#chalypso

[thesimonthedevious]

METALOCALYPSE ORIGINAL CHARACTER WEEK 2024: DAY 4

day 4: flirty or friendly banter

Charles conducts a meeting with all the Brass Knuckles girls upon his return - to know what he's getting into. Calypso is first. Based on my fic GirlKlok

His office is what she expects. Cal gives the Klokateer holding the door for her a quick nod and looked out at the sky behind him – the glass is so clean she imagines Toki would try and walk right through it. He’s writing something on his laptop, and Cal wonders; personal report? Security? Police? It quickly occurs to her that maybe, anything to do with Dethklok would go far higher than the police.

They probably have their own FBI department.

The moment her thighs make contact with her chair, Offdensen lowers the screen so he can see her. His glasses shine, and she can just see the reflection of his screen. Red hair like hers, a lot of writing. He’s writing about her. Cal’s expression remains neutral, but maybe there’s a perk of an eyebrow she can’t stop.

“Nice of you to invite me in.” she starts, and Charles watches her. Only briefly does he refer back to whatever picture he has on her file. How different is it, she wonders.

(He thinks – it’s not often he comes across a picture that is so vividly disconnected from the truth)

Her fingers trace the old wood of the armchair.

“I thought I ought to get to know you girls personally.” Offdensen explains, and Cal tilts forward.

“Well, what does your file say about me.”

Charles maybe smirks, it’s hard to tell, and though he raises the screen again, he slides the laptop pointedly to the right so he can still see Calypso. To be polite, she’s sure. But her back straightens all the same.

“It says, Miss Texas Teen Runner Up – and further. And some odd jobs that don’t quite fit that aesthetic… That you’re a skilled woman.” He’s not malicious about the Miss Texas part, but is evidentally more interested in her further skills: the cage fighting, the wrestling, the never ending bouncer work. Skills that, really, a band manager should have no interest in. “You don’t actually have much – if any – musical experience.”

“I’m lucky they gave me a chance.” Cal remarks dryly. And while it’s true she’s lucky the original members of Brass Knuckles wanted her for name alone to draw in numbers, she also is aware that it means they couldn’t have gotten where they are (so fast) without her.

“I’m sorry about your injury. Changing job industry can be, ah, difficult.” He refers to the injury that got her knocked out of wrestling to begin with. The damaged leg in question tingles, and she crosses it over her other.

“It’s healed fine. Mostly. Hurts on cold days.”

“I have a similar injury – storms, too.” Charles agrees, and Cal doesn’t know what comes over her;

“Maybe we can compare them one day.”

The suggestion isn’t immediately shot down by a look or a word. He does glance at her from his screen, and their eyes meet for a little longer than he wants, but her gaze seems hard to look away from. She’s challenging. His hand over the mousepad flexes and curls up, “Medical isn’t usually my field. But familiar hands are usually better than sterile.” He truly believes that. Mostly. Part of him doesn’t even know what it means, but he sees her rest her chin on her hand, finger idly stroking her chin.

“Mhm.” She’s amused, and something in Charles is pleased. He looks back at the screen, “You’re not what I thought you’d be, Mr Offdensen.”

“I’m not made to be thought about, Miss Huggenkiss.”

“Don’t call me that.” She instinctively asks. And why not? Why can’t she wonder about him? Ponder? Charles wonders what there is to think about. What else she might think. And what she expected.

“Alright, Mary.”

When she sees him peek at her again, Cal smirks – unable to argue. He won’t call her that again for some time – but it’s nice not to get reprimanded. To gain her approval. Not that he’s seeking that out.

 As they discuss menial business, finally, Charles closes the laptop completely. He stands up and walks around his desk.

“I think we’ve discussed everything I wanted to.” He stands by her chair – empty handed and headed. Cal suddenly stands to barely meet his gaze.

“And what about what I want?” she watches him, and he’s very good at acting as if he’s looking at her face, as he subtly notices the scars that travel beneath her grey camisole top. Subconsciously imprinting them to memory.

“What do you want?” Charles’ voice is dangerously low, curious, and Cal stares at the scar on his cheek. Wonders what else she might find if he didn’t cover up 80% of his body. Her teeth grit and he can see her jaw clench. Every muscle on her body is defined, like a marble sculpture.

“I want a drink.”

Charles, again, smirks so slightly Cal thinks it’s a trick of the light. And there is just enough silence that indicates he’s considering it.

“I’ll send you a list of bars that come highly recommended.” He likes the face Cal makes; judgemental, accepting, suspicious. It’s a marvel she can do all at once. Walking past him, her arm pushes against his. Not hard enough to be rude, but pressing against him enough to be memorable.

“I don’t want the place the boys like to go to most.”

Charles follows her to the door, making sure to get to the handle first – even if it means leaning past her. Easy enough when he’s got a good few inches on her. “Ah, no, no. You’ll see plenty of those. This will come from my personal list.”

Cal tries not to look at him as he stands at attention with the door open fully. But it’s hard, especially when she knows she has no idea when she’ll get to talk to him again. Not that that would be a problem.

“Places I like.”

