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angryhausfrau-writes · 3 years

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I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 20 - In Which Jack is the Life of the Party and Charles is a Wallflower

Councilor Featherstone comes through with planning permission, his personal interest allowing Max's petition to jump to the front of a very, very long and very, very slowly moving list. Glacial is a good description of that list. Full of icy aristocracy impeding any sort of forward progress. Because they all make money when the price of real estate goes up and up and up via the dearth of available properties.

Should someone sell off a property – or, God forbid, build a new one, particularly one meant for the lower class rabble to actually live in – well, they'd lose out on potential astronomic profits. And losing out on potential profit is as good as being robbed.

Not to mention the cut they make if someone has enough name and capital to approach them about buying a potential property, hoping to bolster their own enormous bank accounts with a “risk free” investment. But there's no such thing as a free lunch, particularly to the sharks that swim in the ocean of Britain's current property market. Everyone gets a cut of the pie.

Finders fees, they're called. As if anyone is finding anything in the morass of red tape and stark type on expensive paper. Not if someone doesn't want it to be found.

Jack has actually been granted a sizable finders fee by Max. All part of the massive, technically-legal tax dodge that allows the wealthy elite to remain the wealthy elite. Max makes an obscene amount of money selling her property off to a developer – while retaining a seat on the board of trustees, of course, and majority interest in the company they've formed to oversee the spa. And then she pays Jack a handsome consulting fee for all of his assistance with the planning permission. Which is a business expense – and therefore, a tax write off. And then Jack uses the money to wine and dine the councilor. Which is also a business expense and so another tax write off. On and on and on. Each just a small step in the endless dance of Legitimate Business.

Incidentally, Max is also paying Jack rather handsomely to consult on the design and interior decorating for the spa.

There are, of course, actual interior designers and professional decorators and florists and lighting and sound specialists in Max's company's employ. But it just wouldn't be nepotism if she hadn't found a job for Jack to make a lot of money at whilst doing absolutely nothing of value. And it just wouldn't be a London planning project without nepotism.

Plus, it gives Jack's not quite fake career as a fashion designer a little boost. Soon every rich socialite in London – and elsewhere, hopefully – will be relaxing in a Jack Rackham original spa robe, lounging on Jack Rackham original cushions on a Jack Rackham original divan reminiscent of a swan's elegantly unfolding wing, but in palest peach to complement the spring pink scrubs worn by spa staff – another Jack Rackham original – and soothing seafoam walls.

And if all that weren't enough to keep him and Christine (mostly Christine, if he's being honest) busy, Jack's also got fashion week to contend with. Oh, his projects are all finished, and he hasn't even worked himself into that much of a tizzy over the whole ordeal. Not with as well prepared as he feels – and as buoyed as he is by the positive attention his press releases and Instagram posts have received. No, he's as prepared as he can be and there's little point in wearing himself ragged worrying over the what ifs and wheretofors.

No, what's wearing on Jack in the small hours of the night is something else entirely.

More than Jack's actual fashion show – where half the designers are showing essentially nude models with various decorous scraps of latex and/or lace as opposed to actual outfits, not that Jack's petty or anything – more than the actual fashion show, Jack is required to make an impression on all the “benefactors” of the event. The rich, vapid men and women who decide whose fashions are to die for – and who's dead in the water.

Jack's not a real fashion designer. Just someone posing as one for the cover it gives a (hopefully) international crime empire. But that only makes this gladhanding and wheeling and dealing all the more imperative.

It's not much of a cover if everyone questions how, exactly, Jack's made it into the international fashion world. Hell, even here at home he's required to make the sort of connections that get him into the posh parties and stately homes of the rich and famous so he can case the joint and report his findings back to Max.

All of which necessitates Jack throwing his own party. A night of debauchery so blatant, so tasteless it wraps right around to tastefulness again. A night where he can show the fashion world, business moguls, and investors that he has the money and connections that make him worth their money and connections. And he's been granted the dubious honor of hosting the night of the newcomers fashion show. His debut on the international stage. Followed swiftly by his debut as an international man of quasi-leisure.

Max is, of course, the one actually throwing the party. The one determining the guest list from the half-dozen file cabinets worth of dirt and gossip and just creepily intimate details about London's upper crust.

Max is the one to hire the DJ – the same poor sap she'd blackmailed into playing Jack's first fashion show slash after party. And she's got Eme lording over the caterers with an iron fist.

And Max is the one to insist that Jack put up her ridiculous painting in pride of place, over the main sitting room fireplace where it can be reflected a hundredfold in the mirrors she'd brought in to line the room – and in the disco ball the DJ brought for the occasion. A thousand tiny paintings cover the floor, the walls, the goddamn ceiling. And sure, it's a nice enough painting – although it makes something spark hot and hungry in Jack's breast when he looks at it too long.

Or maybe that's just because a shirtless, glistening, complaining Charles – who just spent the majority of the morning hauling furniture and sound equipment around and hanging mirrors - is the one who's been roped into hanging it. Standing there, arms straining as Max directs him to position it just so.

Jack lets his gaze trail down Charles's biceps, chest, abs and away. He's got too much to do to be caught lollygagging like this. And Anne's amused and too-knowing look from over her clipboard is rather ruining the mood.

Anne watches Jack flounce away through the crowd, the heaving throng of party guests parting around him like water.

Jack's fashion show had gone over well. All the rich fucks without an original fucking thought between the all of them had been impressed with the flash fucking jewels and dripping gold. Entranced by the swirl of velvet skirts and silken shirts baring just slightly too much cleavage Which Anne knows cuz she's the one telling all the makeup artists to put fucking glitter on all their tits, like Max told her to.

And all them rich fucker's'd been entranced by Jack, too. Drawn like moths to the dancing flame of his showmanship. Lured by the siren song of wealth and elegance he'd spun on the catwalk.

And here at the party too.

Though it ain't elegance they're after here. Decadence, just like the fucking fashion show. But this ain't some rich old fuck's sitting room. This is a bacchanal. They're the cult of Dionysus tonight and they've got loyal followers high on poppers and coke and half a dozen other designer party drugs, courtesy of some of Jack's now-infamous street contacts, dolled up nearly as much as the party guests. And the drugs are all set out in little gold-rimmed dishes on antique walnut sideboards. K itchy as all fuck. Like candy someone's Nan might set out. All free for the taking.

Well, the first taste is, anyway. You gotta pay for the next dozen.

And they're willing to pay, the rich fuckers. Money's no object to them. And they've sold their souls long ago. What's a little more blood squeezed outta stone? Why give a fuck about tomorrow when you can constantly live in the happy glimmering now? Consequences can't touch them – these golden fucking chosen people.

And Jack walks among them like a prince. Like a god, and all this worship is simply his due.

Even from her secluded, shadowed corner Anne can see how he draws them in. Snares them with pretty words and pretty clothes and the promise that if they just flock to him, follow him, they too can be as effortlessly beautiful and catty and elegant and perfect.

And then, when they're thoroughly caught in his silken web, he directs them towards Max.

She's standing on the second floor balcony overlooking the party, queen of all she surveys. And even though Jack's throwing this party, she's the real mastermind behind everything. Every sweating, glittering, drug soaked body heaving against each other on the dance floor is there because that's exactly where she wants them. And when she turns her gaze to one or another in particular, it's far, far too late for them to run. Cuz even if they wanted to. Even if they weren't snared so tight they couldn't get out of the trap not even if they chewed their own fucking leg off. Even if they escaped, Anne'd chase them down for her. Hunt them down for her, across oceans and continents until they'd been found and bound and delivered back to her feet. Where they fucking belong, the fucking scum.

Charles tucks himself further into the corner he's found on the second floor. It's not quiet – nowhere in the house is quiet, not even the fucking bathroom. And his spot overlooks the dancefloor, bass thrumming up though the floor to rumble against the bottoms of his boots. But at least it's private.

Jack's holding court in the middle of the crowd, shining and happy and basking in being noticed, being revered.

He's always been like that. Flash and brash and attention grabbing. So you don't see the knife Anne's slipping between your ribs from the shadow Jack casts.

But even then. Even when it had been half misdirect and half distraction. Jack'd wanted this. Burned for it so bright and hungry you almost couldn't stand looking at him. But at the same time, you can't stand looking away.

Charles isn't like that.

Not that he lurks in the shadows, like Anne – or Max, even. He's a blunt instrument, and not ashamed of that fact. His strength lies in direct confrontation.

Oh, he can be crafty. Strategic. He can turn everyone's expectations of him against them. Jack's not the only one with a head on his shoulders, oh no. And Charles ran a crew just fine without his wiles.

But Charles doesn't want to live in the spotlight either. Hasn't chased renown, it had just kind of happened to him, whether he wanted it or not. More trouble than it was worth, half the time.

And now, something else – a new kind of notoriety – is happening to him. And it's all Jack's fault.

See, people aren't only fawning over Jack. No, there's those who saw the promotional material with Charles's face on it and decided he was some sort minor celebrity. Some kinda object for them to project all their filthiest desires onto.

He'd been poked and prodded and fondled. Offered modeling contracts. Offered sex. Offered money for sex. Like he'd welcome it – feel honored by it. Like he's some kinda doll, dressed up pretty just for them.

Not real.

Not a person.

Just a fucking pretty picture in a glossy program, there for them to get off to and then throw away.

He's been down that road before, though not with Johns as posh as these. The swells so used to getting what they want the moment they want it there's no real way to say no. Especially not when they – Anne and Max and Mary and Jack and him – have got so much riding on this.

Charles isn't going to be the one to ruin this. This bright shining con. This dream world Jack and Max have spun out of gossamer. So fragile – so easily ruined.

Charles isn't going to be the one to let the crew down.

So he'd flirted. Glib and meaningless and pretty. Dumb and flighty and careless. Caressed everyone who'd fondled him. Stood close and whispered low in their ears. Made them feel special, feel noticed. And then when they'd tired of him, cuz they always fucking do, so bored of life nothing can hold their interest for long, especially when he's not trying to keep it, Charles'd escaped to the second floor balcony overlooking the party and he'd put his back to the wall and watched Jack's glittering, fragile, beautiful dream unfold below him.

“Hiding up here all by yourself, Charles?”

Charles grunts in response, but not in a way that makes Jack feel like he's unwelcome. So Jack leans against the banister next to Charles and waits to see if he'll say anything more illuminating.

After a few minutes of silence – or silence from Charles, at least, the music's loud enough to be heard from a block away, never mind just upstairs – it becomes apparent that he won't be any more forthcoming. And if he's to speak, someone will need to coax it out of him.

Fortunately, Jack is nothing if not persistent.

“Got sick of the party, I'd imagine. It's a bit over the top, even for me.”

Charles snorts at that, so they're making progress.

“I know you'd be happier with something a little less glam pop.” Because that's never really been Chaz's scene. He's more of the rocker type, really. Not that Jack's complaining about his penchant for black leather on top of black silk. “But you have to admit, it's a good turnout. Especially for our first real industry bash. And Featherstone certainly seems to be having fun.”

Jack looks down at where the councilor and Idelle are grinding together on the dance floor (eughh) with the mirrored reflection of Max's painting shimmering on Featherstone's sweaty skin and reflecting in Idelle's eyes. Drawing him in almost as much as Idelle having exchanged her ornate velvet gown for a sexy little cocktail number - although she's wearing hardly any less jewelry than she had at the fashion show – and that too reflects a hundred thousand tiny sparkling versions of the painting. Of the taste and class and wealth the painting promises.

She's bathed in it.

She's a goddess. She's regal. Elegant. Glamorous. The kind of woman the kind of man the councilor is could have for more than a fun night in the sack. The kind of woman he could have for forever, if he'd wanted.

If he was lucky enough to catch and keep her attention.

Men and women in the crowd, only some of them planted by Max, ooh and ah over Idelle's elegance and poise. Remark, just loudly enough to be heard by the councilor about how much they wish she would deign to look at them like she looks at him. Ask to cut in, only to be cut down by Idelle, who has danced only with the councilor, attended only to the councilor, all evening.

Made him feel special. Feel desired. Feel like perhaps he could have this every night of his life, if he'd only put a ring on it. Something suitably flash, of course. Idelle deserves only the best.

But he's not thinking about any of that right now, not with the way he's got his gaze fixed firmly on her bosom, which is being shown off to great effect by an enormous diamond pendant that only she and Max know is actually cubic zirconium. Marriage is probably the furthest thought from his mind right now. But in the morning – in the morning, he'll remember this night. This wild bacchanal. The way the painting had whispered promises of finally belonging to the elegant, tasteful, obscenely rich world that Idelle navigates so effortlessly. How maybe she could guide him through troubled waters when he finds himself out of his depth. Idelle and only Idelle.

“Wish there weren't so many fucking people,” Charles grits out, shaking Jack out of his dreams of what ifs and might could bes. Back to the man standing beside him, one of the reason's they've had so much success in this venture. “All pawing at you. Like you owe them something.”

“Oh, darling. I've never minded a little manhandling, you know that.” Jack keeps deliberately glib, because Charles looks like he's liable to rip someone's throat out if Jack even hints at discomfort.

And it's true that he'd been somewhat leery of the attention at one point, after so long hiding in shadows out of necessity, even as he'd yearned to step into the spotlight.

It turns out that actually being in the spotlight isn't quite what Jack had imagined. That sometimes people shine it on you for reasons other than simple recognition.

That night at the strip club comes to mind.

That had felt like being used. Like being back in his childhood, father a subject of ridicule too drunk to understand that the whole village was laughing at him.

But Jack had understood. He'd understood the power of perception. The power other's had over you when they were the ones controlling the narrative. The ones making you an outsider.

But today, Jack's the one controlling how people see him. The one directing – and misdirecting – perceptions.

Because there's power there. Because people only see what they want to see. And you can get a hell of a lot done when people are too stupid to believe you capable of anything.

This being in the spotlight, being loved and adored by a fickle crowd, keeping the eyes of the world on him so that they stay off Max and Anne and Mary as they pick their marks. This is just another kind of power. Just another shield to hide behind while the dirty work gets done.

Jack elbows Charles in a way he hopes is reassuring. “And anyway, Anne's been keeping an eye out for trouble. You know she's been itching to stab someone for weeks now. I'm safe as houses.”

Charles grunts and turns away, back to the shadows he'd been hiding in when Jack came up here to talk to Max briefly, introducing a new mark – one who's in international real estate and interested in investing in Max's little property endeavors. And the glint of Charles's eyes in the gloom, the occasional sparkle of the silver charms in his hair and the earrings in his ears, the rings on his hands and necklaces draped against his bared chest, it had felt like a predator looking at him. Some big jungle cat watching him from the tall grass.

But Jack hadn't felt frightened. Because he's stupid and hopelessly in love. And he knows Charles, better than he knows himself, sometimes.

So he'd gone over to where Charles was standing. And he had stepped out of the shadow and into the glaring light of the party to stand at the balcony railing with Jack. To listen to Jack prattle on about inconsequential things with only fond mock annoyance, the way he'd always done. Even when Jack had been considerably more annoying – and Charles considerably more inclined to gut people who annoyed him.

But if he's hiding again, returning to the shadows, clearly that wasn't the right tack.

Jack comes at it from another angle. “Would it make you feel better if you came and danced with me? Just to remind everyone my big tough boyfriend is looking out for me?”

Because Charles trusts Anne. They all do – and with their very lives. But sometimes Charles is a protective, possessive sonofabitch. And if he's in a mood, Jack wants to make sure they deal with it in a way that doesn't end in homicide.

Charles turns back, eyes gleaming. “Stake a claim, you mean. In front of everyone.”

Prove Jack's his. And fuck. Maybe that is a step too far for their pretend relationship.

He's about to apologize. Walk everything back, make a joke, disassemble.

But then Charles says, “Yeah, all right. You're too much trouble for only one person to keep an eye on.”

Charles has Jack in his arms. And Jack'd said it was about Charles staking a claim. Making sure all the rich fucks kept their greedy hands off Jack. Make sure he was being looked after.

But it goes the other way, too.

Charles is out here in the middle of the dancefloor, covered in shiny that Jack'd bought – or stolen – just for him. Jack's arms around him, just like he's got his arms around Jack. Like they're one person, bound together, with no beginning or end.

There for everyone to see. To see that he and Jack are one.

That Jack has a claim on Charles. That all their pawing and fawning and come-ons don't mean shit. Just like all the heaving, sweaty bodies surrounding them don't mean shit. Not when him and Jack are like this. Together.

Everything – everyone – inconsequential compared to the feeling of Jack pressing against Charles's front, grinding against his dick, Charles's hands on his ass. Jack's his, if just for this moment. And he ain't gonna waste it.

Charles cups the back of Jack's head, fingers tangling in that stupid mullet he still insists on wearing. “Mine,” he growls into the breath of space between the two of them.

And Jack must be a great lip-reader. Or he's on the same wavelength as Charles, feels the same way as Charles does about all this. Because he grips Charles at the nape of his neck. Pulls his hair until his head tilts back and Jack's teeth are at his jugular.

And Charles feels the threat and the promise pressed so tenderly against his skin when Jack says “Yours.”

