100boxties

[100boxties]

"Uhhhh..."

Who the fuck was this guy? And why did he look like he swallowed a fridge? He tries to stand taller, lifting his chin up pettishly

"Who the fuck are you?" More importantly: "And how the fuck do you know Joey?"

for @100boxties—

"You're Joey's Lucky? Honestly, I thought you would look different." Built like a brick shithouse, just like him, but he won't say that. "You want a drink or something for it? She needs a couple of good eggs to keep her afloat, and it'll be my way of thanking you."

[100boxties]

A low-ceilinged bar lit by flickering neon and the dim orange wash of cheap overhead bulbs. It smells like cheap beer and cheaper decisions. A fan spins above, lazy and off-kilter.

The music cuts. Chairs scrape, glasses crash, voices rise. A half-full ashtray skitters across the bar. Most regulars pay no mind to what's happening in the corner. This bar keeps its own secrets.

Lucky ducks a swing, half-laughing through his teeth, then gets punched by a different man. The chaos escalates. Someone grabs his shoulder, pulling him back. Before he can even think of jumping back in, there's a shattered bottle aimed in his direction.

A breath hitches in the back of his throat like a match sparking. He should've grabbed that damn ashtray. "Alright!" He surrenders. "Alright, fin--" Then, he catches sight of someone, a familiar shape. Look what the tide dragged in. There Conrad stood -- same eyes, same weight in the room.

Lucky yanks free as if he's shaking off a leash, surrendering. He tips his head back, dark tresses of hair falling away from his face, as he catches his breath. Runs a hand down it like he's wiping sweat, blood, or memory. Maybe all three. Then he grins -- crooked, mouth bleeding.

After a beat, his gaze finally lands on Conrad. It's almost daring. "See somethin' you like?"

every story must grow old;

LOCATION: the druken seagull, the wharf TIME & DATE: 5th march, morning CLOSED STARTER: @100boxties

Conrad never became much of drinker, however being someone that was raised among sailors, he was bound to pick up even just a little bit of the habit, even if he did his best in order for it not to take over his whole life like he has seen happening with many men. He remembers the old days, the mornings spent at sea and seeing the sun rise above the horizon and in between the waves, the cold that struck his face and his first sip of coffee mixed with alcohol, it was bitter and his face had not let him lie to the other men - they had laughed at him, but ultimately he was one of them, the mockery came as fast as it went.

His life was different now, it had changed over the years and yet he still recognized the familiar faces of the men he often used to hangout with, back then he had been just an annoying little kid, eager for some adventure, wanting to feel useful, now he was all grown up and had other responsibilities - every men could understand that and there he had never felt an ounce of judgement, at least not when he was at this bar, maybe it was the fact that they didn't care enough, busy with their own lives, maybe it was the alcohol, either way Conrad was comfortable.

Or at least, he was, until he heard some raised voices and soon enough the glass holding his beer had been shattered in a million pieces as soon as a man's face met the balcony. It wasn't surprising, but it never ceased to shock him how easy fights could break out at the druken seagull, everyone was used to it and it was often said to be part of the charm and yet they never lasted long, no one ever let it escalate to levels that could not be contained - which is why Conrad immediately stands up, that being his first mistake, because as soon as he is behind one of them men, an elbow came straight to his face, leaving his disoriented for a small moment "mother - hey, break it up" the impact came out of nowhere and the pain felt in a second, but he was grateful that he had learned how to take a hit otherwise he would be already crawling on the floor, but instead the adrenaline came in as he and other men tried to pull the two apart. That was his second mistake, because as soon as he attempts to do that he catches a glimpse at a very familiar face, of someone he used to care for as if it was his own family.

[100boxties]

"Pfffffffffft," Lucky laughs. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. fucking serious." Except he pronounces serious as see-wee-us, and his hands slowly rise above his head.

With a crazed look in his eyes, he dares to take a small and slow step forward. "Go on, try it." And now, the muzzle of the gun is prodding into his chest. " Light me up, cowboy."

"no you fucking can't," he snarled back, jerking the weapon out of his hands and pointing it right toward lucky's chest. "if you so much as take another step, i'll blow you off the map. hands up, now."

[100boxties]

Under the buzz of a flickering streetlamp, water slaps against concrete like slow applause. A sign of a good day's work -- his knuckles show it, too.

