of it. When it started smoking, you took a long drag out of it before pulling back and blowing a white cloud of smoke into the air. You watched it swirl and dance around for a moment, almost memorized by the way the cloud moved. It was only when the cloud of white disappeared that you allowed yourself to pull your phone out, opening messages and instantly tapping on Rosie’s name.

You huffed in annoyance as you noticed she had yet to message you back, “God fucking dammit…” You cursed under your breath, letting yourself fall ass-first to the ground in frustration. You leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes and breathing deeply to control your anger before you ended up punching a hole into the brick wall. You sat up again, pulling your phone up and starting to type a message to once more ask Rosie what she had wanted you to do. Not once did you notice the door open, nor the heavy footsteps coming closer to you until they called out to you.

“Hey, kid.” A deep and husky voice spoke.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, letting a few curses slip out as you almost dropped your phone. You snapped your head up, ready to cuss whoever decided to startle you out, but instead surprise replaced your anger as you saw the last person you’d expect to see out here. “Husk? What are you doing out here? Head back inside man, I’ll be done in a sec.”

He shrugged, bringing the bottle of tequila up to his lips, “Just getting some air.” Is all he said before taking a swig, throwing his head back and downing almost half the bottle in an instant.

“Oh.” Is all you said as you watched him drink before turning back to stare down at your screen.

Husk pulled the bottle back down, glancing down at you. He furrowed his brows at the look on your face as you typed out a message to whoever it was you were so focused on texting. He looked away to the bottle in his hand, taking small glances between you and his drink, wondering if whether he should even offer you a sip. He glanced back down to you, watching you smash your fingers onto the bright screen in frustration. He let out a sigh, taking a few steps towards you before plopping down adjacent to you.

You looked up, narrowing your eyes in suspicion of his actions, a small hint of confusion bubbled in the back of your mind. You opened your mouth, ready to tell him off, but he beat you to it by raising the bottle of tequila in offering to you, “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.” He spoke.

You stared at him in surprise. It was known around the hotel staff that if there was one thing Husk would not separate from, it was his liquor. So, of course it was a shocker when he offered you that bottle. You closed your mouth, not saying anything or even daring to move, and that seemed to make him anxious. Husk thought he’d maybe made the wrong move, seeing as how you didn’t move or reply. He had half the mind to take back what he said, swallowing a pool of saliva in nervousness and opening his mouth to prepare to fix the awkward situation before it got worse. However, there was no need as you raised your hand and grasped the bottle, taking it from him.

“Thanks…” you replied, staring down at the bottle before taking a small sip and handing it back over to him. You tensed when your fingers brushed, feeling a pit of anxiety settle in your gut. You ignored it, however, and continued to stare down at your phone to read through what you’ve already typed down. A scowl formed on your face as you scrolled up to read through previous messages Rosie had sent your over the past month. Whether it was her telling you to listen to Alastor or to be good or to just wait for her instructions, it all had you huffing in anger.

A cold breeze passed through, making you shiver and hug yourself to savor body heat. You let out a sigh, leaning your head back to close your eyes again. The ambience of the area around the hotel filled your ears along with the occasional sound of liquid being jostled around inside a glass bottle. It was then that you realized the cat was still here. You furrowed your brows, suddenly not liking the silence that filled the air between you and Husk. It was thick with awkwardness, and it left you anxious in its wake.

“…it—” you started, glancing up at the cat demon next to you, “It’s just a bit too loud inside… and weird… I’m not really used to such a lively atmosphere, so…” You trailed off, turning your head away from him to avoid meeting his gaze, not that he cared. He didn’t even bother to look down at you, all he did was take a couple more swigs from his bottle while staring up at the dim pentagram in the dark red sky before speaking, “It’s okay, kid. You don’t have to explain yourself to me… I understand.”

Your face twisted in a slight grimace, “Yeah, it’s just really not my thing…”

Husk sighed in slight annoyance but dared not to say anything. Instead, he only shrugged as he looked down at the bottle in his hand. “I get it.” He replied, swirling the alcohol around in boredom.

You frowned, brows furrowing in frustration as you stared at the ground in irritation. A beat of silence settled between the both of you before you squared your shoulders, sitting straight and looking up at the cat in irritation. “See, I don’t think you do. I don’t think we’re really on the same page here.” You spat. You stood up, moving away from him and glaring out around the surrounding area. You took deep breaths in an attempt to control your anger. But it proved to be futile as when you turned around to glare at him, the look on his face that told you he could care less had your blood boiling.

“You all just go on doing all this stupid, kumbaya shit without a care in the world of the consequences.” You started, “You all have this sense of freedom within the hotel, a place that you all seem to call home with no trouble in doing so.” Your teeth were grit in disgust, the anger was building on your shoulders and you tried to keep it contained, but the bucket was overflowing, and it all spilled out and came undone.

“You all have it so easy, don’t you?! You get to walk around here without feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders! Well, I ain’t ever had that shit Husk! People like ME in my situation, in MY line of work are on a one-way conveyor belt to being screwed over and being complete fuck-ups!”

Your hands hurt from how tightly they were clenched. You could feel your claws digging into your flesh and spilling your blood in them. Anger and frustration were coursing through your veins as you had finally cracked under the pressure and stress of the month. The drawer was open, and you could do nothing but release all this pent-up stress by yelling at him. You didn’t know why you were doing it, especially to him out of all people, but all you wanted to do in that moment was to just be angry. And you wanted him to be angry back at you. You wanted him to fight, to yell, to scream at you and smash the bottle over your damn head for even having the gall to say such things in his face. But all he did was just look up at you with this disinterested look that pissed you off even more.

“We don’t GET big, happy, family stuff man! All we do is get moved around until our owners have an excuse to shoot us down!” You cried out in rancor, feeling tears starting to blur your vision as the water works finally unleashed themselves. You raised a hand, making sloppy work of trying to wipe them away. “All this, and you all just— fuckin— wanna make that all better and fix it like it’ll all go away…”

Your hand dropped, the cold air numbing your face even more as the hot tears continued to pour. You clenched your hands tightly and stared down into the ground with a look of distaste, “Don’t patronize me…” You mumbled out tiredly, “I’m not stupid, y’know. I know what cards I got dealt…” You crossed your arms, hugging yourself tightly, “…I know exactly how this will all play out in the end…”

Nothing was said when you finished, your rant was met with nothing but silence. You scowled, keeping your gaze on the ground and dared not to look up. If only you did, you would have seen Husk stare up at you in disbelief at the end of your spiel. Not once did he think that you'd crack under any of their presence, especially with him, and especially with how collected you always appeared to be. Your words were harsh, and to be honest it kind of pissed him off on how much you assumed that they all had better lives. True, here at the hotel everyone had a chance to let loose and be themselves just a bit more than they could out there. But despite that, he didn't let your assumptions or outburst get to him. All he did was huff in in nonchalance, moving to stand while taking another swig of his drink.

You said nothing, only listening patiently to what Husk would do next. When he finally started moving, you flinched as you heard his heavy footfalls, each step had you dreading what would come next. You were almost afraid of him, your whole-body trembling when you noticed that he stopped just short of you. Not once did you dare look up at him, not wanting to see the look on his face after you just practically screeched him out. So, imagine your surprise when he lowered the bottle from his mouth, not to strike you with, but to speak words that had you tearing up again in an instant.

“I know exactly how you feel, kid.” He started slowly, “I mean, was just like you when I was younger.” You snapped your head up, staring up at him with an incredulous look on your face.. You opened your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.

“I get it, y’know? I get that it seems like the world is out to trip you at every step. I get the anger when some random, unfair bullshit puts you back at square one.” He takes a quick gulp of his drink, staring up at the sky when he brought the bottle down, “I know how it feels when you think you gotta turn your back on the world, the thought that it can’t hurt you if you push it away.”

He turned his gaze down to you, a look in his eye that made you want to do nothing but cry right there and then for the rest of the night. He furrowed his brows at the tears rolling down your cheeks, “I also know you’re too young to survive that. Fighting the universe will kill you before it kills itself.”

He reached up a hand, going to wipe away a tear before you snapped your head away from his touch. You crossed your arms again as you glared daggers into the ground. “Why are you telling me this, man?!” You cried out in exasperation.

Husk huffed, shaking his head before turning back to you, “’Cause the worlds a shithole.” He started, “It’s hard and I can’t do anything to change that.” He raised his hand again, cupping your cheek and making you look up at him as he wiped away a tear. “But believe me when I say it’s harder when you’re fighting alone.”

He dropped his hand, turning around to face the door as if he were about to walk away, “You want me to leave, kid? I’ll leave. But I’m here offering you a hand…” He glanced back, “You give me the word, let me know you’re not ready to give up on us yet…”

“Do that, and you never have to be alone again.”

You said nothing, only staring at him and drowning in those warm pools that made up his eyes. There was something about them that just had you tearing up again. You couldn’t pull away, seeming in a trance and lost in the comfort they provided you. Your chest ached, and your heart throbbed at the way he seemed to look at you at that moment, and it wasn’t until you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket that you looked away.

You pulled out your phone, opening it up and watching the three dots float up onto the bottom of the screen, indicating that Rosie was finally replying to you.

May I need to remind you that you are not needed tomorrow either?

You are such a busy bee.

Take some time for yourself.

Her messages had you deflate a bit. You almost threw your phone down in anger if it wasn’t for the next one she sent. You stared at your screen, watching the white text bubble pop up at the bottom of the screen.

