#am now kinda tempted to shave half my head

[dreadwolfiscoming]

I CAN’T BE STOPPED. (aka I played as Sera for a bit last play through and became obsessed with archers so had to make one of my own. aaaand now for the rambling...)

Meet Jo. Short for Josifen (a derivation of Fenjosi, meaning ‘runs with wolves’). Preferring the forest to the cities, streams to streets, birds to bards, Jo begrudgingly went to the Conclave for her clan, though a secret part of her was excited for the opportunity to see more than just her world. Her curiosity and desire for knowledge can be both a gift and a burden, as she can quickly overstep her bounds if she isn’t mindful. It was a great source of frustration growing up and likely why she had Dirthamen’s vallaslin tattooed on her face when she came of age.

Like her namesake, Jo enjoys the lone lifestyle, but when she does find her pack, she will defend and protect them to the end. She’s hot headed, skeptical, emotional, and grim, but has the best of intentions. She feels for the little people, particularly her own kind, and has little patience for the games of high court. She secretly wishes she could trade places with Sera.

A hunter by nature, and thus an archer, Jo is highly skilled in tracking—finding clues and small details comes second nature to her. From the moment she meets Solas she can tell there is more to his story than he gives away, but does not push her place, knowing the fragility of the Inquisition’s movement in the early days.

Jo is wary of humans, but that doesn’t mean she hates all of them and wishes them gone. She just wishes there was a better way to co-exist on equal ground, for the elves did once rule this land. This is part of the reason why she is drawn to Solas, because of his knowledge of the past, through his journeys in the Fade. Her curiosity claws inside her, begging her to ask more more more—the Fade is such a mysterious and special place and she’s eager to spend more time with him and expand her understanding; of which Solas is more than happy to accommodate, though cautiously, she notes. Not a particularly magical elf, having this mysterious magical power in her hand only inflates her curiosity.

It is the early days of the Inquisition. Solas has agreed to stay until the breach is closed, new agents such as Sera, Bull and Blackwall have joined for their own variety of reasons, and now its time to choose who to ally with in order to close the breach. If Jo had any real authority, she’d eliminate the Chantry at once—its a headache she just doesn’t wish to deal with and even from her limited conversations with Solas thus far, she’s learned of the lies and false propaganda they have spread throughout the years. Alas, her human companions are tied closely to their Maker and have taken their Divine’s death hard. Unable to remember what happened, Jo feels guilt over having been the last one to see her before the Conclave exploded, and thus swallows her snide comments towards those in favor of the Chantry and puts that energy into closing the breach and getting answers.

The perpetual headache she has as a result of all this shit is just the icing on the proverbial fucking cake.

[everylastlinex]

First time posting chenford fic and I am very, very nervous to toss my bit out here in this already very talented fandom. BUT THESE TWO HAVE TAKEN OVER MY LIFE! Comments most welcome!

This was inspired by these cast pictures of them all hiking! Obviously my brain went into Tim/Lucy overdrive so here we are!

>>> by my side for the climb

The group goes on a hike, while Tim and Lucy have a hard time keeping their hands to themselves.

~ 2K words, rated T

“It’s not fair we couldn’t bring Kojo,” Lucy grumbles. Tim just nods in agreement in front of her. “He loves hikes.”

It’s a rare day off for all of them and they’re hiking a new challenging trail, hence why Lucy and Tim had been outvoted by the rest of the gang that Kojo couldn’t come along on new terrain.

“3-2, you lose,” Angela says with a huff as she maneuvers ahead of them, eyeing Tim with a smirk on her face. “Don’t sulk all day, Chen.”

“I just- it’s our day off, he’s gonna think we abandoned him,” she whines. She makes to climb over a large rock distractedly, almost stumbling when her sneaker slides. But Tim’s right there, at her side, hand on her shoulder holding her still, grabbing her hand to pull her over.

She gives him a soft smile, stepping in closer to his side and dropping a kiss over the scruff of his beard that he hasn’t shaved over their long weekend off. They’d gone to the range and made a wager- Lucy had won, so the scruff had to stay until Monday morning. She’d mostly been curious what he looked look like with some hair on his face since he’s always so perfectly clean shaven, but if last night in bed had been any indication, she doesn’t mind the new texture at all. She wouldn’t be able to handle that level of sensation every night though, so she’s more than ready to see the familiar line of his jaw again in just two more days.

For now, he leans down into her, nuzzling into the hand she’s placed on his cheek. His hand brushes the curve of her back, no doubt tempted lower by the way she looks in her leggings.

“That’s five!” Jackson yells from behind them with a laugh and a shake of his head. “You guys are gross.”

“That doesn’t count!” Lucy argues, “There was no lip to lip contact.”

“Your lips, his face, it counts,” Jackson argues back as he barrels around them to get ahead, glancing at his watch to see how they’re doing on time.

“Well, fine, if it’s gonna count, I’m gonna make it count!” she argues emphatically. She’s barely turned back to Tim, determination written all over her face to combat their friends’ “7 kisses and you’re paying for brunch, chenford” rule, but he’s already meeting her lips with his. She squeaks in surprise before she wraps her arms around his neck, her body naturally falling into him, sighing as he adjusts his position to hold onto her more fully.

The height difference, she thinks dreamily, she’ll never be over the height difference. Or the way his lips claim hers, so commanding yet gentle. She slowly opens her eyes when he’s pulled his lips away from hers, seeing the spectacular view of him smiling fondly down at her.

“Hi,” she whispers with a smile.

“Hello,” he whispers back, that half smirk on his face that she wants to desperately kiss off. So, because she now can, she leans in to do just that.

“We’re gonna have to pay for lunch,” she tells him.

He just shrugs, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. “I figured. You can’t keep your hands off me,” he teases.

She scoffs in faux outrage and attempts to pull her hand out of his grasp, pleased when he only holds on tighter and tugs her closer. “Um, excuse you! Who’s the one who came along on this hike even when they weren’t officially invited? It was an all girls thing, and Jackson,” she adds.

“It’s a group hang. I can hang with the group,” he tells her.

Lucy just laughs. “Oh, yeah, you’re a big ‘long hikes with his work friends on his day off’ kinda guy. Just a regular social butterfly.” She uses air quotes and just pokes at him in good humor, remembering how he’d changed and packed his backpack with snacks and supplies, told her he’d come with her before she could even argue.

“I am now,” he says, looking at her so sincerely that she stops in her tracks.

“Aww,” she begins, even as he moves closer to her, looping his arms around her waist and bending down so their faces are closer because once again, height difference. “That’s so sweet-“

“I’m also a ‘don’t want to spend half the day away from my hot girlfriend when we’re supposed to be spending a long weekend off together’ kinda guy.” He winks at her.

She beams at him, melting at his sweetness. The little pockets of his romantic side she’s been discovering include saying the right words to make her feel special, surprise massages on the couch after a long shift, having her favorite snacks and wine stocked in his kitchen, and holding her through any nightmares. These are the glimpses of Tim she has been cherishing and holding close over the last few months of their budding relationship.

“Not sick of me yet?” she asks, unaware of the chord of vulnerability in her voice. She hasn’t been in too many serious relationships, something always turning them sour just when she thinks she’s got the hang of it. If it isn’t a boyfriend cheating on her with a friend, or Nolan breaking up with her before she could beat him to it, it’s some other vague reason that she never could quite get an honest answer about.

And Tim, well, Tim is someone who commits. He’d been married for a long, long time, he’s not a man who makes light about the time he’s dedicating to a woman he’s seeing. The depth of his devotion takes her breath away, makes her heart stumble in humility at the thought that he could focus it on her.

“I guess I really hypnotized you with those books on tape,” she jokes, trying to cover up her question and the way her body subconsciously freezes as she waits for his answer.

But he knows her, of course he does, so he just runs a hand through her hair, resting it at the back of her neck and squeezing in that oh so comforting way he does. It’s reassuring but also demands her attention, that what he’s about to say is important and he wants her to listen closely, take notes, memorize his answer, recall it for the future. It’s boyfriend-Tim with the right dose of TO-Tim mixed in.

When she meets his gaze, he says, “Nope, not sick of you. Totally into you.” When she beams that radiant smile at him, her eyes shining with happiness, he bends to kiss her again. “What about you, you sick of me?”

Lucy knows there’s some insecurities he hides away too, hidden behind the baggage of a torpedoed marriage, so she squeezes his broad shoulders, shakes her head even as she continues to kiss him. “Nope. Just wish you weren’t so ugly.”

He snorts a hum of amusement, shaking his head at her as he breaks the kiss, nuzzling her forehead and finally dropping his hands to squeeze her ass like he’s wanted to for oh, about 4.3 miles uphill. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Tim, but the things people say about your face when you aren’t listening, it’s downright mean-“

“I said shut it.” His hands graze up the sides of her torso, knowing exactly how sensitive she is to tickling even through the layer of her athletic top. He smirks when she tries to capture his hands, and gently pushes her a couple steps backward against the the side of whatever large mountain he’d agreed to climb just to spend time with his new girlfriend.

“Mean!” she scolds, but she’s smiling at him, the word coming out as harmless when it comes from that lovestruck face of hers. “Now what, you gonna seduce me in full view of our friends and all of California right here on this trail?”

“Oh, this is just foreplay, Boot,” he promises, inching closer, torsos brushing, smirking at the way her breathing quickens. “That part’s gonna happen the second we get into the house after brunch.”

She maybe whimpers. Maybe. Or maybe she definitely does because he rests his forehead against hers, hands so tight on her hips that maybe his fingertips are leaving a mark but she definitely doesn’t mind. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Eat fast,” he orders, that TO voice sneaking in and making her warm and wet in all the right places. This time she definitely whimpers, leaning up to capture his lips, trying to get out a, “yes, sir,” but not sure if she managed to or not. He groans, a low guttural sound, his hips pushing against hers, mouth firm against hers, the slide of their tongues meeting, and yeah, actually, she’s pretty sure he did hear it and it does things to him too.

“God, you’re so hot,” he murmurs against her lips, hands firm on her jaw as he tilts her face up for better access, lips moving over hers again before she can reply and return the sentiment, or maybe she’ll just call him hideous again, she loves the amusement and flustered look in his eyes when she continues that running joke-

“Gross, they are literally about to do it on the side of the mountain.” Nyla’s voice from behind breaks them apart. They jump in shock and quickly are away from each other, panting a little too obviously to even bother making a denial. “I should arrest you both.”

“Just you try it,” Tim challenges with an arch of his eyebrow.

Before Nyla can reply, because she surely will, Angela’s voice intervenes.

“You guys are disgusting. Keep it in your pants for a little longer. I told Wes I’d be back by two. Another hour, brunch, then you can do it in your truck for all I care.” She notices Lucy’s burgeoning blush at the comment. She’ll have to interrogate her about that later. Or maybe not. Tim being like her brother is really putting a damper on getting any rated R details. “Let’s break up Romeo and Juliet here. Chen, you’re with me, Tim, you stay behind with Jackson.”

“Actually, Romeo and Juliet both died. It’s a tragic tale, not the big love story example we like to use it as in modern times,” Lucy says as she joins Angela at the front of the line.

Tim snorts at the not amused look on Angela’s face at his girlfriend’s literary explanation, and Jackson just laughs, used to Lucy’s nerdy commentary by now.

“You’re a closeted nerd, Chen, we know that already, keep walking.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lucy says, giving one last look to Tim before she’s forced to face forward. He winks at her and she flushes, hiding her smile as best as she can.

“Ugh, gross!” Jackson calls out with an exaggerated eyeroll. “You’re definitely paying for brunch and I’m ordering pancakes, and waffles to go for Sterling.”

“We haven’t hit seven kisses yet,” Lucy begins, quieting immediately as the other three begin to yell at her loudly in exasperation.

“Don’t you even-“ Angela says with a growl.

“You shut your mouth,” Jackson orders firmly, shaking his head at his roommate.

“Fine!” she says with a laugh, hands up in surrender as she meets Tim’s eyes at the back of the line. “Fine. Sergeant Bradford is a Sergeant now and got a raise, so he’s paying.” She blows a kiss at him, winking when he pretends to scowl at her, but she sees the amusement written all over his face.

“Okay, let’s keep moving, people. You heard Mama Lopez, two hours left.”

[pockou]

skin ⤻ chpt. one

— pairings: jean kirschtein x fem bodied nb!reader

— warnings: none for now

— summary: after reuniting with your childhood bestfriend, jean and a long heated night together you establish a friends with benefits relationship. what could go wrong?

— modern au

— wc: 2.6k

— a/n: sorry nothing really happened, this is really just me setting things up !