#black sails #charles vane/jack rackham #anne bonny/max #i travel troubled oceans #chapter 20

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desiraypark · 4 years

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Clyde x Sherri Master Post

Clyde x Sherri is an ongoing non-linear series about (now) married couple, Clyde and Sherri (Simmons) Logan. Clyde and Sherri are currently living it up in “real-time”, but entries could be set in the past or future. Sometimes major events are sped up (ex: in real-time, they moved to Norfolk, VA in September 2020, but I’ve been writing them in their new city since July 2020). This post (which is long, I must add) contains a breakdown of the series entries and some story development details (the Capricorn jumps out, y’all). Full Series in Posting Order (Entry Breakdown below) LONG POST WARNING

ENTRY INDEX ( *- means they’re being sexy and/or they’re gonna bang) Before They Met July 1992 (Young Clyde x Sherri cross paths) Dating Era The First Date “Familiar” (How They Met) Untitled Prompt Request (Clyde asking Sherri to quit one of her jobs) “Was it for a good reason?” (Sherri learns about the robbery) Shattered (continuation of the previous) Locked Away (cont. of the prev.) No More Secrets (cont. of the prev.) - Sherri x Jimmy Like Magnets (cont. of the prev.) Meet the Parents (Clyde meets Terry & Ramona Simmons) “Where’s Sherri?” (Request/Clyde x Sherri at a family cookout) Honeybunch (Why Sherri calls Clyde “Honeybunch”) Movin’ In (Prompt request)

Married (Before the child/children) Dearly Beloved (Part of their Wedding) Shut Up, Clyde* (Their Honeymoon) Summer Madness (Summer fluff) Bare Feet (Prompt Request - Clyde and Sherri enjoy a kiddie pool) Lil’ House Guest (Critter alert) Have Clyde’s Cake and Eat It, Too (Sherri can’t resist sweets) Sherri Logan, P.I.* (A lil’ roleplay) Bad* (A hint of dominatin’ Clyde) Are We Ready? (Discussing children) “Where is my tongue?!” (Sherri gets her wisdom teeth pulled) A Birthday First* (Sherri puts on a show) Lunch Time* (Clyde his hungry) “Love Won’t Let Me Wait”* (Baby Fever in a thunderstorm) Yoink! (Sherri is not to be trifled with) Headed West (Clyde and Sherri move) Every Room* (You see what it says) Something in Common (Clyde and Sherri meet their neighbors) A Mean Old Fashioned (Clyde gets a new job) “Her Name is Sherri.” (Clyde finds the perfect job for Sherri) A Long Night* (If you give a Clyde a remote...) Negative to a Positive (Sherri suspects pregnancy) Deserving (Sherri helps Clyde through anxiety) Bad Mood* (Clyde fixes that lil’ attitude) Babies with Dimples (Clyde and Sherri have too much to drink) Sherri and the Giant Peach (Sherri tries on business clothing) Apple Pie (Sherri freestyles a popular dessert) Chef Sadie (Sadie goes on a cooking competition reality show) Too Much* (Clyde lets out some frustration) No Solids / No Sweets (Sherri’s sick and refuses to do the right thing) Cherries & Honey (Sherri gets a tattoo) The Near Future The Big People (From Clyde and Sherri’s child’s POV) Shush. (Pregnant Sherri wants Clyde to be comfortable) Peanut Butter Jelly Time! (Pregnant Sherri is hungry and horny) The Family Man (Clyde’s dad returns) Catwoman (The Logans go trick-or-treating) The Distant Future Ruby (Clyde and Sherri’s 40th Anniversary) The Weight (Part I - Part II) (Sherri deals with impostor’s syndrome) With Others No More Secrets (Sherri x Jimmy) The Little Things (Clyde x James Cooke) Extra Stuff The World of Clyde x Sherri - “behind-the-scenes” type stuff (includes their birth charts, text conversations, descriptions of their homes, etc.) Sim Clyde x Sherri (I made them in The Sims 4) _______________________ MAJOR TIMELINE The events of Logan Lucky are pushed back to 2015 solely because I wanted Clyde and Sherri to have known each other for a long-time (again, relative to “real-time”). 2015 Early May - Clyde got locked up Late August - Clyde got out December - Clyde moved into his own two-bedroom home // Clyde and Sherri “formally” met. 2017 January - Clyde and Sherri started dating Early April - Clyde and Sherri broke up Early May - Clyde and Sherri got back together Late May - Sherri formally met Jimmy and Mellie June - Clyde met Sherri’s separated parents (Terry and Ramona Simmons) 2018 March - Clyde and Sherri got engaged September - Clyde and Sherri got married “2020″ September - Clyde and Sherri moved to Norfolk, VA. ______________________ BACKGROUND STORIES Some Clyde Logan headcanons; Sherri Logan development Content/Trigger Warnings: Depression; impostor syndrome; self-doubt; death; parent death; war mention; war injury mention; abandonment (by a parent); cancer mention. Sherri (Simmons) Logan was born on January 25, 1988, in Charleston, West Virginia. Her family moved to Boone when she was a toddler. She has an older sister named Robyn and a little brother named Terry Jr (aka TJ). Sherri graduated high school with a 4.0 GPA and attended North Carolina Central University where she studied Early Childhood Education for two years. Her life’s dream was to become an elementary school librarian. While in college, Sherri’s parents separated. As a result, she became depressed, and eventually so overwhelmed with school work that she dropped out. Despite her inner desire, Sherri avoided any work in the education field and took on jobs in retail and customer service. When she and Clyde started dating, she worked two jobs--cashier at a dollar store and cashier at a local supermarket. She was also living with her best friend, Tasha. Sherri still feels the “sting” of (self-imposed) embarrassment that has come with being “the one who was supposed to “make it” but didn’t”, but occasionally considers returning to school. Sherri’s sister, Robyn, moved back to Charleston when she married Devon. They have a son, Devon Jr (aka DJ), and a baby girl named Princess. Her brother, TJ, lives in Atlanta, GA. Sherry currently works as the morning/afternoon receptionist at Busy Bees Daycare. Entries to Reference: “July 1992″, “Her name is Sherri.”, “Untitled Prompt Request”, “Familiar”. Clyde Logan was born on November 25, 1983, in Boone, West Virginia to Donna Logan and Timothy Green. He has an older brother named James (aka Jimmy) and a little sister named Melody (aka Mellie). When Clyde was about eight years old, Timothy (never having married Donna), abandoned his family--only sending the occasional postcard to his parents and for the first couple of years, birthday cards to his kids (through his parents). When Donna died of cancer in 1996, the Logan children moved in with their maternal grandparents, Aaron and Sylvia.

Around this time, Clyde noticeably became more introverted, but often got in trouble for little mischievous acts (ex: setting off the school fire alarm to get out of a test; the occasional schoolyard fight). He joined the Army after high school and just as he was returning home after a second tour in Iraq, Clyde lost the lower part of his left arm in a roadside accident. Inspired by his newfound love for cooking shows, Clyde began taking bartending classes, and late in 2004, started working at Duck Tape. He worked there for sixteen years.

Aaron and Sylvia Logan have since passed away (Aaron in 1999, Sylvia in 2008), as has Clyde’s paternal grandmother, Betty (d. 2013). His brother Jimmy currently lives in Greenbrier County, WV has a daughter named Sadie and a fiancée named (ironically), Sylvia. Mellie is recently married to Joe Bang. Clyde currently works as day bartender at a posh restaurant called Strafford’s Kitchen. Entries to Reference: “July 1992″, “Familiar”, “A Mean Old Fashioned”, “Headed West”. _____________________ I even have a work schedule for these two but I’m gonna to sit down somewhere and finish this. Bye. Lol.

#Clyde and Sherri Master Post

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jgthirlwell · 5 years

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2019 year in review

This year I also invited some friends and colleagues to reflect on 2019

JG Thirlwell

Composer Foetus Xordox Manorexia Steroid Maximus Venture Bros Archer

www.foetus.org

30 Albums of 2019 (although not all of them came out in 2019) Damon Locks & Black Monument Ensemble Where Future Unfolds (International Anthem) Le Grand Sbam Vaisseau Monde (Dur et Doux Caravaggio Caravaggio 2 & Turn Up (La Buissonne) Swans Leaving Meaning (Young God Records) 13 Million Year Old Ghost (Chaykin) Ben Frost Dark Cycles 1 & 2 (Invada) Sote Parallel Persia / Sacred Horror In Design (Diagonal) 33EMYBW Arthropods (SVBKVLT) Anna Meredith Fibs (Moshi Moshi) Kelly Moran Ultraviolet (Warp) Thom Yorke Anima (XL) Hildur Guðnadóttir Joker Soundtrack (Water Tower Music) Lingua Ignota Caligula (Profound Lore) Igorr Savage Synusoid (Metal Blade) Oli XL Rogue intruder Soul Enhancer (Blo-onm) Red Fang Murder The Mountains (Relapse) Michael Kiwanuka Kiwanuka (Polydor) Richard Dawson 2020 (Weird World) Idiot Flesh Fancy / The Nothing Show / Tales Of Instant Knowledge and Sure Death (YouTube) Ikarus Echo / Mosaiasmic (Ronin Rhythm Records) Poil Sus / Mula Poil (Dur et Doux) Orange Goblin A Eulogy For The Damned (Candlelight) Nivhek After its own death / Walking in a spiral towards the house (Yellow Electric) Ni Pantophobie (Due et Doux) Andrew WK You’re Not Alone (Sony) Rustin Man Drift Code (Domino) Kishi Bashi Omoiyari (Joful Noise) Liturgy HAQQ (YLYLCYN) Croatian Amor Isa (Posh Isolation) Schnellertollermeier Rights / X / Zorn einen ehmer üttert stem!! (Cuneiform) Scandinavian Star Solas (Posh Isolation) Synth Sisters Euphoria (EM records) JPEGMAFIA Veteran + All My Heroes Are Cornballs (EQT)

Notable Concerts I went to dozens of concerts and events in 2019. Here are some of the most notable. All in NYC except where noted.

Jan 8 Matt Marks Tribute at Protoype Festival. Roulette Jan 19 Lemon Twigs MHOW Jan 26 Julia Wolfe / NY Philharmonic Fire In My Mouth Lincoln Center Feb 16 Lucretia Dalt Issue Project Room Feb 23 Willliam Basinski Ambient Church Mar 13 Lou Reed Drones St John The Divine Mar 18 This Heat LPR + July 31 at Elsewhere Mar 20 Oran Ambarchi Fridman Gallery Mar 28 Fire! at Zurcher April 11 Aphex Twin Avant Gardner May 4 Zombi El Cortez May 11 Lawrence English Knockdown Center May 13 The Who + Orchestra Madison Square Garedn May 15 Alva Noto Metropolitan Museum June 11 Andrew Cyrille Marathon Roulette June 13 Christeene / Nastie Band Brooklyn Bazaar June 26 Simon Hanes National Sawdust July 27 Nick Zinner 41 Strings Rockefeller Center July 30 Flaming Lips / Lennon Claypool Delirium Capitol Theater Portchester Aug 2-4 Bang On A Can LOUD Festival Mass MOCA Notth Adams Aug 27 Pharmakon St Vitus Sep 5 JD Emmanuel Issue / First Unitarian Church Sep 18 Lingua Ignota St Vitus Set 21 King Crimson Radio City Oct 10 Melvins Warsaw Oct 19 Helm Cafe Oto Nov 1 Marc Almond Brooklyn Bazaar Nov 6 JPEGMAFIA Bowery Ballroom Nov 23 Caterina Barbieri Unsound Fest, Knockdown Center Nov 30 Knower Bowery Ballroom

Film & TV These films were flawed but resonated with me.

Chernobyl Ozark Once Upon A Time In Hollywood Joker Midsommar The Irishman Uncut Gems

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Matt Johnson

The The https://www.thethe.com/

Looking back on 2019 I decided to list a handful of political / alternative news websites rather than films, albums or books. In the UK the corporate media stooped to shocking new lows during our recent General Election campaign. Such dirty tactics are to be expected of conglomerates owned by the likes of Rupert Murdoch and his fellow right wing billionaires but this time around, previously ‘liberal’ outlets such as the BBC and Guardian also fully participated in the outrageous lies, smears and character assassination against the leader of the opposition Labour Party. The British population were now being forced fed the Establishment’s propaganda du jour from every possible direction. Personally I try to gather my information from as many alternative outlets as possible to contrast with the 24 hour corporate brainwashing we’re subjected to these days. I’ve listed just five sites from the dozens I regularly visit and although I certainly don’t agree with everything expressed on these sites I do feel that it essential that in supposed free and democratic societies we are at least exposed to a variety of viewpoints and opinions - rather than being trapped inside social media echo chambers in an Internet that is increasingly controlled and censored by sophisticated algorithms and where politically correct digital lynch mobs accuse anyone with an opinion that contradicts the official narrative of being a Russian agent! Anyway, a Happy New Year to you all and here’s hoping 2020 sets the new decade off in roaring style!

https://www.medialens.org/

https://www.truthdig.com/author/chris_hedges/

https://www.corbettreport.com/

https://thesaker.is/

https://thoughtmaybe.com/about/

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Tristan Perich

Composer www.tristanperich.com

Here is a rather random selection of 10 of my favorite tracks of 2019, mostly courtesy Spotify recommendations over the year...

Full playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6OUSFLqLsAwhRQRF44yxWN?si=r33XRUuGR_iIOZHg4thuyA

Lechuga Zafiro: Para Abajo feat Matmos & Seba TC https://open.spotify.com/track/2xMnSTIBNZ8AT6w6TdZyU9

Kelpe: A Year and a Day https://open.spotify.com/track/4ANoLzEjtGOBl5qCvEiLov

Shida Shahabi: All In Circles https://open.spotify.com/track/5qMnq88JPMJQ81x5szpN3t

The Vernon Spring: Strength of a Young Man https://open.spotify.com/track/0zQUqR1UcXoPRSrTt0WuPs

Dessert: Thunderbird https://open.spotify.com/track/5rAguSvXxyo5zBq9a5RQWd

Yves V w/ Icona Pop: We Got That Cool (Robert Falcon & Jordan Jay Remix) https://open.spotify.com/track/1lEtudJvZNiibWzXc5m4mh

Selena Gomez: Look At Her Now https://open.spotify.com/track/4yI3HpbSFSgFZtJP2kDe5m

Masahiro Sugaya: Umi No Sunatsubu https://open.spotify.com/track/43egCanD1UNNvoCo2K4veC

Konradsen: Baby Hallelujah https://open.spotify.com/track/6TBnYhxTzSiiVmMBjpZ3gH

Slow Magic: Girls (DJ Clap Remix) https://open.spotify.com/track/31Sdj7aF1h4emCJtkxdy1A

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James Ilgenfritz

Composer https://infrequentseams.com/

James Ilgenfritz's favorite witnessed events, by month:

Hilma af Klint: Paintings for the Future (January, Guggenheim) Anaïs Maviel: who is this ritual for and from? (February, Roulette) Roscoe MItchell, SPACE, Wavefield Ensemble (March, Park Avenue Armory) Blank Forms: Nadah El Shazly (April, Brooklyn Music School) Barre Phillips Solo (May, Zurcher Gallery) Heiner Goebbels: Everything That Happened And Would Happen (June, Park Avenue Armory) Zodiac Saxophone Quartet: Charles Waters, Ras Moshe Burnett, Claire Daly, Lee Odom (July, Scholes St) Tie: Judith Berkson: Partial Memories & Juho Laitinen: Robert Ashley's The Wolfman (August, Ostrava Days, Czech Republic) Zeena Parkins / William Winant / Ikue Mori (September, The Stone) Vinnie Golia / Bobby Bradford Quartet (October, Edgefest in Ann Arbor) LA Philharmonic: Wubbels, Macklay, Sabat, Smith, Perich (Los Angeles, November) Art Ensemble Of Chicago (December, Washington, DC)

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Carl Michael Von Hausswolff

Artist / Composer

https://cmvonhausswolff.net/

10 special artists of 2019 in no specific order: • Hildur Guðnadóttir - her film music • sunn o))) - their Life Metal and Pyroclasts albums • Ilpo Väisänen - his concert in Stockholm • Cindy van Acker - her choreographic work • Jónsi & Alex - their old Riceboy Sleeps album and 2019 tour • Swans - their leaving meaning album • Flowers Must Die - their Där Blommor Dör album • Bigert & Bergström - their climate awareness art • Vanessa Sinclair & Carl Abrahamsson - all their work during 2019 • Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Tim Story - their Lunz 3 album

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Ryan Martin

Label Boss, Dais Records

www.daisrecords.com

Richard Youngs & Raül Refree "All Hands Around the Monument" Sarah Davachi "Pale Bloom" James Hoff "HOBO UFO (v. Chernobyl)" Wojciech Rusin ‎"The Funnel" Caterina Barbieri "Ecstatic Computation" Solange "When I Get Home" Kali Malone "The Sacrificial Code" Deathprod "Occulting Disk" Vatican Shadow "Kuwaiti Airforce" Ben Vida "Reducing The Tempo To Zero" JPEGMAFIA "All My Heroes Are Cornballs" Dean Hurley "Anthology Resource Vol. II: Philosophy of Beyond" Sean McCann "Puck" Oren Ambarchi "Simian Angel" Tyler, The Creator "IGOR" Helm "Chemical Flowers" JAB "Erg Herbe" Emptyset "Blossoms" E-Saggila "My World, My Way" Jacob Kirkegaard "Black Metal Square" Boy Harsher "Careful"

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Weasel Walter

Composer/performer / label head https://weaselwalter.bandcamp.com/

2019 was far from my favorite year. Regardless, I managed to release not one, but two new double albums by The Flying Luttenbachers (as well as two European tours with the unit) in addition to the usual slew of improvised music gigs and releases, and co-ordinating and producing an archival release of vintage NYC weirdness (Ozone). I also rocked Mexico City with Lydia Lunch Retrovirus, played a ridiculous gig with Encenathrakh, and disbanded Cellular Chaos (for now, at least).

When I become obsessed (or re-obsessed with something), it usually leads to a ton of proselytizing Facebook status posts. Combing my 2019 posts, it seems that my musical obsessions this year weren't very highbrow. Ha ha ha. Yes, I'm super into Xenakis, Cecil Taylor and whatever else, but dumber music can supply great creature comfort, and I guess I needed that in large amounts, so that's what it was. Sometimes badass modernists have to take time out to stay in bed all day and read comics because it's a hard cold world out there.