Also, happy birthday love <3

A choked sob left your mouth. The tears by now were waterfalls and were spilling down onto the screen of your phone and even down to the pavement below. You tried to wipe them away, having a hard time to see what was in front of you, but it proved futile as they only continued to pour. By now, you were a crying mess, the sorrow enveloping your mind along with the tears in your eyes making you blind to Husk’s movement. He walked over to you, stopping when he reached your side. He wasn’t sure what to do, raising his hand and lowering it multiple times while you sobbed an ugly mess. Husk only made a move when you finally collapsed to the ground knees first.

He rubbed the back of his neck, moving to kneel next to you. He opened a wing and wrapped it around you before pulling you close. You immediately caved into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and burrowing your mess of a face into his shoulder. He was startled at how easily you latched onto him and allowed your defenses to lower. You always had your walls up, never letting them down around others save for Rosie. But even then, it was rare you’d ever lose your composure. You were this stone-faced demon, almost relentless towards others, but in this very moment you were nothing but a young, small, feeble creature who was just as scared as the others in this damned place.

Husk couldn’t help but feel something nudge against his heart strings. He had this unrelenting force build up inside of him, something that wanted to keep you safe from all the bad things this world had to offer. He didn’t know why he felt that or what came over him, all he knew was that he never wanted to see you so distraught, so broken, ever again. It was that thought that had him wrapping an arm around you, giving you a few pats on your back and wincing when it seemed to make you cry harder.

He felt so uncomfortable in doing that, as if it had been decades since he had last comforted a crying person (which it had), but he made an effort to drown those feelings of discomfort and let you sob into his shoulder. You both stayed like that, your arms around his neck with your face buried into the surprisingly soft fur of his shoulder. His arms and wings wrapped around you in some form of comfort along with some protection against the cold. It was a while before you finally calmed down, enough to mumble out three simple words that would change your life.

“…I need help…” you mumbled out.

Husk huffed, tightening his hold on you in some form of comfort as if letting you know that he’s there, and that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Don’t worry, kid… we’ll figure it out… together.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #husk x reader #x reader

185 notes · View notes

here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

Skating Into Love (VMin)

✩ AO3 Link Here!

✩ Relationships: vmin (Jimin x Taehyung)

✩ Genre/Universe: fluff, domestic, getting together

✩ Rating: General

✩ Tags: fluff, meet cute, Halloween costumes, minor NamKook, minor Sope, past Taemin x Jimin, pre-relationship

✩ Summary: Jimin isn't exactly excited to go to the costume contest as the back end of a centaur. But it might be his lucky night.

✩ Word Count: ~2.2k

✩ A/N: Written for @btsholidaybingo for the square Costume Contest.

In reality Jimin didn’t want to go. Costume contests weren’t his thing. Nor were roller skating rinks and boisterous, drunken crowds. But Jungkook had a face Jimin simply couldn’t say no to. And it would do him good to get out, he knew, especially after the breakup.

Get a rebound! Jungkook had cried when Jimin reluctantly agreed to the party. But they both knew that wasn’t in Jimin’s nature. He loved easily and got hurt often for it. But that easy love was also wholehearted. Rebounding, using someone for short term fun or sex or anything that could break someone’s heart – it wasn’t in his nature. So, there’d be no rebound tonight, but he did promise Jungkook he would try his best to have fun.

Realistically, Jimin knew what Jungkook was dragging him along for. The party was going to be at the local roller rink. Which meant there was a ninety-nine percent chance the local ice skating (and roller skating) champ, Kim Namjoon, would be there. And Jungkook, bless his young heart, had the biggest crush on Namjoon. But anxiety got the best of him at the worst of times, and he tended to clam up when face to face with said crush. Jimin often helped alleviate that stress. Jungkook had been planning to ask Namjoon out during this Halloween party for weeks.

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this,” Jimin lamented, his voice muffled.

“Oh come on, it’s fun,” Jungkook argued. He reached back and patted the side of the ‘horse’ from his point at the front of the costume. A handsome centaur, of course.

“You made me the horse half.”

“Well you’re not the one looking for a date, so no one needs to see your pretty face. You’ll steal any boyfriends I might want,” Jungkook said.

Jimin kicked forward, his sneaker making contact with Jungkook’s calf. He laughed when Jungkook yelped, leaning down to rub where his shoe hit.

“The only boyfriend you want is Namjoon and I have zero interest in that walking disaster.”

“You’re one to talk. You ran into the door yesterday.”

“So you put me in the costume piece with minimal vision?”

“Yep. You get to hold onto me though, I’ll keep you safe.” Jungkook leaned forward and grabbed the door so they could both enter the building. It was a gorgeous little community center, really; with a nice sized roller rink in the center, and surrounded by a little eating space, a video game room, and a door on the far side connected to a bowling alley.

“So how do you plan on doing this, genius?” Jimin asked.

“Let’s meander a bit, see if we can find any of our friends. We can separate and eat and then go skating if we want to.”

Jimin nodded, holding a little tighter to Jungkook’s waist. He could see his feet moving through the open part in the horse’s stomach, and it was making him a little dizzy. Jungkook chatted with people as they passed, and Jimin was both annoyed and relieved to be hidden by the costume. Though he would have liked some acknowledgement as they walked through the crowds, it was nice not to see that pitying look people had been giving him so often since his breakup with Taemin.

They reached the counter finally, and Jungkook ordered, nudging Jimin. Jimin stood, separating the horse body, shaking his hair from his face. He grinned at the counter girl who did a double take. He ordered and winked at her before heading with Jungkook toward where he spotted Namjoon and Yoongi sitting.

Namjoon was dressed head to toe as a large tree trunk, his face made up to match the pattern of the bark. He had large gloves that made his fingers look like thin branches, which made his attempts to eat his hamburger quite comical.

Next to him sat Yoongi in an entirely grey outfit, his eyes half closed as he scribbled on a notebook next to his half-eaten nachos.

“What are you?” Jungkook asked as he sat next to Namjoon.

“I didn’t dress up,” Yoongi mumbled.

“He’s the boulder to my tree,” Namjoon said, beaming at Jungkook. “What are you?”

“Centaur!” Jungkook said excitedly. He nudged Jimin, who groaned and stood just as soon as he’d sat down. He leaned over, grabbing Jungkook’s waist and shrugging the costume over his head. Jungkook stood straighter, grinning broadly. He was wearing a tank top that was damn near see through, allowing a great view of his abs.

“Wow, that’s awesome!” Namjoon said.

Jimin stood again, taking a seat next to Yoongi and stealing one of his nachos. “Except I’m the ass.”

“Well, someone had to be.”

“And we all know you need to impress N—” Jungkook slapped his hand over Jimin’s mouth, giggling shyly in Namjoon’s direction. Jimin rolled his eyes, pushing Jungkook’s hand off his mouth.

“Well, you need to impress the world’s most oblivious tree trunk.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened and Yoongi chuckled. “He’s not wrong.”

“About what?” Namjoon asked.

“Nothing!” Jungkook cried, clearing his throat.

Jimin rolled his eyes again. He rose, bowing to the woman bringing their food as he went to get the tray from her. She smiled broadly, swaying her hips a little as she walked away.

“She’s flirting with you,” Yoongi commented as Jimin sat back down.

“I know.”

“So… Ask her out.”

“Why?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I just figured. After Taemin…” He drifted off when Jimin’s smile dropped from his face. “I just mean—”

Namjoon cleared his throat, giving Yoongi a pointed look.

“It’s fine,” Jimin said, grabbing his burger and taking a bite. He offered a half smile. “I’m over it,” he muttered with a mouthful of food.

The conversation shifted easily, much to Jimin’s relief. He looked out over the rink as the others chatted, watching the skaters. Lots of zombies, sexy witches, nurses, ghosts… And one mummy that seemed absolutely terrified of his roller skates.

Jimin watched the mummy shift, his feet sliding out from under him the second he moved away from the wall. It was sort of cute.

When the group of friends finished their meals, Namjoon rose, heading to get them all skates. Jungkook, as usual, followed. Yoongi chuckled. “He’s so in love with that guy.”

“Right? How does Namjoon not know?”

“I don’t know. Namjoon likes him too. That’s the worst part. If these two would just pay attention to each other they’d see that and stop annoying us.”

“Were you dragged along as backup too?” Jimin wondered. Yoongi nodded.

“Of course. I have far too much to do to waste time here. After you guys start skating honestly I’m probably gonna take off.”

Jimin nodded. “I would except I’m an actual part of his costume. I feel bad ditching. Oh! Is that Hoseok?”

Yoongi perked up at that, looking back in the direction Jimin was looking. Hoseok was on the rink already, dressed in a garishly bright sunflower headpiece and a green shirt and pants.

Yoongi grinned ear to ear. “On second thought…” He rose, heading over to grab the skates from Namjoon as he and Jungkook approached. He hurried toward Hoseok, waving.

Jimin smiled and rolled his eyes. He took the skates from Jungkook, sliding them on and rising. He turned, waiting for Jungkook and Namjoon, until he realized the two were already deep in conversation, skates forgotten for the moment beside them.

Jimin’s face drooped a little. He looked toward Yoongi and Hoseok, who were skating close together as they chatted. As always. He sighed softly and headed out to the rink, skating between the couples and happy groups of friends alone. It was stupid, being so broken up like this. But he’d been truly happy with Taemin, and there was no good reason the other could give as to why he’d dumped him. At least, not beyond wanting to focus on his career. Which, Jimin supposed, was as good a reason as any. He needed to get over it. He needed to get over him.