⤺ skin masterlist

After a long and stressful day with work, you finally arrived home. The first thing that crossed your mind was letting your mother know you’d be skipping out on brunch with her and some old friends the next afternoon so you could catch up on some much needed sleep. You removed your shoes and wiped the small bit of sweat which was accumulating on your forehead, outside felt like a heatwave being it was nearing the peak of summer, work has been pretty busy lately with all the moms coming in and demanding for you to restock the pool noodles — which obviously you had no control over just being a mere cashier. You never knew how stressful it could be just standing behind a counter all day, which you didn’t take into account is the long and blistering walk home. Maybe a summer job wasn’t the best choice?

“Oh hey Mom!” Your mom was just passing by with a laundry basket in hand, probably heading to clean clothes for tomorrow.

“Hi Y/N, how was work?”

“Long.” You filled a cup of cold apple juice up before turning back over to her, “By the way, I can’t go with you and dad to brunch tomorrow. I’m pooped and need some extra sleep.”

“Y/N, you can’t skip out, I understand you’re tired but an old friend who you’ll probably be happy to see is going to be there, and i’ll make sure you don’t miss him, he’s rarely in town anymore.”

“He?” You tried to think of all the guys who’ve came into your life which your parents took a liking to, there were a few but not any you really would want to see.

“Yes, he. Now get showered you smell like clorax and sweat!”

“Jeez Mom way to put it lightly!” You both laughed together, these moments definitely made you glad you decided to move back for the summer and stay off of campus. You picked up your phone after it buzzed and saw an incoming follow request from “Jean Kirschtein” the name rang a bell but ultimately you chose to ignore it and decline. You decided to fix the obvious awful scent which was coming from you and headed to shower.

You looked at the array of bath soaps, body scrubs and shampoos you and your mom shared, you picked up the ‘vanilla mint’ scent which always brought comfort to you for some odd reason, it just has for as long as you could remember. After massaging your head with shampoo and conditioner you shaved your legs until you were satisfied with the outcome and jumped out of the shower. Noticing the time after you went to pause your music you realized just how long you took, it was already past seven pm and your dad should be home, hopefully with dinner. Before leaving, you moisturized your legs and added an acne serum to your face, gently patting it into your cheeks and forehead. You just threw on some boxer-like shorts and one of your dads old band tees and peeked into the kitchen.

“Hey darling.”

“Hey Dad, did you pick up dinner?” You leaned over the counter giggling at your mothers antics, being she was behind your father mocking him.

“Yes I did, burritos good? There’s this new joint by the office.”

“Sick, thanks dad! I’ll set the table, love you.” You pecked his cheek before grabbing plates and cups for the three of you, you hadn’t remembered the last time you ate, it probably was around eleven when you had your lunch breaks. Which you believed to be a bit too early for lunch. You smiled widely at both of your parents as they sat down at the table.

“What do you guys want to drink? I’ll go get somethin’ for us all.”

“I’ll just have a water pumpkin.” You took your dads cup and gave him a thumbs up then looked to your mother.

“I still have my protein shake i’ll be fine!”

“Mkay!” You took yours and your dads cups and filled them about halfway with water, adding a bit of lemon and ice to yours, “Dad do ya want ice?”

“Sure, thank you. Now hurry up your foods getting cold!” You shuffled back over to the table handing your dad his iced water and flashing him a shiny smile.

“Thanks again!” After that you dug into your dinner and the whole meal was filled with your dad telling you and your mom about people calling in asking for help with computers and you telling them about annoying people you had to deal with and, of course your mom complaining about Amy from her yoga class.

By the time you all died down and your mom mentioned you should all get some sleep so you’d all be in good moods for brunch in the morning, inevitably you gave up in trying to skip out due to your moms persistence to join them. You walked into your room to be greeted by the warmth and comfort it always gave off to you, you grabbed your phone and plopped onto your bed ready to finally wind down and relax after such a long day. Your eyes got heavy and you felts drowsy before you gave in and fell into a deep sleep. You dreamed of the same boy you had been for a while, he was cute, really cute and he always brought comfort to you. This dream always took place in a pre-k classroom, playing will blocks and legos and the smell of popcorn and juice in the air. He always came up with a smile on his face which was missing one of his front teeth already, some spaghetti sauce around his mouth and asking if you wanted to play tag. But everytime before you said yes, you always woke up and you were no longer in a carefree mindset like a child and that boy was never there all that was there was a loud ‘beep beep beep’ sound ringing in your ears which never failed to wake you up right at ten thirty am.

This time your mom was also in your room, rummaging throughout your dresser drawers. She was humming the same song she used to sing you to sleep with which always made you smile. You whined as you sat up stretching.

“Morning honey, can you wear this today?” She had just a white tee and a jean shorts pretty simple and nice to wear in the summer.

“Sure that’s fine, how much time do I have?”

“Around an hour or so, make sure you hurry please I don’t wanna be late.”

“Mkay, by the way when do I getta know who this wonderboy is?”

“When you see him you’ll know, trust me. Now get ready!”

She walked out of your room to let you get dressed, after putting on the outfit she chose you just found some random sandals to wear and fixed your hair a bit, you still had some time to spare so you just chilled on the couch playing a random cooking game. Your mom came out to show herself off and she did her cheesy little jazz hands.

“You look beautiful Momma.”

“Thank you, Y/N, you look great aswell.” You both looked in the kitchen to see your dad eating something, “We are literally going to brunch why in the world are you eating?” She obviously wasn’t mad but she shook her hand at your dad which made you both chuckle. They both had been together since they were in highschool and seemed to have an unbreakable bond. That was something you’ve always wanted with another person, just to be able to find comfort in another so easily, and trust them no matter what. And just the very way they looked at eachother and the loving gaze they shared, it was everything, they were soulmates and all you wanted was to find something like that. Your special person.

“Well, we should get going, the car drive is a bit long id say.” You lifted yourself up from the couch and followed them, still looking down at your game. You plopped into the car once again, and just gazed out the window.

“Where are we goin’ again?”

“Just a pancake house, nothing too special y’know?”

“Mkay, thanks Mom.” You looked back down at your phone to see that ‘Jean’ guy requesting you again, you found it kinda weird but you decided to look at his account. He was attractive. No he was fucking hot, he had a shiny ash blonde mullet, which some of it was a darker shade, somewhat brown. His hair had a slight wave at the ends adding just a bit of volume to it. You scrolled a little bit more to find out he had a chihuahua and a shitzu. He was also doing good in school and — you double tapped. You mentally cursed at yourself, you just liked a post from not too long ago but still he’d now know you’re looking at his account. Out of guilt you let him follow you, you had to now atleast. You just turned off your phone and flipped it over, ignoring what just happened.

“You alright? You look sick.” You looked up to your mom who was looking at you from the front seat, “If its about ‘wonderboy’ don’t be too scared you two used to be so close, you’ll click instantly!”

“Mkay Mom, and I’m fine.” You acted as if you totally didn’t just stalk a hot guy on Instagram, gawk over him then like one of his posts from a few weeks back. You were totally fine, what else could happen. You were incredibly tempted to go look at his page again, his arms always seemed to fill his sleeves from what you saw and, he had a stubble which was just a shade darker than his hair. He dressed incredibly well and looked like he smelled like fancy cologne. You checked your phone and it already had been thirty minutes.

“Mom when’ll we get there?”

“It’s just done the road, relax honey.” You sighed in relief, your stomach had been churning the past few minutes and you needed out of that humid car. Once you parked and looked at the time, it was half past eleven, the exact time of your reservation.

“Alright, we’re at a patio table so you two walk their i’ll go talk with the bouncer to see if the others are here.” Your dad patted your head before walking off to check in, you followed behind your mom. With your hands in your pocket you guys turned the corner and a certain someone caught your eye, the guy from instagram, Jean was it? He was sitting in the patio, her hair was thrown into a ponytail and a chocolate brown like some of Jeans hair, she was cute and obviously his mother.

“Oh my goodness, Kirschtein is that you?!” Your eyes widened, these were the people you were joining for brunch. “Jean! You’ve grown so much, you look very handsome now.”

“Thank you ma’am, Y/N is that you?” He smiled widely before stepping closer to you and embracing you in a bear hug, you let out a small defeated laugh before hugging him back, “How’ve you been? How long has it been?”

“Since preschool.” Your gazes went to his mom who stole you from Jean and hugged you even tighter. You felt the life being squeezed out of your ribs, even though you barely remembered these hugs. And the scent you’ve always loved, both Jean and his mom smelled like vanilla and mint, it was pretty ironic. You all took a seat waiting for your dad to come back before you ordered anything. Jean was seated across from you, his legs were a bit on your end of the table but you just ignored it, everything seemed so awkward yet comfortable all at the same time. Jeans presence was just comforting and made you feel warm and whenever he talked to you and kept eye contact? That made you wanna scream, you two hadn’t seen eachother for years but instantly clicked.

Once your Dad came back, he had five menus in hand and gave them all out. You all talked amongst yourselves about what you’ll get to eat, and what you’ll be getting to drink, ultimately you settled on a coffee, so did your Dad. While Jeans mom and your Mom giggled about some drink they used to always share before ordering two of them, Jean got a decaf. It seemed plain but you weren’t one to talk. You had been engulfed in whatever it was you were doing on your phone until Jean kicked you lightly and gestured to his own phone. You clicked on instagram and saw he had messaged you there.

“Hey, so are we gonna talk abt you stalking me orr?”

“No, we’re not Jean, please just forget abt it.”

After that your drinks had finally came, now you all had to order you got just some pancakes, nothing special. Jean got an omelette while his and your Mom shared french toast and your Dad got waffles. The conversation over brunch went well, Jean shared about what he was studying in during the last school year, as did you. Your familys just caught up with what had been going on, Jean had adopted two dogs over the past year — which you already knew, he was doing good in school and his studies. You just sat there kind of awkwardly being just an hour or two before you were stalking him and thinking about how hot he was, you were snapped back into reality when his Mom asked you something.

“Have you been with anybody recently?”

“Mom! You can’t just ask her that, we haven’t seen her in years..” Jean whipped his head to the side looking at his Mom.

“No Jean it’s fine, but I haven’t.”

“Oh really? You’re so pretty? I find that hard to believe!” You smiled at her, she was obviously trying to be nice. You all continued eating, Jean paying close attention to his phone.

“Well Jean, have you seen anyone recently?”

“Mom!! Seriously?” You were confused about what your moms were trying to pull off, asking random questions back to back on the same subject.

“Y/N it’s fine. And No Mrs. L/N, I actually haven’t.” Jean stretched backwards, his arm muscles slightly flexing while he did so.

“Hmmm, interesting.. Well, finish up everyone.” You had already finished eating so all you had to do was wait for everyone else to finish. You played that same dumb cooking game for what felt like an eternity your Mom finally tapped your shoulder to get your attention.

“We should be heading out, by the way you two are invited for dinner tomorrow, feel free to come by anytime!” You got up with your mom, waving a goodbye to Jean and his mother. Now you had to endure a car ride most likely of your mother blabbing on about how you should get with Jean, that was something you didn’t wanna think or talk about.

You napped in the car for most of the ride until your phone started to buzz in your pocket, which woke you up from your dazed state. You checked the notification to see Jean had sent you a message.

“Y’know you got pretty hot right?”

“What? Jean thats random.”

“Fuck I mean that in the most respectful way possible.”

“Mkay.” You rolled your eyes, although you could say the same about him you were fond of his boldness but that was definitely a worry for another day. All you were worried about was what you’ll be doing now with him coming over again. Were you going to make a move in the same way he did or ignore his antics completely? And that was the last thought you had before falling asleep again.

[rebel-without-cause-x]

The Secret

Part 8

Jax Teller x OC

SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST FOR JAX

SUMMARY: Everyone has secrets to some extent. But what happens when you have kept an enormous secret for 6 years? Harleigh Winston spent her whole life around SAMCRO, in fact she was born into the club. But after her heart gets broken she runs from Charming and the club keeping the biggest secret she had ever had.

"You gonna be good for uncle chibby?" You asked amber as she ate her breakfast.

"Yes" she grinned "love you momma"

"I love you too monkey" you smiled kissing her head. "Thanks for looking after her"

"It's not a problem, you working on the shop today?" Chibs asked

It had been a week since the party and since work started on the shop.

"Yeah the tradesmen finished last night, I'm bloody excited I've got so many ideas" you laughed grabbing your leather jacket "Tell you that shop is gonna look badass"

"It's gonna be better than you tattooing us in the middle of the clubhouse like you used to" he laughed kissing the top of your head. "We will pop by at lunch and bring some food"

"See you later" you grinned grabbing your keys and helmet.

You had just walked into the shop and was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. Leaning against the door your eyes scanned the room, no furniture had been moved in yet as it was waiting for your touch on the shop, the walls was half tiled with a mix of coloured subway tiles and a crisp white walls above giving you the perfect bank Canvas. Setting the box of paint down you pulled you hoodie off leaving you just in your joggers and sports bra.

Plugging your phone into the the speakers, you hit play and music started blasting through the shop as you started drawing on the walls.