Weasel Walter top 10 musical obsessions of 2019 1. Kid Creole and the Coconuts (1980-1985 era) 2. Redd Kross 3. The Saints "I'm Stranded" 4. Jane Aire and the Belvederes 5. Miles Davis 1972-1975 6. Khanate "Things Viral 7. Mandy Zone & Ozone "Live at Max's Kansas City 1981" 8. Mayhem "Grand Declaration of War" 9. Comedy Bang Bang Episode #554 w/ Middleditch, Sanz 10. Weezer "Pinkerton"

Weasel Walter worst thing about 2019

1. Windows 10

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C.Spencer Yeh

Composer / Performer https://twitter.com/cspenceryeh?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor

Ten live music highlights of 2019 - The Brandon Lopez Trio (Lopez/Steve Baczkowski/Gerald Cleaver) at Fridman Gallery, June 18 - DeForrest Brown Jr., Pennies From Heaven series at CONTROL, January 15 - Charmaine Lee, Nothing Changes at Saint Vitus, January 30 - Bloodyminded at Apartment 202, December 14 - Longmont Potion Castle live QnA, Spectacle Theater, March 23 - Joshua Abrams & Natural Information Society, Roulette, July 1 - Helm, Elsewhere, September 21 - Korn, Radiohead, Red Light District, October 26 - Mdou Moctar, Max Fish, September 1 - Mayo Thompson plays "Corky's Debt to His Father," Le Poisson Rouge, December 8

Speed round – five various still on the mind at the end of 2019 - Charlotte Moorman / Nam June Paik long sleeve t-shirt, Boot Boyz - Acacia leaf omelet and shrimp in sour curry, Jitlada, Los Angeles - Lynnée Denise, presentation for Omniaudience (Side Two) presented by Triple Canopy/Nikita Gale/Hammer Museum at Coaxial Arts, May 4 - PARASITE (2019) - ANIARA (2018)

Also, Spectacle Theater turns ten in 2020 and you should really come visit us.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

DJ Food

Artist / composer / DJ / curator

www.djfood.org

Music / podcasts: Pye Corner Audio - Hollow Earth LP (Ghost Box) Various - Corroded Circuits EP 12" (Downfall Recordings) Chris Moss Acid - Heavy Machine 12" (Balkan Vinyl) King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Fishing For Fishes LP (Flightless) Pictogram - Trace Elements cassette (Miracle Pond) Vanishing Twin - The Age of Immunology LP (Fire Records) Big Mouth podcast (various) (Acast) Beans - Triptych LP (Gamma Proforma) Roisin Murphy - Incapable single (Skint) Ebony Steel Band - Pan Machine LP (Om Swagger) People Like Us - The Mirror LP (Discrepant) Coastal County - Coastal County LP (Lomas) Adam Buxton podcast (various) (Acast) Ghost Funk Orchestra - A Song For Paul LP (Karma Chief) Jon Brooks - Emotional Freedom Techniques LP (Cafe Kaput) King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Organ Farmer (from Infest the Rat's Nest LP) (Flightless) Jane Weaver - Fenella LP (Fire Records) Polypores - Brainflowers cassette (Miracle Pond)

Design / packaging: Pepe Deluxé - The Surrealist Woman lathe cut 7" (Catskills) Various - Science & Technology ERR Rec Library Vol.2 (ERR Records) DJ Pierre presents ACID 88 vol. III LP (Afro Acid) Mark Ayres plays Wendy Carlos - Kubrick 7" (Silva Screen) Tomorrow Syndicate - Citizen Input 10" (Polytechnic Youth) The Utopia Strong - S/T LP (Rocket Recordings) Jarvis - Sunday Service LP (ACE records) Andy Votel - Histoire D'Horreur cassette (Hypocrite?) Sculpture - Projected Music 5" zoetrope picture disc (Psyché Tropes) Lapalux - Amnioverse LP (Brainfeeder) Hieroglyphic Being - Synth Expressionism / Rhythmic Cubism LP (On The Corner Records)

Film / TV: Sculpture - Meeting Our Associates (Plastic Infinite) This Time with Alan Partridge (BBC) Avengers: Endgame (Disney/Marvel) Imaginary Landscapes - Sam Campbell (Vinyl Factory) What We Do In The Shadows (BBC2) The Mandalorian (Disney+)

Books / Comics / Magazines: Beastie Boys Book - Mike Diamond & Adam Horowitz (Spiegel & Grau) Cosmic Comics - A Kevin O'Neill Miscellany (Hibernia Books) Electronic Sound magazine (Pam Com. Ltd) Moebius - 40 Days In The Desert (expanded edition) (Moebius Productions) Rock Graphic Originals - Peter Golding w. Barry Miles (Thames & Hudson) 2000AD / Judge Dredd Megazine (Rebellion) Silver Surfer Black - Donny Cates/Tradd Moore (Marvel) Help - Simon Amstell (Square Peg) The Scarfolk Annual - Richard Littler (William Collins) Wrappers Delight - Jonny Trunk (Fuel)

Gigs / Events: Vanishing Twin @ Prince of Wales Pub, Brighton Stereolab @ Concorde 2, Brighton People's Vote March 23rd March, London Wobbly Sounds book launch @ Spiritland, London Confidence Man @ The Electric, Brixton, London Mostly Jazz Funk & Soul Festival, Moseley, Birmingham Bluedot Festival, Jodrell Bank, Manchester HaHa Sounds Collective play David Axelrod's Earth Rot @ Tate Exchange, London School of Hypnosis play In C @ Cafe Oto, London Palace Electrics, Antenna Studios, London The Delaware Road, New Zealand Farm, Salisbury Breaking Convention closing party, Greenwich, London Jonny Trunk & Martin Green's Hidden Library @ Spiritland, Southbank, London Negativland / People Like Us @ Cafe Oto, London HaHa Sound Collective plays the David Axelrod songbook @ The Church of Sound, London, Sculpture, Janek Schaefer, Mariam Rezaei + the 26 turntable ensemble @ The Old Baths, Hackney, London Vanishing Twin & Jane Weaver's Fenella @ Studio 9294, Hackney Wick, London

Exhibitions: Sister Corita Kent @ House of Illustration, London, Augustinbe Kofie @ Stolen Space, London, Victor Vasarely @ Pompidou Centre, Paris, Mary Quant @ V&A Museum, London, Stanley Kubrick @ The Design Museum, London, Tim Hunkin's Novelty Automation Museum, London, Keith Haring retrospective @Tate, Liverpool, Nam June Paik, Tate Modern, London, Takis @ Tate Modern, London, Shepard Fairy @ Stolen Space, London, Damien Hirst 'Mandalas' at the White Cube, London, Bridget Riley @ The Hayward, London, Museum of Neo-liberalism, Lewisham, London.

#playlist #DJ Food #JG Thirlwell #C.Spencer Yeh #Weasel Walter #Ryan Martin #dais records #Carl Michael Von Hausswolff #James Ilgenfritz #Matt Johnson #The THe #Tristan Perich #2019 year in review

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diningpageantry · 5 years

Text

Dances

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672919/chapters/44712844

Chapter 3/12 of Proximity (The Collision of Lonely Men)

Word Count: 2019

Chapter Summary: School events dig up old scars for both Simon and Baz alike.

The room reeks of fresh linoleum flooring and teenage cologne. It's bright--the lights fade in and out of aggressive tints of pinks and blues and greens. I don't know what else to expect from a school dance.

Granted, it's the first one I've ever been to, so I didn't plan on expecting much, anyway. Still, clearly not the greatest time, nor the greatest company, either.

I tried to protest my co-chaperone. Begged Penny to do it, or to help me find someone who's willing (since I still know next to no-one), but everyone's reaction was the same.

“Why the hell would I want to chaperone with Basilton?”

Which is, roughly, the same reason I've been trying desperately to get out of it. It isn't that I don't want to be at the dance, it's the concept that I'm stuck beside this prick all night.

In actuality, he doesn't need to be exactly beside me, just in eyesight. Currently, we're leaned up against the back wall, separated only by the snack table (which I keep bombarding every time I feel). He's well dressed--purple patterned blazer with a cream button up and the same coloured deep purple slacks. He must've polished his shoes, because they're shining with every flash of the changing lights.

I feel a bit dull next to him. I had a black button down tucked back in my dresser, and decent black trousers, so I somehow managed to find an outfit that makes me stand out the absolute least while simultaneously making me look like a waiter.

He doesn't look at me--or at least, I don't see him looking at me. The darkness of the room makes it difficult to see anything, and even though I can swear I feel his eyes on me, every time I look at him his eyes are forward. It's unnerving.

I can't do this cold silence of his anymore. I can't keep staring at him, hoping he'll talk. It’s driving me off the deep end.

My head lazily turns forward, focusing on the clustered dancing groups of students and their guests alike. They spin and laugh together, enjoying one of their few dances of the year.

I let myself breathe, thinking over each word before they start spilling from my lips. “You know,” I begin, steadying my attention on the elevated stage on which the DJ is set up. “I've never been to a proper dance before. Not like this.”

There it is again--the feeling of his attention on me. This time, I don't dare to check, fearing it'll drive him away. Honestly, I'm too scared to keep talking unless he does first.

The thump of the new age pop music drowns us both into a suppressed silence until he manages our a brief answer.

“Any particular reason?”

I couldn't be more relaxed by his voice.

“Well, I'd only been dating one girl through most of my teen years and into uni,” I start, pushing up my sleeves absentmindedly. “Agatha, or Aggie. I didn't have much else close friend-wise, besides her. Though, saying that out loud is a bit sad now. Anyway, the issue was, though, that she didn't like big public displays, you know?”

I dare a glance at him, and catch him staring back, eyes unwavering. It sets me off track for a second, catching the steadiness of his gaze with mine for an extended second momentarily. I turn back forward, adjusting my shoulders. “She liked the dresses and all the glitz--after all, her family is pretty damn well off--but she never liked us being us in public. Especially not school dances.

“I, on the other hand, didn't have that money. I knew I could borrow her dad's suit, and I always did for holiday events, but it made me feel too vulnerable to go out to a dance. As if everyone else knew it wasn't my jacket, because you can't hide that there. At the Christmas bullshit, you could blend me in, but in a place where everyone knew me? Felt like a joke.”

He goes silent for a long minute, head turning away from me and onto the spot I'm trained to in the crowd.

When he doesn't immediately answer, I get a bit scared, and start rambling more. “Aggie wasn't terrible. She and I just weren't right, you know? I was just with her for so long that. I don't know, I guess I wanted her to be right? I'd tried and tried towards the end, but it was dying. Or, I don't know, it'd been dead? I don't know if it was ever there. She’s just so pretty, and I thought ‘There she is. The ideal’, you know?”

“Stop rambling about your heterosexuality, Snow. It's unappealing.”

This time, I use the silence to stare at him, following the bobbing of his neck as he swallows. He stares off, seeming unaffected but shockingly harmful. I let it drop, my throat feeling tight as I watch over him.

It feels like an eternity that he just stares, spacing off into the crowd.

At first, I feel like he's going to tell me off, like he usually does. I don't know why he's so bitter--my old therapist would probably say some shit about coping, but I doubt that. Most posh boys cope over dumb shit, like daddy stealing their cigs.

He's got the look of someone with a “Woe is me” attitude. I wish I could shake it off him--jolt him into a new person.

Shaking him is wrong, though. And so is what I'm thinking, probably, but my shaking-thoughts are a solid distraction for other thoughts trying to occupy my mind. Thoughts like how the glittering lights catch the sharp greys of his eyes, or how lovely the falling shadows on his young face frame him in such a picturesque way.

He seems to have the mind of someone twenty years his senior, but the body of a man in his mid-20s. I wonder how all of his thoughts are carried--chaos of a young adult, or filed away like the proper Englishman he was seemingly raised to be.

It makes me feel sick, knowing how gorgeous he is. Unfair. It's unfair how pretty this man is. I want to clench my fists and pound them down on the table, asking why bitter people get model bodies and faces.

He's so stunning that even in the slow drop of his jaw, he remains flawless.

Wetting his lips, he goes to speak, not leaving his forward gaze. “I've never been to one either.” His voice comes out slow--rhythmic. Like a growing tune, built up from his long time's hesitation. “I wish I could say I have, but I haven't.”

“Why?” I ask a bit unnervingly quickly, studying his expression. It doesn't drop, or drag up to the usual sneer. Rather, it's keeping its stone-cold composure.

“I went to a posh all boys boarding school growing up, like this. My father sent me off to be out of his hair--happened every year since I was eleven. There was this dance for the older students that I'd dreamt of for years. The outfit, the hair, the dance, even. I thought it'd be the shining moment of my schooling. My grandiose exit, if I may.

“Except the school had different presumptions over my attendance, for when I went to buy my ticket, they stopped me and told me no same sex couples. I tried to take it up with anybody who would listen--I wasn't going with a date, after all, but with friends. Still, they stopped me from getting in. Said they had the authority to stop me, and, of course, they won. I never even got a glance in.”

I'm left in a state of shock, blinking as he nonchalantly goes over the event. Even as he finishes, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer, he seems completely unphased by it.

I now worry that his steadiness is a mask, pushing back old angers.

“I'm sorry,” I offer, wondering whether or not I'm the first person who'd ever apologized for it. “I hadn't… I'm… shit that's… I'm sorry, Basilton--”

His hand raises to stop me, and I get a good look at it. He's wearing a thick silver band around his middle finger, and a tinier silver band around his pinkie. Not a usual look for him, but it definitely suits him. Makes him more dramatic than usual.

His palm dances pink in the light, falling into the harsh shadow we're contrasted in. Somehow, it all feels grey.

He doesn't say another word. Just stops me and stares off, mind miles away from us. He has to be a borderline genius somewhere in there, given the sharp tongue, but the question as to where is relevant. Where is he when he doesn’t speak?

Not here, apparently. I wonder if, perhaps, it's out on the dance floor with all the students. It's swaying and laughing--having the time of its life. Just far away from us here.

I hold my hand back, only reaching between us to occasionally grab a handful of pretzels on occasion. He seemingly doesn't take notice, spacing off and staring out into the crowd.

Once the event wraps up and the students clear out, we both quietly thank the custodians before starting the walk back to the dorms. It isn't a long walk, and thankfully the sidewalk is relatively wide--just wide enough that we have a foot in distance between us. It's not a bad night. There’s the dullest shine on the pavement, remnants of the day's long rain. In fact, everything's got that early-fall coating. Even the air has a crispness to it, despite the waterlogged piles of decaying leaves.

I try to look at him, hoping he's enjoying the moment as well, but he's still flattened in expression. Cold. Still.

Even as I unlock the front door, struggling slightly with the keys (and the old, fussy locks), he's completely blank. All except for the seemingly natural downturn of his lips.

He steps in before me, and I pause, watching him walk halfway into the living room before clearing my throat. “Hey, uh,” I start, fiddling with the keys in my hand. He stops, too, and turns on his heel. He's got a good few inches to stare down from, but I'm not afraid to look up to speak. Not after what he said earlier.

“I'm really sorry you never had the opportunity to go to a dance. I sound like a bit of a dick, since I just didn't take my open chance to. You… you should've been able to. I'm sorry.”

He stares down at me for what feels like a minute, eyes traveling in the slightest as he takes his time, looking over me. Looking into me, it feels. I'm trying to be vulnerable, goddammit, and it's like he's just waiting for me to add more.

I might as well ended with calling him a cock, because that's normal. That's what we've become. A bitter spat--a back and forth. Like the shittiest married couple on the face of the earth.

I worry I may've spooked him now, since his face contorts to its usual mockery, going for the low blow. He's all set up for it now--a dark flat, the only light coming from the window and the open door. It's like his cave built to fucking haunt me.

He sort if looks like a vampire. Creature of the night bullshit, and all. Maybe I'll call him Dracula--or Vlad the Impaler (is that homophobic? I don't think so--I don't know? Anyone can impale. That’s equality.)

His hair falls into his face as he stands more upright, adjusting his jacket. You'd think it makes him more human, but it makes him look darker--brooding. Helps with the vampy aesthetic.

His lips part, and I brace for impact before he melts down slightly, shoulders slumping as he exhales. Part of me wonders if he's about to throw my for a loop, until he starts speaking softer than he ever has before. “You should have gotten a chance to have your dance, too.”

#carry on #snowbaz #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #mine #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #baz pitch #simon #baz #proximity (the collision of lonely men)#p(tcolm)

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poshlifeeventdj · 7 years

Photo

Thank you to all of the #brides and #grooms who stopped by our booth today at the @wedexperience #bridalshow at EagleBank Arena. The #engagementseason is in full effect now and we hope you pick us for your wedding. . Get Down to the Mixtape of Your Life. Find your perfect wedding #DJ with us. #PartyMoreSmileMore with #PoshLifeDJ. Instagram: http://ift.tt/2n0JSj8

#Posh Life Entertainment #Posh Life Event DJ #Wedding DJ #Event DJ #Club DJ #Party DJ #DJ Geometrix

0 notes

cescalr · 6 years

Note

ME would like to suggest some fluffy willoughby/don

Don had invited Will over for Christmas.

Their year at Whitewater College, a boarding school purely for sixth-form students, had been fine. so much as any year after what happened at Slaughter could be fine. And it was fine because Clemise was in some other country, and Don had taken a few months, but he did get over their break-up. And it was fine because Don felt somewhat - he wouldn’t say traumatised by the events of that night, but… he wouldn’t say he didn’t feel in some way terrible about them, even now, if he reminisced too long on what happened.

But. That’s that, really. Don doesn’t dwell too much. You just got’t’deal with this sort’ve thing, y’know? Deal, and move forward.

Anyway. It’s Christmas. There’s no point bringing down the holiday cheer by thinking on that.

[Fic continued under break, or you can read it on Ao3; my profile is linked on my blog!! I’d put it here but tumblr is stupid and external links break tags.]

Don looked over from his place lying down to where Will was, still fast asleep on the mattress they’d set out for him. It was early morning, still – the light coming through the blinds in lines, brightening up parts of the room and, unfortunately, shining straight into Don’s eyes.

“Fuck,” Don muttered to himself, as he sat up in order to get away from the too-bright sunlight. “Too early. Shit.”

Well. Not that early; the sun didn’t rise until it was actually morning in winter, unlike the bullshit you got during summer – but still. Regardless, Don hadn’t been quiet enough, it seemed, because Will stirred.

After he blinked away sleep, Will seemed to register what day it was.

“Merry Christmas, Ducky,” He said, as he sat up. Don had tried to get him to use the proper bed and let Don sleep on the mattress instead, but Will had refused.

Truthfully, he wasn’t so bothered about that. It meant no springs digging into his back while he tried to sleep, after all.

“Merry Chris’mas,” Don replied, “Or, It would be, if y’d stop callin’ me Ducky.”

“We’ve had this argument for over a year, Ducky.” Will smiled. “You’re too late, it’s stuck.”

Don grumbled lightly and without heat as he scooted to the end of the bed then stood (so he didn’t end up standing on Will – Don’s bedroom isn’t very big), stretched and moved out of the room.

Once he was back from the bathroom, Will was dressed.

“Y’ever ‘eard of a ‘lazy day’?” Don asked, dryly. “Y’know… what Chris’mas is t’mos’ people?”

“I have,” Will said, plainly.

“Alrigh’ then,” Don rolled his eyes. “C’mon. Breakfast.”

They were home for Christmas, of course, but that didn’t mean the teens at Whitewater didn’t throw a week-long event – mostly drinking and partying in the art department’s basement, thrown by the drama club, because of course – in preparation.

“Donnie!” A girl, rather drunk, called out. “Blakey, Donnie! Over here!”

“Lauren,” Don replied. Will greeted in kind, and the two made their way through the crowd to the girl and the rest of the group.

“Neither of you are drunk yet, and it’s five somewhere!” She exclaimed, shoving two plastic cups of some alcoholic beverage into their hands. “Also, Danny got his sister to cough up the you-know-what, so we’ve got some brownies if you want any!”

“They only just arrived, Lauren, stop trying to get our friends addicted to pot,” Sam said, sighing, as he rolled his eyes. He was sat on a free stool, a book in one hand, and a water bottle gripped tightly and protectively in the other.

“Chill, Sam,” Lauren said, loud enough to be heard over the pounding of whatever EDM mess the ‘DJ’ had decided to play.

“I’ll chill when you stop trying to spike my drink, bestie,” Sam said, dryly.

“You know I love you!” Lauren sing-songed, then grinned. “Oh, my girl’s over there – Sammy, dear, show these lot where the food an’ shit is, yeah?” And with that, she was off – Don lost her in the crowd mere seconds after she’d entered it.

Sam rolled his eyes. “C’mon then,” Sam said, standing. “Food’s on the other side.”

As they walked, Don spotted various different people he’d met over his first year at Whitewater. There was Alex, Lillian, Sabrina, Derek – to name a few.

(Of course, there was Jesse, Zak, Michael – but… well, they didn’t really count as much. Though, Zak was talking with Alex; his cousin. Maybe he’d end up a better person in the new year? Only time would tell, Don supposed.)

“Y’ gotta have fun!” Lillian said, grinning. Sabrina slung her arms around their shoulders. “An’ us homosexuals have to stick together,” She added, swinging them around to face the drinks table instead of the buffet. “meaning - I need some money; buy my wares.”

“I recommend the ecstasy,” Lillian chimed in.

“You would,” Will said, smiling, as he carefully extracted himself from Sabrina’s grip. Don stepped away, and walked over to the table. “Five o’clock somewhere,” He said, shrugging.

“Right on,” Derek grinned, appearing out of nowhere. “I heard drugs.”