Deep in thought, Jimin didn’t notice the mummy as he approached. He did, however, notice when the mummy’s very long legs went in opposite directions, and his arms flailed, nearly knocking Jimin over. He grabbed onto the boy without thinking, stabilizing him.

The mummy cried out in shock, looking over at Jimin. Despite the makeup and bandages on his face, Jimin could see that he was around the same age… And strikingly beautiful.

“Thank you,” the mummy said, his voice a low rumble that went straight to Jimin’s belly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jimin bit his lower lip. “You don’t look too sure of yourself on these skates.”

“I’m horrible at rollerblading,” the mummy confessed. “I only came because of my big brother, and he ditched me earlier to go make out with his partner. I can move well enough as long as I have someone to hold onto.”

Jimin rolled his eyes deeply. “God, same. Do you want me to help you get out of the center of the rink?”

“That’d be great, yeah,” the mummy said, laughing a little. Jimin grinned. He hooked his arm in the mummy’s, moving toward the wall slowly.

“Just match my movements. Left, right, left, right,” he said, leaning close to be heard over the music. The mummy did so, managing not to fall on his ass.

When they reached the wall, the mummy sagged in relief.

“Thank you.”

Jimin paused. “I’m Jimin.” He stuck out his hand.

“Taehyung,” the mummy said, shaking it.

“Nice to meet you, Taehyung. Your costume is cool. It looks professional.”

Taehyung nodded. “My brother is a stage performer. His partner made our costumes.” He pointed off the rink. “That’s them.”

Jimin looked, his eyes widening. A tall, broad shouldered man dressed as a very realistic werewolf was snuggling a beautiful person dressed as an elf, broad chested and tall. Jimin gasped then. “Wait, is that Kwon Solbi and Kim Seokjin?”

Taehyung nodded. “You know them?”

“My brother has the biggest crush on Solbi. I absolutely adore their work. Seokjin is newer, isn’t he? He’s so good. He has so much talent. Seokjin is your brother? Or do you refer to Solbi as--”

“Seokjin, yeah. He met Solbi when he was a stage hand for their play last summer. They’ve been inseparable. Which is fine. I like Solbi. But I wish… You know…” Taehyung drifted off then shrugged. “What about you? What are you supposed to be?”

Jimin’s smile drooped again as he looked down at his ridiculous “costume” – which, without Jungkook – looked like brown pants and a white t-shirt.

“I’m a horse’s ass,” he mumbled.

Taehyung laughed hard, shaking his head. “You don’t look that bad. What is it? Really?”

“No, I’m being serious. I’m the ass end of a centaur. The front half is over there—” Jimin’s voice halted a little when he looked. “with his tongue shoved down that tree’s throat.”

Taehyung looked over and chuckled. “I see. And you got relegated to the ass end, what? Because he wanted to impress someone?”

Jimin nodded. “He’s been crushing on our friend – the tree- for ages. I’m glad he finally made a move.”

“What about you, Jimin?”

“Hm?” Jimin turned back to Taehyung and tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“You seem… Alone. Most folks have already split off into their groups. And you were willing to be the ass end of the costume, which probably means you’re not looking to impress anyone.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m single.”

Taehyung nodded. “Got it.” He bit his lip. “You know…” He hesitated. “Cute ass.”

Jimin’s eyes bulged. “I’m sorry?”

“You make a cute horse ass. Or… You have a cute ass, however you wanna take it.”

Jimin felt his cheeks heating up. He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing a little helplessly. “Taehyung, I—”

Taehyung shrugged. “Not gay?”

“Oh no, I’m gay. But I just went through a breakup. You seem nice but… I don’t wanna do a rebound. Especially not with a nice person.”

“Understandable.” Taehyung smiled, tilting his head. “Then how about we start as friends? I need someone to go roller skating with and everyone we know has ditched us. I need a new friend anyways, don’t you?”

Jimin relaxed a little. Taehyung looked so honest and kind, it was refreshing. “I always need a new friend.”

“Then we’ll be friends. We’ll see what happens after.”

Jimin grinned and nodded. “Deal.” He held out his arm for Taehyung to take. The two began to skate again, moving slowly as Jimin made sure Taehyung wouldn’t fall on his (very cute now that he looked at it) ass. The two began to talk easily about everything under the sun, finding both a lot in common and many differences that brought on fun debates. It was as if they’d known one another forever.

Taehyung ended up winning the costume contest, a gift certificate for two to a nice restaurant in the city. And, though it was a romantic restaurant, Jimin gladly accepted when Taehyung invited him to share the prize that following weekend. Friends could go to romantic restaurants together, couldn’t they? Though, Jimin had to admit, as they exchanged numbers and Taehyung planted a surprise kiss on his cheek before they separated for the evening… He hoped that by the end of that date, just maybe, they’d be more than friends.

#vmin #fluff #boymeetsmxm #btsguild #networkbangtan #mywriting #jimin x taehyung

10 notes · View notes

enbouton · 6 years

Text

Better Call Saul Rewatch, Part 4/30: Upon This Rock I Will Build My Church

Hero (Season 1, Episode 4)

Written by Gennifer Hutchison / Directed by Colin Bucksey

This episode deals largely with identities. Jimmy is Saul Goodman, he’s Slippin’ Jimmy, he’s Howard Hamlin, he’s his own receptionist on the phone, he’s Tony Curtis in the bath scene in Spartacus, he’s a local lawyer and a local hero. It’s fitting that we open with a flashback showing young Jimmy using the name “Saul” for the very first time, and just as fitting that it’s done without fanfare: it’s tossed out as a half-joke. “S’all good, man!” Jimmy, in a garish, slithery-looking striped shirt, leads his mark down the alley where his partner in crime awaits. The unhurried pace of this sequence is very effective, suiting the stillness of nighttime Cicero and the low-key nature of Jimmy and Marco’s con.

The flashbacks on this show (with the exception of the corner-store one) all take place at night or in dimly lit rooms; here’s some good meta that touches on how Jimmy thrives in darkness. Is it significant that the first Slippin’ Jimmy con we see is one that wouldn’t work on an honest person? Jimmy needs a mark who’s willing to make off with the "Rolex”, thinking he’s got one over on the rube who settled for $1,580 in cash.

Afterwards, Marco is radiant with admiration for Jimmy— “I love watching you work”— but Jimmy says his talents are good for beer money, and that’s about all. Again: what would have happened to this guy if he hadn’t had to leave Cicero? This is not the face of a man who’s happy with where he is in life:

(It is the face of a man who’s being "haunted by the ghost of vladimir lenin” (@deadpanwalking), but I digress.)

Back in the present, Craig and Betsy stand over a pile of money and stress that what they did was “for the kids” (sound familiar?). In substance if not style, Jimmy’s pitch to the Kettlemans bears more than a little resemblance to Kim’s pitch to Mesa Verde: “What are you gonna get from me that you won’t get from those other guys? Passion. Commitment ... If you’re with me, you’re my number one client, morning, noon or night. You call me, I’m there. I would be singularly devoted to you.” But Betsy isn’t swayed: “You’re the kind of lawyer guilty people hire.” Ouch. Exhausted and beaten down, Jimmy takes their bribe.

Nacho, now released, surmises that Jimmy tipped off the Kettlemans. I like that Nacho is as smart as Jimmy. I like that the show generally surrounds Jimmy with people who are as smart as he is. Jimmy counters that Nacho didn’t need any help making himself look suspicious, and Nacho stalks off.

As Jimmy launders his money, assigning stacks of cash to “consulting fees”, “research” and “travel expenses”, he constructs yet another alternate self, this one belonging to a narrative in which he worked for the Kettlemans.

We see Jimmy getting measured for an expensive, conservative suit, yet when the tailor steps out of the room, something wonderful happens:

#it’s like watching a baby being born #a really tacky baby

But Jimmy isn’t just using his windfall to smarten up; he’s playing a long con involving a billboard exactly mimicking one of Howard Hamlin’s, ringlets and all.

Small brain: using your ill-gotten seed money to advertise your business

Galaxy brain: dressing up as your enemy, buying a provocative billboard that you know you'll be forced to take down, hiring a film crew, then bribing a worker to fall off the billboard so that you’ll get on the local news for rescuing him

“He’s… you know, a free spirit,” Kim says, having been dragged out of the office to look at it. She demurs when asked if she and Jimmy are still friends, which, tbh, is fair enough, given how Jimmy behaves around Hamlin (we’ll get into that later). There’s lots to think about with Jimmy literally dressing up as Hamlin, recreating his look down to the smallest detail. Once again he’s taking on another persona, albeit just to achieve a short-term goal. “What kind of lawyer are you going to be?” Kim will ask him in season 2. It’s a question Jimmy seems to keep asking himself.

In the midst of Jimmy and Hamlin’s clash, we get an early glimpse at the tightrope Kim is expected to walk at HHM. She shouldn’t feel the need to lie about who her friends are in order to stay in her boss’ good graces, yet she does, and later on she breaks off a friendly conversation with Jimmy to hand over a cease & desist letter. With Kim, BCS dodges the “successful woman has to choose between career and relationship” trope in favour of something much more interesting, a woman facing uncertainty and unfairness in both spheres. Kim’s relationship with Jimmy isn’t even the main reason she’s treated unfairly at work, and her allegiance to HHM isn’t what’s keeping her and Jimmy apart.