It was now lunch and Jax couldn't help himself as he stopped by the shop with a bag of food from maccies in hand. He was in two minds whether to walk in or to walk away. Taking a deep breath he pushed the door open.

He couldn't help but smile as you painted the massive reaper on the back wall, paint on your skin as well as the wall, hair scrapped back into a messy bun and the waist band of your Calvin kleins showing. Due to the music being so loud you didn't hear him walk in until the music stopped.

Looking over your shoulder you saw Jax stood there leaning against the wall smiling softly.

"Thought I'd stop by and see how you was getting on" he nodded. "I brought food as well thought you'd be hungry"

"Thanks" you smiled climbing off the step, standing next to him to take in your work "so what do you think"

"It's fucking amazing Harleigh" he grinned.

"It's nearly done and then I can start work on the sign for the front" you nodded grabbing your smokes and standing out the front of the shop.

Jax placed the bag of food down and followed you outside.

"Things are quite at TM so thought I'd come and give you a hand if that's okay with you" he asked sparking a smoke up.

"I suppose you can stick around but I will be putting you to work though" you laughed leaning back against the wall.

You both smoked in silence not know what to say to each other as neither of you wanted to say the wrong things. It sucked you was a sucker for the little things like him bringing lunch and offering to help that made your heart flutter a smidge.

"You got a spare hair band" Jax asked running his hand through his hair.

"Yeah" you nodded taking the one off your wrist watching as he pulled it back into a bun.

"I'm so tempted to shave it all off to be honest" he said getting back to painting the letters on the sigh.

"No" you shouted a bit too harshly making him look up at you with a raised eyebrow. "I mean the long hair suits you that's all"

"You think it's hot just admit it" he chuckled getting on his feet.

"Didn't say that did I" you said trying to play it cool.

"But you was thinking it" he smirked walking closer to you making you step back until your back was against the tiles.

You couldn't stop yourself as your eyes wandered down Jax's bare body, at some point he lost his shirt but you wasn't complaining.

"No, no I wasn't" you stuttered.

"What's up baby am I making your nervous" he mumbled placing his arms either side of your face pinning you between him and the wall.

"Jax" you said placing a hand on his chest "what are you doing?"

"I'm doing nothing Leigh" he whispered moving closer so his body was only millimetres away from yours. "Just want to talk and this way you can't run"

"But-"

"Shhhh just hear me out okay" he said placing a finger over your lips. "I've got something's I need to say."

"I never thought you would come home and then to find out you think coming home was a mistake, that hurt Leigh. But I understand, I broke your heart, but I want us to be together again, for us to be a family, I want you more than ever and I'm gonna do everything I can to make you mine once more and once I do I'm not letting you go. You know full well you was meant to be my old lady, Amber told me that you haven't been seeing anyone and I know you still love me because you still have my initials tattooed under your right boob, I saw it the night we kinda had sex." He whispered against your lips, as his fingers slipped under the band of your sports bra tracing the tattoo of his initials "you never covered it"

There was very little space left between the both of your right now and it was taking every inch of self control not to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him.

"What do we have going on here" Opie's voice echoed through the empty store.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you sighed ducking under Jax's arms.

"Nothing" you shrugged pulling your smokes out "just talking"

"Looked like more than just talking sis" ope smirked causing you to flip him off.

Meanwhile Jax just stood leaning against the wall smirking at you, turning your head so you was now glaring at him he winked.

You knew full well that this conversation hadn't finished and you was kinda looking forward to picking it back up.

[shortythescreen]

come over

Warning(s): NSFT/18+, friends with benefits, sex with feelings lol. 

Relationship(s): Octane/Female Reader.  

Author’s Notes: this was my first post on ao3 and i’m trying to actually start using this blog so. here’s the post, lmao! my spanish sucks but i understand everything, hence the ref to a meme in spanish. :) 

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3.

come over?

That’s what lights up your phone screen at damn near three in the morning. You roll over, squinting at the bright screen as you grab it from your bedside table. It’s one of the lamest texts you’ve ever gotten. It’s barely a step up from the even more basic ‘u up?’ and you’re half tempted to leave him on read. Octavio can do better than that.

Yet, you scroll through your compilation of gifs and send him one of a woman rolling her eyes. Sure, it’s disdainful but he now knows that you are, in fact, awake.

About three months ago, you were offered a job by Apex, the corporation running the well renowned Apex Games. The offered pay was astronomical in comparison to what you made at your humble little gig as a thorn in a journalist’s side. Room and lodging would be included in the miniature city built just for Champions and the people who made the games happen.

All you had to do was do what you do best. Take pictures.

Every advertisement, webpage, and piece of merchandise is covered with your pictures of the Legends. Those that you take in the studio given to you and those that you take off the clock. Every picture on your camera belongs to Apex, even with your signature scratched at the bottom of all of them.

Because of this, it had taken a select few Legends time to warm up to you. Others, not so much.

Octavio, better known as Octane, might as well have sat in your lap when you walked in with a camera hanging around your neck.

Though you’re a lot quieter than ‘The Adrenaline Junkie’, you have about as much impulse control as he does. So one night when he’d visited you in your studio a little past business hours, brandishing a bottle of Hennessey Black the size of your head, one thing lead to another and, well.

The events of that night lead to you getting texts from Octavio at damn near three in the fucking morning asking you to come over.

i have a box of wings and a bottle of Smirnoff with ur name on it.

You bite the tip of your tongue. The offer’s tempting.

and other things, if you can keep up. ;)

That, even more so.

Against your better judgment, you text him back with words instead of a gif. You’ll be over in ten minutes.  If he drinks all the liquor before you get there, you’re leaving. You imagine him cackling at his screen because if you know him at all, and you do, he’s probably polished off at least a quarter of the bottle on his own.

Octavio’s apartment is a five minute walk from yours but you gave yourself an extra five to brush your teeth and find your shoes. The penthouse suites offered to all the Legends is right across the street from your simple one bedroom.

When you first moved in, you thought maybe Apex Corp wanted you to take paparazzi sort of shots of their competitors. They’ve never asked you to and you haven’t bothered to try, so you guess they just gave you what was available.

Whatever. You don’t mind living in earshot of some of the deadliest people in the Outlands. Especially now that you’re fucking one of them.

God, you never thought you’d be in this position. Sure, you’re not fucking blind, most of the Legends are attractive. Bangalore has a smirk that drops panties and a voice that’s a little more gravelly than the average woman. Wraith’s got the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen, powers or otherwise, and her skin is flawless. Gibraltar could probably defeat half of his opponents by throwing them.

Even those that you can’t see the faces of have appeal – Bloodhound’s shroud of mystery has gained them quite the following online and what Octavio doesn’t show of his face is made up for by his stupid little crop top.

You just… Didn’t anticipate any of them finding you attractive too. Least of all the speedster with a penchant for picking up bad habits. Like fucking the photographer. You run your hand down your face as you exit your house, locking it behind you before jogging across the street to the penthouse suites.

Even if you had toyed with the possibility of warming one of their beds, you certainly didn’t think you’d wind up in Octavio’s. Maybe Elliot, who’s got a reputation for getting around, or Ajay, who’s could crush you with her thighs. Octavio, whose accent and stupid selfies had caught the attention of many Apex fans, was the last legend you expected to end up making your heart do the jitterbug-

It’s not, you’re not, you vehemently remind yourself as you enter the elevator of the Legends’ suites. Absolutely not. No way. You walk down the hallway to Octavio’s door, reminding yourself over and over again you’re most certainly not catching feelings and whatever dance your heart is doing has something to do with the lack of sleep.

Even though that makes no sense, it’s what you tell yourself, because there’s no fucking way you’re into Octavio like that. Not into someone you’re just hooking up with. Not into someone who’s only interested in hooking up.

You knock once on his door and you barely have a chance to step back before Octavio’s tearing it open. His mask is gone and even though you’ve seen his face a million times by now, you still take a moment to breathe him in. He’s got the prettiest green eyes you’ve ever seen, glassy with alcohol, and you notice that he’s in need of a shave, his cheeks tinted dark by pinpricks of facial hair.

“It’s three am,” you tell him.

“Yet here you are, amiga,” he smirks.

“For the booze,” you reply and he snickers, shoving out a plastic cup you hadn’t noticed he was holding. The stench of Smirnoff envelops you and you sigh, snatching it away and shouldering your way into his apartment.

“What are you doing up, anyway?” You ask, flopping on the couch and taking a large enough gulp of your cup to make your nose burn. You squeeze your eyes briefly closed, letting out a little ‘ahh’ as Octavio’s weight sinks the opposite side of the couch.

“Couldn’t stop watching The Flash. But Barry got kinda boring, so I texted you,” he says and you snort, opening one eye to glance at him. You hadn’t even noticed the title glaring at you from the flat screen only a few feet away, the only light in the apartment aside from the stove.

God, he’s so unfairly pretty. He’s resting his tousled head of green hair, the same green as his eyes, in his hand, propped up on the back of the couch. His PLUS ULTRA tattoo peeks out from the three quarter sleeved shirt he’s wearing and you go for your drink, hoping you can excuse the warmth in your chest as Smirnoff.

“Of course you were. You’re so fuckin’ basic.”

“I’m on brand.”

“You’re at home. Alone.”

“Not anymore.”

You snort, finally beginning to feel that warmth in your chest drip down into your stomach. The easy, fuzziness that comes with being here, with drinking and banter and the promise of something so much sweeter.

“Well, thanks for inviting me,” you say, “now where are those wings?”

As promised, Octavio brings you a takeout box with about thirty wings. With liquor brewing in your stomach, you probably could demolish them, but you’re barely buzzed and still willing to be polite.

It’s the wee hours of the morning, so you’re grateful that each of the Legends have soundproof walls. You and Octavio put on old telenovelas, even though your Spanish is slim to none, and he makes you laugh by describing the scenes to you.

“Oho man, she’s such a bitch. The mother basically just told the son’s lover acompáñame a ver esta triste historia.”

“I don’t speak Spanish, Oc,” you remind him around a mouthful of a wing coated in ranch.

“Remember how the girl’s parents died when she was six?” He asks and you nod your head, vaguely remembering the shitty graphics acting as flashbacks. “The son’s mother heard that and might as well have said ‘that’s cute’.”

You were right to assume Octavio had already had a hefty serving of alcohol before he’d texted you, as he brings out the bottle when your glass gets low, a little less than half of it gone. He’s got a higher alcohol tolerance than you and it’s obvious the more you two delve into the Smirnoff.

He smirks at you when you whine about the wings getting low, polishing off what must be your twelfth. You’ve officially had enough alcohol to stop being polite and Octavio loops an arm around your shoulder. When had he gotten so close to you on the couch?

“There, there,” he murmurs into your hair, “there will be wings tomorrow, mami.”

“But I want them now,” you complain, only to completely forget your train of thought as you bury your nose in the collar of Octavio’s shirt. “Fuck, you smell good. Do you always smell this good?”

“I smell like liquor,” he snickers, kissing the top of your head and you shudder as he slides his fingers through the small hairs at the base of your neck.

“And soap. What soap do you use? I bet you use Old Spice. Old Spice is so basic but it smells so fucking good,” you ramble, tilting your head just enough so that your lips brush against his collarbone.

“Gracias,” he hums, tilting his head back a smidge. You take this as an invitation and begin placing careful, open mouthed kisses up the length of his neck.

Octavio sighs through his nose, arm around your shoulders sliding down your side to pull you half into his lap. Your teeth scrape his pulse and his grip on you tightens.

“You didn’t say yes or no,” you absently mumble as he grabs a handful of your ass. He squeezes before you pull back just enough to meet those pretty green eyes of his, dark with want.

“Yeah, it’s Old Spice,” he says, then leans in to devour your mouth with his.

Octavio kisses like he moves. Quick, eager, his tongue pushes into your mouth and makes you groan. You haphazardly drape one leg over his, twisting so your chest is flush against his. He bites your lower lip and you whimper, half grinding against his prosthetic legs, cool against your heat.

His free hand sneaks down to grab your other ass cheek, pulling you up to straddle him. His lips leave yours with a pop and he bites his lower lip as you shudder against his dick jumping under your hips.

“We haven’t even started yet,” you say, allowing him to slip his hands beneath your shirt, gripping your breasts and rolling the peaks under his thumbs. You sigh, continuing, “how are you so hard?”

“How are you so sexy?” He snarks, releasing your tits in favor of grabbing the hem of your top. He pulls it off eagerly, eyes hot.  

“You too,” you half beg and he obliges, tugging that snug fitting shirt over his head. You hum, hot with liquor, and with lust, and with the look he’s burning into your chest. He leans back into the couch, drinking in your disheveled state before reaching up to cruelly pinch your nipples.

You gasp, trying to lean into the sensation and alleviate the pain. Octavio only pulls harder, biting his lower lip when you’re almost chest to chest.