“Wanker,” Sabrina rolled her eyes. “I thought you were off with your mates?”

“And miss my main friendos?” He laughed, loudly. “No-way, broseph! I’m tryin’ t’ be a bit more sportsmanly, y’know? More of a team player.”

“They’re not gonna let you on the lacrosse team, Derek,” Lillian said, “Not after last time.”

Derek shrugged. “I can try,” He said, solemnly, and then was gone again.

“Jesus Christ,” Sabrina muttered, rubbing at her forehead. “Anyone else get a headache from his sheer presence?”

“I’m still trying to figure out his species,” Sam said. “I’ve figured Alien, but what kind…” He mused.

“Doesn’t matter,” Lillian dismissed. “Drink! Food! Illicit substances to fuel our various addictions, be they basic-bitch or hardcore asshat! Let’s go!”

Don rolled his eyes, and downed his drink.

And that had been the main theme of it.

So. Don had been home for a fair few days, now; Whitewater let you home for the week before, of, and after Christmas, and Don had made the most of it. It’d been a real long time since he’d seen what few mates he’d had back home – what with Slaughterhouse and then joining Whitewater after being cooped up at home for his mandated week-long ‘recovery’ period, after which he was supposedly supposed to be all better now, off you trot, and then the Christmas he’d spent at home with his mum as the actual ‘recovery’ period, according to her, and then another whole few months before summer, but then his mates had been out of the country, so then it was another couple months until now but - whatever. He’d hung out with what mates he had left, that first week, meaning Josh and Terri and James – Josh’s girlfriend and brother respectively. They played video games and smoked in the empty park and pretty much did exactly the same sort of shit they’d been doing when his mum had been wholly convinced that he was ‘depressed’.

Then Josh and Terri and James went off to Ireland for Christmas, and – Will came to stay. For Christmas week.

And then Will got a phone call, and now he was just going to stay until college started up again, and go back to Whitewater with Don. Logically. Practically.

Don – didn’t really need to ask.

Anyway.

“Ah hope you boys are ‘ungry,” His mum said, plating them and herself a full English. “Chris’mas is the only time ah bother, so you both better enjoy it!”

“Thanks, mum,” Don said, and she smiled and squeezed his shoulder lightly as she walked past. “Thank you,” Will said.

(“Thank you for having me over, M-“ Will started.

Babs’ smile dimmed. “Babs is fine, don’t you worry yourself with formality,” She said, warmly. “Come on in, it’s freezing!”)

“Eat up,” Babs encouraged. “You’re both growing boys, and we’ve presents to open!” She smiled, conspiratorially; they’d gone out Christmas shopping with her individually, and so she knew what they’d gotten each other, and appeared to be having the time of her life with this knowledge.

Don ate his breakfast.

“So. This one of the posh twats you replaced your old mates with, then, eh Don?”

“Josh,” Don greeted. “Bit of a dickhead but the right sort.” He told Will. “Will, Josh.” Don gestured.

“Willoughby Blake,” Will said, “And not too much of a twat, I wouldn’t say. You?”

“Josh Blythe, and I ain’t no dickhead to good people, y’ prat,” Josh said, scowling a little at Don. He fished a pack of smokes out of his pocket. “Fag?”

Will smirked. “Yes;” He said, “I also, do indeed, smoke.”

“Cool,” Josh said, tossing him one. “Terri’s my girl, now, by the way.” He told Don.

“Terri… Blythe?” Don cracked a smile. “That’s a bit awkward, innit?”

“Oi, sod off,” Josh flipped him the bird, then set about lighting his own cig. “Blythe’s a plenty common name.”

“I wonder why…” Will trailed off, leaning against the low stone wall.

“Yeah yeah,” Josh rolled his eyes. “Nothin’ James hasn’t said yet.” He scowled slightly. “Fucken’ incest jokes… made by my own goddamn brother…”

“How’s everythin’ at St. Dunstan’s anyway?” Don asked, changing the topic.

“David’s still a right prat,” Josh said, thankful for the change in track. “Ah heard George is expectin’, but she could just have the flu. Maybe she’s dyin, ah don’ fucken’ kno’. We never talk, do we? Fucken – anyway, Muhammad got into that right fancy college, so he fucked off, along with his family, and jus’ about ev’ryone else ‘as gone t’ some other sixth-form. Yanno, ‘cept me, ma brother and Terri. There are some new arseholes, but they stick to each other.”

“Dunstan’s was always a shithole anyway,” Don said.

“Damn right,” Josh stood, dropped his cigarette to the floor and put it out with the heel of his trainer. “You gotten rusty at Halo since ya fucked off t’ the posh south or what?”

“I did better than you las’ week, y’ dick’ead,” Don said, dropping off of the wall. “C’mon. Y’ever played Halo, Will?”

“It’s fucking freezing.” Will said. “Why are we walking around the town centre?”

“’Cause we got nothin’ else t’do, obviously,” Don said, stomping through the snow. “An ah wan’t’ get an idea of wha’ ah wan’t’ get for my friends, you twat.”

“Should have done this earlier on, then,” Will said, glancing around. “Most places are closed.”

“’Course they’re fuckin’ closed, it’s a Sunday,” Don said, rolling his eyes. “Doesn’ mean there ain’t shit in the windows, y’ twat.”

“Of course,” Will said, glancing around again. “What’s that?” He pointed.

“Fuckin expensive piece of shit, that’s what tha’ is,” Don said, but he walked over to the shop Will was pointing at anway. “Never been inside – ah think they’d chase me off.” He said, dryly. “Smell the fuckin working class on me or some shit, like fuckin’ bloodhounds.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ducky,” Will said.

“There’s fuckin’ diamonds on those ten-thousand pound and up watches, Willoughby, I ain’t going anywhere near that shit.”

“Come on.” Will said, “It’s the only place that’s open.”

“The fuckin’ Macdonalds is open, Willoughby – oh, for fuck’s sake, fine.”

Don walked after Will, who’d already entered the store.

Don looked around, as he caught up with his friend.

“There’s perfectly fuckin’ good watches elsewhere, Will,” Don said. “What a fuckin waste of ten grand, Christ on a bike…”

“I’ve seen better watches,” Will agreed. “But we’re looking at the ones with price tags, which is stupid. Come on. They usually put the better things near the back.”

“The ones with – Willoughby,” Don said, “What –“

“Here we are.” Will said, satisfied.

The watches did not have diamonds on them, which was preferable – but they didn’t have price tags, which was worrying.

“Why the fuck would you look at the ones without price tags?” Don asked.

“Because you can look at them.” Will said, pointing to the fact that they weren’t hidden behind what seemed like five hundred layers of glass and security measures. “And they’re not particularly garish, are they Ducky?”

“No,” Don said, warily, squinting at the watches. “Ah guess not. But this is pointless, I’m – prob’ly jus’ goin’t’ get a watch where ah got my last one, I mean, it lasted a good while.”

“It lasted a year Ducky, that’s terrible,” Will said. “Mine broke the year before last, but I’d had it for nearly nine by that point, and it broke because I broke it.”

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” Don said. “Perfectly good fuckin’ watch.”

“I am aware of that, yes.” Will frowned at the watches. “Do you like any of them?” He asked.

“Can’t fuckin’ afford any of this shit, can I?” Don asked. “Humour me,” Will said.

Don rolled his eyes and huffed, but did take a proper look at each of the watches in turn.

“That one,” Don said, pointing at a simple black-leather and silver with a white clockface and normal, black numerals and clock hands. “Most normal fuckin’ watch here.”

“Man of simple tastes,” Will smiled. Don elbowed him. “Fuck off. Not all of us are fancy posh twats – hell, I think y’d like a pocket-watch, fuckin – I know you would, you’re like that.”

“Like what?” Will asked.

“A posh, sentimental git, obviously.” Don said. “C’mon, let’s go.” He said.

“My cover’s been blown,” Will said, smiling, and Don rolled his eyes. “Fuck off,” He said, good-naturedly, grinning as they left the store.

Previous Summer:

“How are ya this fine mornin’?”

Don glanced over at Terri. “Not bad,” He said. “You’ll be off t’ Ireland tomorrow, righ’?”

“Nail on the head,” Terri said, dropping down onto the floor beside him. “Josh’s scramblin’, try’na pack all his crap. James is off, prob’ly somewhere with George.”

“Thought she had the flu,” Don said.

(George nearly always ‘had the flu’.)

“Those bitches are getting fucking married, y’know tha’,” Terri snorted. “Or haven’t ya seen the loving couple? No fuckin’ flu or baby rumours are gonna keep ‘em off each other’s backs.”

“Guess not,” Don said. “Smoke?”

“Nah.” Terri waved a hand. “Try’na quit.”

Don snorted. “Bet Josh loved that.”

“He’s a dick’ead, but you knew tha’,” She laughed. “God. Love ‘im tho’.”

“Yeah.” Don said.

“You ‘ave a girl?” Terri glanced at him.

“Did,” Don said. “Clemsie.”

“Clemsie?” Terri shook her head. “Posh fuckin’ princess?”

“Don’t,” Don said, shortly. “She had to move country, with ‘er fam’ly. We broke up ‘cause o’ tha’.”

“Shit, Don, sorry.” Terri sighed. She clapped him on the shoulder, then leaned over to look him in the eye. “Still. Better to be friends than to lose everythin’ over a long-distance piece of shit relationship, righ’?”

Don thought of Meredith and Audrey, and winced.

“Definitely,” He said. “We video call. It’s – not that… we didn’ get t’be together very long. Tha’elps, ah guess.”

“Helps a lot.” Terri shook her head, then flopped back against the wall. “’Elps a fucking lot.”

“Yeah,” Don said.

“Y’make any friends at those posh schools o’ yours?” Terri asked. “Other than that Clemsie chick?”

“Kay, Will.” Don said. “Lauren, Sam, Sabrina, Lillian, Derek, Daniel-“

“See, fuckin’ knew you’d thrive there,” She said, shoving him in the shoulder and grinning. “Always though’ y’ deserved better than fuckin St Dunstan’s.”

“So do you lot,” Don protested. “It’s a shithole, nobody deserves that.”

“Victims of fuckin’ circumstance, the lot of us,” She said, slumping back. “But I mean it.” She turned her head and looked at him. “Y’ the best o’ all o’ us, y’ prat. Accept it. Well. I mean, Muhammad’s a medical fuckin’ genius, but that’s a whole different ballpark and he’s a hopeless twat mostly, so I don’t count him If I did, he’d be the best no question – but yanno. I’m comfortin’ you, ‘ere.”

“Thanks,” Don said, dryly.

“No problem.” She grinned, and shoved him lightly in the shoulder again. “C’mon. Dad recently fixed up an old foosball table o’ his fam’ly’s, an’ I wan’na see if you’re any better than Josh or his bro,” She clapped him on the shoulder. “An’ maybe you can tell me all ‘bout your new friends, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Don said. “Sure.”

“Terri?” Don asked.

“Yeah? Oh, Don,” She unlatched the door and opened it. “Come inside, it’s fucking cold. God, I hate winter,” She slammed the door shut behind him.

“Do you know anywhere I could get a pocket watch?” Don asked.

“At an affordable price? Yes, of course, never doubt me,” She spun on her heel. “Or, rather, never doubt my dad. Dad!” She yelled.

“Wha’?” A voice boomed back.

“Y’know where we could find a custom watchmaker’s that ain’t damn expensive?”

“Yeah. I’ll drive yeh. Say ‘hello’ t’ Don for meh!”

“How the fuck does he know?” Don shook his head.

“The man has magic, I swear to god. It fuckin’ annoys me I got mum’s genes in that matter.” Terri grumbled, and walked into the living room. She dropped onto the couch, and Don followed suit.

“Is this for that boy o’ yours?” Terri asked, grinning lazily as she leaned back on the couch.

“He’s – why d’y’ have t’put it like tha’?” Don leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“’Cause I like to make people question things,” She said, “Obviously.” Terri stood and moved into the kitchen, then returned with two cokes. “Here,” She tossed him a can. “It’s shit but mum’s addicted me to it, damn the woman.”

Terri dropped onto the beanbag. “Here’s to a very fuckin’ Merry Christmas, y’ prat,” She grinned as she lifted the can in imitation of a toast.

“Hear hear,” Don opened the drink and returned the toast.

“Dad’ll be done in a few minutes,” Terri said, “But – in all seriousness, is this your prezzie for Willoughby or what?”

“Yeah,” Don said. “Fuckin’ git’s as fancy and sentimental as it gets, so…”

“Y’ sentimental y’self, ya prat,” She said, fondly. “Which is why we’re goin’ the whole nine fuckin’ yards, ‘cause a custom one’s a better fuckin’ gift than any stock shit. Better quality, usually, too, ‘cause the maker actually cares about the fuckin' end product.”

“I’m not fuckin’ sentimental, much,” Don said.

“No, y’ just sappy, y’ fuckin prat,” Terri sunk down into the beanbag chair. “Don’ lie to me, Don, I’ve known ya for nearly our whole lives, mate. And I’m older, so I win.”

“If I’m sappy y’re twelve,” Don put the coke can down on the floor, unfinished.

“And proud of it,” She grinned at him. “Only way I can win arguments, I ain’t no good with words.”

“How’d you do in English?” Don asked.

Terri pursed her lips and sighed. “Fuckin failed it, didn’t ah?” She glowered at nothing. “Good fuckin’ thing I can drop out ah sixth form and jus’ go for a level four apprenticeship, huh? Or was it three…” She trailed off, frowning as she thought.

“Eh, whatever.” She chucked her empty coke can into the bin. “Score,” She grinned. “Anway,” Terri turned her attention back to Don. “You’re a total sap, I’ve got evidence. Point is, I’m strong-arming you to go the whole nine-fuckin’ yards, because even tho’ I can trust you to do it on yer own, without me you’ll totally get scammed out o’ your money.”

“Terri,” Don said, flatly.

“What? Who out’a the two of us knows trade, huh? Not you, y’git.” She grinned. “Also I wanna know exactly what inscription y’ put on the fuckin’ thing.”

“Fuck off,” Don said, leaning back onto the couch. “Thanks.”

“Mixed messages, there, oh Donald,” Terri grinned, and dodged the cushion he threw at her. She picked it up and put it under her head, her grin turning self-satisfied. “I always win,” She reminded him.

“No you don’t,” Don said. “Remember the trip to Wales, in year eight?”

“We never talk about the trip to Wales in year eight,” Terri said, automatically. “That’s the first rule of our friendship. Right above ‘we don’t talk about Alex Connors.’”

“Noted,” Don said, sitting up. “Which is above ‘there was never a Chase Johnson’.”

“See, he gets it,” Terri grinned at Don. “We keep each others' dirty little secrets, we get along.”

“Blackmail is the only reason we’re friends,” Don said, dryly.

“And don’t you forget it!” She grinned, laughing, and fell backwards onto the beanbag.

“You two. Got t’ get goin’ now.” Her dad said, suddenly appearing at the doorway. How the six-foot-five craftsman managed this had always been and always would remain a mystery.

Don’s started to believe the story that he killed a strange looking wasp that had holed up alone in it’s hive in the attic of a customer’s house and that’s what gave him his strange abilities a lot more since the events at Slaughterhouse.

After all – Meredith’s not dead, and neither is the dog. The dog which looks exactly like the one in the paintings… of a dog that had lived hundreds of years prior.

“We’re ready, come on,” Terri said, standing, and Don followed the two Blythes out of the house.

“Ah, Terri Blythe, it’s been a long time.”

“Heyo, Uncle Terrance,” Terri said, stepping up to the counter. “Ma friend ‘ere – Don, y’ remember? – needs to get a prezzie for his boy.”

“Terri,” Don said, sighing.

“What?” She looked at him. “Fuck off, you idiot. Ah’ve squinted at your act for a week, bitch, I know exactly how you feel about him. Or do we need to talk about Alex?”

“Fuck off,” Don said. “Hullo, Mr. Connolly.”

“Donald Wallace,” The man said, surprised, as he removed his glasses to quickly clean them, then replaced them on his face, mostly all the way down his nose, in order to squint at Don as if he wasn’t sure Don was actually what he was seeing. “My my, it’s been – how long?”

“’Bout a decade, Uncle Terry,” Terri said.

“Indeed.” The man replaced his lens cleaning cloth back into his pocket, like some old-timey handkerchief. “So what brings you both here?”

“Like ah said,” Terri stated, slowly, “He needs to get a present for his friend for Christmas.”

“My dear boy, it’s only four days away!” The elderly man said, agitated, as he went about retrieving various designs and sheets for pricings. “I can make it in that time, of course, and as always you will get the family discount – but you’ve left yourself very little time to plan!”

“Ah only came up with the idea yesterday.” Don winced.

“That’s even worse!” The man came to a stop, the desk that served as the counter piled high with various pieces of paper. “You’ll need to make the decision today, but you can ask for the inscription upon completion, thank the lord above,” The man narrowed his eyes at Don. “And next time, son, figure things out before the deadline!”

“Righ’,” Don said. “Will do.”

“Good.” The man sighed, relieved. “Now. Take a look,” He gestured to the pile, “And tell me which parts of which designs suit best. And remember – family and Christmas discount, so don’t say no for no good reason.”

Don nodded, somewhat awkwardly, as he started rifling through the papers. Terri wandered off, to browse through the clocks, which included watches - pocket and otherwise – lining the walls and displayed, lovingly, across tables.

“Eight years old,” The elderly man shook his head as he muttered. “And now – you’ll be graduating soon, I imagine?”

“There was an incident,” Don said, “At the firs’ sixth-form ah went t’. After tha’, we ‘ad t’ repeat lower sixth at a new place. So, uh. One more year.”

“I see,” The elderly man inspected a watch hung on the wall and frowned, then set about buffing out an invisible scuff mark. “Where did you go?”

“Slaughterhouse School,” Don said, and the man froze.

“In Slaughter,” The man – stated. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Don said. “The School –“

“Blew up, yes, I heard.” The elderly man pursed his lips. “A right shamble. Still, at least you got out safely.” The man turned away from the watch on the wall, then cleaned his glasses – avoided eye contact. “… What really happened?”

Don looked blankly at him.

“I may be old, Donald, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know things.” Terrance squinted at him, then put his glasses back on. “Fracking doesn’t usually cause that sort of damage.”

“Well,” Don said. “They weren’ very –“

“Responsible Frackers, I know,” The man’s nostrils flared. “They give it a bad name, that company. No, what I mean is – stories spread. Legends… an old clockmaker hears things.” The man sighed, and looked at the pictures of his customers on the wall behind the counter.

In a few of them, there was a familiar dog.

“Big fuck off mole rats,” Don said. “We had to blow it up.”

“We?” The man’s head snapped over to Don. “How many people killed them?”

“… Dunno,” Don said. “Mr. ‘Ouseman killed one, mostly, then we beat it the rest o’ the way dead. Then – I used Will’s snuffbox to get another, an’ the lighter Will’d been bequeathed to blow up the school – usin’ the gas,” Don explained. “Clemsie killed a li’le one.”

“I see.” The man paused. “Well. I suppose we’ll see how that turns out eventually.”