The billboard comes down, but not before Jimmy has himself filmed in front of it, first speaking to camera about the injustice he’s faced, then racing up a ladder to rescue the worker whom he bribed to take a fall. It’s fascinating to watch how Jimmy tells his story here. He hits all the right beats— patriotism, bootstraps, public service, the dream of owning one’s own business— and casts himself as the all-American underdog who “scrimped and saved” to buy a billboard only to have it snatched away from him. We’ll see Jimmy employ a lot of these tropes in his advertising later on; this is his skill at face-to-face communication writ large, but the foundation of the billboard con is his ability to create situations that he can manipulate to his advantage.

When Jimmy drags the worker back up onto the walkway and the two slap hands, we finally see his angle. Watching him on the news in the HHM boardroom, Howard mutters “whole thing’s a damn stunt” and walks off. Kim gives a little smile.

The one part of the situation that Jimmy can’t control is his brother. He has the foresight to keep the newspaper from him, but he can’t account for Chuck’s pedantic attention to detail. Of course Chuck will wonder why his newspaper wasn’t delivered; of course he’ll look outside and see that all his neighbours have theirs; of course he’ll deduce that there’s something in the paper that Jimmy doesn’t want him to see, and cross-reference this against what Jimmy told him about a sudden change in his fortune; and this, perhaps combined with the urgent care receipt that fell out of Jimmy’s pocket a few weeks prior, will concern him enough that he’s compelled to go outside.

The show has already tipped its hand re: the true cause of Chuck’s symptoms, but that’s almost beside the point here: what matters is that they are real and debilitating. As soon as he steps outside, he’s overwhelmed, his senses are deranged, and he nearly runs into the path of a car in his haste to get across the road. The chaotic, visceral sequence ends with a blackly comic cut to his neighbour’s perspective. From the outside, this proud, suffering man is just a crazy guy in a space blanket, scurrying back to his door.

Misc.

“You assume that criminals are gonna be smarter than they are,” Jimmy muses to Mike. “I don’t know. Kinda breaks my heart a little.”

IIRC, the billboard, which went up for filming in Albuquerque in 2014, was how we all found out Saul’s original first name.

A wall of glass blocks appears prominently behind Jimmy and his mark as they walk down the alley. Marco’s fake ID, in the name of Henry Gondorff, bears an issue date of July 1991.

What we see of Kim’s office is devoid of personal items, except for a pair of sensible sneakers on the floor.

Timeframe: this episode picks up right where “Nacho” left off and covers a period of about two weeks. The Albuquerque Journal is dated June 20, 2002; Chuck’s copies of the New York Times and Wall Street Journal bear cover stories that were published on June 19th or 20th (they are “Israel Acts to Seize Arab Land After Blast; Bush Delays Talk” and ”Unhappy Returns: IRS Moves to Bring Back Random Audits”).

Music

“Smoke on the Water” by Deep Purple (1972), sung by Marco

“Listen” by Chicago (1969), as Marco and Jimmy smoke

“Battle Hymn of the Republic” by Herbie Mann (1969), as Jimmy launders his money. Saul plays a different version of this song in his waiting room in Breaking Bad.

“Unsquare Dance” by the Dave Brubeck Quartet (1961), as Jimmy calls the media

References

Young Jimmy offers to take his mark to a place “a couple blocks off Cermak”. He’s referring to Cermak Road, a major east-west thoroughfare that runs through Cicero, neighbouring Berwyn, and parts of southern and western Chicago.

“Super 170 Tasmanian wool”: the “Super” number corresponds to the diameter of the wool fibres; the higher the number, the finer (and more expensive) the cloth. 170s wool suiting is very fine, soft and lightweight. More info here.

Sea Island cotton: a variety of extra long staple cotton historically grown in the Caribbean and named after the area of South Carolina:

“Sea Island cotton is the ultimate choice for any suiting connoisseur due to its unrivaled softness and second skin-like feel. This ancient fibre is now grown mainly in the paradise climates of Barbados, Antigua and Jamaica; its inherent long staple yarns create a silky yet strong surface, resisting wear while smoothing over time. Extremely scarce, it makes up just 0.0004% of longer staple yarn production.“ (Turnbull & Asser, where you can buy a Sea Island cotton shirt for £345/$456)

French cuffs: double cuffs that are folded back and fastened with cufflinks; a very formal style

Club collar: a white collar with rounded points, created by alumni of Eton College who wanted their dress to indicate that they belonged to that exclusive “club”. All in all, the elements of Hamlin’s signature look connote wealth and sophistication in a formal, conservative way.

Jimmy refers to Tony Curtis’ appearance in a particular scene in the 1960 epic Spartacus. It’s worth noting that the scene, which features two men bathing together and some heavy innuendo about “snails” and “oysters”, was considered so homoerotic that it was cut entirely by the censors and only restored to the film in 1991 (source). You can watch part of the scene here.

Kim invites Jimmy to a screening of The Thing (1982), a horror film about a group of researchers in Antarctica encountering a parasitic alien entity.

While talking to reporters, Jimmy mentions Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, investigative journalists who covered the Watergate scandal.

The Groucho Marx mirror routine Howard refers to is this scene from Duck Soup (1933).

< PREVIOUS EPISODE: NACHO > NEXT EPISODE: ALPINE SHEPHERD BOY

#bcs rewatch #better call saul

7 notes · View notes

breathingfiredragons · 6 years

Text

Stick Around, Kid

“It ain’t like that, Jack!” Bruiser said, more forcefully this time. “Don’t shout about things you don’t understand. It ain’t just ’bout some kid who beat you up. Brooklyn’s one of the most powerful cities in the world. We need to be on Colon’s good side. If he wants the kid, he can have the kid. We ain’t gonna stand in his way.” “Colon’s got no claim to the kid! The kid ain’t a newsie, and he ain’t from Brooklyn,” spat Jack. “Colon don’t even need to know he exists!” ~~ Where Jack brings a sick beggar boy back with him, and is unprepared to deal with the consequences that has. Prequel to 'In Sickness and in Doubt'. (http://archiveofourown.org/works/11965272 ) (to clarify, as his name is never mentioned, the 'kid' is Crutchie, and this is before he got his limp).

“Christmas mobs cause massive fight in department store! Vicious fightin’!” shouted Jack, waving his paper high in the air. “You heard it here, folks!” an elderly woman bought from him, dropping an extra coin in his hand and murmuring something about the holidays.

People were always more generous during this time of year. Something about the guilt and temporary bout of religion made them give more. Not that he minded - it was nice to have a treat now and then. Besides just getting a treat, now that he was older he’d have to contribute to the Christmas dinner that Bruiser and the rest of the guys put together for the little kids. A few extra coins here and there piling up for a month, and sometimes they could even afford a goosegoose.

Of course, people’s occasional kindness was balanced out by the horrible weather. It was cold and dreary, wet and miserable. Jack could barely feel his fingers, even in the oversized jacket that he’d dug out of some rich person’s trash. It had stopped snowing for a bit, but the roads were still covered a few feet deep. He could barely walk without dragging his feet and taking comically large footsteps.

By sheer luck, he managed to sell all of his papers before dark. God was real after all. Less lucky was the fact that he’d nearly managed to wander into Brooklyn while selling. He technically was still in Manhattan, but only for a few more blocks. Any further and Bruiser would somehow find out and have Jack’s head (Bruiser was real big on territories and who could sell where, for reasons that Jack didn’t quite understand yet).

Unsure of how he’d even ended up as far as almost-Brooklyn, Jack grudgingly made his way towards the bunks. He needed to stop wandering and find a specific spot to sell. Or at least that’s what Bruiser kept saying. Bruiser was really fond of giving Jack advice that Jack was less fond of following. Well, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to follow it so much as he just forgot. Often.

It had started to snow again, and Jack swore. With his luck, there would be a blizzard and he’d be trapped outside again. Bruiser had told him not to go so far away, so he wouldn’t look for very long. It would be entirely Jack’s fault.

Not that he’d get lost. He was fully capable of ignoring a little snow.

“Penny for change?” a small voice croaked out from what had seemed to be a large pile of snow at the corner of an alleyway. “Can anyone spare a penny?”

As he turned around the corner, he found the source of the voice. A small boy, all skin and bones jutting out at odd angles, with blond hair and a dirt covered face. He was shaking, and a large purple bruise covered his left eye. “How old are you, kid?” Jack asked.

The kid looked relieved that Jack was actually talking to him. “Thirteen.”

Oh. So not as young as Jack thought. Only a year younger than him, if he was telling the truth. The kid could pass as ten if they put him in bigger clothes, maybe he could take him back…

Before Jack could say another word, he felt his feet be ripped out from under him as he fell backwards into the snow. “Wha-” a sharp pain bloomed in his jaw, while something else dug into his chest. Before he could so much as raise his hands in defense, he’d been robbed of his hat and the coins in his pocket, and the kid was running down the street.

“Come back here!” launching to his feet, he darted after the boy.

The kid wasn’t very fast, but he clearly knew the area well. He’d dart down an alley and appear twenty feet further.

He took a turn down the block, and then they were in Brooklyn. Jack stuttered to a stop for a moment, before shaking his head and continuing. He’d get his earnings back, boundaries be damned.

The kid dove into another alley, and this time he didn’t emerge.

Swearing, Jack kicked the wall before heading back home.

“You got robbed?” Bruiser repeated. “Who did it?” Jack mumbled a response and Bruiser grabbed his chin, twisting it so he could better look at the already bruised skin. “Can’t understand you, kid, speak up. Who hit ya?”