“Asshole,” you hiss and he grins, giving you a flash of his tongue piercing.

“You like it,” he says as you relent, going still in his lap. Octavio finally releases his almost too tight grip on one nipple in favor of looping an arm around your waist. He’s torturous to the other, squeezing, rolling, tugging. As a reward for the way you buckled, he slurps the free one into his mouth. You moan, his mouth all wet warmth and cool metal. His thumb flickers teasingly across your other pebbled nipple and you arch your back.

“Oc, please,” you pant and he pulls off of you with a pop, cupping the tit he still has a handle on to flick his tongue across it.

“Por favor? Por favor que?” He half laughs only to break off in a needy groan when you grind against him. “Fuck fuck fuck, okay, stand up for a sec.”

You roll yourself along his dick for a moment longer, relishing in the way his hips instinctually jerk against yours. He squirms beneath you, opting to tightly grab your hips.

“Shit, mami,” Octavio pants, sharply thrusting up before trying to push you off. “C’mon, c’mon, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

You finally climb off him and he follows you forward, sharply pulling down your sweats. A long, sticky trail connects you briefly to them and he outright groans at how filthy that is.

“You’re so wet,” he all but whines, fascinatedly rubbing a finger between your lips. Your breath hitches as he pointedly drags his knuckle across your clit, teasing you with the not quite enough touch.

“Shorts off,” you growl, and he hurriedly obeys. His cock springs free as his shorts hit the carpet and your mouth waters. The tip is swollen and pink, leaking with excitement. You’re half tempted to get on your knees, swipe the pre up with your tongue and put him at your mercy.

“Oh, mami, yes, you can do that for me later,” he babbles, making you realize you’d said that aloud. You try to climb back into his lap, only to have him grab you by the shoulders. You yelp as he tosses you onto your back on the opposite side of the couch, maneuvering himself between your thighs.

You two have been doing this long enough to have done away with condoms and you’re so fucking grateful for that as he pushes himself between your lips. Your slick helps him along as he glides the tip against your aching, swollen clit.

“Oc,” you impatiently murmur and he smirks. Octavio is a bastard at the worst times and not even the bedroom is exempt, because he grabs his shaft and taps the leaking tip of his cock against your clit.

“How bad do you want it, hm?” He asks and if you weren’t so overwhelmed, you’d roll your eyes. You settle for propping yourself up on your elbows and thrusting your hips up. His cock catches on your hole and his breath hitches in his throat.

“That bad, huh?” Octavio breathlessly whispers and you glare at him through the fog of your lust.

“Aren’t you supposed to be quick?”

“You want it to be over? Aw, okay, guess I’ll-“

Before he can pull away, you wrap your legs around his waist and yank him against you. Octavio slips, caught off guard, and he catches himself on the arm of the couch, letting out a strangled groan as the tip of his dick breeches your swollen cunt.

“Fuck,” he grits out, suddenly unconcerned with teasing. He drives himself the rest of the way inside and you sigh, relieved to be so wonderfully full.

“I’m trying,” you gleefully counter and he sharply thrusts into you with a laugh that’s half moan.

You reach around, clawing at his lower back as he fucks into you. His elbow lands on the space next to your neck and you find his hand cupping the crown of your head, simply resting there as he fucks you like he’s trying to win a race.

Octavio moans and curses and whines just as much as you do, his green eyes squeezed shut. You rake your nails up the length of his spine and he groans, giving you an especially brutal thrust. Your mouth falls open and he takes the opportunity to sloppily kiss you, tongue pushing past your lips to twist with yours and he doesn’t taste so much like liquor anymore.

You sob into the kiss as he angles his hips down a little, hitting right there. He gets the picture quickly and he aims just so, abusing that place that makes you see stars. His hips snap into yours and you grab his shoulders for purchase. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

It’s him, pulling away from your kiss to watch you with amazed green eyes. It’s him, grabbing your hips and yanking you onto his dick. It’s him, passing a thumb over your clit, making your eyes roll back. It’s him, hissing your name as his hips begin to stutter and shake. It’s him.

“C’mon, mami, c’mon, I won’t last,” he gasps, fondling your clit desperately and your jaw drops at the sensation. “C’mon, baby, need it, need to feel that tight pussy squeeze my dick, you can do it, do it for me, please, baby, please-“

You say his name as your orgasm hits you, shaking legs tightening so harshly around his waist you can feel every tremor of his hips. He fucks you through it, relentlessly rubbing your clit and you whimper, reaching down to try and shove his hand away. It doesn’t seem to stop him and finally with two, three more thrusts, he’s coming.

Octavio buries his face in your neck, saying something so low and garbled that you barely pick up that it was in Spanish. You don’t care to ask what he said just yet, too busy catching your breath as you clutch his back.

“Shit…” He breathes, turning his head to rest his nose against your still racing pulse. Now, though, it’s not just with need, but you don’t tell him that.

“How’s that for keeping up?” You ask and he snickers, slowly pulling out of you. Octavio reaches down, grabbing his shorts and tucking them beneath your hips to catch the spunk dripping out of you.

“I’ll go get a wash cloth,” he says as you paw at the coffee table for the TV remote. You groan at the time it shows you.

“It’s almost seven, you ass! I have to be to work in two hours!”

“Guess I kept you up all night. At least you weren’t bored.”

“I hate you,” you groan, scrubbing your hands over your eyes. Octavio snickers, making his way towards the bathroom.

“Oh, hey, wait,” you say, propping your head up. He stops short, meeting your gaze. “What did you say? I was kinda preoccupied and didn’t hear.”

“Kinda? You wound me,” Octavio says, placing a hand over his heart. You unceremoniously flip him off. “You think I remember what I said while I was nutting, chica?!”

Octavio grins roguishly. You roll your eyes, throwing one of the couch cushions at him. It doesn’t get anywhere close to hitting him and Octavio snickers, bending down to toss it back onto the couch. “Who knows?”

Octavio turns back to the bathroom and his playful expression slackens. His brow scrunches up as he flicks the light on, closing the restroom door behind him and staring disbelievingly into the mirror.

Te amo, he’d gasped into your neck when he was overwhelmed with the smell of you, the feeling of you, the taste of you.

[sunflowercecil-blog]

Captain’s Orders

it’s fiNALLY HERE! The long-awaited pirate fic ft cecil and julian bc im one homo bastard. If you missed this boat, this post caught some attention and people were asking for a fic. And, weeks later, I’m finally providing. 

thank u to @bazzpop, @devorak-titties, @bitters-enthusiast and @timmys-and-scribbles (and all the anons!!!) who vocally wanted this and therefore gave me my Only motivation to actually write it. love all y’all uwu

warning!! there’s blood!! there’s swearing!! there’s... like... a kinda Stockholm Syndrome vibe to it! pls be careful idk people’s triggers pls tell me how to tag this osbsb. its all 3000+ words so get some fuckin popcorn lmao

without further adieu, i present to u: gay pirates

When he found the will to open his eyes, Julian recognised none of his surroundings.

The floor his knees pressed against was a dark burgundy wood, decorated with layers of chippings and scratches that scrawled all around him. When the floor met the wall, it grew into a lighter brown. But still just as damaged. The wood had dent after dent, little holes from sharp objects hitting it and chips lying scattered at the base. If it hadn't been obvious enough that this room was for more violent activities, there was a darkened patch of the wall that tinted red when the light hit it. His throat tightened.

With an attempt to stand, he found that his hands were bound behind a large pillar in the middle of the room. The pillar looked to be the most damaged thing here. The dark paint was a mere stain now, with the light core of the wood being the most exposed part. It curved and ducked and stuck out in morbid ways, like it was mocking the branches of a tree.

Julian craned his neck around, trying to catch a glimpse of his hands behind the pillar. If he knew what kind of knot he’d been tied with, he could potentially get out. His best efforts were weak shuffles and grunts, trying to twist around the base of the pillar to look. Had it not been for the support of the bonds, he would have fallen over.

Voices, muffled through the wood, hit his ears. Snapping up, Julian watched the door. Rays of sunlight filtered through the cracks and between the edges. They danced around silhouettes eagerly, trying to squeeze through to reach him. The words outside were barely audible, and he only caught snippets of words and phrases.

“… tied.” Ah. So they were talking about him. Unless they had multiple people tied up here. Actually, that wasn’t entirely implausible.

There was silence, and a small thud before the same voice squawked.

“Yes, Captain!”

Footsteps scuttled away, getting more distant. He wanted to relax, but there was still a shadow behind the door. It felt impossible to breathe, like any sound would alert the captain of his presence. Julian dropped his head, trying to catch a glimpse of the knot once more.

He stopped when he felt the sunlight hit his face, and rays of gold illuminated the red stains deep in the wooden boards below. The blood seeped between the cracks and faint lacerations that looked awfully like the scratches of fingernails. He stared, until the light was blocked once more. A silhouette crawled across the floor of the room. Julian looked up. The figure was encased in shadows, a glow of the sun behind them. It was hard to make out any real features. A captain’s hat perched on their head, the sway of tashes by their thighs.

When they stepped forwards and leaned against the frame of the door, Julian could finally see them. A tangle of red hair swept up when the hat was pushed sideways. It fell in thick straight locks, only to the ear until it was shaved.

The man had a rounded face and a button nose. Had it been in any other situation, he would have been cute. But this man also had scars down his neck and chest, which he proudly displayed with a half open shirt. Jewellery lined every patch of skin – a silver and golden choker around his neck; ruby and sapphire gems hung from chains and rested on his chest; his wrists were covered in shiny metals and gems up to his biceps, where his ripped sleeves finally covered his skin, but not enough to hide the deep black mark of thief on his left bicep. The shirt was a faded pink colour, mostly coated in stains now. All the buttons were gone, and the only thing holding it in place was the green sash it was tucked into. Underneath the sash there must have been a belt, because a cutlass dangled from the man's waist. It scathed against his leggings, but the tip harmlessly bashed into the thick leather of his boots. After letting Julian gaze, the man finally spoke.

“Well, well, well.” His voice was higher than Julian had been expecting. It certainly didn’t have a rough accent, or the choke of a smoker, but the confident, sultry tone was enough to throw him through a loop and convince him this man was a real pirate.

As he walked forwards, he closed the door behind him. Julian swallowed. The idea of being alone in a room with this man was terrifying. And... a little exciting. He'd met pirates before. But never young ones – never ones who were glamorous and cocky and perhaps a little feminine. The pirates he knew were as rough and tumble as they come.

His staring and daydreaming finally stopped when the captain was in front of him, staring down at him. Julian felt a little vulnerable. He was bound to a pillar, kneeling in front of this man. He could barely remember how this had even happened. Where he’d been, how he’d gotten here. But the questions scattered from his brain when the tip of the man’s sword was suddenly pressed under his chin. He gasped quietly.

“You deaf?” The man snapped, eyes piercing down at him. “I asked for your name.”

“Julian-" He choked, careful about how close his throat came to the blade. “Julian Devorak, sir.”

The captain raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. He kept the sword in place. “And how did you get onto my ship, Julian?”

As he opened his mouth, it suddenly came back. Stumbling through crowds, shoving people aside and sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him. With guards hot on his trail, he needed the closest hiding place possible. And it just so happened that a large ship was docked nearby, with men hauling aboard in a hurry. It was easy to blend in. Just panic and nod and hurry up. Before he knew it, the ship was sailing and Julian was a stowaway.

On a pirate ship.

“Your crew let me on.” He gulped, “They- ah- they must have thought I was just one of them.”

The captain pursed his lips. With a dirty look, he dropped the sword and tied it back to his waist. Julian let out a sigh of relief, but he wasn’t out of the water yet. He was still tied here.

“Yeah, that sounds like them. Bunch of burros, Dios mío.”

A feeling of confusion passed through Julian. Was he speaking Spanish? That would have explained the lack of a pirate voice. And, actually, a lot of his mannerisms. He wasn’t a Nevivion pirate. Which got Julian even more interested. But his questions could wait.

The captain, with an air of relaxation now, sat down in front of Julian. He pulled one leg up to his chest to rest his chin, jewellery dangling and clicking together as he moved. The way his eyes fell back to Julian's face - half lidded and dazed – made Julian gulp.

“So, why did you get on my ship?”

“I needed to hide, sir.” He quivered. “Guards were-"

A laugh cut him off, and the captain looked amused with his statement. He kicked Julian lazily, more of a playful action than anything malicious. With a grin, the captain quirked an eyebrow.

“A stowaway and a criminal? You really did fit right in. Your first time getting chased?”

Julian shook his head.

“Thought so. You’re too pretty to be good. Pretty boys are always the dangerous ones.”

Oh, Lord help him. A flirt edged on his tongue and he desperately tried to resist the immature urge to slip a reply. Julian bit his tongue, but the pain only really tempted him more.

“You must be lethal, then.”