Somewhere close, a glass bottle shatters, sharp and sudden, followed by laughter that doesn't rise so much as hover. It's the kind of sound that makes you pick up your pace without meaning to. For Lucky, however, he walks home like he has all the time in the world.

That is, until -- a familiar face makes him reroute his steps. Little makes him hesitant, this deep into Row's End. He'll convince himself it's to prove a point, that it would be better than wondering if she made it home for the rest of the night.

She stops. He doesn't move.

It's the hardest hit he has taken all night -- like a slap he half expected but still resents. "Aw, well. Good to see you, too." Half a grin. The light above catches in the rings under his eyes and the sheen of sweat at his temple.

There's a curl to his lips like he's holding something back, instead his voice loosens into something dry. "Try walking with your head up. You've taken the scenic route after all." This had clearly been a mistake.

He sidesteps her, walks a few paces, then circles back with a cigarette hanging from his lips and a shift in energy. "Do you know what happens to people who don't pay attention around here?" Especially the face of the news. "So yeah, actually, I am just what you needed."

⋆ ⁺ ₊ ౨ৎ @100boxties.

she doesn't mean to end up this deep in row's end, not really. the lead had sounded promising — whispers of a name she recognized from her brother's notebook, a warehouse that might've seen more than just illegal shipments — but it fizzled out fast. another dead end in a city full of them. it didn't help that people in row's end didn't exactly seem to love talking to those that weren't their own. now, ariya walks the narrow stretch between dim streetlamps and the smell of salt and rust, trying not to look like someone retracing steps with nothing to show for it, despite her shoulders being slumped slightly in a visible show of defeat. the docks come into view as she turns a corner, distracted, half in her head, running through timelines and names, connections that don't yet connect and nearly walks straight into someone. a breath catches in her throat as she stops just short of impact, instinct already pushing a soft "sorry" from her lips. then she looks up. and it's him. the apology dies on her tongue. instead, her eyes narrow, a frown settling on her features. "of course," she says dryly, more to the night than to him, huffing out a mildly annoyed breath, "because this was just what my day needed. clearly."

[100boxties]

He likes that the first thing she says is: He's with me. One word separates Lucky and Tatiana Du Bois, a simple joining word that connects two worlds. Not for, not under. With. She might say it like it cost her something and would bill him later, but it makes him feel mighty important all the same. His chest puffs; he throws a look at the couple like he's suddenly inherited the deed to the building. "That's right," he says. "I'm with her."

As she continues, his smile only widens, shining as bright as the screen behind them. Tatiana acts like he's an inconvenience, but he figures a woman like her doesn't put up with anything she doesn't want. So, at her gesture, he all but lunges into the seat like it's a space personally carved out for him on her front porch.

"Shhh!!!" Absurdly loud, outrageously theatrical. "We're at a cinema, Tatiana, jeez." Then, he cracks a boyish grin, hoping it will soften her look that's all cheekbones and exhaustion. He plonks the half-empty box of popcorn onto the armrest between them -- a peace offering. Kind of. "But, y'know, that doesn't sound too bad. You, me, our first scandal."

The title screen flares across their faces, washed-out blue and dying gold. Lucky scrunches his face and groans. "Ugh, really?" A quick glance at her. "This one is so dumb. Like, why do they make movies when the couple don't end up together? It's stupid, it sucks, and it's a fucking bummer."

she doesn't look at him at first. one glance over her shoulder when the commotion started had been enough for her to keep her gaze laser-focused towards the front, as though she could avoid the inevitable if she just sat still enough. she's already pinching the bridge of her nose like the headache's been summoned on cue. the scene playing out beside her is nothing short of absurd. the trail of popcorn. the profanity. the veiled threat involving bodily fluids. a du bois soldier, technically. a public relations disaster, realistically. finally, tatiana turns her head, slow and composed as ever, gaze cool and cutting in the flicker of the trailer light. she finally glances at the couple he's menacing, leans forward just enough to flash them a professionally apologetic smile. "he's with me," she says, like it's the kind of burden she's long since accepted, "if you let him sit down, i promise i'll keep him quiet." a pause. "quiet-ish." once the seats clear, she gestures subtly for him to sit, like she's already regretting every life choice that led her to this moment. so much for a moment of quiet and solitude. then again, she'd come to the cinema for a distraction. and he was certainly distracting. the second he's in the seat, she hisses under her breath, "this is a public venue, not row's end fight night. you—" she looks him over, sighs, "—are going to get us both banned."

[100boxties]

he's so real for this.