“Some beggar kid,” spat Jack. “I woulda caught him, but he went into Brooklyn. Knew the land well enough to lose me.”

Bruiser paced back and forth for a while, taking his hat off and twisting it between his hands. “Was he a newsie?”

“I don’ think so. Looked like he was near dead, freezin’ to death on the streets,” said Jack.

“You lost to a near dead beggar on the streets?”

Jack flushed with embarrassment, and dug his shoe into the ground. “He was a damn good fighter. Had me pinned down and robbed before I could even blink.”

Bruiser was silent for a while, leaning up against the wall. “Listen, kid, here’s what you’re going to do. You hearin’ me? Gotta listen carefully. Don’ tell anyone about this. I’ll lend you money for tonight’s rent, but ’side from that you gotta tell everyone you sold today. Got it?”

Jack nodded silently, holding back the burning question on his tongue: why?

“I ain’t gonna find you a new hat. Ask ’round, see if anyone has extra. Maybe Kloppmann does. That’s your problem,” again, Bruiser paused. Jack wondered if maybe he was done, maybe he’d get off without a scolding, when Bruiser spoke again. “The Brooklyn kid who robbed you...if you see him again, let him be. Don’ go lookin’ for a fight. But if he tries to steal from you again…don’t let him take anything. I don’t wanna hear about you losin’ to anymore street rats, you understand?”

Jack nodded silently. Tell people he sold. Get his own hat. Leave the Brooklyn kid alone. Don’t lose any more fights. Easy enough.

Except.

“You don’t want me fightin’ the Brooklyn kid ’cus of Colon, right? But we don’t know he’s a newsie. So what does it matter?”

Sighing, Bruiser ran his hands through his hair. “Just in case. Colon ain’t taken to kindly to other people who rough up his own. If the kid’s one of Colon’s, we don’ want anything that happens to him on our hands. Get it?”

Mind whirring, Jack nodded. “I got it.”

The next day when he went out to sell, Jack tried to backtrack to where he’d sold the day before. It was even colder now, and barely anyone was on the streets. The people on the streets weren’t likely to stop and buy the paper. At least he had a purpose, something to keep his mind off of the fact that he couldn’t feel his toes or his fingers, and that the new kid, Race, had lent him an extra hat that was a few sizes too small.

“Pape! Government scandal shakes the nation! Read it here, folks!” the actual story was about some secretary who’d had an affair with another woman, and was on the back page, but they didn’t need to know that.

The day drug on. It only seemed to get colder. Barely anyone bought from him, and those that did tipped lousily. The possibly Brooklyn kid didn’t show, and he didn’t have any of his few regulars over here. All in all, it was an epic failure.

Deciding to call it quits early, Jack stuffed his last few papers into his shoes for extra warmth and shoved his hands into his pocket. He’d heard a story once about a girl who had to sell matches in the cold, and she died after lighting them all in an effort to preserve her warmth. Still, before she died she was transported to the most wonderful places, full of food and heat.

Jack felt a little bit like that. But instead of fantastical feasts, he got newspapers in his shoes.

Suddenly pausing, Jack rotated to face an alleyway. Maybe he’d heard something, or maybe it was something he saw in the corner of his eye. But all he knew was now he was walking into the shady alleyway with his hands squeezed into fists, praying he wasn’t about to get jumped. “Hello?”

Something mumbled to his right, but all he could see was snow.

“Hello?” he tried again. “Is someone there?”

Underneath a decent amount of snow, completely still save for his fluttering eyelids, was the boy from yesterday.

If possible, he looked even worse. His lips were chapped and bloody, and his skin had taken on a translucent tone. He looked like Jack could easily snap him in half.

“Jesus Christ!” Jack quickly bent down so he was at level with him, and brushed off the snow that had accumulated. “Are you alive? Can you hear me?”

When the kid didn’t respond, Jack pulled him out from the drift. He was disturbingly light.

Bruiser said to leave well enough alone, but if he left him out here in the cold like this, he’d probably die…

Scooping him up with ease, Jack stood up and made for the lodging house. He’d barely made it ten feet before the boy’s eyes opened. “No!” he was probably trying to scream, but his voice was so hoarse it barely made any noise. He wrestled his way out of Jack’s grasp and fell to the ground.

“Kid! What the hell! I’s trying to help you!” Jack grabbed at the kid, only for him to take a swing at Jack.

“I ain’t goin’ back! You can’t make me!” the kid crawled as quick as he could, but he wasn’t getting far.

“I’s not taking you back to...where ever you’s running from!” Jack didn’t try to grab the kid again, instead bending down to his level. “You’s gotta trust me, or you’ll freeze out here tonight. You ain’t lookin’ too well.”

“You...Snyder didn’t send you?” said the kid apprehensively.

Jack felt his blood run cold. “Snyder? As in the Refuge? Never. Look, kid, I don’t wanna hurt you. You’s sick, and all I’s gonna do is take you back to the other newsies. Can you tell me your name?” the kid remained silent, staring at the ground. “Look, kid, I need something to call you.”

“No, you don’t. What’s your name?” asked the kid.

“Jack. Jack Kelly,” Jack offered a hand, which the kid took with wide eyes.

“Jack Kelly? You’re the Jack Kelly? Holy shit! I-I’s heard all about you!” the kid seemed to be filled with a whole new energy. “You’s the one who escaped from the Refuge on Teddy Roosevelt's carriage!”

Jack felt his face burn, and he self consciously rubbed the back of his neck. “You’s...you’s heard about that? Is they still talkin’ about that at the Refuge?”

“Is they still talkin’ about that? Of course they’s still talkin’ about that! You’s a livin’ legend!” suddenly the kid doubled over in a fit of coughing, and Jack noticed red spots on his shirt when he finished.

“How about you come back with me to the lodgin’ house. We can talk more there,” Jack tugged at the kid’s arm, and he followed reluctantly. They walked a bit in silence until he finally said: “So how did you escape the refuge? Don’t tell me the spider just let you go.”

The kid seemed to be a lot more tired now. His burst of energy was over, and he was just trudging alongside Jack again. “Tied a sheet to the bed, tossed the end out the window, and took off like a shot. He ain’t even noticed I was missin’ until I reached Brooklyn,” he paused, looking back up at Jack. “I know it ain’t as epic as your story but...I’s not there anymore.”

“Place is awful. Damn it straight to hell,” muttered Jack.

“One day Snyder’s gonna get what’s comin’ to him. One day Snyder’s gonna die, and he’s gonna go to hell and pay his dues,” the kid was nodding eagerly, like it was the most exciting thing in the world.

How the kid could so quickly bounce from grey and tired to eager and hopeful was beyond Jack. It almost hurt him to have to set him straight.

“You’s so sure about that? Hate to be the one to break it to you…” Jack bit his lip, trailing off. “Ah, never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

“What? You gotta tell me. Can’t just start a conversation like that without finishing!” the kid pulled on Jack’s jacket.

“It ain’t a good thing, kid. I was just gonna say that bad people don’ usually get what they deserve. Nah, they get fancy parties and all the food they’d ever eat,” Jack put an arm around the kid, pulling him closer as he tried to ignore the waves of heat he could feel coming off the kid in spite of the cold. “Bad people usually end up with happily ever after. But at least we can make a penny off of them!” he tried to end with a smile, but the kid didn’t share it. Rather, he looked like he was deep in thought.

They walked in silence again for a while, until Jack turned a corner and could see the lodging house in the distance. By this point, the kid had returned to a more reclusive mood, barely responding to Jack’s attempts at starting conversation. Now and then he’d flash Jack a smile, and by God if it wasn’t the brightest smile that Jack had ever seen. He looked like he had sunshine itself trapped in there. It was hard to tell that the sick boy who he was taking back with him was the same boy who’d beaten Jack up the other day and given him the shiner that had developed on his eye.

“We’re almost there, kiddo, hang on,” Jack murmured.

“I’s fine! It’s nothin’. I’s walked twice this distance before, and didn’t even break a sweat!” he bragged.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” nodded Jack.

Race must’ve seen him coming, basically dragging the kid at this point, because he ran out to meet them halfway. “What’s goin’ on? Who’s the kid?”

“I ain’t a kid! I’s thirteen!” protested the kid. Race looked back and forth from him and Jack, looking excited.

“Is he gonna die? He looks like he’s gonna die,” Race said all too eagerly.

“Jesus Christ, Race, he ain’t gonna die. If y’wanna help so bad, go get Bruiser,” Jack waved his free hand. Race scrambled back to the lodging house, yelling a ‘sure thing’ behind him.

“Didn’t realize you had so much authority here,” the kid commented.

“Not really,” said Jack. “Just more than Race. I’s been here longer than him.”

“How long has y’been here?” asked the kid.

“Since I left the Refuge. So what, maybe...I dunno, four years? I came here when I was ten, and them older guys like Bruiser were all over me. Little kids sell better. I’s been trained since then to be the best at what I do,” Jack puffed out his chest proudly, smirking towards the younger boy.

“Yeah, right,” he laughed, but it quickly turned into a cough. They stopped walking entirely as he hacked up what seemed to be his lungs into his sleeves, spotting red again.

“Jesus, kid, you’s really sick,” noted Jack. “You aren’t contagious, are you?”

The kid shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. I’s-I’s always sick like this. Ain’t ever died before.”

Not that Jack wanted this kid to die, but he kind of hoped he hadn’t done all this work practically carrying him here for nothing.