And the immediate regret. The two of them stared at each other for a moment before Julian’s eyes averted away in panicked shame. He was a dead man breathing. Flirting with a pirate captain, what was he thinking-?!

Soft laughter caught his attention and he risked a glance upwards. The captain was chuckling, head leaned back in a position all too lewd. Julian caught a brief glimpse of exposed chest and neck before turning away once more. But not quick enough.

“You enjoying the view? You’re quite lucky I haven’t killed you yet. Don’t get too confident.” The threat was spoken in such a fluid tone that Julian almost felt comfortable. Almost. He was still potentially going to die here. Unless he could talk his way out.

“I can be useful. You don’t have to kill me.” He begged. “I’m a doctor.”

The captain raised his eyebrows in surprise. He pushed forwards onto his knees and faced Julian, leaning in close to intimidate him. It worked. Julian swallowed thickly, flushed with fear. Or, at least, what felt like fear.

“You must be a coward to be begging for your life so soon. I haven’t nearly scared you as much as I could.” The low tone made him shiver, trying to squirm away from the captain's gaze.

“Either that or you’re extremely naive. I don’t think you know who’s ship you’re on.”

The captain stood, untying his blade once more, and pressed the sharp edge to Julian's neck.

They stared at each other, Julian's eyes wide with fear and desperation. He swallowed again, feeling the point press into his neck in a way that he felt familiar with. It might not have been the smartest idea to hint that he had a thing for pain.

“I am Captain Cecil Doran.” The pirate spoke down to him. Julian’s blood ran cold. He'd heard of this man. Whispers of his name in seaside taverns and warnings of his ship in the distance. He had never gotten a glimpse before. Julian struggled to comprehend it. He hadn’t expected someone who’s name was coated in dirt and blood to be so... clean? Beautiful? Not an eighty year old pirate with a parrot and a cutlass?

Cecil's chuckle caught his attention once more, and Julian spared a glance up.

“There’s that look. You’ve heard of me, haven’t you?”

Julian nodded wordlessly. The look in Cecil’s eye was animalistic. Like he was savouring the way Julian shivered and whimpered when he pressed the sword harder against his throat. The silence between them was thick enough to be cut through. Any movement from Julian could be fatal. A clumsy slip and he'd be bleeding out. Would his mark be able to repair veins and capillaries? For once, Julian wasn’t keen to find out.

Cecil opened his mouth. But the noise of shouts and thuds interrupted whatever he was about to say. The sword was yanked away and he looked over to the door. Pained yells echoed through the wood, and Julian watched Cecil’s eyes narrow at the sound.

In a split second, the cutlass had been slashed and Julian’s bonds were undone. He pulled his hands free, rubbing his sore wrists as confusion laced his features. A sword was thrown at his chest. Cecil was already on the other side of the room, hand pressed on the door, ready to leave.

“Prove that you can be useful, and I might let you stay.”

The ship outside the room had fallen into chaos. There was no easy way of telling who was from which crew. Julian could only identify the ones swinging over to hop on board as ‘the bad guys’. Even then, they melted into the fight quickly. The sound of metal clashing was almost louder than the shouts filling the air. Blood spilled quickly, and Julian watched the action with a tight knot in his throat.

A glimpse of Cecil caught his attention. The captain was in a spur with one of the attackers, and was clearly winning. The slashes looked light and easy when he gave them. It was sword-fighting. Intense and threatening and close – and then Cecil did something.

He lunged forwards and grabbed the man by the neck. It should have been a fool’s move, he easily could have been stabbed or thrown off. But the man trapped in his grip began to scream in agony, and Julian saw blood spill over Cecil’s hands. When his hand pulled back, there were deep burns around the man’s neck, so far into the flesh that blood had been drawn. The man fell to the ground weakly, clutching his neck and rasping as Cecil moved on.

There was no more time to watch. A yell from the left, and Julian was flung into a fight of his own. He barely dodged a swipe to his chest, gripping the sword tightly. Julian raised the sword he’d been given and struck, slashing into the attacker's side as they turned to face him. They gave a groan, but persisted and went for him again. The swords clashed over and over, and Julian’s battles were soon merged with the rest of the crew. Attack after attack, brawls and shouts and cuts and bruises until they were finally overpowering them, finally getting the upper hand. Julian struck a pirate in the leg and as they collapsed, he heard it.

“RETREAT, GET BACK, GET BACK-"

The crew showed no mercy. Even as they ran, they were tackled and cut and thrown about by the crewmates still capable of fighting. By the end of the fight, more attackers were lying on the deck than were retreating to their own.

The ships separated quickly. It was then that Julian caught sight of Cecil again. Standing at the edge, practically coated in blood. He wondered how much of it was actually his own.

When the opposing ship was a speck in the distance, the captain turned and looked at the groaning, writhing morsels with a grimace. He limped forwards.

“Throw them overboard. All of them. We've got no room for pathetic fighters.” Cecil grunted, apathy lacing his tone. He headed for the helm, no doubt to go hide in the captain’s quarters and patch himself up.

But Julian still needed to know if he could stay. And with injuries like those? Even infamous pirates weren’t safe from Julian’s martyr tendencies. He followed quickly, catching up to Cecil just as the man ducked into the door below the helm.

The door shut behind them. They were alone once more. Cecil looked back, eyes narrowed at Julian.

“You’re following me now? You really are desperate to live.”

Julian swallowed his pride and ignored the jabs. There were bigger things to deal with here.

“You’re injured. Badly. I told you, I’m a doctor, I can-"

“Shut up.” Cecil hissed, stumbling through another door. Julian followed.

The room he found himself in was much more well-kept than his previous experience. It was a long room, split into two halves by a thick red curtain. From what he could see, the walls were lined with shelves covered in trinkets and treasures. There was a window on the right wall, a view of the sea stretching for miles. The light shone down onto a desk, covered in maps and papers and neatly stored ink bottles. The desk had boxes beneath it, filled with glass bottles of exotic colours and little jars of herbs and foreign spices. The left wall had the collection of trinkets, as well as a few darts lodged into the wall in various places.

Cecil collapsed into one of the wooden chairs by the desk, blood dripping off his skin and sinking into the floor boards. He glared as Julian approached.

“Did I say you could come in?” He snarled, but Julian took no notice.

The doctor glanced around the room. There didn’t seem to be a great deal of options in terms of medical supplies. His gaze fell back to the captain.

“Do you have anything I can wipe the blood off with?”

Cecil’s eyebrows raised for a moment, and his lip twitched, but his face remained just as cold and bitter as it was when the attack started.

“Why? So you can hope to win my approval with care and attention? I already said, there’s no room on this ship for pa-"

“So I can clean your wounds and assure you don’t die, captain.” Julian interrupted. For an infamous pirate captain, he really had no common sense. It was a wonder he'd survived this long.

“There are healers on board. I don’t need a doctor.” He snapped back. “The more you piss me off, the more I want you to join the bodies going overboard. So, please, keep talking.”

Julian rolled his eyes. If Cecil wouldn’t listen to reason, maybe he’d respond to force. There were a lot of ways to do this. Sedate him? Seduce him? The possibilities were endless. If Cecil was as injured as Julian thought he was...

He took the risk. Moving quickly, Julian towered over the chair and placed two firm hands onto Cecil’s shoulders. As he thought, the man quickly shot up and headbutted him.

They both recoiled, groaning in pain as Cecil sunk back into the chair and Julian grabbed his nose. Blood trickled from under his fingers and he heard Cecil give a weak scoff.

“Didn’t work out like you planned?” He snarked. Julian shook his head.

“Actually, it worked out perfectly. Judging by your posture,” He gestured to Cecil's limp body, “You just gave yourself a concussion.”

There was a silence. And then, slowly, Cecil groaned and dragged a bloodied hand over his face. He grimaced, glaring daggers at the doctor's smug grin.

“You should bleed more. It’s a great look for you.”

Julian smirked. “Don’t tempt me, captain.”

Satisfied that Cecil wouldn’t be able to fight back for a small while, Julian approached once more. He pulled the captain up, helping him walk past the curtains and to the back end of the room – the sleeping area.

It was actually larger than the other half. A large bed was at the end of the room, with deep red sheets and messily placed pillows. There were more shelves, with pictures and paintings and trinkets and ... toys. Julian tried not to pay too much attention to those. He pulled Cecil to the bed and laid him down, wiping the blood on his leggings.

“Now, do I have permission to heal you?” He teased.

Cecil groaned.

“I'll take that as a yes.” And Julian was searching about the room for anything to use as bandages or antibacterial chemicals. There didn’t seem to be much. But a bottle of unopened gin bottle was his best bet at disinfecting any cuts, and a dirty rag was his only shot at cleaning the blood off.

He'd have to make do. After collecting his ‘medical supplies', the doctor returned to the captain. Who had... removed his shirt. Julian flushed. He stopped and stumbled and had to remind himself: infamous pirate captain, infamous pirate captain, infamous pirate captain. Definitely not the type of person to be attracted to. And yet, here he was.

Cecil appeared to notice the change in demeanour. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

Julian jolted. “N-no, I- um.”

The captain laughed. He sat up, and tossed his shirt at Julian's chest.

“Um.”

Julian held the fabric, looking between it and Cecil. He swallowed nervously, hoping to gauge some sort of answer for what the hell was going on.

“You need something to bandage the cuts. Use the shirt. I’ve got others.” He shrugged, sinking back into his bed. Cecil winced.

Okay. Doctor time. Yes. Julian shook himself out of his gay panic and stepped forwards. He rubbed down the blood stains, trying to keep a safe distance. It felt strained. There was a thick tension between them. Well. Cecil didn’t seem to care. He was too busy ogling Julian as he tried to clean up the wounds. It was getting hard to concentrate with his gaze.

But he got it done. With a bit of time and awkward eye contact and tension, Cecil was wrapped up and resting. Julian, gloves bloody, took a step back. He watched the captain breathe shakily, and slowly removed the gloves to clean them. Julian thought that now the chaos was over, it would be best to leave the captain alone. He headed towards the curtain, steps heavy. Cecil’s voice caught him as he left.

“Hey.”

Julian turned. Cecil was smiling at him, sitting up, resting on his elbows.

“You can stay. Only ‘cause you’re cute.” He teased.

With a choked noise, Julian nodded and fled the room – heart racing. He was technically a captive on a pirate ship. Fantastic.

At least the captain was hot.

[ladyfenring]

don’t stop believin’

For @rumaan, for getting me into this ship in the first place <3

Steve wasn’t sure what he hated more: Nancy feeling sorry enough for him that she was trying to set him up with another girl, or all of the girls that Nancy deemed worthy of replacing her. It wasn’t that anything was wrong with the girls specifically--they were all very nice, very pretty, and very smart, and under any other circumstances, Steve would be perfectly charmed by them. It was just that he wanted to meet a girl...organically. Not because his ex-girlfriend felt sorry for him and was throwing every available female his way.

Thankfully, there were only so many girls in Hawkins, and it didn’t take long before Steve had gone out with almost everyone Nancy tried to throw his way. He was relieved--now he could finish out his senior year without sucking it up through another awkward dinner and movie.

...or so he thought.

Graduation was only a month away when he agreed to give Dustin a ride to Hopper’s cabin so that he could visit El. A couple of the other kids were there, as well as a girl Steve had never seen before. She was pretty, in a terrifying sort of way. Her black hair was edged in purple, and part of her head was shaved. Her eyes were dark, rimmed in thick, smudged eyeliner, and her clothes were definitely not from Hawkins. She looked like she was in a punk rock music video on MTV.

“She’s my sister,” El announced. “Kali.” She pointed to Steve. “That’s Steve. Our babysitter.”

“I’m not...really her babysitter,” Steve said. “Just. Theirs.” He pointed to the boys.

Kali didn’t look impressed.

“So...sister, huh?” Steve said, feeling rather out of place.

“It’s a long story,” Kali said. Her accent was...well, he couldn’t really place it. English? Maybe? Definitely not American. That only deepened the mystery.

Steve bobbed his head. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

He didn’t stay for much longer--Jonathan would be swinging by later and giving all the boys a ride home, and Steve had the distinct feeling that Kali didn’t...approve of him? Somehow? So he drove home, wondering how these two girls could be sisters.

.

He didn’t think much more of Kali until a few days later, when Nancy came up to him at school with That Look.

“No,” he said sharply. “I am not going on another date, Nancy.”

“It’s not a date!” she insisted. “I just wanted to invite you out to a...small gathering.”

“A small gathering?” he repeated skeptically.

“Mike said you met El’s sister, Kali,” Nancy said. “She’s our age, and she lives in a city...Hopper’s cabin in the middle of nowhere can’t be much fun for her, even if El is there. I was thinking, maybe we could take her out this weekend? Show her there’s life in Hawkins?”