“Wha’ d’y’ mean?” Don asked.

“Here.” The man said, instead, handing Don a stack of designs. “Find your friend a pocket watch. And think up an inscription, while you’re at it! Don’t leave that as last minute as you left this! I need to talk to my niece. If you’ll excuse me…” And with that, the old man had bustled him off and walked away, over to Terri who was poking a stuffed cat.

“Merlin died then?” Don heard.

“Not all pets can live forever,” The man sighed. “It’s a burden some must face alone.”

Don looked back up at the pictures.

1891

1912

1925

1956

1993

2001

2014…

Don frowned, then shrugged, and looked down at the designs.

Design 3048: Forever.

Design 246: Eternal.

Design 13: Infinite…

Don raised his eyebrows, then shrugged, and started picking out parts of the designs he thought Will might like.

Previous Summer:

“The Johnsons moved to America?”

“No Idea where they go’ the money either, mate,” James said, leaning back on the couch. Terri, from her place on a cushion on the floor, chuckled. “Inheritance, got’t’ be,” She said, as she dispatched of a few grunts. James nodded as he circle-strafed around a hunter.

“No wonder I ah’ven’ seen Mikey ‘round.” Don said.

“They didn’ tell nobody,” Terri scowled. “Fucken’ Lillian didn’ even bother tellin’ her bes’ friend, the wanker.”

“Lisa cry on your shoulder ‘bout it?” Don asked.

Terri grimaced as she picked up an energy sword, then started running around hitting elites with it. “Yes.” She said, glowering at the TV. “There was snot and everything. Fucken’ wan’ed t’ punch Lil’ for tha’.”

“Can imagine,” Don said.

“’Course y’ could, y’ sap,” James said, and Don elbowed him, which caused him to fail in circle-strafing and get shot.

“Bastard,” James said, elbowing Don back, and Terri laughed, finding an enemy-less corner so James could respawn.

“Willoughby Blake,” Terri said. “Don kno’ yer ‘ere?”

“I have it under good authority that you’ve known him for a very long time,” Will said, “And I was wondering if you could distract him for a – short while, while I go get his Christmas present?”

“Fucken’ell, mate, what’s with posh bastards and waitin’ ‘til the las’ minute?” Terri grumbled, but she stepped inside, and left the door open. Will hesitated before following, and stayed at the door while she put on her boots. “Relax, y’ twit,” She waved a hand, before she started doing up the laces. “I don’ bite.”

“Alright,” Will said, and moved to lean against the wall.

“Da’, I’m off! Seeing the Wallaces!” Terri shouted, as she stood. Terri grabbed her coat off of the stairs, at the end of the bannister, and threw it on. “Fucken’ cold out, innit?” She said, as she walked out of the house. Will followed. “Yes,” He said. “Quite.”

“Post twat,” She said. “You be good to Don, y’ ‘ear meh?”

“I-“

“Don’ even,” Terri warned. “I ‘ate liars. Now go ge’im somethin’ fucken’ nice, and don’ le’im say ‘no’ ‘cause ya spent money on it, ya hear me?”

“Roger that.” Will said, “Ma’am.”

Terri snorted. “Ge’ the fuck out’t’ ‘ere, y’ posh bastard. An’ I expec’ somethin’ nice enough, too, for the good fucken’ advice ah give ya both, y’ blind twits.”

“Initiation’s simple, bitches.” Terri slammed a crate of beer onto the table. “Drink me under, an’ ah’ll respect ya fer life.”

“Y’ for real about this, Terri?” Don asked.

“Well, no, bu’ it’ll ‘elp,” Terri said. “Wha’, col’ feet already, Wallace?”

“No,” He rolled his eyes and gestured with the beer he’d already picked up. “Jus’ remember when Mikey drank you under the table?”

“Not my best momen’, bu’ I’m tryin’ t’ recover from tha’, ‘ere. Whoever ‘andles their drink bes’ wins.”

“Ah know who’s gonna fucken’ lose ‘ere, then.” Don said.

“Fuck off, Ducky,” Will said. Terri grinned.

“Fuck’s sake, Willoughby,” Don downed some of his drink.

“Don, Donald, Duck, Ducky. Ah ge’ it, tha’s cute,” Terri grinned, leaning back on her beanbag. She downed a beer, then slammed the empty can down on the floor. “Pacing’s for wimps,” She announced to the ceiling.

“If y’ say so,” Don said. “’S no’ fuckin’ cute.”

“I’m older, what I say goes, it’s cute,” Terri said. “Get me drunk enough, Blake, mate, an’ I’ll tell ya stories about ‘ow much of a sap ‘e is.”

“Fuck off,” Don said. “Or I’ll bring up Cha-“

“Two can play at tha’ game, Donald Wallace,” Terri said, interrupting, as she reached over for another can.

“I have to say, I am curious,” Will said, supressing a smile of amusement. He was onto his second can.

“Ah-ah,” Terri waved a hand at him. “Y’ get t’ know Don’s embarrassing shit, but ah jus’ met ya. Which means y’ don’ get t’ kno’ mine… problem ‘ere is if ya ‘ear Don’s from me, ‘e’ll tell ya about mine. So, yanno, that ain’ ‘appenin’.”

“Shame,” Don said, downing his drink. “Really.”

Lunchtime on Christmas Eve saw a small get-together, with the two Blythe families and the Wallaces.

“Lisa’s still fuckin’ angry at Lil’, an’ she’s over at her gran’s for the yearly fam’ly gatherin’, so she ain’ showin’ up this year. Jus’ us lot, Mrs. Wallace,” Terri said. The two families would be leaving later on, to be in Ireland for the next day. Cutting it a bit close – but then, that was the Blythes, for you. Both sets of them.

Babs smiled at the two sets of Blythes as she stood aside and let them in. “It’s Babs, Terri,” She reminded the girl, like she’d been doing for years. “Come on. Group photo – Don, grab the camera, I’ll go get Dad.”

“Mum-“ Don started, but she was already gone. He sighed, shook his head. “He’s fine where he is,” Don mumbled, but he went to go get the camera anyway.

“Ev’ryones ‘ere,” Don said to Will. “Terri, James, Josh, David; ah, Terri’s dad, an’ Mr. and Mrs. Blythe.”

“So all the Blythes, then,” Will said. “Christmas eve dinner?”

“Fucken’ lunch, mate,” Don said. “Dinner’s later.”

“Ah, but it’s breakfast, dinner, and supper or tea.” Will said.

“Fuck off,” Don said. “We’re doin’ a fuckin’ group photo. Mum’s gettin’ dad’s urn. Let’s go.”

Will nodded, and followed Don into the living room. It wasn’t too cramped, but it was a fair bit cramped. Babs placed the urn on the mantlepiece of the electric fire. “Ev’ry one, gather round, I’ll jus’ set up the camera.” She said, taking it from Don. “Found out a remote activation method, bloody handy,” She explained as she went. The Blythes used the urn as a dividing line, and made sure to leave enough space for the three remaining individuals. “C’mon,” Terri said, gesturing. Don walked over and stood next to his dad, and Will, being tall, went on the back row, between and behind Terri and Don. “There we go,” Mrs. Blythe muttered, then smiled at them. There was space on the other side of the urn for Don’s mum, though it was a bit of a squeeze, and as Babs set up the camera, she asked everyone to move a bit closer in, so they were all in frame, and posed properly. Babs then quickly squeezed into place, and they all smiled at the camera as the flash went off a few times.

“Great!” Babs smiled, and Mr. Blythe – Josh’s dad – clapped his hands. “What’s for Lunch, eh Babs?” He asked.

“Sunday roast,” She grinned. “Wen’ all out for it, so be grateful it’s not sandwiches. Le’s go eat!”

"Present time!" Babs said, clapping her hands once after she'd received confirmation that they'd finished eating. "I'm gon' go grab somethin' while you two start - go on, go on!" She gestured, herding them into the living room before absconding up the staircase.

"Camera," Don said, knowingly, then flopped down onto the couch.

Presents from their friends had been coming in since the Christmas holidays started - Don's not entirely sure how Lauren knew to send Will's here, or how or why she'd convinced Sam and the others to do the same, but he hadn't paid much attention to that. Will had brought ones that Clemsie and Smudger and Kay and Hargreaves and Wootton had sent - after all, if it does anything, living through what happened at Slaughterhouse at least makes you a permanent entry on the Christmas shopping list - and Don's had arrived last week. The various Blythes' presents were also under the tree, a couple joint presents; Josh's family got Don and Will and Babs one present each, so that made three presents from the four Blythes, and David got Don and Babs - the Wallaces - some chocolate, but Terri gave Don and Will and Babs a present each - so four from the two Blythes.

Trying to figure out which bag of presents had been from which Blythe family had been somewhat futile. Thankfully, the individual presents were a bit more obvious.

(Both families were - bad at tagging, still, though.)

"Alright, which first?" Will said. Don sat up, stood up, and walked over. "Let's get the Blythes over and done with," He said, "Can' fuckin' figure out which is which for them, an' it's bugging me."

"Indeed," Will said, picking up one that had 'Will' on it in sharpie. Don picked up his, and dropped back onto the couch. He opened it, and a note fell out - Terri's, then; she always wrote little notes that she stuck inside the packaging, instead of on it.

Told him you like him yet, dickhead?

- T.

Don resisted the urge to facepalm and hid the message amongst the wrapping paper. "Who's your from?" He asked. Will was struggling with an overly sellotaped lump of a present. He found a place he could rip it from, though, and quickly did so. "Terri," He said, frowning slightly at a message written on paper with, of course, sharpie. It bled through, but Don didn't try to read it via the back of the paper. Will scoffed, lightly, and dropped the message, which disappeared into the wrapping paper. "Your friend has an interesting sense of humour," Will said.

"She's like tha'," Don said. "Always 'as been."

Don grinned at the copy of a Halo game he didn't yet have - a present that was as much for him as for her, likely since co-op was the only way she ever accepted anyone play Halo - and placed it down on the couch next to himself. "What'd she get you?" Don asked.

"A - puzzle box." Will frowned at it. He shook it, and there was something inside it, but how to get in there was - well, a puzzle. "... Interesting choice."

"She got me a cardboard box once," Don said. "And a coat hanger."

"Why?" Will blinked at him. "No' sure," Don shrugged. "She got 'er own boyfriend - b'fore they were t'gether, obviously - a keytar once. Tha' was mem'rable."

"... Alright, then." Will said, for lack of a better response. Don wasn't sure what you could say to that, anyway.

They made their way through the rest of the presents, and on the fifth Babs entered the room.

"Candid." She said, grinning, and Don sighed. "Mul'iple, actu'ly."

"Mum," Don sighed, and she laughed. "Come on, Don, grab Dad, would you? ;E's still in the dinin' room." Well. The kitchen/diner, since it was one room with a table crammed in the corner.

"Alright," Don said, standing. "Yeah, I'll get him."

Don left the room, and Babs sat down on the couch.

"See, I've known Don for a very long time, bein' 'is mum an' all," Babs said. She turned and smiled at Will, "An' I knew 'e liked tha' Clemsie girl from the momen' 'e saw 'er - an' ah can tel when he's grown t' like someone, too."

Will didn't reply.

"My boy's go' a big 'eart, and 'e cares abou' you," Babs said, plainly. "An' I'm no' gon' warn y' abou' no' 'urtin' 'im, b'cause ah kno' y're no' the type," She said. "So jus' let y'self be 'appy, Will. Y're a good kid; y' deserve it."

Babs stood and set up the camera as Don entered the room. "Will, be a dear and take the photo, wou'd y' please?" Babs asked. "Don, bring y' father over 'ere." A few flashes later, the photos were taken. "Ah've got' go take a few presents round to our Jackie's," She said, "So ah'll be back soon enough. You two carry on with the presents, don' wait for me." And with that, Babs was gone.

Don shook his head slightly, and moved to the tree. "Which next?" He asked.

"Ah - why not the Lawrences?" Will asked.

"Then the other 'slaugh'erians'" Don grinned. "Sure." Don tossed Will his present from Smudger - customary, generic; they hadn't really gotten to know each other, after all, Smudger and the rest of the group, since after the events of Slaughterhouse and everyone went home from that police station, well, the Lawrences moved country, so. Don put the riculously expensive chocolate - the same as what Will had gotten from the male Lawrence - aside, and then grabbed Clemsie's presents for them both. He handed Will his, then opened his own.

Don, a letter read, Merry Christmas! It's been such a long time - we should all really meet up in the new year. Kay will be back in England in the summer, and we'll be visiting family then, so I could pull some strings. It'd be nice, to see everyone again. Staying friends after everything that happened - well. It feels like a good idea to me.

I hope you and Will have had a good time at that new college - I keep getting letters from Wootton, bless him, about the place his mother sent him to this time. At least Hargreaves is keeping an eye on the poor boy; much like you, they were lucky enough to get sent to the same place. I'm pretty sure if they could, the Hargreaves would have adopted Wootton already, but - well. Given how often he's with his actual family, he might as well already be Isaac's little brother.

We really should all speak more. It's not like we have phones and skype or email or anything... certainly, we have a lot better than letters. I mean. Really.

See you both in the new year!

Signed,

Clemsie.

"Got a letter," Don said. "You?" "Yes," Will nodded. "Something about getting the gang back together, as it were."

"'S no' a bad idea," Don said. "Ah mean. We 'aven' spoken in around a year. Tha's a while."

"True," Will said.

"Guess we'll see if Smudger's therapist thinks it's a good idea," Don said, because though they didn't all keep in much contact, they did say the important things occasionally - usually on gift-giving days. Really, they did need to keep in better contact.

Ah well. That'll be a new years resolution, then.

Don turned to the present, which was a simple photo album. I heard you take photography, now, some paper masking-taped to the inside cover read. Here's a place to store it all. :)

Signed, Clemsie.

Signed, Smudger.

"Huh." Don shrugged and put down the album. "Alright."

Will put down his present from Clemsie and ostensibly from Smudger - obviously the presents were from Clemsie, but Smudger had signed the notes masking-taped onto both, if not the letters.

Don took the present from Kay Will handed over to him and opened it.

Clemency's gotten it into her head we're going to catch up in the summer. I'll see what I can do, since I will be back in dreary old England, but in the meantime - I heard you take maths.

You might want to train up your logic if that's the case, so I've given you a 'how to' book on chess, free of charge. I usually make people pay for this since I wrote it, but. We're friends, and it's Christmas, so.

Just try and fucking beat me next time we meet, I dare you, Wallace.

Signed,

Kay.

Don shook his head and held up the book in response to Will's identical copy. They grinned, slightly, at each other, then reached for the next presents. Hargreaves sent them both identical copies of dungeons and dragons, which he'd presumably sent everyone, and Wootton had sent them fudge. After that, it was Babs' presents - a scarf for Will and a camera for Don (who attempted not to think about how much that cost; most of the Christmas shopping budget, probably) - and then it was time for the presents they'd gotten each other.

"You first," Will said, handing over his present to Don. Don took it - internally thankful his present didn't go first, for a multitude of reasons - and opened it.

After the cardboard box and the wrapping paper had been put aside, Don looked at the watch - repackaged, likely, so Don couldn't see the price just from looking at its original box. It's the one he'd pointed out as the one he'd liked best, simple and sleek and fucking expensive, probably, and completely out of his range.

"Will-" Don started but - "Just take the present, Ducky," Will said.

Don tried to read his expression, for a moment, but gave up and nodded, slowly. "Well? Go on then, Willoughby, open yours," Don said, gesturing, as he finished removing the protective wrap from the watch and put it on.

Don waited as Will unwrapped the pocket watch, and waited as Will took a moment to look at it.

"I..." "Just take the present, Duck," Don said. Will smiled at him, and Don smiled back.

"There's an inscription," Don said, gesturing. "On th'back."

Will closed and turned over the pocket watch.

Bequeathed.

Don watched his face, quitely - Will's reaction was immediate. Many feelings were quickly telegraphed across his face, but Don only caught a few - wonder, surprise, but chief among all -

Panic.

Ah. Shit.

Will stood and walked out. Don hesitated, but this was much less life-threatening than the last time he'd hesitated to go after Will - so, he went. It didn't feel much less nerve-wracking, though, but Don didn't focus on that part.

Don had heard the front door close, and sure enough - when he opened it, Will was there, out on the cold, snow-covered pavement.

"Y'kno', if y'ate the gift, y' can jus' tell meh - y' don' 'ave to leave the 'ouse y' dramatic git," Don said. It was cold, and he was still in his pyjamas, and the posh twit currently stood outside his house was probably the most interesting thing to have happened to his little council estate street in years, but at that moment Don didn't rightly care much what Mrs. Johnson saw from between her half-closed curtains, or what Clara-Anne Jenkins could spy on from behind her blinds.

"It isn't that I hate it - It's more - I -" Will stopped, mid-sentence, frustrated enough to start pacing, back and forth, crunching a short path into the snow. "'S'more wha', Willoughby?"

Will didn't reply immediately, just let out a breath that clouded in the cold air.

"It doesn't matter, Ducky." Will said.

"'Course it fuckin' matters, or y' wouldn' 'ave left th'fuckin' 'ouse." Don pointed out, reasonably.

"Donald."

"Willoughby." Don walked over, mindless of the cold and the snow, and frowned at the other eighteen-year-old. "I don' wan't' renact a fuckin' soap-opera, jus' tell me wha' the fuck is wrong."

"Nothing's - wrong," Will said. "I just - I didn't... No-one's ever thought I or... anything about me was worth remembering. Especially not - something like that. Something that..."

"Important?" Don asked, quietly.

Will nodded.

"Well. I do." Don said. "Fuckin' 'ell, Duck, o'course I do."

Will stared down at him, for just a moment - and then, carefully, a move you could almost call furtive - leaned forward, and pressed his lips (cold, chapped - but soft, softer than he'd have thought) to Don's.

Somewhere far away, a door slammed shut, and Will moved back.

Before he could get the wrong idea, Don caught Will's hand with his own. "Y' kno', Will, I kno' yer cold-blooded an' that, but I'm fuckin' freezin' out 'ere."

Will laughed. He let himself be led back inside the house. Don dropped his hand and closed the door, then turned to look at Will again. Before he could say anything, of course, the door opened.

"Candid." Babs said, grinning. "Tha' was a beau'iful momen', really; one for the scrapbook."

Don sighed.

"First've all," Don said, "Mum, what the fuck, d'y' think y're doin'?"

Will grinned. "I, for one, think it's sweet. I should like our moments together to be captured."

"Ah, shut up, ya sentimental git." Don rolled his eyes. "Mum, 's weird, y' really don' need to."

"Actu'ly, Don, ah do," She said, frankly. "Mem'ries're precious thin's. Bes'to capture 'em so they're no' forgo'en."

"Alrigh', alrigh'-"

"Great!" Babs clapped her hands. "Now. Who wants lunch?"