Bruiser was waiting for them right outside the lodging house. He studied the kid carefully, trying to place him. He could be one of Colon’s, and if he was they’d need to send him back as soon as he was well.

The kid flashed a smile towards Bruiser, the same award winning smile from earlier, but it’s marred by the fact that blood stains his teeth. “This is the guy?” confirmed Bruiser, all business.

“Yes, sir,” Jack nodded. Old habits die hard.

“Take him to Poet, she’ll fix him up quick enough. Then come meet me in my office,” Bruiser said.

Poet was one of the only girls who stuck around. Sure, there were always a few here and there that would stay with them for a few months, but none of them were eager to live with boys permanently. Except Poet. With mousy brown hair, copper eyes, and dull freckles, Jack didn’t personally think she was much of a looker. But who knows, Bruiser certainly did.

“So you’re the homeless bum who managed to beat up our Jack,” Poet said as she looked over the kid.

“Poet!” Jack flushed. “You can’t-”

“Oh, shush,” she stuck a hand out to the kid’s forehead. “Shit, you’s hot as hell. How long you been sick?”

“Sometimes I think that I’s never not sick,” he grumbled. Poet raised her eyebrows, so he continued on: “Maybe a week or so? I’s been coughing for a lot longer than that, though.”

“How long you’ve been coughing? Do you remember?” he shook his head. “Alright. I’m gonna go find my book,” Poet had a book full of medical advice that she loved to flip through whenever she was ‘treating’ somebody. Always kept it hidden in her bunk so nobody else could look at it. Said that it made her feel important. “You stay here.”

Which left Jack alone with the kid again.

The kid was covered in grime and soot. He’d clearly been living on the streets for a while, and been in a few fights. He had faded bruises all over his arms and his face. Which is probably why he knew how to fight so well, and how he took Jack out so quickly.

“Here,” said Jack suddenly, grabbing a pail of water and a cloth from Poet’s station. “Clean yourself off, you look like death.”

“Thanks.”

Jack stood there again for another moment, until he remembered Bruiser’s orders to meet him after dropping the kid off with Poet. “You good here? Bruiser wants to see me…”

“Yeah, yeah, of course! Go ahead. Do whatever you need,” said the kid.

“Of course. Thanks,” Jack internally cursed a bit. Why did he thank the kid? The kid needed to thank him. He saved that kid’s life!

Maybe.

“So I says leave well enough alone, and you brings him back to the lodgin’ house,” summed up Bruiser. “That sound about right?”

Jack nodded sheepishly.

“Glad we got that cleared up. Lemme know if you need another reminder of you’s bein’ stupid. Next is what we’s gonna do with him. Has he told y’if he’s from Brooklyn?” Bruiser asked.

“He ’scaped from the Refuge, that’s all I got outta him. Dunno if it was Brooklyn before that, or…” he trailed off.

“It’d look pretty good for us if he was Brooklyn. We send him back to Colon all healed up and he owes us one,” Bruiser looked pretty proud of himself for thinking that one up. “Yeah. It’d be pretty great to have Colon owe us one for once.”

“Sure would, but I don’t think he’s a newsie,” said Jack.

Bruiser’s face dropped. “Oh. That’s shit. Still, I’ll send word to Colon, see if he wants to claim him.”

“Claim him? What, like he’s some item being bartered away?” Jack said ferociously.

“It ain’t like that, kid-”

“Like hell it ain’t like that! You can’t treat him like he’s just-just an item!”

“Colon’s got no claim to the kid! The kid ain’t a newsie, and he ain’t from Brooklyn,” spat Jack. “Colon don’t even need to know he exists!” with that, Jack stormed out of the room, ignoring Bruiser’s shouts and the fact that he may have just lost everything he’d taken so long to gain.

So stuck in his head, Jack didn’t notice as he ran straight into the kid in question. “Sorry!” the kid shouted as he fell to the floor. “I’s just-” he swallowed. “I’s just trying to find you. And I found ya. Hello,” he gave an awkward wave.

Jack studied him carefully. He was probably eavesdropping, knowing they were talking about him.

There was no reason for him to be treated any differently than any of their other recruits. Except for the fact that he was possibly from Brooklyn. If he was from the Bronx, or Woodstock, it wouldn’t be an issue.

It’s like the kid read his mind. “I ain’t from Brooklyn, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just happened to-” he broke off, coughing viciously into his arm. He was still spotting blood. “Happened to be in the area. Like you.”

Jack didn’t respond to that. Instead, he just said: “You should get some rest. Don’t want to go through all of this trouble to have you dying on me.”

The kid nodded, and started making his way back to where Poet was.

“So what’s the deal with the new guy?” Race asked, appearing from out of the blue as soon as Jack entered the room. “Is he gonna die?”

“Why don’t you ask Poet?” replied Jack dryly.

“Can’t find her anywhere. If you ask me, that’s a sure sign that he ain’t doin’ so hot. Not if she ain’t leavin’ his bedside,” reasoned Race.

“Why you so obsessed with death, kid?”

“I ain’t obsessed. But it’s interestin’. I overheard Bruiser talkin’ to someone about sending a letter over to Colon,” Jack’s eyes narrowed, with Race clearly noticed, as he cleared his throat and changed the subject. “We’s startin’ a game of poker, wanna join?”

“That depends, you improved your poker face anymore?” Jack smiled.

“Hey! I tell ya, I gotta list of who owes me money a half mile long!” insisted Race, punching Jack in the arm.

“Yeah, and a list of who you owe three times that,” said Jack. The pair made their way to the table, and he tried his best to put the new kid out of his mind. Most likely he’d go to Colon, and they’d part ways as unlikely friends.

“Colon doesn’t want him,” Bruiser said, lighting his cigarette. “Says he ain’t one of his. Poet says he’s gonna be better real soon. You need to talk to him, see if he’s gonna stay with us.”

“Why me?” asked Jack.

“You’s the one who brought him in. You’s gotta take responsibility for what’s yours,” Bruiser shrugged. “You think I got to where I am by lettin’ other people do my work for me? Nah. Jack, you ain’t an idiot. You gotta know that I want you in charge of Manhattan when I’s gone,” Jack hadn’t dared to hope that that’s why Bruiser liked him so much. Why he wanted to spend so much time with him. “And when it comes to shit like this? You’s gotta take life by the balls and do things yourself. That kid out there beat the shit outta you, Jackie. Trust me when I say he’s someone you want with you.”

Jack nodded, his heart swelling. Bruiser thought that he would make a good leader. That he could handle Manhattan.

Here’s the thing - when Jack showed up at the newsies’ door demanding a job and rent to last him the night, Bruiser was the one who covered for him then. It was Bruiser who trusted him enough to give him some of his pay without barely speaking to him. It was Bruiser who taught Jack everything that he knew. It was Bruiser that Jack sold with until he was good enough to sell on his own. The first time that Jack got into a fist fight with the Delanceys, Bruiser was the one who patted him on the back and stitched him up, telling him where to aim next time.

Bruiser was the closest thing that Jack had to family, and his believing in Jack meant the world to him.

Jack ran through the lodging house at top speed, not stopping to answer questions, opting to instead just shout “I’s in a good mood, that’s all” behind him as he ran. By the time he reached the room where the kid was staying, he was out of breath with the biggest smile on his face.

“Hey, kid-” he stopped. The kid was asleep on a cot, buried under a few measly excuses for blankets.

“Don’t bother him,” Poet whispered from the doorway. “He hasn’t been doing so hot. Just now starting to make his way to recovery,” Poet always sounded different than others when she talked. Jack had always chalked it up to her being a girl - the newsies were mostly guys - but now that he thought about it, she sounded more like the richer folks they sold to. Her accent had always been different, but right now she sounded like she was talking slower, carefully choosing how her words would sound. “Why don’t you come out here with me, Jackie?”

Poet and Bruiser had always had a bit of a thing. They’d flirt on and off, hang out together. They’d even kissed a few times, maybe done more than that. They were best friends. When Bruiser got stabbed by some asshole on the streets (who was never identified) Poet stayed by his side until he made a complete recovery. It was the only time Jack had seen her yell at the younger kids. She usually reserved that anger for the bums on the street who made lewd comments and groped her.

“What’s with ya, Poet? You seem upset,” said Jack.

“I ain’t - I’m not upset. Just thinking, that’s all,” she corrected. “What’s got you so excited to speak to the kid?”

“Bruiser sent me. Told me to ask if the kid’s plannin’ on staying with us or goin’ back to the streets,” Jack said.

“Well, I hope he’s planning on staying longer. He’ll be up and moving soon, but if he goes back out there he’ll probably die,” Poet said it so nonchalantly, Jack had to do a double take to process what she said.

“Die? He ain’t just - just gotta cold or somethin’?” well, he was coughing up blood.

Poet almost looked excited. “I figure it’s either Bronchitis or Pneumonia. They’re very similar, you know. Hard to differentiate with my book. But either way, he’s likely to die if he goes out in the cold again so soon. Add onto the fact that he’s extremely underweight and starving...let’s just say it would be best for him to stay here.”

Jack smiled. The kid seemed pretty cool, when he wasn’t beating Jack up. Had some sense of humor, and despite his going to the Refuge the kid had the brightest smile Jack’d ever seen. Bright enough to light up an entire room. Sure, he beat the crap out of him when they met, but could Jack really blame him for that? He’d do the same, in that position. “Good. I’s glad to hear that.”

“I can tell,” Poet replied, twisting the ends of her hair.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Hm?”