Steve knew that that was not actually Nancy’s intent, and that she was actually just trying to set him up on a date with one of the only girls in Hawkins he hadn’t yet gone on a date with--even if she was only visiting. But he couldn’t very well say no, or else he’d sound like an asshole. And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little intrigued by the idea of going out in any capacity with Kali. He seriously doubted they’d be at all compatible, but seeing her out and about would definitely be interesting.

“What were you thinking of?” he asked, changing out the books in his locker.

She beamed. “Dale’s is having karaoke night on Friday.”

“And you think Eleven’s sister--who, by the way, looks like she could kick Alice Cooper’s ass--wants to go to karaoke?”

“It’ll be fun!” Nancy said insistently.

He sighed. “Sure.”

Nancy squealed. “Great! We’ll meet you at Dale’s at, say, seven?”

“Seven at Dale’s,” he confirmed, wondering if this was going to be a mistake.

.

On Friday night, Steve took extra pains with his appearance, trying very hard to look as if he wasn’t trying hard. He rolled up to Dale’s, along with what looked like half of Hawkins High and Hawkins High alumni, back in town for their college summer breaks. The place was jam-packed, livelier than it was at any other time of the year. Teenagers and twenty-somethings were catching up after months apart, lighting cigarettes and ordering drinks and laughing raucously. It took a while for Steve to find his friends--they were sitting in a booth, Jonathan and Nancy on one side with Kali sitting opposite them. She looked deeply unimpressed.

“Hi,” Steve said, already feeling that this was a mistake.

“You made it!” Nancy said excitedly. “Kali, you remember Steve.”

“We’ve met,” was all she said.

Steve shot Jonathan a look. Jonathan gave him a shrug and a small smile.

“So,” Nancy said as soon as they’d ordered their food. “Kali...how do you like Hawkins so far?”

“I haven’t seen much outside the cabin,” she said. “It’s...quiet.”

“Except for this place, right?” Jonathan joked.

Kali turned her unimpressed stare towards him. “Sure.”

Jonathan and Nancy exchanged looks and immediately started sucking on their straws. Steve felt a sick sense of satisfaction--he was always awkward on double dates with Jonathan and Nancy. Now it was their turn to feel awkward. Sure, he was feeling awkward too, but that was a small price to pay. All of the girls that had made Steve feel awkward, and Nancy had finally picked one that made her feel awkward, too.

The evening did not get any less awkward. All of Nancy’s attempts at small talk failed miserably, and when she and Jonathan got up to sign up for karaoke, Steve saw it for the escape attempt that it was. He turned to Kali. “I know you don’t like me,” he said bluntly. “But I just wanna say, from the bottom of my heart...thank you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Nancy and I used to date,” he said. “And then she left me for Jonathan. And as if that didn’t sting enough, now she’s bound and determined to find a new girlfriend for me.”

Kali’s eyebrow remained arched. “Is that why she invited me out tonight?”

“Yup,” he said. “I don’t think she realized what a hardass you are, though, and now she’s afraid of you.”

Kali surprised him by smiling. “Good--I like when people are afraid of me.”

“Oh, then you should love me, because I’m absolutely terrified of you.”

To his surprise, delight, and mild terror, Kali laughed. Well, it was more of a light chuckle, but still. He’d made her laugh.

Nancy and Jonathan were determinedly socializing with the other patrons of Dale’s--though whether that was because they were trying to give Steve and Kali alone time or because they were afraid of Kali or if it was a combination of both, Steve didn’t really know.

“My sister’s friends can’t stop talking about you,” Kali said after their food had arrived. “How does it feel to be hero-worshipped by a bunch of little kids?”

“Feels kinda good, actually,” he said. “I don’t have any siblings, so, it’s kinda like having a bunch of little brothers and sisters.”

“Yeah,” Kali said. “Yeah, I get that.”

Steve was tempted to ask about El and how the two girls were supposedly related, but he somehow had the feeling that now was neither the time nor place. “So, where are you visiting from?” he asked lamely.

She quirked her lips. “Chicago. I run a criminal gang.”

“Oh my god, of course you do.” His head fell against the back of the booth. “You know I’m going to the police academy in Chicago in a few months?”

Kali let out a bark of laughter.

“Of course you are.”

“Maybe you can show me around.”

“Mm, maybe.” She sipped her Coke. “But my area of expertise is the seedy underbelly of the Windy City.”

“So, not the Sears Tower?”

Kali laughed again. Steve was feeling very pleased with himself. “Tell you what, Steve: when you get to Chicago, you let me show you the places I frequent, and I’ll do something cheesy and touristy with you. Though, you’d have to do something really bitchin’ to drag me to Navy Pier.”

“Hey, I can do...bitchin’.”

Kali laughed again, and he knew she was laughing at him, but...that was okay. He just liked seeing her laugh.

Struck with inspiration, he said, “I’ll be right back.” He slid out of the booth and made his way to the DJ, where there was a line of people signing up for karaoke. Steve wrote something down and then made his way back to the table. On the way, he ran into Jonathan and Nancy, who were chatting with a couple other people from their class.

“How’s it going?” Nancy asked eagerly.

“We’ll see in a little bit,” Steve said in his most cheerful voice, and then returned to the table with Kali.

The karaoke was...well, about what you’d expect. Lots of high school girls thinking they were rocking it, college girls who were reuniting and singing their old favorites, college boys doing an over-the-top “girly” song but secretly being really into it. Lots of high school couples unironically singing “Jack and Diane”. Jonathan and Nancy had just sat down after their own duet when the DJ called up Steve and Kali.

Kali turned flashing eyes on Steve. “What did you do?”

“Something I may regret,” he admitted, taking her hand and pulling her out of the booth. “Come on.” He had to pull her through the crowd and up onto the small platform which served as a stage. The DJ thrust two microphones in their hands.

“What the fuck is happening?” Kali demanded of Steve.

“Just follow the words on the screen,” he said, smiling at everyone in the bar. He knew most of them--or rather, they knew him--and they were shouting encouragement. The music started and the bar dissolved into excited screams.

“Just a small town girl,” he began, staring down Kali. “Livin’ in a lonely world. She took the midnight train goin’ anywhere.”

He waited for Kali to sing the next part, but when she didn’t, dozens of girls in the bar filled in,

“Just a city boy

Born and raised in South Detroit

He took the midnight train goin’ anywhere.”

Steve had had a feeling that Kali wouldn’t be as into the song as he was, so he decided to go completely over the top with his performance. He played an air guitar and did his best imitation of Journey.

“A singer in a smoky room

The smell of wine and cheap perfume

For a smile they can share the night

It goes on and on and on and on.”

Everyone in the bar started shout-singing with him now.

“Strangers waiting

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows searching

In the night

Streetlight people

Livin’ just to find emotion

Hidin’ somewhere in the night

Workin’ hard to get my fill

Everybody wants a thrill

Payin’ anything to roll the dice

Just one more time

Some will win

Some will lose

Some were born to sing the blues

Oh, the movie never ends,

It goes on and on and on and on

Strangers waiting

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows searching

In the night

Streetlight people

Livin’ just to find emotion.”

Everyone started dancing wildly to the guitar riff. Steve looked at Kali in the middle of his own energetic air guitar riff.

“You’re going to pay for this,” she shouted.

“I know!” he shouted back.

Kali gave him a look that clearly told him she thought he was crazy, and then raised the microphone to her lips.

“Don’t stop believin’

Hold onto that feelin’!”

Steve beamed as he and Kali sang the last verses, along with everyone else in Dale’s. Everyone cheered when the song ended, more for themselves than for Steve and Kali, and then the DJ was calling up the next pair. Steve hopped off the stage, holding out a hand for Kali; she hopped down on her own, brushing past his proffered hand.

“That was awesome!” Nancy exclaimed when they slid back into the booth.

“It was certainly something,” Kali agreed tersely.

Steve had a feeling that he was definitely going to pay for his little stunt later, but since they were in a room full of witnesses, he figured he was safe for the time being. He waited until Jonathan and Nancy were being gross again before he leaned over to Kali. “So tell me, was that worse than Navy Pier?”

Kali’s lips threatened to smile. That was good enough for Steve.

They didn’t stay at Dale’s much longer. When it became clear that Jonathan and Nancy were going to drive somewhere quiet and screw around (and not, as Nancy kept insisting, going to “help her mom with something”), Kali asked Steve if he would drive her home. Steve knew that that had been Nancy’s intention all along--not only would she and Jonathan get to screw around, but Steve and Kali would have their own alone time. But he was actually looking forward to giving Kali a ride home, even if it meant she was probably going to kill him--he liked being around her.

“So,” he said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Is this the part where you make me pay?”

“Not just yet,” she said, leaning forward to fiddle with the radio. “God, doesn’t this town know how to play real music?”

“What’s your idea of real music?”

She considered him. “The Sex Pistols. The Ramones. The Clash.”

“The Clash?” Steve grinned. “You and Jonathan would’ve gotten along if you guys had started talking about music.”

“Do you know how pathetic you are?” Kali said suddenly. “You let your ex-girlfriend set you up on dates you don’t even want to be on, and now you’re complimenting her boyfriend’s taste in music? The same boyfriend, I might add, who stole her from you in the first place?”

“Jonathan didn’t steal her from me,” Steve said. “She did have a say in it, you know.”

“I hope you broke his nose at least.” When Steve didn’t say anything, she made a guttural noise of disgust. “Pathetic.”

“What would breaking his nose solve?” he asked reasonably. He didn’t want to tell her that last time he and Jonathan had gotten in a fight, Jonathan had punched his lights out.

“It would feel good! Don’t you ever do stupid, impulsive things because they feel good?”

Steve thought about it. “Uh. Huh. No, I guess not.”

“Pathetic,” she said again.

“What is--”

“Pull over,” she said suddenly.

Steve was surprised but did as she asked.

“Park the car. Turn off the engine.”

He did. “What--”

Kali surged forward, kissing Steve with an intensity that took his breath away. She pulled back long enough for him to mutter, “Holy shit,” before she had launched herself onto the driver’s side, straddling his lap and fisting his shirt in her hands. She kissed him again, and this time, Steve had the presence of mind to kiss her back. His hands ran up her hips, her sides, her back; she shifted and the horn gave one short blast.

“Jesus--”

“Come on.”

Kali maneuvered off his lap and into the backseat, tugging Steve after her.

“Is this you getting me back for karaoke, because I gotta say--”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Kali said before she kissed him again.

.

Later, when they lay in a cramped tangle in the backseat of Steve’s car, Kali muttered a curse.

“That fucking song is stuck in my head.”

Steve smiled. “It’s a good song.”

She made a noise that clearly told him she disagreed.

“Just a small town girl,” he started. “Livin’ in a lonely world…”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“She took the midnight train goin’ anywhere…”

“Steve.”

“Just a city boy.”

“STEVE.”

“It’s about us,” he said suddenly.

She sat up to look at him. “What?”

“I mean, you’re a city girl, I’m a small town boy,” he said, totally unperturbed. “And holy shit, there was singing in a smoky room with the smell of wine and cheap perfume!”

“You are so lame,” she groaned.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back down to him. “For a smile we can share the night, it goes on and on and on and--”

She kissed him. “Shut the fuck up.”

[theoddcatlady]

Love Potion

Day One

8:24 AM

This is so not worth the hundred bucks I'm getting paid to do this. I hate you Gus. I fucking hate you. Now for the serious part of this 'scientific' journal.

My name is Brian Vance. I'm seventeen years old and a junior in high school. I'm a virgin (is this really necessary Gus) and I've never been on a date in my life. The closest I got to a date was to asking my eighth grade crush on a date. She said yes, but stood me up. Who's surprised?

Gus Katsoros is the 'scientist' who concocted the 'Love Potion'. It comes in a cologne and drinkable form, supposedly helps you secrete natural pheromones to attract the opposite sex. I am one of three guys using both the cologne and the drink. I will be using the cologne and drinking one ounce of the Love Potion before I go to school, and at night will be drinking another ounce of the Love Potion before I go to bed. I'll be doing that, now.

Ugh! Gus. If you're going to label something a 'Love Potion', don't make it taste like mud. For the final product, for the love of god, add some honey or sugar. Hell, high fructose corn syrup, whatever gets the job done! Just don't. Make it taste like dirt. The cologne ain't so bad though. Smells like it tastes, which it makes a much better scent than taste. Off to school.

---

 11:12 PM

 Well, nothing happened. Who's fucking SHOCKED. I will keep seriously journaling but if you have to read every one of these Gus I'm going to make sure I bitch the whole time. Yes you heard me. The. Whole. Time.

 Anyway, to the serious part. There seemed to be no 'pheromones' excreting from me. The most female attention I got was from the eighty nine year old half blind algebra teacher, who complimented my cologne. Ms. Valentine ain't so bad though. She's just... so old. So old.

 That was it though. I'll take my dose tonight and go to bed. Ugh. Still tastes just as bad the first time.