[100boxties]

Usually it works. She'd speak his name like a lullaby and it'd ground him. This time, it whips past him like a bullet. He looks past her, at the shadow stretching behind the back door to the seams between the windows and the wall. A chair pulled back half a foot too far, a coat hung on the rack that isn't hers. His grip on the bat tightens like he's ready to swing at a café that's lying to him.

Then, his eyes finally find hers and she smells like all those mornings he had wished would last a little longer. The bat slips from his fingers. His chest rises and falls as if he's just come up for air.

"Jo." More care can be heard than in a place of worship. Under a different sky, devotion. "I thought--" He tries, breath ragged. "They said-- And I--" Relief slowly floods his eyes as he traces the lines of her face, trembling fingers reaching up to her jaw, as if memorising her back into reality.

"You're really okay?" A second wave of worry crashes into him, a harsh reminder that he's on borrowed time with her. "No one- no one came by?"

Josephine appears from the back room at the sound of Lucky’s voice, dish towel still clutched in her hands. The morning light streams through the windows, catching dust motes that dance between them. “Lucky?” His name comes out soft, concerned. The baseball bat in his grip registers a moment later, but there’s not even a flicker of fear in her expression. She crosses the space between them, her movements unhurried despite his obvious distress. The dish towel drops forgotten on the counter as she reaches for him, fingers light against his wrist. “Hey,” she murmurs. “Lucky, hey, look at me.” Her eyes search his, warm and steady. She stands close enough that he can smell the coffee and cinnamon that always cling to her. “I’m right here,” she says simply, a small smile touching her lips despite the question in her eyes. “Everything’s okay. I’m okay.” She gently taps his hand where it grips the bat too tightly. “What’s going on?”

[100boxties]

SETTING: life hums through coronado public park, for most these small moments feel borrowed from somewhere slower. an elderly couple read the morning news on a weathered picnic table, children laugh and chase each other. an idea involving sticking out a foot is swiftly replaced by a distraction: @arbetrayal ( or whoever you need more threads for! )

"Oye -- what's that?" Then, without waiting a beat, he snatches it out of Leon's hands. "Can I have it? I want it."

[100boxties]

SETTING: the warm morning sun meets the clear blue sky, marking the start of another day for some and the end of one for others. beneath them is the small talk café -- closed, still, for the public but the door opens for one. @semidull

“Jo?” Something is wrong when, in these early hours, Lucky barges in through the doors without a freshly caught amberjack in a bag of ice but a baseball bat. And so, he calls out, again, more panicked. “Jo!”

The cafe is seemingly untouched. It’s not how he expected it to look. No broken windows, no overturned chairs. Whispers travel fast in this island of Coronado, especially in the docks when drunken men have prides to protect and lies slip easily as the tide. He couldn’t rely on hope or reason — he had to see for himself.

Desperation coils around his throat and his world narrows. “Joey!”

[100boxties]

SETTING: the lights go down and offer the scattered heads a chance to escape into a world that isn't theirs. the beam of light shines out of a square hole of the projection booth at the east end cinema. a number of trailers go by. suddenly, a dark silhouette appears over the screen. @honeysnared

Long legs climb over empty rows with haste, leaving a trail of popcorn in his wake. There’s a spark in his eyes — he knows the back of that head well enough now.

A couple groans as he jostles through them. “What?!” He snaps back at them, leaning down and intruding their personal space. It’s less of a lion’s roar and more of a bark over a muzzle. Throw him a bone, he’d still want to play. They go back and forth then, with Lucky’s feet firm on the ground it’s clear he doesn’t want to move. But neither do they.

“You want me to piss in your drink, huh? I’ll fuckin’ do it.” It’s unclear where his motivations lie, until — he turns to his right, then finally addresses who he’s come to see. “Hi.” A shameless smile. “Can you tell them to move? I wanna sit next to you.”

[100boxties]

To whom it may concern

Hello Media outlets and editors of Coronado!

I am submitting this to all media outlets I could see being interested in this story to share it as far and wide across Coronado and beyond.

My name is Ian Rafael Hale. My father is Rafael Del Bosque. I am 22 and a recent graduate with my bachelors in both History and business. I am open to interviews and providing copies of my birth records and whatnot to anyone who needs that before running a story like this! At the time this is sent, I will be well on my way to interrupting a family meeting. After the recent tragedies, seeing a lack of depth in response from the Del Bosques on it all, i am no longer content with the offerings my father gave my mother in exchange for her silence. Those contracts say nothing in regards to my own silence being a necessity. I will speak to everyone more soon and am open to interviews. Have a good day, Ian.