“You’s all distracted. Staring at nothin’, twistin’ your hair,” Jack motioned with his hands. “Is it a girly thing I ain’t gonna understand?”

Poet chuckled. “No, no, it’s just-” she was interrupted by a groaning in the kid’s room. “Shit, I should-”

“Nah, it’s alright. I’s gotta talk to him, anyways. Go find Bruiser and tell him what’s eating you,” Jack liked to pride himself on knowing his friends well. If Poet was upset about something, she wasn’t going to talk to Jack about it. No, the only person she’d even consider discussing it with would be Bruiser.

And off she went.

The kid was sitting up on his cot. “Jack!”

“Kid! Good to see you’re not dead!” that was always a pleasant start to a conversation.

“Yeah, I’d like to think so,” the kid smirked.

“You feelin’ better?”

“Yeah! Ain’t coughed up any blood today, so...that’s a bonus. Poet tells me that I’s gonna make a full recovery.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard. She says it’s best you stay here for a few days and then...it’s up to you.”

“Oh. Alright.”

“You think...you think you’s gonna stay here?”

“Is I allowed? I’d hate to be the one to intrude on your living situation, and I ain’t got no money to pay for rent. I ain’t got a job.”

“Well you wanna live here, you gotta be a newsie.”

“A newsie?”

“Yeah. Y’know, we sell the papes. Screamin’ on every corner of the street-”

“Yeah, I know what a newsie is.”

“Ah. So how about it? Trade you’s life of crime for a hat and a stack of papes just itchin’ to be sold?” Jack had sat down on the cot beside the kid. There was half a foot between them, close enough where he could feel the kid’s still lingering body heat coming off him in waves.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Jack spit into his hand, and stuck it out. Without hesitation, the kid did the same.

“We’s gotta call you somethin’. What’s your name, kid?” the kid was silent, messing with the end of his shirt again. “Don’t wanna tell me? That’s fine. We could come up with a nickname for you. Like Race. His nickname’s Racetrack, because he’s always betting on the races. It’s like he’s gotta nickname for a nickname!” Jack laughed, and the kid let out a weak chuckle. “So how’s ’bout it? Got any ideas?”

“Not really.”

“Don’t worry, I’s got plenty,” Jack scooted back a bit so he could get full view of the kid’s appearance. His hair was sticking up in a thousand different ways, and his arms had indentations from the blankets. His collarbones were jutting out sharply, and his legs were wrapped around each other. “How’s...Scruffy?”

“Scruffy?!”

“Yeah! You look’s kind of scruffy. With you’s hair, and...I dunno, it just fits.”

“There’s no way you’re calling me Scruffy.”

“Fine. What’re your hobbies?” asked Jack.

“Excuse me?”

“Hobbies! What are they? Like...Poet likes to write, so we call her Poet. Bruiser likes to fight, so we call him Bruiser. You’ve got any hobbies?” Jack poked the kid’s arm.

“Not really. Unless lying on the street and starvin’ is a hobby,” the kid joked.

“Nah. Maybe...Scrappy?” he shook his head. “Scabber?” nope. “Burner?” nope. “Jesus, kid, why you gotta be so damn picky?”

“We’s talkin’ about more than just a name,” the kid wrapped an arm around Jack and stretched another in front of them like there was a magnificent view. “We’s talkin’ about my legacy. When they tell stories about me, I don’t want them talkin’ about no Scrappy! Nah, it has to be something epic. Something that fits.”

“Well you ain’t got any hobbies, you ain’t got any particularly defining physical features, except them ears,” the kid laughed. “Unless you got a better idea, I guess we’s gonna have to keep callin’ you kid, for now.”

“Kid’ll have to do.”

“I’s not upset, Poet,” Bruiser was saying.

“You look upset. I was just telling you because-” Poet sounded strained.

“I gets it, Poet. I’s-I’s happy for you,” Bruiser did not sound happy.

Jack and the kid were sitting on their bunk bed, trying very much to not eavesdrop on the loud conversation that was happening through the door by them. The kid was on the top bunk, almost folded in on himself. His knees were pulled up to his chest, and his arms were wrapped tightly around him. Jack was on the bottom, hugging his pillow.

“Thanks. I just...I’m leaving tomorrow night. I won’t be back,” she said.

“Never?” Bruiser asked.

“They live in California, it’s not like I could come back for a day,” there was a decent amount of silence now. Enough for Jack to wonder if the conversation was over, or if they’d moved on to...other activities.

“I’s...I’s tryin’ to understand, but I can’t get it. You ain’t-you ain’t gonna be able to get an education! Sorry, Poet, it ain’t gonna happen!”

“What the hell, Bruiser?”

“You ever hear ’bout a woman doctor?”

“Bruiser, maybe if you ever read the papes you sell so well you’d know we’ve got one right here in New York. Elizabeth and Emily Blackwell,” said Poet. “I didn’t come here to ask your permission. I came here to say goodbye. If this is how you’s gonna be, I’s just gonna leave,” Poet sounded like she was crying.

Bruiser sighed. There was more silence.

“Maybe it’s just time. I’s been thinkin’ as well...I’s 23. That’s pretty damn old to still be sellin’ papes. I could goes with you, get a job out west...how hard could it be?” Jack felt his heart all but stop. He had to shove his fist into his mouth to keep his cries from escaping. Bruiser was leaving? Like it was nothing, he’d just drop everything and go to California.

He’d talked about Jack being in charge one day. Jack didn’t think that it would be so soon. There were so many people who were older than him, more experienced.

If Bruiser left, if Poet left...Jack would be all on his own.

“Bruiser...I can’t ask you to give this up, to leave all of your family behind,” Poet said.

“Poet...you’s my family. I ain’t need anything else but that,” tears were streaming down Jack’s face. He couldn’t breathe. He needed air, space, something.

Scrambling up from his bed, Jack raced to the window, tossing it open. The fresh air wasn’t enough, he need more. He needed to escape.

There was a fire escape outside the window. Jack looked behind him to make sure nobody was following him, and then climbed out the window onto the landing of the fire escape.

The cold was bitter, numbing Jack’s skin already. He was regretting his decision a bit, but adrenaline was pumping and he couldn’t stop now. The ladder to the roof was icy, and he kept having to brush off snow with his bare hands. By the time he got to the top, he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore.

It was dusk. The sun cast an orange hue throughout the city, and illuminated the silhouettes of nearby buildings. Snow dusted everything, shaping the world around him. It glistened like diamonds, covering all the darkness and dirt that Jack knew what there. Despite the freezing temperature, it looked soft enough to the point where Jack could just fall into it and be safe. Like it could embrace and surround him, and never leave him.

“Jack?” a voice called from the ladder, startling Jack from his thoughts. It was the kid. He was struggling up, both due to the snow as well as the blankets filling his arms. “Jack, it’s pretty cold up here. You could use one of these.”

Jack silently took the blanket from the kid, wrapping it around himself and trying to massage some warmth back into his hands.

“It’s a lovely view, ain’t it?” commented the kid. “I’s never gonna get tired of it. The skyline, with the sun and the snow…”

Yeah, it was beautiful. Another day he might’ve drawn it from the window. Maybe one day he’d come up to the roof himself to paint it.

“When I’s…when I’s a kid, way younger, I used to have a roof like this. Small apartment, barely ’nough room for the three of us. But it hadda roof that put everything else to shame. I’s go up there, and sit. Like a-a penthouse. A penthouse in the sky,” the kid sighed. “Course it ain’t gonna last forever, nothin’ does. Soon enough my ma she-she died alongside what was gonna be my little sister. Things kept changin’ and-and soon enough I never see that roof again,” Jack could feel his sideways glance.

“You shouldn’t be up here, you’ll catch your death,” muttered Jack. “Last thing we need is you’s getting sick again.”

“I feels fine, Jack,” the kid scooted closer to him. “Do you wanna...wanna talk about anything?”

Jack was silent.

“I don’t wanna push or nothin’, but you seemed awful upset about what Bruiser said. You seem awful upset. You says...you says you’ve been here a while?”

“Yeah,” that’s one way to put it. “They’s my family. Only family I got that eva’ gave a damn. And now they’s just-they’s just up and leavin’ like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like I don’t matter at all to them. Not enough to keep them here,” Jack scoffed. “Y’know, Bruiser talked to me ’bout maybe having me be in his shoes one day. I thought-I thought he’s meaning in a year or so. Turns out he’s talkin’ around a week.”

“Y’know what, Jack, lemme tell you something. You’s gonna be just fine. You’s gonna do a great job, no matter what. I just gotta feelin’,” smiled the kid.

“It ain’t just that. Bruiser, Poet...they’s my family. They picked me up when I was nothin’, and took me to where I am now. I loves them more than I loves my own flesh and blood. How’s I supposed to live without them? How’s I supposed to go on knowing they ain’t cared enough to stay with me? I hate them,” Jack spat.

“No, you don’t. You’s angry at them for leaving you. For movin’ on. I can’t say I’s blamin’ you, Jack-” the kid coughed into his elbow, struggling for breath. Jack pulled him a bit closer.

“Kid, they’s the only family I got,” whispered Jack.

“You’s gonna make more family. Besides, you got all’a these boys here who’s your family. You says that you loves them. Prove it. Let ’em move on,” the kid squeezed Jack’s hand.

“You thinks you could do the same thing, if it was someone you cared about? If your family wanted to leave you behind and never see you again, would you let ’em?” asked Jack.