 ---

 Day Two

 8:15 AM

 Least I'm not allergic to this stuff. Although that could have gotten me out of the experiment sooner...

 Nothing seems to be wrong, I don't feel sick or dizzy from two doses of the Love Potion. I'll now spritz my wrists, toss the mud potion, sorry, love potion, down the hatch and get going.

 Oops. Spritzed it one time too many. According to the experiment I should've used one spritz on both wrists, but I accidentally spritzed my left wrist twice. Oh well. Now I'll just smell even more like dirt.

 ---

 4:48 PM

 I'm journaling earlier today because I think something actually worked this time! I mean. Nothing major. But something that probably you should know about, Gus.

 So I chilling near the music room, don't ask why I'm not in band, when Gretchen came up to me. We'd been friends when we were in elementary school, but grew apart when we got older. She plays tuba, isn't exactly popular but she has pretty eyes. Anyway I'm off topic.

 She came up to me and asked how my day was going! I was so stunned I nearly fell over. But we got to talking, and she really seemed interested in being around me. It wasn't like we made out in the library or anything, but she kept reaching for my hand. It wasn't much, but when she hurried off to her next class, I remembered something.

 Gretchen kept grabbing for my left wrist. The one I spritzed twice. Gus, I'm gonna fuck with your experiment a tad and do two spritzes on each wrist from now on. If I run out, that's your own damn fault for not having extra. I'm gonna go for a jog now. If I'm gonna become a pussy magnet, might as well work out!

 ---

 Day 5

 8:21 AM

 Thankfully I won't have to journal every day now. Just days with improvement.

 Gus was kind and understanding, so he gave me more of the cologne to make up for me needing a higher dose. The other two guys were keeping at the same rate so it wasn’t a big deal.

 There is absolutely an improvement. Like girls actually look when I pass by now! I mean, Gretchen and a few other girls are the only ones who bother to talk to me but I'm taking what I can get. Gretchen and I have really reconnected, I'm thinking about asking her on a date. She's nice. It's not like I was out to bone the popular girls anyway.

 Maybe it's due to the upwards swoop of my self esteem, but I'm going out to jog more. Luckily there's a nice forest near my house, lots of jogging paths. No one to stare at the skinny, sweaty guy either.

 Spritzed up, took my drink, I'm out!

 ---

 2:32 AM

 I just had seeexxx, and it felt so goooood... at least oral sex.

 I feel a little guilty though. It wasn't with Gretchen. It was with Myra. She's also in the band, she's second clarinet, and we'd gotten friendly lately, but when she asked me go out for sodas I figured what the heck and said yes.

 After the soda, she took me back to her house and she gave me a blowjob in her childhood treehouse.

 I mean, other than the splinters I'm still picking out of my ass, it was great. Lasted absolutely no more than five minutes for me, but it was the best damn five minutes of my life so far. After I'd finished, she was ready to get going to her afternoon job but I kinda wanted to return the favor. I mean. It took a lot longer than five minutes for her, as I had noooo idea what I was doing, but I got the job done! Points for me! Probably made her late to her job though.

 Honestly, there has been no downsides yet. I doubt there ever will be. I'm gonna be this new school's lady killer. And yes. I'll absolutely endorse Love Potion, Gus. Your smug ass will cash in with this.

 You still gotta change the taste though man. It's awful.

 ---

 Day 9

 8:45 AM

 Okay, prolonged use might have a side effect.

 I'm getting the nastiest rash on my head. It's covered by my hairline, which by the way my hair's gotten thicker and I'm finally growing facial hair, but it's very uncomfortable. I had my mom look at it and she says it looks like it's irritated. It's weird, since I've only been drinking and using it on my wrists, but maybe I rubbed my head in my sleep. Mom put something on it to ease the itching but I hope it doesn't spread. Magic love potion or not no one's gonna wanna kiss a face covered in bumpy rash. At least it's not covered in pimples anymore. Another side effect, my acne's cleared up!

 Still though, me and Myra have really hit it off. It's nothing serious, we chill in her room and wait for her dad to go out before we go at it like bunnies. I'm honestly petrified of accidentally knocking her up so I bought condoms. Thank god for self-checkout. It's so much fun. I'm having the time of my life with her.

 If Gretchen's noticed, she doesn't care. We still chill near the music room together. I've grown to appreciate the music room now, I'm even picking up guitar lessons. Girls think music is hot, and having another way to attract them didn't hurt anybody. Gretchen's even giving me tips on how to read sheet music as I just like to strum away at what sounds nice, although she usually shuts up when I pluck the right notes- just goes all dozy on my shoulder. It's weird, but hey, whatever.

 Gotta go into class now, ugh.

 ---

 12:45 AM

 This rash is killing me. Still, I promised thirty straight days with this stuff. And thirty days is what I'm gonna give it. Unless I have an asthma attack or something bullshit like that. Then I don't have to give back the money I've already blown on video games and snacks.

 I would've been back sooner, but after I left Myra's house I went for a jog. A really long jog. Through the woods. It just felt so right. I lost complete track of time but I wasn't the only one out there. I got a glimpse of Carlos running past. I think he's one of the kids in the two ounce drink test group. I didn't try to start up a conversation, he was clearly a man on a mission.

 When I'm out there, my head doesn't itch either. Maybe it's from something else.

 ---

 Day 10

 7:21 AM

 Okay. Body hair. That's not that new.

 Chest hair is though. And I think I'm starting to grow a carpet on my legs. I was pretty fair haired on the rest of my body before this whole thing started. Now I'm turning into Esau from Sunday School, the guy so hairy his brother could wear goat skin on his arms and trick his mostly blind dad into thinking it was his older son. I'm tempted to shave.

 Also my feet are starting to rash too, and they keep getting that ‘falling asleep sensation’, like there’s static under your skin. It's uncomfortable to wear shoes. I'll go to school today but if it gets worse I might take a break. From school, anyway.

 ---

 7:49 PM

 My mom's went out out tonight so Myra came over here instead... and by came, I mean literally came. We had a blast. She doesn't seem to mind the hair either even if it has come in a little fast. She keeps threatening to wax it though. No way in hell.

 She also brought up a threesome, with me and Gretchen. Oh yeah, they both know I'm sleeping with her. Apparently Myra's been impressed with what she's taught me in the few days I've boned her. A few more 'lessons' and she'll let me loose with Gretchen.

 This is insane.

 Almost too insane.

 I'm a little overwhelmed. I might cut out of this project early and somehow pay you back later Gus. I don't know how I feel about all this female attention. It's a lot to take in. Also I don't fancy being mistaken for Bigfoot's little brother Smallfeet when I walk into school and I'm just that hairy.

 ---

 Day 13

 2:21 PM

 I didn't think about journaling this morning but I am now. I think something's going wrong.

 When I went into the bathroom, I got a glimpse in the mirror of where the rash on my head was and I saw something. I took a better look, felt around, and it looks like two giant ass warts are starting to sprout. I hate warts.

 But I also hate the idea of losing my feet a lot more.

 One of the guys that picked on me since freshman year, Barry, stomped on my right foot. Right on the toes. Normally this would send me howling in pain while he would laugh his ass off.

 Nothing. I felt nothing. And he jumped on it, full force. I felt something crack, but I didn’t feel it. I ran into the bathroom again and took off my shoe.

 I can't move the toes on my right foot. The skin’s gone gray with blotches of purple. And my left foot's growing pretty stiff too. I'm pretty sure Barry broke my toes given how crooked they are but they're so cold. I'm freaked the fuck out.

 But also really nervous to tell my mom this might be because I'm taking a chemical to help me get laid. I would be absolutely grounded. So grounded. And of course, I'd veto my hundred dollars, which like I said- already long spent.

 I'll probably skip school until my feet stop dying. Also reduce how much of the drink I'm taking. Half ounce only.

 ---

 1:12 AM

 Barry came to my house, demanding to know what was up. He looked scared shitless.

 Guess who else was in the experiment and didn't tell anyone? That's right. Half the jocks on the football team. Gus isn't popular but he's a great salesman. Once the Love Potion started to turn shit around for me and the other guys, Gus got to selling. Guys were handing over so much cash for a chance to get more pussy.

 But Barry wasn't attracting pussy. He was attracting dick.

 Should've seen that one coming a mile away, the hyper masculine asshole turning out to be gay. Didn't bother me, we all got our quirks. But that's the thing, Gus promised that the drug would attract the opposite sex. A specific set of hormones probably wouldn't work on the same sex, he figured. He was not THAT stupid.

 And apparently I was one of Gus' 'success stories'.

 Barry demanded to know what else was going on with me, or he'd crush me like a bug. So I coughed it up in self-preservation. My feet. My head. The rashes. The urge to jog in the forest every night and the inclination to be near music. And guess what, Barry didn't freak out on me. He admitted to the same damn thing. Also the fact he was a tone deaf and now could sing bass like a star.

 Barry's thrown out all his shit in the toilet and scrubbed his neck so hard he's taken skin off. Apparently that's where he put on the cologne. I let him take the couch, texted mom telling her that he was a friend that came over for some help. Mom's a sweetheart. She'll understand.

 This isn't right. I'm stopping taking whatever's been given me now, it’s gone down the toilet with Barry’s supply. Fuck you Gus. Fuck you so much.

 ---

 Day 15

 1:11 PM

 I think it was too late for us.

 Barry's got the rash now, despite insisting he's stopped everything. Everything he had of Love Potion, not even a spritz of the cologne. He keeps complaining of the itching.

 Oh. And half my fucking foot fell off.

 I was in the bathroom, meeting up with Barry (nothing gay, he just wanted to talk) and I leaned too much on one side apparently. We both heard a snap and suddenly I had no more balance. I fell to the floor.

 I ripped off my shoe and the front of my foot fell out. It had turned entirely dark purple and felt like dry clay. Barry screamed like a girl and threw up in the sink. My foot reeks, at least what's left of it. But I'm more concerned that I think I have hooves now.

 Yeah. You heard me Gus. HOOVES. The bone that led to my ankle is all wrong shaped, split in two and is turning a coppery brown. The flesh around my heel is already peeling away and I feel sick just looking at it. Judging by the condition of the other foot, it's gonna go real quick here too.

 I claimed I threw up and went home. Barry actually followed me, wonder if he's got some sort of crush on me. He's probably too grossed out to try anything though. Seeing half a man's foot just fall off probably kills the mood.

 I don't know what to do. I still have the half of my foot, I'm keeping it in my dresser. Still trying to find you, Gus, but apparently you've faded off the face of the earth. Barry's vowed to tear your head off the moment he gets his hand on you.

 Meanwhile, I think I just figured out what the things on my head are.

 Horns. I'm growing horns.

 Day 19

 Barry refuses to leave my house. He's scared. I've played hooky since the last entry, staying home and playing video games. I'm super hairy now, a walking carpet is an understatement. I'm only bothering to shave my face, going after the rest of the mess is just too much.

 Okay. I wasn't gonna put this down because I thought it was just my imagination, but... my penis is bigger. By at least three inches. No I'm not kidding Gus. Normally I'd think this was a great addition to my bod. But no. It's not. It's fucking not.

 My other foot's gone and I'm having to relearn my center of balance. It's not as hard as I thought it was gonna be. It's rough though. I keep falling over and I think my mom's catching on that something's not right with me. Especially with the hopskip way I keep walking.

 I think the horns are ready to split free. I feel them now, they're bony nubs that are giving me the worst migraines. The only thing that soothes my pain is playing my guitar and hearing Barry sing. Because damn that boy can sing.

 I love music. But it’s of little comfort now.

 ---

 Day 25

 I ran away from home.

 Gretchen came to check on me. (Myra hasn’t so much as sent a text by the way.) She knew I'd been missing classes, and when I didn't answer the door, she got worried and entered the house.

 She found me at the worst time possible. When my horns were finishing their development. I was trying to get to the bathroom to get some more painkillers when the most excruciating pain I'd ever felt in my life filled my entire head. I screamed and hit the floor, curling up into a little ball. I hadn't even gotten fully dressed yet, a shag carpet with hooves and slowly sprouting horns.

 I woke up to Gretchen screaming at the sight of me. I slowly sat up and when she saw my face she realized it was me.

 Her face went white. She looked like she didn’t know what to be more shocked about. The fact that there was a man with horns and a small furry tail, or the fact that it was me, right there. Sitting in front of her. More animal than man.

 I tried to talk to her. Tried to reach for her. But when she ran from the house, I couldn't just let her go.

 So she's with me and Barry now.

 We stole my mom's car, I took all the money from her bank account that I could, and we're driving now. Just driving. Gretchen's tied up in the backseat, Barry's keeping her still.

 I don't know what to do anymore. But I need Gretchen. Need her. I can't explain why either. Maybe I'll know when I get to our destination.

 ---

 Day 30

 This would've been the final day of the test.