#shr #slaughterhouse rulez #fanfic #wallacake #christmas fic #belated I kno I'm sorry #A 'Nonnie | anon asks #All The Asks | asks #i am truly sorry about how long this took #cowritten by edgycinnamoncocanut #<3

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imperiusv · 5 years

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I - Oh, I just died in your arms tonight

I think it was during that damned pub crawl , that i first thought of you in that way, we were kinda organizing it, if i remember correctly, i was with all my gang and Dilara too and at the time i was into her, we were flirting back and forth , but i didn’t want to make a move on her, because i was insecure , that she won’t like the real me, being so fragile at the moment, I thought to myself i wouldn’t want anything like that to fuck me up even more, I needed more time to heal and develop, so yeah for the first time in my life, I ignored and rejected someone who had more sexual market value than me, it was really fun, as she wanted , but yeah that’s whole different story, so back to the pub crawl, I was with Dilara the whole evening, we even got tied up in that game, but the conversation was kinda boring and stale , so I quickly proceeded to get wasted, to make her more interesting, all my squad was there too, except for the germans and i think Key didn’t come,as they had gone to the one before. It was a really good night, before i got drunk as fuck, but that evening i noticed you and was the first time me thinking that you are actually kinda cool and cute. Funny enough you introduced me to Baptiste that evening,strangely for a person that remembers everything, this is something i can not recall even to this day. Halloween was quite a special day for me on that day I finally came to accepted that i had a crush on you . That’s why my ringtone for you was that ariana grande song you hated, focus, because I finally focused on you, that you are something special, a fucked up girl I thought I could fix and in fixing her, perhaps mend my own wounds and fix myself, never have I been so wrong. I did save you from the Pit, pulled you out at the cost or my very soul, you of course repaid me in kind , I traded my freedom and who I was for you. A mistake I will never forget or forgive myself for. It was a really posh evening , you making my make up and stuff, me making dumb jokes, cuz i didn’t know how to act around you, it was all really cute, i didn’t even realize it at the time,when we went to Indie, we all had a good time, that turkish/french girl wanted to fuck both me and Timur, but he pussied out in the last second and we didn’t have a threesome that time , which sucked, cuz she was really hot that evening and probably things between us would have been different, imagine how something so small can change a lot of stuff down the line, everything has consequences that ripple in time and change your world. We went to shots after the party, I didn’t want to spend money in the centre, as i was already spending most of my cash on booze and other dumb shit, that winter semester i spend more than five thousand bucks on booze,parties and having fun, all the hard earned cash i got in Germany, also i prefer your company rather than being with the others, which worked out great , as we clicked and had always a good time when it was just us. We tried that stupid weird game as i wanted to challenge you to do something with me, but we were too wasted and the music was too loud to hear one another, funny thing that the entire evening the slovaks were stalking us and later she was complaining. The next big episode was the famous couples party that we hosted together for sure, we arrived for our own party fucking wasted, as you even recorded in your diary, by that time i was already really hooked into you, after the traffic lights and Halloween party, I remember at that bloody party , that i was looking so desperately for your match , the whole kissing thing - to find your famous partner ( Shrek and Fiona,Cleopatra and Mark Anthony) i invented for you, but unlike the next such party, i didn’t have full access nor control over the drawing of the numbers, the next one was rigged af, never told you that , but i hooked up more people than Cupidonis himself. Imagine my surprise when you kissed some stranger, it was disgusting, but my fault entirely. After that i saw you kissing Alfredo in the bathroom,my heart sunk and i went outside to drown my sorrows in the vodka bottle we had hidden in the bushes, thank God for Timur. The next couple of parties you didn’t come of course - the mustache and nerds/hipsters bullshit, there was this thing with Antonio and you blowing me off , cuz i was a dick, but who cares, btw i really wrote him last year out of desperation to reach out to you in some manner to see if you still care,the fact that he didn’t even bother to reply, proves what kinda of scumbag shitty slug he is - a disgusting spineless person and a liar, he never fucking came close to kissing Justyna , let alone banging her,what a sad joke that fat wanker was and still is! So yeah through malus I managed to get you to come to the preparty at Etienne’s place for the i think it was a bad taste party or some other shit. It was such a great evening, that you ruined or I ruined , idk who is to blame, me having feelings for you or you being a slut. The whole squad was present, even fucking Pierre came , it was glorious , a night full of booze, laughs and good times, until you decided to make out with Alfredo again in front of everybody and more especially me , even after i tried to stop it from happening, I remember you said that he kissed you and you didn’t want to. but i was too wasted to remember, so yeah i was rage incarnate, damn I had so much fucking anger in my during those months and the ones after, it was like I can’t even comprehend now how can someone be some enraged all the time,i was never calm , just a whirlwind of emotions , a tornado and a volcano in one, losing complete control over the slightest of mishaps happening , i really had no control over myself back then, but yeah , praise the Emperor, that Timur saw what I was about to do and stopped me on time, or i was gonna make an even bigger fool out of my self , punching that smug Italian faggot in the face for something that was not his fault. I ended up with Dilara in Blackroom ,but she didn’t want to play second guitar and i wasn’t in the mood to even talk to her, so she went home with some guy and as I was drinking outside, minding my own business, trying to make sense of it all, guess who came crying. You were really upset and embraced me and cried,never felt so low as you told me why you were crying, i couldn’t hold it any on and added gasoline to the fire, by confessing my feelings for you, such a beta move that was, what was I thinking or drinking. Couple of days of drama and then came my birthday, to which you actually came and brought me a cake, it was one of the sweetest things someone has ever done for me,at that time we were already good friend and texting back and forth all the time , even before we were together we had around 500 000 messages between us, which i do not know how it’s even possible. But yeah the first birthday party, it was all good, until you pulled out a Victoria and vanished on me, again i was left with a thumb in my mouth, looking like a fool. The second Birthday party was actually Timur, Ouriel and mine’s , we did it cuz we wanted to get wasted and i didn’t want to celebrate together with them, as my redneck friends didn’t like Erasmus people and Timur needed a reason to get wasted then and on the first of December which is his actually birthday, so technically only Pussiel’s , but yeah whatever. It was in Yavuz’s place you didn’t want to come , but we managed to get you there , you and your green umbrella - weeks of flirtations and tension building up to the event, finally shit was going down. The party was wild, around 40 people in a top floor flat , we had hit up a casino with Timur on the days prior and had won some good money , we bought so much booze and even a disco ball , also got some amateur DJ to play EDM. I was trying to avoid you, but then you came to me and we started talking. Soon i went from golden to drunk, and being wasted, i let go of all the dumb things that held me back , like what would people say and how will everyone react i was finally brave enough . As i looked deep into your eyes , i remember how you bit your lips and said this will ruin everything. And it did. I took your face into my hands and Ausculor we made out probably for a good two- three minutes. But at the same time it felt like eternity and few seconds, i couldn’t really tell, my dopamine and Oxytocin receptors were exploding Inside my brain, i felt like i was high, better than cocaine, booze or whatever, we connected, body mind and soul. Release. My knees were soft , i was euphoric , literally felt like the best thing ever. You just had kissed me. As i want to end up every story with something positive i will end it here. The next one will continue right off the bat from this one and will cover up the next couple of months as they were crucial for the whole story. It must’ve been something you said I just died in your arms tonight It must’ve been some kind of kiss I should’ve walked away, I should’ve walked away

#short story

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sukipershipper · 6 years

Photo

I don’t know how supportive Tumblr users are of Original characters and stories but I don’t care, here you go. These guys are apart of a series called ‘Rugged’, it will consist of Comics and Short Fics. They are split into two groups, the City Kids (The first Four) and the Country Kids (The Other four)

But enough from me, time to introduce this lot

CITY KIDS

Aiyana Clarissa Alvarenga

BIRTHDAY: 5th July

NICKNAMES: Yana, Paizinho Anjo (Her Dad)

AGE: 18

ETHNICITY: Portuguese/Danish

HEIGHT: 5,7ft

WEIGHT: 78kg

EYE C: Brown/Blue

HAIR C: Brown-Blonde

TRAITS: Absolute Daddy’s Girl, full of herself, can be a snob at times

STORY:

Aiyana was born and raised in the city of Baltimore with her Mother but recently moved to New York to stay with Father, after she became enrolled at NYU (New York University). She stays with her Father in his apartment, which is shared with 2 foreign exchange students. Her hope is that, by the time she graduates, she will become a teacher and take over her father's job, even though her Mother would much prefer she took a course in modelling.

Camille Lucie Claeys

BIRTHDAY: 17th March

NICKNAMES: Cammy

AGE: 21

ETHNICITY: Belgian-Polish

HEIGHT: 6,2 ft

WEIGHT: 83kg

EYE C: Blue

HAIR C: Black

TRAITS: Quiet, Very Posh, Hates going to social events, Fluent in French

STORY:

Camille was raised in New York and was enrolled into NYU (New York University). Her father was of Belgian descent while her Mother was of Polish Descent, and before moving to America had owned a restaurant in Belgium called ‘Dîner au Paradis’, but had to shut it down due to not having enough money to fund the business. Camil’s biggest hope is to graduate from school, and re-open the restaurant in Manhattan.

Miko Airi Kobayashi

BIRTHDAY: 23rd January

NICKNAME(S): Cherry Blossom (Her Parents), Koko

AGE: 19

ETHNICITY: Japanese

HEIGHT: 5,3 ft

WEIGHT: 42kg

EYE C: Brown

HAIR C: Black

TRAITS: Wild Card, Loves her Music, an Otaku, Knows a bit of English.

STORY:

Miko lived in Tokyo, where she studied at Kaisei High School, before moving to America to study at NYU (New York University). She shares an apartment with Aiyana, Mr Alarenga, and one other foreign student. Miko is a girl with a simple plan, she wants to earn a Bachelor of Music and work at NYU as a Recording Engineer, and hopefully, earn a part-time job as a DJ.

Nicholas Rawiri Taumata

BIRTHDAY: 10th November

NICKNAME(S): Nick, Slick, Moko (His Mom and Dad)

AGE: 21

ETHNICITY: Maori

HEIGHT: 6,7ft

WEIGHT: 85 kg

EYE C: Brown

HAIR C: Brown-Black

TRAITS: Quirky, Very Honest (a bit too much), Social Butterfly, Loves sketching

STORY:

Nicholas was born in New Zealand before moving to America, where he is currently attending NYU (New York University). Currently, he lives with Aiyana Alarenga, Mr Alarenga and Miko, until he can afford to get his own house. For the longest time, Nicholas did nothing more but sketch and animated, although his animations needed major improvement in his eyes. Determined to become better, he set off to NYU to take up Graphic Arts.

COUNTRY KIDS

Isaiah Elias Altermatt

BIRTHDAY: 30th October

NICKNAME(S): Mein hübscher Junge (Mom), Izzy

AGE: 28

ETHNICITY: American-African-Swiss

HEIGHT: 7,2 ft

WEIGHT: 125 kg

EYE C: Hazel

HAIR C: Black

TRAITS: Hecking Giant, Farm Boy, Animal Lover

STORY:

Isaiah is a very gentle and hardworking soul, always looking out for family and friends. Once he graduated from high school, he didn’t plan on going to University, he was set on finding a job to help his family out with their finances. An Old friend of his father had reached out to him to tell him about a job opportunity opening up on his farm, willing to make some money, Isaiah had accepted the role. He and his family now live in a house close to the farm.

Hestia Nefertiti Moghadam

BIRTHDAY: 17th November

NICKNAME(S): Tia, Hesty, جوهرة جميلة (Jawhrat Jamila (Her Dad))

AGE: 26

ETHNICITY: American-Arabian

HEIGHT: 6,9ft

WEIGHT: 91kg

EYE C: Light Brown

HAIR C: Black

TRAITS: Optimistic, Hard Working, Welcoming

STORY:

Hestia is a bright and cheerful girl, always able to look on the bright side and can cheer anyone up. Hestia dropped out of University after her Mother died, she decided to earn a job to help her father have money to keep his farmland. During her job search, she came across a local cafe, and after spending a while there, she decided to have a go applying for a job there. Hestia landed a job there as a Barista, and now she greets people with a smiling face as they walk in.

Christopher Matteo Mancini

BIRTHDAY: 5th January

NICKNAME(S): Chris, Noodle, Dipstick

AGE: 28

ETHNICITY: Italian

HEIGHT: 7,0ft

WEIGHT: 119kg

EYE C: Green

HAIR C: Brown

TRAITS: Mischievous, Playful, Active

STORY:

Christopher was born into a very wealthy family, they owned a huge estate in Venice, Italy, his Father was apart of the Mafia, but soon conflict arose as the gang soon started turning on him, believing he sold them out to the police. Wanting to get his family away from the situation, and make sure his children grew up living a better life, they all moved to America. Christopher and his family moved to the countryside, where he found work on a farm and secret life in a criminal gang.

Vincent Liam Tremblay

BIRTHDAY: 22nd December

NICKNAME(S): Vinvin, Vinnie, Stick

AGE: 25

ETHNICITY: Canadian

HEIGHT: 6,1 ft

WEIGHT: 81kg

EYE C: Blue

HAIR C: Dirty Blonde

TRAITS: Outgoing, Young, Adventurous, Kind

STORY:

The youngest of the farm kids, Vincent is a curious being, who wants to discover everything the world had to offer. Vincent grew up in Ottawa, Canada, and came from a pretty poor family (not overly poor, but not overly rich either), and, in a pursuit to make more money for his family, Vincent travelled to New York in search of a job, and found work on a farm, earning a fair amount of money and sending ¾ of his earnings to his parents in Canada.

Hope you guys like it! :D

#Original Characters #Rugged #aiyana alvarenga #camille claeys #miko kobayashi #nicholas taumata #isaiah altermatt #hestia moghadam #christopher mancini #vincent tremblay #stories #my cruddy art

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thotyssey · 6 years

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The tHOTlist #50 - 1

50) The Cock

Gay NYC’s longtime destination for raunch remains steadfast, even as today’s thots are mostly getting their fix through the hookup apps. But never underestimate the power of exhibitionism! It should also be said that the Cock deserves credit in their marketing of events for emphasizing the sexiness of diverse body types, ages, races, proclivities, etc. And if none of that is your thing, chill out upstairs with some sweet, fun bartenders like Franco, Brian and Lola Michele-Kiki.

49) Steve Sidewalk

Perhaps New York and New Jersey’s most followed dance floor pop DJ, Steve has a rabid babygay following thanks largely to his popular Gay College Tuesdays at the Ritz. Also a regular at POSH, Feathers and Paradise, Sidewalk has been touring venues across the country lately as well.

48) Will Sheridan

The larger-than-life college basketball star turned emcee and DJ just celebrated the sixth anniversary of Hot Fruit, the Metropolitan Bar party he long ago revamped to include a showcase for diverse Brooklyn talent. Will also dropped the EP LexIcon, performed a few showcases at Rise Bar with Corey TuT and Dezi 5, produced a new monthly party at Rockbar called The Phunktion, started bartending at GYM in addition to Macri Park, and generally remains a powerhouse of the scene.

47) Shuga Cain

Having rapidly become one of Manhattan’s favorite queens, Shuga is fierce, funny, and as her name suggests probably the sweetest person you know. You can feel her love for drag (which was a later-in-life career change for her), and that love is infectious... even to a house full of jaded HK Marys who have seen it all. Give Shuga all the finger wags--while you still can--at her solo Thursday Hardware happy hour, her Wednesday night Pieces show with JanSport, and Sunday nights at Bedlam hosting the seminal Look Queen competition.

46) Therapy

The increasingly famous HK destination boasts good eats, great beats, heavy pours, a more diverse crowd than you’d think (particularly the sexy bar staff), and some of the best drag shows in town: Slurp (Paige Turner), The Help (Pixie Aventura and Kizha Carr), Stage Fright (Marti Gould Cummings), and the new Soaked (Brita Filter, Lagoona Bloo and Rosé). Plus, JanSport’s singing competition “You Tried It” has electrified the babygay Broadway hopefuls that frequent the bar.

45) Aquaria

Aquaria’s Season 10 win brings home the reality that RuPaul’s Drag Race’s largest growing audience demographic is teen girls. What teenager doesn’t want to be Aquaria, with her beauty and fashion sense and confidence? Which isn’t to say that she didn’t deserve the win... every look she presented was genius, and once the music is cued she’s an electrifying performer. A distant and stilted host by her own admission, she brilliantly found ways to work around or even incorporate that handicap into the acting challenges. It’s quite clear that she’s destined for Warholian Living Fashion Installation Iconicism, and that’s as it should be. A former fixture of every scene queen party in the city, Aquaria’s never going to our parties again. She IS the party now, and we all dream of getting an invite.

44) Ragamuffin

Brooklyn’s high concept fashion and performance art folk hero crossed the river and became a Manhattan star in 2018. She hasn’t compromised her signature Demonic Raccoon beats, asymmetric silhouettes or off-the-radar drag numbers for anyone, but she’s found a way to incorporate it all into a more mainstream package when needed. She’s also enforced the “artists should actually get paid by the house” philosophy of drag, moving her hit workshop / showcase “Failure” from Bizarre Bushwick to the East Village’s Club Cumming (she’s also regularly lent her drag there to the monthly cabaret revue MARY). You can still catch Raga giving you Brooklyn realness for her seminal pairing with Ruby Roo, Mondays on Mondays at Macri Park--as well as a solo late night Sunday show at Metro.

43) Rosé

New York’s uber-talented singing drag trio Stephanie’s Child have officially taken over the scene, and became the standard of quality the queens are expected to meet if they wanna make it big here. Musical theater baby Rosé--aka Stephanie’s Child’s “Pink One”--sings, dances, jokes, and does killer mixes with the best of them. Pleasantly kooky, well-spoken and free-spirited (and newly the drag daughter of legendary Kizha Carr), she made her drag debut last year with an explosive crown-winning turn for the final Lady Liberty weekly competition season. You can now catch her co-hosting the pop-up showdowns of that franchise with Brita Filter at the Ace Hotel. Rosé is also co-hosting Therapy’s new hit Thursday show Soaked with Brita and fellow Child Lagoona Bloo, Turn It Up Sundays with the third Child JanSport at Hardware, and Tuesday karaoke at Pieces with Lagoona.

42) Switch N’Play

With a current core roster consisting of K. James, Miss Malice, Divina GranSparkle, Zoe Ziegfeld, Pearl Harbor, Nyx Nocturne and Vigor Mortis, it’s obvious that the nature of this troupe has evolved since its drag king beginnings (in fact, none of the original lineup remains in the group). Successful outfits change with the times, and Switch N’Play presently reflects Brooklyn nightlife’s current Fuck That approach to gender and genre. With two monthly showcases at Branded Saloon--and a recent excursion to the prestigious National Sawdust theatre (current home base of Sasha Velour’s Nightgowns) for their annual Addams Family tribute show--the group has gotten tons of love... not to mention a bunch of Brooklyn Nightlife Awards this past go-around.

41) The Carry Nation

The famed DJ duo Nita Aviance and Will Automagic are currently enjoying another successful season of residency at Brooklyn’s Good Room, but were super in-demand across the city this year. We danced to their beats at Nowadays, Elsewhere, the House of Yes, Battle Hymn, 3 Dollar Bill, the Pines Pavilion and Bushwig, just to name a few. Their best DJ GLAM nod this year is well-deserved indeed.