“I hope I could. But I’s pretty selfish. I think you’s better at lettin’ people go than I am,” he shrugged.

“I gotta be,” Jack looked over to where the kid was huddled. Now that he’d started to calm down a bit, he realized just how excruciatingly cold it was. And the kid was still skin and bones, just barely at the point of recovery. Feeling that familiar maternal instinct that was buried somewhere deep inside him kick in, Jack said, “C’mon, kid, let’s get you inside before I’m haulin’ your body around again.”

“Alright,” he chuckled. “I’s meaning it, though. You’s gotta family here. You’s not gonna be alone when Bruiser and Poet leave.”

“Yeah, alright kid.”

“Charlie.”

“Hm?”

“My name’s...I’s Charlie.”

“Oh. Well...it’s nice to meetcha, Charlie.”

Jack smiled.

#jack kelly #crutchie #jackcrutchiefanfiction #newsies #newsies 1992 #racetrack higgens #newsiefanfiction #insicknessandindoubt #prequel #jackcrutchie fanfiction #jackcrutchie #pre injury #crutchie doesn't have his limp yet #and he's not called crutchie at all in this

6 notes · View notes

itsthesinbin · 6 years

Text

Old World Blues

FINALLY wrote the thing for Melinda and Heather. This is just an introductory thing- the two get REALLY lost on the way to Diamond City and end up in Goodneighbor instead.

If I do decide to continue this, it’ll be a while before I post anything else/upload it to other platforms [like my ao3], as I’ll want to write a few chapters out so it isn’t just like... one lonely chapter sitting on ao3/sitting here.

So, after rewriting this about six times, I finally got it down in a way I like. It’s a bit short, but I knew if I dragged it out too much, I’d hate it.

Also the title is inspired from the New Vegas DLC, both because I’ve recently [finally] started getting into New Vegas after having it for like... a year, and the description for “Old World Blues” is something that really hits with these two characters. “It refers to those so obsessed with the past they can't see the present, much less the future, for what it is.” It reminds me of Heather, in particular. So if I do make a fic out of this, it’s definitely keeping the title.

The world was a shithole.

Two hundred years after the bombs dropped wasn’t enough to miraculously fix everything, much to Heather’s disappointment. Instead of hanging out with hot future people, she’s trekking through the possibly-irradiated mud with her mother, her brother’s robot, and a random dog they found. An old bat and measly pistol as her only weapons, and her mother carried a small rifle they picked off of a dead body on the way out of Sanctuary Hills.

The walk through Boston was horrible. Rubble and broken buildings surrounded the streets, making some areas inaccessible. It was also getting way too dark for the group’s liking. Codsworth’s flashlight was already on, and Melinda’s Pip-Boy was shining as bright as it could.

She brought the device up to her eyes, squinting slightly at the light, as she checked the downloaded map. She sighed heavily, making Heather and Codsworth turn to her. Heather let out a whine.

“Don’t tell me…” “Yeah, we’re lost, honey,” Melinda said, making Heather groan like a teenager being scolded. Head-tilt and all. Melinda couldn’t help but snort at the sight- hadn’t seen Heather do that in years.

“I saw some signs pointing to a place called “Goodneighbor”, though. Maybe someone there can lend us a room for the night, and help us out,” Melinda assured, starting to walk to where the signs had pointed. Heather kicked a small rock, huffing, before following.

The four came upon a huge barricade, with a single door leading into, what they assumed was, Goodneighbor. Hesitantly, Melinda knocked, not knowing if that was the correct thing to do. When she got no response, she checked the door. It was unlocked. Slowly, she opened the door, and the small group moved into the city.

Guards, and people, nearby stole glances at them- their dirty vault suits. What the hell were vault dwellers doing in Goodneighbor?

A couple of people just had to find out.

A large man stepped forward, blocking the women’s way. The ghoul leaning against the nearby wall watched carefully, eyeing the way Heather’s fingers gripped her bat defensively.

“Is this your first time in Goodneighbor, ladies,” the man asked, voice holding a hostile tone. “Can’t go walking around here without insurance.” Heather growled, propping the end of her bat on her shoulder.

“Unless it’s “keep-dumb-assholes-away-from-me” insurance- sorry, mom- we’re not interested,” Heather huffed, annoyance and anger too high to be any kind of polite right now. Melinda couldn’t help but snort softly. Finn smirked, clearly amused by the small woman’s sarcasm.

“Now, don’t be like that, sweetheart- I think you’ll like what I have to offer,” he said, voice growing flirty. It made Heather sick.

“You two hand over everything in your pockets, or “accidents” are gonna start happening- big, bloody accidents-” Before he, or Hancock, could make a move, Heather stepped forward, poking the end of her bat at Finn’s chest.

“Listen, buddy, I don’t give a goddamn rat’s ass what you’ll do. We’ve been walking for hours, chased by- by dogs and freaky green shitlords and who knows what else! I’m tired, I’ve been out in the rain, and I don’t want to be threatened by a two-bit criminal who’s too scared to leave a city to become a raider that’ll end up a bloody pile at the end of my BAT,” Heather ranted, drawing attention from others nearby. Finn scowled, reaching down to pull out his weapon.

“Woah, woah, time out,” Hancock yelled, finally able to move over. Melinda grabbed Heather’s arm, pulling her back. Hancock grabbed the back of Finn’s jacket and shirt, choking the man a bit.

“Someone steps through the gate the first time? They’re a guest- lay off the extortion crap, Finn.” “Why d’you care, Hancock? They ain’t ours,” Finn snarled, yanking the mayor’s hand off of his clothes. The ghoul feigned a hurt look, putting his hand on his chest.

“Oof… No love for your mayor? I said let her go,” he said, voice going from joking to serious in an instant. Finn rolled his eyes, hand gripping the grip of his gun.

“You’re going soft, Hancock- letting outsiders walk all over us. One day… there’ll be a new mayor”. Hancock saw that he was trying to pull the pistol out, and put on a more relaxed stance.

“Come on, man, this is me we’re talking about. Let me tell you something,” he said, reaching over to grab Finn’s shoulder. The human let his guard down, allowing Hancock to strike. He pulled out a switchblade, stabbing the man in the chest a few times.

He heard the women gasp, but didn’t look at them for a second. He dropped Finn’s body to the ground, putting the blade away.

“Now, why’d you have to go and say that, huh? Breakin my heart over here,” he mumbled, jabbing the corpse with a foot a bit. “You two alright?”

The look Heather had was definitely comical- eyes bugged out and head drawn back. Melinda just looked ill- arms over her chest, and a hand over her mouth in shock.

“What the FUCK,” Heather shouted suddenly, making her mother jump. “You killed him!” Hancock snorted.

“Got a good set of eyes on you, missy- you’ll fit in fine here”. Before Heather could say anything, Melinda stepped forward. She looked up at Hancock, making him wonder how the fuck these two survived while being so damn short.

“Look, Mister… Hancock, was it?” A nod prompted her to continue. “We… appreciate the help with him, but we really just… need a place to sleep for the night. There wouldn’t happen to be any vacant rooms in town, would there?”

“Hotel Rexford- just follow the alleyway over there,” he said, jabbing his thumb in the right direction. “In fact…” He pulled out a small bag of caps, handing them to the older woman.

“Buy a room on me- least I could do for your less-than-warm welcome,” he said. Melinda, too tired to argue and all too knowledgeable on how light their own pockets were, smiled slightly in gratitude. She pocketed the caps.

“Thank you, mayor”. “Please, just call me Hancock. “Mayor” sounds too stuffy”. Heather snorted from her new spot- poking Finn’s body with her bat.

“Heather-!” “Wanna take a quick whack at it, kid?” Codsworth and Melinda gaped at the mayor, while Heather was seriously considering the offer.

“Heather if you do it you’re grounded”. “I’m twenty five and this place has a new set of rules!” She gave the corpse a hard smack, yelling loudly, and clearly getting some of her pent up rage out.

“Ffffuck you, dead man,” she said, giving the body one last kick, before high-tailing it with Dogmeat down the alley Hancock had pointed out. She wasn’t going far- just right out of sight- but it was enough to make Melinda and Codsworth sigh. Hancock couldn’t help but laugh.

“The kid’ll fit in great around here, lady”. “Melinda… “lady” sounds too stuffy,” she joked, causing Hancock to snicker. “Got it, sister”.

Melinda said her goodbyes to the good mayor, catching up with her daughter. She grabbed Heather by the ear, pinching harshly and pulling.

“What the hell is the matter with you,” Melinda hissed over Heather’s whines. Melinda let go, letting the younger woman rub her ear.

“I wanted to make a statement- look, I won’t do it again”. In front of Melinda, at least. Her mother rubbed her face, too exhausted to argue further. She just started walking towards the hotel, Heather, Codsworth, and Dogmeat trailing behind.

“Alright… we’ll sleep for the night, ask for directions to Diamond City, and use what caps we have to prepare for the trip. Sound good?” “Yeah, mom, sounds like a plan”. The two stared up at the half-standing hotel, an ache settling in their chests- a famous hotel reduced to a level above rubble.

The two walked in, going to the front desk to rent a room.

The world was a shithole. It was full of crime and destruction and sickness and death- even more so than before the bombs dropped. Full of people and cultures and creatures that they didn’t recognize. The whole world was out to get them, it felt like.

“Ugh,” Heather groaned, flopping onto their rented bed. “I wanna sleep for another two hundred years”.

#fallout 4 #sole survivor #ocs #melinda #heather #fic

11 notes · View notes