 I'm done transforming. Barry's about through the final stretch himself, it's just the horns left. All the others managed to catch up to us. We're hiding out in one of the national parks, not telling you which. All in various stages of development. Gus really went all out, hitting every clique he could before pulling his disappearing act.

 We're freaks now. All of us. They're gonna look for us, but they won't find us. Or they'll wish they hadn't. We have powers now. With our instruments and voices, we can hypnotize anyone to our bidding. Least it means we don't have to tie up Gretchen now. She's staying here whether she likes it or not.

 For now, we wait. For the hype to die down. For people to forget the missing teenagers from our highschool.

 I don't think you knew this would happen to us. But I really don't care. I'm sending this journal to your last known address, Gus. You can run, but you can't hide. We'll find you.

 We just want to give you a head's start knowing what we'll do to you once we get our hands on you.

[itsworn]

Ask Anything: Your Tech Questions Answered

Joe Stinson; via email: I’m one of the rare few with a big block Corvette that actually races the thing. My ’72 coupe has a nearly stock Chevrolet Performance 502/502 crate engine that’s backed by an M21 Muncie. The stock independent rear suspension is still in place with 4.11 gears. So far in over two seasons of occasional bracket racing I haven’t had any trouble other than bad wheel hop if I don’t slip the clutch just a little off the line. My best e.t. is an 11.52 at 116.

I know lots of folks say the Corvette IRS isn’t ideal for drag racing and I’m getting anxious to add enough power to break into the tens. What am I up against with the rear suspension and differential?

Steve Magnante: Hey Joe, though I’m tempted to toss in a lame Jimmy Hendrix pun asking where you’re goin’ with that gun in your hand, I’ll refrain….this time. The fact you thrash a stick shifted Corvette – and a big block no less – is cool in these days of over restored show poodles. You don’t say whether your Stingray is a factory-built big block or a small blocker with a heart transplant.

Though pre-’72 Corvettes (and all other Chevrolet passenger cars) lacked an engine-specific identification code in the VIN, GM added it for 1972. In fact, all GM passenger vehicles got an engine code (finally!) in 1972, bringing cheer to Buick, Oldsmobile and Pontiac muscle car hunters as well. Scope out the fifth spot, if you see the letter W, your Stingray was originally built with the 270 horsepower LS5 454 rat motor, one of 3,913 big blocks from the total run of 27,004 Corvettes built in 1972.

Other possible codes are K, for the base 200 horse 350 and L for the rare solid lifter LT1 350 with 255 (net) horsepower. Right here lets’ stop and consider the frustrating fact that Chevrolet kinda dropped the ball on Corvette differentials in the big block era. While SS396 Chevelles, 427 Impalas, L79 Chevy II’s and other bowtie factory muscle cars were fitted with the big 12 bolt rear end with its larger guts, stronger Posi unit, 8.8 inch ring gear and thicker axle shafts, when the 396 and 427 big blocks arrived in 1965 and ’66 (respectively), they used the basic 10 bolt differential and guts fitted to small block Vettes – and low-po Chevelles. At 8.2 inches, the 10 bolt’s ring gear isn’t huge and isn’t all that durable under extreme conditions.

Though Chevrolet made token efforts to bolster the Corvette’s 10 bolt in big block applications (forged steel U-joint caps, larger diameter half shafts, etc.) none of it was comparable to the 12 bolt upgrade given to less costly performance cars. Folks have scratched their heads over this fact ever since. Oh, another head scratcher for newbies is the 1963 – 81’ Corvette’s inspection cover. It only has eight bolts. But rest assured, there’s a 10 bolt differential inside (as in: the number of bolts securing the ring gear to the diff. carrier). And remember too, the bolt-on inspection cover also serves as the center anchor point for the transverse leaf spring. A simple, thin stamped tin cover it is not.

As it so often does, the hot rod aftermarket rose to the occasion, especially after a January 1974 edict from the NHRA allowing Stock and Super Stock Corvette racers to make internal modifications to the stock differential housing. The outside had to remain stock appearing and the jumpy IRS had to remain, but it was a step in the right direction.

The NHRA easement opened the door to a neat trick that involved swapping 12 bolt gears into the Corvette case. But it wasn’t easy. The inner surfaces of the case had to be deeply ground away to make room for the physically larger ring gear diameter. But that wasn’t enough. The ring gear itself had to be machined to reduce its outside diameter to 8.675 inches to clear the hogged out case. The trick also helped street enthusiasts and lots of machine shops performed this work.

But it didn’t eliminate the tendency of the half-shafts to blast off and a look under any 1965-’74 big block Stingray with competition history will reveal deep scars and repair patches near the burst trajectory of these items. By the 1990’s, the NHRA rulebook went a step further and allowed the complete elimination of the IRS setup altogether for added safety. But as always with stuff like this, there was a catch. Though the re-think allowed racers to scrap the troublesome outboard half shafts, the Corvette’s novel transverse leaf spring had to remain. Wally’s men said “no can do” to racer requests seeking permission to mount the one-piece live axle assembly via more conventional coil springs or parallel leafs. Well, at least requests to scrap the hefty rear disc brakes for drums were approved.

This opened the door to use of traditional 12 bolt, Dana 60 and Ford 9-inch rear axles, drum-to-drum. And this might be where your future lies. If it was my decision, I’d remove your stock IRS and replace it with a suitably narrowed live axle of the 12 bolt variety. Competition Engineering and others make live axle C3 Corvette conversion kits that employ beefy fabricated adapters that attach to the outboard end of each axle tube. When mounted, the forward ends accept the stock shock absorbers and the rearward ends grab ahold of the outer ends of the transverse leaf spring. A Panhard link above the axle resists lateral movement.

In all, it’s a slick, lightweight solution that adds strength and serviceability to any drag-oriented C3 Stingray. This problem-solver also spotlights how far the aftermarket has come since the sixties. Back then, even GM balked at the cost of creating a special extra heavy duty differential for big block Corvettes. If they didn’t, I wouldn’t be writing these words. But in today’s ponycar marketplace where IRS is a fact of life under every new Mustang, Camaro and Challenger, numerous aftermarket driveline suppliers have taken the financial plunge with re-imagined Dana 60, Ford 9-inch and GM 12 bolt center sections to replace the factory weak links in an afternoon. We’ve never had it so good!

This 1970 Stingray is an active NHRA H/SA contender. The Competition Engineering live axle adapter kit solves breakage problems and prevents the C3’s notorious acceleration squat for full tire contact. Dig the lightweight aluminum G-body drum brakes that shave nearly 30 pounds of dead weight over the stock Delco Moraine discs. Slicks are Hoosier 30.0/9.0R-15.

MORE INFO Competition Engineering (203) 453-6571 competitionengineering.com

MAKING HINDSIGHT 20/20

Steve Magnante: This nugget is a little unconventional in that nobody wrote in to CarCraft to request it. Rather, I spotted this trick aboard Greg Davies 9 second BFNY Performance Dodge Magnum Hemi Wagon and knew it needed to be shared as widely as possible. As any bracket racer knows, races are often won or lost at the finish line. Tired of bending his neck for a 140-plus mph look-see at where his opponent was, Davies rigged a pair of RV / Camper back-up cameras instead.

Now, all he has to do is glance quickly at the appropriate LCD monitor to learn how close the opponent is and whether it’s time to tap the binders…or keep his right foot buried. Davies says: The right hand camera/monitor is used when I’m in the left lane and visa-versa for the left hand camera/monitor”. And since the naturally aspirated 468 cube Gen III Hemi is covering more than 20 feet per second by the 1000 foot mark, taking eyes off the track is something to be avoided, let alone trying to catch a glimpse of the opponent through the narrow slit of a full-face helmet. Here’s to Greg Davies’ ingenuity!

Mounted to the A-pillar, the wide angle camera (left) delivers a crisp, high resolution image that’s quickly visible without driver’s head movement.

Hemi Wagon driver Greg Davies shows off the passenger side setup. Davies’ Magnum weighs well under 2,800 pounds thanks to his relentless crusade to “add lightness”. The digital rear view system is several pounds lighter than the stock power mirrors and its’ more aerodynamic to boot.

ANCHORS AWAY?

Scott McKendry via email: Hi, great magazine! I have a couple of questions about a BBC block I bought on eBay before I send it out for rebuilding. First, I don’t want to spend more money on it if the cylinders are too thin. Looks like they are in great shape and have never been bored but when I took the freeze plugs out, after I had it hot tanked, the coolant passages were packed with rust. I cleaned them out as best I could and got a pile of rust on the garage floor. But there were still some pretty thick rusty chunks of metal I was still able to scrape off the coolant side of the cylinders, maybe 0.030 inch thick. I was told this engine was in a power boat. Should I be concerned about the cylinder wall thickness? Should I have it sonic tested? I’m planning on rebuilding it to basic LS6 specs, naturally aspirated but with less compression, like 10.5:1. I’m also considering a stroker kit. I don’t want to bore it any more than needed. My second question is about the numbers I see on the block. There’s a raised 3963512 at the rear of the block and the stamped code on the passenger side deck reads TO9142DQK. What have I got here and is there any way to preserve the deck stamping during the machine shop phase?

Steve Magnante: You bring up a significant point on the risks associated with boat / marine engines. As you’ve witnessed, the piston side of the bores can be in excellent condition but if corrosion from the inside out is present, metal loss can be so severe as to render a good unit scrap. It stems from the fact most marine engines use the lake / ocean as the radiator. Instead of a closed system with a radiator and dedicated coolant as in a road going vehicle, openings in the hull access cool water and direct it into the engine where it carries heat away. Once its’ passed through the engine, it’s released back into the body of water to be replaced by another fresh load of liquid in a continuous cycle.

On paper, this seems great since boaters can do away with the weight and complexity of a self-contained cooling system. But in practice, trouble arises from the fact naturally sourced water has no rust inhibitors and is jam packed with minerals. These help to set up electrical charges between dis-similar metals that slowly carry molecules away and can eventually cause holes. Worse yet is an ocean-going boat that uses salt water for coolant. We all know what sodium (salt) does to steel car bodies in the winter time. Yep, the same threat happens inside an engine block where even the thickest iron castings can be reduced to a useless boat anchor over time.

Your instincts are correct. Don’t trust the healthy surface appearance. Have every bore sonic tested from top to bottom, all the way around. Isolated thin patches caused by the peculiar nature of oxidation can create coin-sized hot spots on the “ugly side” of the shiny cylinder bores. These can degrade oil performance and reduce piston ring and skirt life. Overheating is also a possibility. There’s also the strength factor. If enough material is lost, your cylinder walls won’t be of consistent thickness. This could lead to poor ring seal in those spots and resulting blow by.

But remember, anything can be repaired and it’s a simple matter to install sleeves in afflicted bores. When installed by a solid shop with know-how and the right equipment, don’t be afraid and know that a V8 block with eight sleeves can be stronger than a pristine factory casting. The only wild card is price. If those eight sleeves end up costing more than a good replacement block, where’s the economy in that? Extreme sleeving like that is most fruitful in cost-no-object situations like saving the original block to a 1965 Chevelle Z16, Corvette L88 or a similar rarity.

As for the markings seen on your block, the raised characters at the back is the factory casting number (3963512) which identifies it as a 1969 – 1971 427 and 454 unit. This block is very beefy and can take a 0.125 inch overbore (assuming the inner faces aren’t corroded as discussed above). These blocks contain enough material to accept 2 bolt or 4 bolt main caps and both types are possible with this casting. The more important number is the stamping on the passenger side of the deck. Called the “suffix code” this one further identifies the block’s vehicular origin and is the one that’s all-too-often removed accidentally during deck work.

Yours is stamped with TO9142DQK and the characters restorers and collectors focus on are the final two, which is QK in your case. The first two (TO) identify the assembly plant as being GM’s Tonawanda, NY facility. The birthplace of all big blocks during the muscle era, GM shipped completed engines to its various vehicle assembly plants for final installation.

I did a fairly thorough Internet search for your suffix code and came up empty handed. Searching for DQK and QK delivered no matches for known Chevrolet vehicles. This supports the possibility yours was supplied new to a marine supplier for use on the water. Lacking more time on this end, you might want to explore the world of Industrial and Marine engine customers (think Mercury Marine, Gray Marine, etc.) which may have used a specific suffix code for identification.

As for preserving the stamped suffix code, it’s a simple matter of asking the machinist to baby sit the process and stop the cutter when it approaches the sacred digits. And I do mean sacred. For example, a 1969 Camaro Z/28 with its original DZ suffix code 302 block can be nearly twice as valuable as the same car with a non-matching block. I’ve also witnessed tragic situations where original, numbers-matching engine blocks were transformed into anonymous blobs by distracted or unconcerned machinists. It only takes a few extra minutes to baby sit the cutter.

Can anyone identify this stamped big block Chevy suffix code? It seems to read TO9142DQK though paint stripper might reveal otherwise…

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