40) Ric Sena

Creating the Alegria brand of circuit parties 18 years ago, Sena married gorgeously hypnotic visuals with sonic sensory overload, and a circuit standard was born. Or rather, a cult was formed. Alegria continues to be the seasonal event that circuit queens around the world plan their lives around, but these days in NYC Ric Sena Presents also offers the monthly VIVA at FREQ, and the occasional morning after Sunrise day party at Hudson Terrace.

39) The Rosemont

Not really the new kid on the block anymore, former jazz club The Rosemont has become well-established with a certain brand of queer nightlife: young, diverse, experimental, but still unabashedly worshipful of all things pop. Well-attended nights there include the dragtastic OOPS Wednesdays, Bitch Nasty Fridays featuring DJs Ickarus and Hannah Lou, and the bi-monthly Saturday Fake Nudes with DJ P_A_T and The Haus of Sterling.

38) Maddelynn Hatter

Hell’s Kitchen’s favorite GlamourGhoul kept the party roaring at The Ritz with her scary popular TURNt Wednesdays, and now also a weekly Friday drag competition Open Call. She was also a third of ReBar’s “Bad Bitch Review” and made several Brooklyn appearances, all while keeping us a-gag with her high fashion monster beats.

37) Lagoona Bloo

“The Blue One” of the megapopular singing drag trio Stephanie’s Child is a superb singer and performer in her own right, and there are undoubtedly even bigger things to come for this queen on the rise. The party never stops with this one! Catch her co-hosting Tuesday karaoke at Pieces with fellow Child Rosé, hosting a solo show Wednesday nights at The West End, co-hosting the new party Soaked with Rosé and Brita FIlter, giving us an all-sung set monthly Fridays at Stonewall, and dropping fierce pop-up bombs for Hardware’s Slay Saturday party alongside Ruby Roo.

36) Rockbar

The bear-centric bar on the far end of the West Village’s Christopher Street stays faithful to the gayborhood’s cruisy past with a slew of monthly underwear and gear / fetish events, and keeps true to its name with occasional live music acts and a DJ emphasis on rock music and new wave. But the bar has also been developing a noteworthy roster of happy hour drag shows that you should not be sleeping on.

35) Rify Royalty

Brooklyn’s longtime Sexy Guy and host of the popular Metropolitan Bar monthly party Straight Acting has gone deeper into drag in 2018, with fascinating results, presenting as a gorgeous fashionista with a sex-positive masculine edge (we guess that’s how one can describe most drag queens, but that edge just feels sharper here). Turning lewks at Bartsch parties and creating a fun and flashy new weekly Miss Girl at the East Village’s Narcbar of the Standard Hotel, Rify is now becoming a force to be reckoned with in Manhattan as well as Brooklyn... even earning a coveted Entertainer of the Year GLAM nomination.

34) Ruby Roo

If Bob didn’t already utilize the title, we’d be calling Ruby the Queen of the People. When she’s not serving you spirits as a (GLAM-nominated!) Pieces bartender on Wednesdays and Saturdays, she’s a versatile performer onstage who knows how to work a room and cater her drag to it. She’s dryly funny for the attentive loyalists of her long-running Mondays on Mondays at Macri Park, she’s flashy and fun for her mobbed parties Frisky Fridays at Pieces and Slay Saturdays at Hardware, and she delivers the Full Unfiltered Roo for her solo Sunday show at The Duplex. Bonus, she’s a Cosmo Queen! Bonus-bonus, look at that wig up there.

33) Amanda Lepore

New York City nightlife’s most iconic living figure remains the person that even Hollywood’s top celebrities want a photo op with. If you spot Amanda in the place you’ve chosen as your evening destination -- whether it be one of Susanne Bartsch’s massive scene queen affairs or a smaller lounge situation like Acme’s STRUT -- you’ve chosen your night wisely. And also, cheers to trans hero Amanda for explaining to Victoria’s Secret who she is and who they are, simply and elegantly.

32) Mitch Ferrino

As one half of The Only Productions (the other being his bestie Bob the Drag Queen), Mitch keeps himself quite busy producing major events like the epic annual Halloween party Bloodbath, as well as music tracks for Drag Race alums (notably Aja this year) and original multimedia content. But he’s also a DJ who began his nightlife career bartending at the Monster before working his way up to hosting that bar’s popular Saturday night kiki, Manster. After years of manning Manster there (and also DJing Monster’s epic drag competition Look Queen that was Bob’s brainchild), Mitch and Manster’s hostess Honey Davenport abruptly quit The Monster after the bar’s general manager Italo Lopez criticized a Manster poster via text for featuring black men as opposed to “beautiful” (white) men. When Mitch and Honey put the comment out into the public, it forced everyone into the uncomfortable but entirely necessary conversation of racism in nightlife. Mitch has since brought a variation of Manster to Phoenix on Friday nights, and spins Look Queen at Bedlam, but the importance of his actions this year make him a person of great interest when looking at the possible future of queer nightlife in this city.

31) Brenda Dharling

One of our city’s most cherished queens is still the only dancer in the biz who can pull off a quadruple pirouette. Lovely on the inside and out, Brenda’s basicallythe queen we all want to be, and every year she becomes an even better show hostess. Aside from chilling with her poolside at the Ice Palace during the summer season, you can enjoy Miss Dharling at her solo Monday night Barracuda show, her Legend Wednesdays diva worship at Rise with co-hosts Bootsie LeFaris and Marti Gould Cummings, giving you themed realness on select Thursday nights with Industry’s megashow QUEEN, and turning Blackout Fridays at Suite Bar with Pattaya Hart.

30) JanSport

After breaking through in 2016 as a Kris Jenner impersonator with powerful Broadway singing chops, Jan evolved over time into a multidimensional queen in her own right. And if you go by her Insta following and the general fame she’s acquired through media appearances -- particular as a major part of the singing queen trio Stephanie’s Child--the funny and cheerful Jan is basically a full-on icon in the making. Catch her with fellow Child Rosé Sundays at Hardware, hosting a popular singing competition Tuesdays at Therapy, Wednesdays at Pieces with Shuga Cain and Izzy Uncut, select Thursdays with the ladies of QUEEN at Industry, and hosting a Friday party at Icon in Astoria.

29) Jasmine Rice LaBeija

The diva who’s clearly taking over the city is is entirely unafraid to speak her mind--whether it’s to take down a queen who crosses her, clap back at a pageant judge who didn’t favor her, put a non-paying employer in his place, criticize the “No Fats No Fems No Asians” culture of Basic Gaydom, and even a bit of self-depreciation here and there. We live for the Extra, but what keeps us coming to all the gigs each week is the talent. Bitch is funny, fashionably fierce and ferociously smart, encompassing both the gritty old school queens of golden age drag and the polished new school. Plus, the classically trained opera singer can siiiiiiiing. The gigs: Sunday with Brita Filter at Hardware, Mondays with Pissi Myles at Rise, alternating Tuesdays with Sucia hosting karaoke at Boxers Washington Heights, Thursdays at Pieces, and Fridays back at Hardware with Izzy Uncut.

28) Holly Dae

Here’s a hilarious veteran comedy queen and hostess who’s always showed fierce loyalty to her employers... most recently following the gogo boy troupe Spunk after they vacated the Fairytail Lounge’s Saturday party she hosted, and also standing by The Monster during their recent troubles. She continues hosting her long-running Wednesday show at The Monster as well as a new Saturday Spunk party there--and Sundays she hosts the Pieces Spunk party down the street. Holly also keeps Industry’s QUEEN machine going as its showrunner, and joins Bootsie LeFaris, Pixie Aventura and Brenda Dharling on select Fridays for the still super-successful Distorted Diznee at the Beechman.

27) Bootsie LeFaris

One of the city’s hardest working and most professional queens, Bootsie doesn’t come to play... even when she’s being a politically incorrect, lowbrow goofball who’s unafraid to make herself look ridiculous. Our gurl always brings the funny, whether she’s Ratchet Hillbilly Ho or Mother of the Church of Celine Dion. Get your LeFaris fix at the Voss Events Drag Brunch at the Highline Ballroom, Legend Wednesdays at Rise, QUEEN at Industry select Thursdays, Super Size Queen Fridays at Hardware (and also Distorted Diznee at the Beechman on select Fridays), Sinful Saturdays for the past five years at Pieces, and basically any place that has the coin and needs a Bootsie.

26) The Urban Bear

The bears are the kings of these woods, henny! Robert Valin’s nightlife (and daylife) community is dedicated to all things large, hairy and masc (although the definition of what a “bear” is is certainly not limited to those identifiers anymore). With both weekly and monthly parties at Rockbar, a new monthly affair at The Brass Monkey and the annual Urban Bear Weekend that gets bigger and bearier ever year, these animals have found themselves at the top of the food chain.

25) The Ritz

Still the favorite destination for HK baby thots to dance and hook up, the two-story bar with the killer new sound system brings famed DJs from across the world to come and play, along with their rotating roster of excellent residents. There is also no shortage of hot guys (bartenders, gogo boys and patrons who might as well be gogo boys) and amazing queens (Digna and Nick Gaga in the hosting committee, Maddelynn Hatter and the cast of TURNt Wednesdays, etc.). The party never stops, seven days a week.

24) Kizha Carr

This stage and screen actor made good on her threat to return to drag full time after her run with The Book of Mormon on Broadway ran its course, and we couldn’t be happier for it. The brilliant makeup artist, fun-as-all-hell performer and well-respected queen among peers has new gigs all over town -- in addition to her long-running Sunday show at Industry, which was the only drag show we could see her in during her Mormon stint. Now there are also Tuesdays at Barracuda, Wednesdays with Pixie Aventura for The Help at Therapy, and Fridays at Boxers Washington Heights.

23) DJ 2Face

New York’s most recognizable, two-time GLAM winning DJ (nominated a third time this year) and budding fashionista will probably take your requests at the booth, just don’t be so damn basic about it! And respect the fact that he works practically every night, at the best spots with some of the best known people in the biz.

22) Merrie Cherry

Brooklyn’s busiest queen had a major health scare this year, and it seemed for a minute there nightlife was gonna be a little less Merrie. But Da Bitch Is Back after a mere month of convalescence, and better than ever! See the mother of high-concept fashion, electrifying performance and major event production (including the Brooklyn Nightlife Awards) turn it all over the borough, notably as the host of the monthly pageant Dragnet at Metro and her own solo monthly show Pop My Cherry at Macri Park. And we hear that even bigger things are in the future for this queen among queens!

21) Ladyfag

The long-established Queen of the Night remains a sort of Pope figure for all the fashion / art / dance kids of the scene, and her main church these days is the monthly Battle Hymn in Chelsea. Ladyfag’s Ladyland Queer Music Festival at the Brooklyn Mirage (which had a lineup that included Eve, Kim Petras and Sophie) was one of the more innovative Pride destinations this summer, and her devotees are anxiously awaiting the December return of her revered monthly soiree Holy Mountain in its new Brooklyn destination, Avant Gardner.

20) Shequida

With Sherry Vine leaving town, this fashionably flawless opera diva takes ownership of the Longest Working Queen of NYC title. Which isn’t at all to say that she’s slowing down anytime soon: her weekly Shequida Show Thursday nights at Hardware remains one of the country’s most attended drag shows that major queens from across the world are lining up to guest star in, the Monday night Pieces competition Drag Wars she hosts has become a vital staple for new talent in the city, she runs the Voss Events Sunday Drag Brunch at the Highline Ballroom, and she frequently performs with fellow nightlife legends for the McKittrick Hotel’s Bartschland Follies on Friday nights. (Oh, and she’s probably the highest paid queen in the city, but you didn’t here that form us!)

19) Brian Rafferty

If you are a tried-and-true circuit queen in New York, you have a very different tHOTlist than what you’re reading now and this guy is probably your number one. With a long career in nightlife, the founder of Brian Rafferty Productions is currently best known for bringing the sex-drenched monthly circuit party phenom TRADE and its several incarnations to the venues in town that can still house it -- like Times Square’s Rosewood Theater -- and to lucky cities across the country.

18) Paige Turner

Classy vintage girlie looks, potty mouthed-yet-still-clever song parodies, occasional touching moments, lots of surprise naked guys and a rabid fanbase are the hallmarks of this massively popular longtime queen, both in her bar shows (Slurp Sundays at Therapy, and now Broadway Mondays with Sutton Lee Seymour & Cacophony Daniels at Hardware) and in her scripted stage shows. After a long relationship with the Laurie Beechman Theatre, Paige has mixed things up a bit by bringing her latest Christmas show to Yotel’s Green Room 42.

17) Brita Filter

One of New York’s best (and best known) drag hostesses has been going strong for some three years now, rocking us with giant wigs and costumes and the biggest (most expensive) smile in the business... even as her waistline shrinks (do we detect a pattern with big queens getting slimmer here?), Making appearances all over the country (as of this writing, she’s at the Austin International Drag Festival) and all the city’s star galas and private events you wanted to go to, Brita still manages to keep one of the city’s fullest weekly show schedules. Catch our “anything but pure” comedienne Sundays (with Jasmine Rice) and Tuesdays at Hardware, Wednesdays (with Honey Davenport) at Boxers Washington Heights, Thursdays (with Lagoona Bloo & Rosé) at Therapy and Fridays (with Ruby Roo) at Pieces.

16) Club Cumming

Despite a massively successful first year that put the small, eclectic bar and venue on the international map, Club Cumming almost ceased to exist earlier this year when a licensing snafu paralyzed their live performance calendar for months (although the bar’s flagship performers did have a guest presence at Fire Island’s Community House this summer). But the club’s unique fanbase--a true and rare cross section of queers and straights, locals and tourists--kept loyal through a long stretch of silence and Spotify playlists. When the error was finally corrected, The Good Wife star Alan Cumming’s club roared back into life with more ferocity and weirdness then ever before. Now sporting drag, cabaret, comedy, dance parties, burlesque, readings, a knitting circle and a guy who paints with his penis as regular attractions to their small but mighty stage, the infinite possibilities of the space have created more excitement in NYC nightlife than nearly anything else. Recent reports have had Paul McCartney, Vanessa Williams, Emma Stone, Kesha and even Monica Lewinsky come through and at times actually perform impromptu. So if you come on the right night when the stars and planets align, Club Cumming could give you stories you’d actually tell your grandkids. But maybe leave out the ones about the penis painting guy. [photo: @jeffreycampagna]

15) Honey Davenport

Everyone who knows Honey understood how difficult it was for her to walk away from Manster, the long-running party at The Monster she hosted with DJ Mitch Ferrino, and to do it so publicly at that. She’s been a consummate professional who only wanted to entertain since the beginning of her drag career. But those who knew her best were aware that she also has convictions, and the time came when she had to take a stand against not only a moronically racist statement from the Monster’s general manager (regarding black men pictured in a Manster flyer), but also all queer culture’s infrequently discussed racial problems. She didn’t solve those problems, of course, but she got us talking. And she also kept us laughing and living at all her other gigs, which are multiplying faster than Gremlins on Christmas (right now it’s rotating Gay College Tuesdays at the Ritz, Wednesdays at both ReBar and Boxers Washington Heights, and Fridays at Paradise in Asbury Park). 2019 will undoubtedly be the biggest year of her career thus far... and few queens are more deserving of success than she.

14) Barracuda & Industry

Sisters bars in different neighborhoods with opposite decors, there’s still lots in common with Bob Pontarelli’s gay properties: many of the same queens (among the best in Manhattan) doing world famous shows, cute bar staffs and cash only policies to name just a few. Chelsea’s Barracuda first opened its doors 33 years ago, and even with the recent loss of the world’s tackiest wallpaper decorating the stage remains charmingly kitschy... while boasting some of the city’s most important shows like the long-running Star Search now hosted by Tina Burner. Industry Bar in HK is newer and swankier, but with shows like the huge revue QUEEN has become just as vital to drag and nightlife. It would be impossible to get the full gay NY experience without a visit to both of these places... just remember to bring cash!

13) Daniel Nardicio

Club Cumming's entertainment director has had a long and storied history of producing nightlife events. He and his production company DWorld are known for favoring the raunchiest parties he can get away with, but also building nights around divas ranging from local favorite Amber Martin to folk hero Jill Sobule to Liza Minnelli. Besides ushering Club Cumming through its Dark Period earlier this year -- and also honoring his departed friend, legendary nightlife comic Robbyne Kaamil -- Nardicio embarked on a massive venture with his recent purchase of Bedlam Bar on the East Village’s Avenue C. It’s going to be a tough sell to get nightlifers to come that far south, but based on his own history and his willingness to try anything (including *ahem* Thotyssey’s own brand new Viva Variety Tuesday night show), it should be another huge win for both Daniel and the scene. Bonus: he still has the cutest Nightlife Dog ever.

12) Pixie Aventura

Whether she was turning it on the massive outdoor stage alongside legends of the scene for this summer’s surprise Wigstock revival, or performing at this year’s Obie Awards with host and idol John “Chi-Chi“ Leguizamo, or hosting her slew of popular weekly shows (Sundays at Barracuda, Tuesdays at Hardware, Wednesdays at Therapy and select Fridays at the Beechman for Distorted Diznee), Pixie has reminded the world that she’s arguably New York’s best drag performer, as if it needed reminding. A diva in the truest sense of the word -- huge personality and charisma to match her talent and quest for perfection -- Miss Aventura, who is best known for her dancing but really brings every damn thing to the table, is the shining star of the nightlife sky.

11) John Blair, Jake Resnicow & Alan Picus

The four masters behind most of New York’s largest and most popular circuit parties, Blair (co-owner of Rise Bar), Resnicow (Producer of the Life Ball) and Picus (BoiParty) keep the thots sweaty and entranced by the thousands. Between various combinations of the three (along with tons of high profile promoters in their employment), we get M.E.A.T. at the Highline Ballroom every month and a few pop-up events scattered across the city, like December’s launch of Laboratory at the new Chelsea Music Hall.

10) The Eagle NYC

Still the best place in NYC for boys to be boys, men to be men and Leather Daddies to leash up their Pups, the Eagle represents the best of a trailblazing gay scene we don’t see as much of nowadays, but need around in order to keep that level of kink and roleplay alive in the subculture. The leather and fetishist communities found at the Eagle represent a tight-knit and vital queer community.

9) Horrorchata

The Queen of All Brooklyn Nightlife Today and the founder and producer of the annual Bushwig festival--which put Brooklyn nightlife on the map--continues her colorful, fashionable rule over her borough. Although not often performing herself these days, and too busy with international versions of Bushwig to experiment much with new nightlife events here in NYC, Horrorchata still brings us the epic monthlies Be Cute at Littlefield and Yas Mama at C’Mon Everybody, while spinning the weekly party CAKES at Metro and sundry other DJ gigs throughout the month.