[100boxties]

WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS, LUCKY VIRK.

BASICS:

full name  : lokpreet virk. nicknames  :  lucky, locks. birthdate  : 22nd may (  33 ). hometown  : ba sing se. traits : brash, cowardly, impulsive, curious. gender  +  pronouns  : cis man  +  he/him. orientation  : bisexual. zodiac  : gemini. occupation  : soldier ( du bois ) & fisherman ( the docks ). character parallels : benny ( city of god ), sonny corleone ( the godfather ), arthur shelby ( peaky blinders ), patrick zweig ( challengers ). alliance : du bois. aesthetic : dark alleys and cement mixers, a shadow pulling itself apart to shine bright, holed socks under leather shoes, hair tied back with a hello kitty hair tie, three straws squeezed into a can of grape fanta.

SUMMARY:

no one really knows where lucky has come from but they all seem to think he ended up where he belongs. every person knows a different tale and nobody seems to care to learn the truth. this suits him fine, for he likes to live a hundred lives.

what people do know is his story starts with a group of fishermen who brings him to the pits of row's end. a group of no-good, unruly men who'd decided to keep the runt of the litter. they gave him his name and reminded him what it meant. they taught him the laws of the jungle, the art of knowing someone that knows someone, and where to go to catch really good fish.

it's no surprise he turned out the way he did. the kids of row's end know, you either join the violence or live looking over your shoulder. it was an easy decision for lucky when everyone around him followed the same path. his restless nature and lack of respect towards authority meant he was more trouble than he was worth, but when his guardians were cut from the same cloth, you could understand why he remained under their care.

he didn't go to school and learned everything about life on the boat and out in the sea. he learned how to protect and he learned how to take. he learned how to fight to make ends meet. he was not raised on resentment but rather passion, even as the people around him dropped like flies. this was their island. they should be celebrated.

when the du bois called, he saw it was a new beginning. with this came the promise of a better life, for change. and what a perfect fit was lucky, who'd been nothing but a stray looking for a new home. as a son of rebellion, he believes in the revolution. at this point, and he doesn't even know it yet, he is willing to do anything to impress the du bois family and climb the ranks.

TDLR: not a great guy but really loves fish. he is that weirdo at the back of the class who is hard to ignore and disturbs everyone, but you sort of miss him when he isn’t there. emotional highs and lows, you can never trust what he says. motivated by the idea of a better life and reaching the top of the food chain. pretty cowardly, in the grand scheme of things. he fears death, he fears losing people, so acts selfishly. brain is simultaneously 5x speed of crazy frog and hotel elevator music. expect a slew of verbal abuse as a sign of love. a needy, rabid dog.

[100boxties]

WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS, RAFAEL DEL BOSQUE.

BASICS:

full name  : rafael del bosque. nicknames  :  rafa. birthdate  : 12th jan (  63 ). hometown  : coronado. traits : obsessive, strategic, unforgiving, paranoid. gender  +  pronouns  : cis man  +  he/him. orientation  : heterosexual. zodiac  : capricorn. occupation  : chair of del bosque enterprises. character parallels : michael corleone ( the godfather part 3 ), roderick usher ( the fall of the house of usher ), emperor joseph ii ( amadeus ). alliance : del bosque. aesthetic : whispered omens curled around his throat like a lover's hand, a cracked mirror reflecting pieces of a face, a rusted key in a trembling hand.

SUMMARY:

as a young man, the weight of legacy was a privilege. he dreamed of ruling coronado with his young ideals in mind. however, following in his father's footsteps came with decisions that turned him ruthless. he understood what it meant to be a del bosque and how heavy the burden could be.

the idea of leaving an impact, as the del bosques who came before him did, was his first mission. what could he build that wasn’t already done? things changed when a fortune teller spelled out his fate. he thought little of it, at first, but after a certain number of deaths and events that couldn’t be put down as consequence, protecting the family and everything they stood for became his priority.

this birthed a reformist — obsessive over the idea that the downfall of his family is imminent if things don’t change, paranoid that sins committed will eventually catch up to him. he plans to legitimise the family business and clean their name from blood stains. any threat will be taken care of, including his own children, if they dare. if he can turn the du bois and shibatas against each other, then he could silently step back and enjoy the show.