8) Tina Burner

We hate having to crop a Tina pic because there is always a full lewk to gag over, and summarizing her contributions to the city’s nightlife could never be done in just a blurb like this either. As the current host of Barracuda’s long-running drag competition Star Search and the creator of the annual Miss Barracuda pageant, Tina fosters so much young drag talent in the city. As the hostess of Industry’s new Monday night show and Barracuda’s Wednesday Gurlesque revue, as well as her Saturday and Sunday brunches at Intermezzo and her One Woman Show at Hardware on Saturdays (not to mention her summer dominance of Cherrys on Fire Island), she exemplifies why New York drag is the country’s best. As a non-stop co-designer of her nightly and pageant looks which can range from the sublime to the ridiculous, she reveals how far the art form can be taken as a visual medium. As a national Comedy Queen finalist and our current reigning Miss Fire Island, she lets us all know that she’s a key player in not just the city’s scene, but the world’s. Unapologetically outspoken and larger than life while 100% devoted to her craft and the social responsibilities of drag in the queer community, Tina is the “drag queeniest” drag queen of them all... and we love her for it!

7) Stonewall

Our current President may have at one point wanted to overturn the ruling which made this bar a national landmark just to spite his predecessor, but that wouldn’t de-emphasize the importance of this destination to the LGBT movement at large. The birthplace of gay rights remains both a vital community center (featuring political rallies and fundraisers, theater and arts events) and a nightlife hub (weekend dance parties, karaoke, a seasonal singing competition, weekly and monthly drag shows including the career-making, different-featured-queen-per-week Stonewall Invasion). The staff (and the staff of its neighboring sister bar The Duplex) still come across as a giant family, and on their best nights they make their patrons -- tourists and locals alike -- feel like family as well.

6) Marti Gould Cummings

You may have noticed that some of your nightlife friends have become a lot more politically active and aware on social media these days, which of course is largely to do with necessity for survival thanks to the current administration. But it also can be traced to the visibility and persistence of this queen, who aside from being the founder of the Hell’s Kitchen Democrats and a major campaign fundraising figure for Cynthia Nixon’s gubernatorial run is also seated in the mayoral appointed Nightlife Advisory Committee. Marti is keenly aware of who or what we should be voting for to best protect our community, and she’s not afraid to tell us what we need to know. And what’s amazing is, she’s able to keep up with her responsibilities on the political front while still juggling a motherload of drag gigs: Sunday happy hour bingo at Pieces followed by a late show at Hardware, Monday nights at Therapy, Wednesday nights at Rise Bar, and lots of other pop-up shows and appearances all across town. Few people in the biz can turn the dial on and off between serious / hopeful activist to absolute drag clown with more success than Marti, who was just included in an even more prominent list than this one: the Out 100.

5) Macri Park & Metropolitan Bar

Having just celebrated their third and fifteenth anniversaries respectively, the smaller Macri Park and its nearby Big Sister institution Metro are the standard for what makes drag great in Brooklyn... whether its drag-infused parties or full on shows. They remain the only places in the borough where you can still see the scene’s pioneers perform on a regular basis, as most of them--Ruby Roo, Ragamuffin, Rify Royalty, Alotta McGriddles, etc.--have branched out into Manhattan gigs. And Metro’s the best place in the city to see visiting Drag Race queens and famous out-of-town performers do their thing in a surprisingly intimate setting. If you haven’t experienced these bars yet, than you don’t know the full story of NY drag and nightlife.

4) Susanne Bartsch

The Godmother of Nightlife is finally getting the credit she deserves as a vital figure of pop culture at large, having helped define a whole scene as Music plus Fashion equals Living Art. This year saw another successful run of her weekly summer party at LeBain; the creation of the Bartschland Follies weekly performance series at the McKittrick Hotel (fittingly the home of Sleep No More) featuring the likes of Amanda Lepore, Murray Hill, Joey Arias and other nightlife legends who Bartsch helped establish; the random kiki blowouts KUNST and 3 Dollar Bill’s new Play Now plus her famous annual Halloween affair at MoMA PS1. And then of course, there was the release of Susanne Bartsch: On Top, a much-discussed documentary biopic. Presenting the highest quality of nightlife in terms of art and music and community, Bartschland remains the golden standard.

3) Boxers

With a fit, shirtless staff, some tasty bar food and and sporty-esque atmosphere, Boxers in Chelsea established itself as a simple-yet-effective brand destined to be a chain of the Gay Hooters variety several years ago. It’s since done just that, with a very popular Hell’s Kitchen site and one all the way out in Philly. This year, the Boxers franchise fought the good fight and won, having earned two new uptown locations in the Upper East Side and Washington Heights. Both the new spots strayed from brand slightly with the inclusion of drag shows (and big ones at that), but nonetheless the company’s successful formula seems to offer infinite franchise possibilities.

2) Pieces & Hardware

An important West Village destination founded in the 90s, the narrow Pieces began as a cruisy karaoke dive and evolved into a destination for great drag and dance parties. Its younger Hell’s Kitchen sister Hardware has become something of a drag institution in recent years, establishing some of the city’s best shows and many of RuPaul’s Drag Race’s recent contestants and winners. With a sexy and charming staff of bartenders and DJs that cross between the two venues all week, neighborhood snobs break their habits and follow them between HK and the West Village pretty regularly. Owners Eric Einstein and Justin Buchanan recently acquired the West Village’s vacated Boots & Saddle property (which they will revamp and rename) as well as a new Hell’s Kitchen venue, both set to open in 2019; it’ll be exciting to see how the city’s nightlife further evolves when that happens.

1) Frankie Sharp

The nightlife impresario and entrepreneur behind the wildly successful Westgay at the Westway has been making things happen for quite some time, but really seemed to take 2018 as his own. Let’s review! In 2018, Frankie has: 1) maintained Metrosensual, the Saturday night party at Metropolitan Bar featuring guest spots from RuGirls and buzzworthy performers the world over; 2) established MARY, a raw and electrifying musical revue with a full band and large cast of singers, now a popular monthly happening at Club Cumming; 3) took charge of ReBar’s Friday nights with the sexy party BOYS; 4) became the programming director of Brooklyn’s cavernous new nightlife hub, 3 Dollar Bill, where in a few short weeks he’s already whipped up a dizzying calendar of drag shows, dance parties, live concerts and sexy soirées; 5) maintained his persona as a sharp-dressed, sexy AF personality and DJ on the scene. Basically, we all want to be Frankie on some level... we just don’t perceive that we could ever possibly have the time, talent, resources, connections and sheer force of will that Frankie has. He’s the whole package, and the living embodiment of what a person with vision can accomplish in this town.

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Kuda Villingili Resort, Maldives:The restaurant: The Hawkers: The Beach Club: ANGAGA ISLAND RESORT Maldivian beach bungalows: Water bungalows:Superior water bungalows: Vilamendhoo Island Resort and Spa:Garden rooms:Adjoining beach villas:Standalone beach villas:Jacuzzi beach villas:Jacuzzi water villas:

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Dining options:

One of the resort’s signature dining options that serve scrumptious breakfast and dinner. The Restaurant covers a variety of American, Asian, and European dishes.

This is a very lively food court set up offering Indian-Arabic, Thai-Japanese, and Italian-Mediterranean fusion street food. The best part about this place is that they serve the food in such a way that it can be shared with friends and family.

This is a South American-style club and restaurant serving frozen wine and cocktails alongside the seashore embracing the sunset with soundscapes and DJ sets.

Experiences:

The resort houses several exciting activities like surfing, island excursions, big game fishing, sea-shore dining, star gazing, and more.

For more information visit Kuda vilingili Resort, Maldives.

This is one of The Maldive’s most beautiful resorts with highly protected and preserved greenery and marine life. It provides the perfect snorkeling and diving experience. The accommodation, dining, and other activities are also at par with world-class standards.

Accommodation:

There are 50 Maldivian beach bungalows in the resort with each permitting 3 people per stay. They are located near the beach with beautiful scenery of palm trees and silky smooth white sand beneath. Each bungalow comprises all the amenities you could ask for and has a luxurious room set up with aesthetic bamboo furniture.

These bungalows are surrounded by an ocean-perfect view and don’t fail to provide you a wholesome experience. They are the perfect stay option for honeymoons. Imagine staying at an elegantly furnished bungalow with your partner in the middle of the ocean with direct access to the same. You could relish the moment throughout your stay and enjoy the most beautiful sunrise and sunsets. The resort has 20 such water bungalows.

There are 20 superior water bungalows that allow a maximum of 3 people per stay. These are much more spacious than the prior water bungalows with more furnishing. They have direct access to the lagoon and provide a sun deck at the back.

Dining:

They have several eateries like the Beach bar that provides the best coffee and some ala carte dishes. Their Dolphin restaurant serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner with mouth-watering international cuisines to choose from. They also have a Sundown bar where you can enjoy the sunset with the company of some highly comprehensive cocktail and mocktail options.

Entertainment

Their Deep-sea Diving center gives training with the help of expert divers.

They provide several excursions that include activities like -snorkeling, island hopping, and sunset fishing.

Their water sports comprise canoeing, skiing, sailing, wakeboarding, surfing, paddling, and more.

Their Spa services are from the best of their kind in all of Maldives -Duny Thai Spa that provides comforting Massages, tanning treatments, facials, foot reflexology, body polish, and wrap, nail care, waxing, and even a couple’s package.

The resort has a Boutique and a Souvenir shop to bring back some tokens of memories home.

For more information visit https://angaga.com.mv/.

The resort is located in South Ari Atoll with a 25 min seaplane ride from Velana International Airport. The resort provides sophisticated stay options, accompanied by fine dining and recreational activities like the Spa. Spending your summer here would definitely be a magnificent experience worth repeating even the next time.

Accommodation:

This is perfect for nature lovers who want to stay surrounded by nature and greenery.

These are perfect for group visitors or large families who want to stay nearby yet have some privacy. The beach view is also simply mesmerizing.

A stay option ideal for privacy lovers. This is a quiet and peaceful villa alongside the seashore, detached from other accommodations.

These are villas designed in the Maldivian style, with a private sun deck and Jacuzzi for two people.

Being built in the middle of the lagoon, these villas provide the most pleasurable and aesthetic stay. They also have an attached jacuzzi and direct ocean access.

Dining:

The resort has 2 buffet restaurants and 2 Ala Carte options with an all-inclusive menu of several different cuisines and continental varieties. They also have 4 beachside bars where you can enjoy the exceptional sea view while savoring your favorite drinks. You can also avail yourself of their extensive ‘dinner on the beach’ option or simply order from the comforts of your room with their comprehensive in-villa dining menu.

Entertainment:

Enjoy their various recreational activities like live performances, family events, land sports, kids playground, adults game room, and more. They also provide a wide variety of water sports like snorkeling, scuba diving, and surfing to name a few. Duniye Spa with its branches in several resorts around The Maldives has extended its services to Vilamendhoo Island Resort too.

For more information visit Vilamendhoo Island Resort & Spa.

These resorts are amongst the most popular and luxurious resorts in The Maldives. They provide the best customer experience and make sure your stay is pleasurable in every way. The resorts also offer high-standard amenities and services to ensure that your visit is at its maximum comfort.

#Ravishing Resorts of The Maldives

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angryhausfrau-writes · 3 years

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I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 10 - In Which Jack Hosts A Fashion Show

Jack is finally ready for his first runway show, after months of work and agonizing over every small detail and making sure he keeps up appearances as a flighty party boy with enough money that he doesn't need to have talent or ambition.

But he's honestly quite proud of how everything has turned out. He's tailored the runway fashions for the trendy, upscale gallery that's hosting the show, of course, so everything is very modern and very stark. There are a lot of geometric shapes, structured collars, plunging triangular necklines and sideslits, things like that. Lots of metallic black fabrics.

It's all very cyberpunk dystopia - but chic. Because the upper echelons of society will commodify and romanticize everything, including the surveillance state.

It does appear to be a successful strategy, however. Mary has been taking pictures of his work throughout the process. Pictures that are framed to hint, to tantalize, but not to actually reveal anything. And there's been significant hype building around the show. Some of the backstage photos from the runway rehearsal have even appeared in the society sections of various newspapers. Which nobody really reads anymore, but Jack's Instagram account has simultaneously blown up, so that's probably a better indication that he's on the right track with this designer nonsense.

And he's had no trouble filling seats at the show itself. Since it's all rich assholes in attendance, they'd never do anything so gauche as to charge admission, but there's an understanding that everyone who attends the event will provide a hefty (and tax deductible, after some creative accounting) donation to both the art gallery and Jack's little design company. And Kaylen has used her extensive network of snooty art acquaintances to make sure there are plenty of critics in the audience, which should help get his name out there in the fashion world so he can start broadening their field of influence.

So the last thing that remains to be done is to personally invite the Councilor to the show. Not only because Jack is trying to develop a deeper friendship with him (and thereby cement his influence over any and all planning decisions) but also because Max wants to form another sort of relationship with Councilor Featherstone. Ie. she wants one of her girls to start “dating” the esteemed Councilor and whispering sweet nothings about their competitors into his ear instead of pillow talk. Which is also why Jack's throwing an after party at his house where the invitees can mingle with the models, get to know them a little better.

Jack had initially been rather uncomfortable with this plan. Mostly because he doesn't like people in his house messing up his things. But also because this feels just slightly skeevy in a way he hasn't been before. He's a con and a killer and a dealer, but he's not a pimp.

But when he'd talked to the girls about this plan, they'd seemed surprised at his reservations. One girl - Jackie – had even asked if the Councilor was, quote, wicked and seemed disappointed when Jack told her he had the sexual charisma of a bowl of lukewarm oatmeal. And Jack supposes it's their job, so they know what they're getting themselves into.

So he finds himself at the office building downtown (a pricey piece of real estate if Jack's ever seen one) to personally extend the glossy black invitation to both fashion show and after party to Councilor Featherstone. Who apparently has not yet grasped e-vites as a concept. And anyway, it's the personal touch that leaves a lasting impression.

And Charles has elected to accompany Jack, for whatever reason. He seems familiar with desk security and the building layout at least. Which is, perhaps, suspicious. As are the wary glances Councilor Featherstone's second in command – a man who's doing much what Max wants them to do in terms of filtering exactly what proposals actually reach the Councilor's desk, although his criteria for acceptance is more in line with being rich and titled and not a dirty foreigner - keeps giving Charles through Featherstone's glass door.

Charles's self satisfied smirk is not particularly encouraging either.

But he'd rather have any potential adversaries cowed as apposed to actively antagonistic. And Counselor Featherstone is more than happy to receive an invitation to his good friend Jack's debut fashion show. With front row seats to ensure that he gets a good look at all the models as they parade past on the catwalk. And Max's second sitting next to him - because Featherstone doesn't seem like the sort to approach a woman of his own volition and they'll need some indication of who to throw at him later tonight.

Jack's stupid fashion show is giving Anne a bitch of a headache. He's running around backstage in a fucking tizzy, because someone's makeup isn't quite right or they're wearing the wrong style of jewelry or a dozen other fucking things. And Anne's supposed to be coordinating this mess – as if that's fucking possible.

At least she's good at glaring and rude hand gestures. That appears to be all that's required to get the DJs – some poor fucks Max has by the balls – to get their shit set up and now there's some pumping electronic shit going as all the rich fucks mingle and drink cocktails, waiting for the show to start.

Fortunately, Eme'd been the one to recommend the caterers and other than pointing towards the kitchen and telling them when the show starts, she hasn't had to deal with them. And Mary's running around taking pictures of all the models and dresses and shit but she spares Anne a quick smile whenever they cross paths. So it could be worse.

And then Anne's pressed into lining up all the models in order and cuing when they're supposed to go out, so she's too busy to hear Jack's little speech at the start of the show. But by the polite applause he gets, it's a pretty good one – always been silver tongued, Jack has, and that ain't changed any with this new venture.

And it turns out he's pretty good at the whole designer thing too, which had been a surprise. Anne doesn't think much of the outfits – completely impracticable and all ugly weird dresses - but all these posh idiots are eating this shit up, if you take into account the fact that rich people excitement is a lot less loud than normal people excitement. The after party is sure to loosen them up, at least.

Jack slumps against the wall, absolutely exhausted. The fashion show had gone well, with several of the critics and many of the various high society invitees coming up to congratulate him afterwards. He's the darling of the upper crust for a night.

And in order to cement that for the future, he's in the process of throwing the mother of all parties – champagne, blow, stupid finger foods with gold leaf on them. The sort of club music that keeps coked up partiers on the dancefloor all night. And it's all getting to be a bit much.

Anne and Mary have already disappeared upstairs to bed, and Jack dearly wishes he could join them. Or at least meander in their general direction – he doubts they want him in their bed. Particularly because they're probably not even attempting to sleep what with all the noise downstairs.

And Jack doesn't really feel like laying awake for hours in his empty bed while Anne and Mary fuck down the hall, even if he wasn't bound by his persona to stay until the party ended or the sun rose. And it's starting to look like sunup will be the earlier of the two conditions, so it's just as well he's a jobless layabout who can sleep all day tomorrow.

At least Counselor Featherstone looks to be having fun with Idelle, all tucked into a sort of quiet corner with her and staring shamelessly at her tits. Which are quite noticeable in the dress she's wearing, to be fair. But Jack doesn't particularly want to spend his night thinking about that either.

So he turns on his heel and weaves through the crowd until he's reached the French doors leading to the little patio out back. He needs a minute – just one minute – of quiet and calm. Just a minute to catch his breath before he heads back into the heaving throng.

He walks out to the edge of the lawn and lets out a long sigh, head tipped towards the heavens.

“Get sick of the party, Jack?”

Charles emerges from the dark, only the glowing cherry of his cigar lighting his face, making his eyes gleam in a way that would be terrifying if Jack didn't know him so well.

But he does know Charles, so he just turns toward him, slumps against him in exhaustion. “I'll admit, it's a little harder to make it through these things without enough blow to keep an entire 80's office building supplied.”

Charles grins. “Or you're just getting old.”

“And what does that say about you, Chaz?” Jack leans back to look him in the eye. “You're the one out here in the dark all by yourself. Maybe you're the one getting too old for this shit.”

Charles eyes the house and all the guests making a disgusting mess all over Jack's fancy furniture. It's unbelievable, and he's spent his whole life, minus the last few months, living on the streets or in derelict drug dens.

“Don't know that I was ever young enough for this particular shit. Want to pretend to be desperate for a fuck and go hide upstairs?”

Jack considers it for a long moment, torn between responsibility to Max and his desire to escape the party. But fear of Max wins out – she can make is life awfully difficult. And that's without Anne giving him unimpressed looks on her behalf.

“Want to pretend to make out on the dancefloor instead?”

Charles grins. “Ok, but don't get pissy at me for grabbing your ass.” And he proceeds to steer Jack into the house and out into the middle of the dancefloor by doing just that, to the cheers and wolf whistles of everyone close enough to understand what he's doing.

Which is a fair number, because Charles is not exactly known for being subtle. And then he sticks his tongue down Jack's throat.

“I hope you know this means I'm spending tomorrow braiding your hair in retaliation,” Jack growls at him, when he's finally let up for air. “And I will give you pigtails.”

Charles just laughs, so apparently it's not a enough of a threat. Jack will find something truly menacing at some point. He swears.

#black sails #charles vane/jack rackham #max/anne #i travel troubled oceans #chapter 10

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