“Places you go?” Cal tries to prompt, smirking as she steps into the hall. Finally Charles’ lips curl upwards into the clearest smirk she’s received this whole time.

“Places I like.” He refuses to elaborate, “I’ll be seeing you, Calypso.”

“Catch you later, shug.”

[ponds-of-ink]

Little Purple Guy shimmying.

Look at him go. :]

(...And maybe imagine him jamming to this. It was basically the thing that prompted me to doodle him. It just fits too well to me.)

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 13th February

And like that, after last week's decidedly unhip offerings from the perpetually grandfatherly Pat Boone, the 1950s as you imagine them happening are back with a bang! (And with it a bit of bonus lore about my weird childhood music listening habits).

At the Hop - Danny & the Juniors (peaked at Number 3)

I should confess here that I have known and loved this song for a long time. It was the title track for at least one disc of a four-disc Shake, Rattle and Roll set of rock and roll compilation CDs that for some reason I owned as a kid. They weren't my family's CDs, they were mine, and I loved them (and played them) every bit as much as I loved (and played) my Disney hits CD, my Pop Party compilations and my Harry Potter audiobooks. I have no idea how or why I ended up with these CDs. I have no idea why I latched onto them so hard. I have absolutely no idea what my parents must have thought of me bopping round my bedroom to tracks like this. I do, however, think it's a not-insignificant part of the reason why I'm doing this project now - a mix of nostalgia and just a general love of rogue older music.

So yeah, all that to say that this song feels weirdly nostalgic for me. I distinctly remember enjoying this song for its pace, its silly hop hop hop hop backing singers and its stupidly catchy, repetitive hook. And honestly, I think that all holds up. It's just a good song - a bit repetitive, with lots of let's go to the hop, but all tied up with these tight doo-wop harmonies, a classic 12-bar blues structure, and this driving piano playing triplets underneath everything, keeping the song tripping along. There's even a section where the piano plays a solo and you get all these hand claps. In short, this has everything you might want - perfect for reeling in particularly discriminating pre-teens.

I also enjoy the glimpse we get into 1950s youth music habits that the song gives us. I think as a kid I assumed a hop was a type of bar, but no, it's a reference to a "sock hop", which is a phrase I've heard a lot but never really has a solid concept of. A sock hop, then, was apparently an informal dance for young people held typically in school cafeterias and gymnasiums from the 1940s onwards. Before the rise of sneakers, the idea was that you had to take your shoes off so as to not damage the floor - and it's at venues like this that novelty dances took off and whole genres of music, particularly rock and roll, doo-wop or otherwise, really got their start.

The song's lyrics, appropriately for this, also reference a bunch of novelty and fad dances, as Danny sings about how you can rock it, you can roll it / Do the stomp and even stroll it / At the hop / You chalypso when you chicken at the hop / Do the dance sensations that are sweepin' the nation / At the hop. They're deliberately difficult lyrics, sung at breakneck pace and made opaque to anybody but the coolest and best informed teens on the block - certainly nobody above the age of 18 was coming away from this record any better informed about what the kids were doing, and to be honest, that's probably deliberate. These are the Tiktok dances of their day, and half the fun is doing them, but the other half is baffling your parents and pretending like your parents arejust soooo uncool for not knowing how to chalypso when you chicken. Honestly, dad, ugh.

But yeah, it's a good song, and while Danny and the Juniors aren't quite one-hit wonders, this is definitely the thing they ended up best known for. In fact, it has quite the afterlife - it got covered at Woodstock, over a decade later, and the original version got reused four years after that for the film American Graffiti, which prompted a rerelease or Danny and the Juniors' original that seems to have done pretty well for itself. So yeah, a nice little success story for a track that couldn't be more stereotypically 1950s if it tried!

Love Me Forever - Marion Ryan (5)

And we go from pacy 1950s excess to this, a track that definitely slows the pace down. Marion Ryan is not a name I'd ever come across until I listened to this, but apparently she was quite the popular artist in the UK. She did occasionally appear on the Goon Show - a mark against her, if you've seen my Goons entries - but that misfortune notwithstanding, this is a pretty standard bit of British pop balladeering, nothing wrong with it.

Marion has a voice that somehow is just very British, mannered without being too old-fashioned, and technically very good, without ever thrilling me. It's not dissimilar to Petula Clark, and has a quality to it that wouldn't feel entirely out of place in the 1960s, something in the way she hangs back then leans into certain words, without ever really belting, or pehaps it's just in the indulgent la la la la bits. I don't know, the overall effect is pretty timeless, is maybe what I want to say here.

The song doesn't have much to say for itself, just lots of Marion asking her love to Love me / Love me forever / Take me, make me your own. There's a bit of promising, a bit of kissing strongly and sweetly, and a bit of swearing to be true, now and forever, as I love you. It's simple, and I also do think that this simplicity might be what makes this song feel more modern, to my ears - earlier in the 1950s you'd have had a lot more rhetorical flourishes and cruft. This is simple, stripped-back - not quite singer-songwriter, but it's going for that same bare, confessional vibe, I guess.

All this, backed simply with some (very extra) backing singers, an electric guitar that also sounds maybe like a mandolin (?) and some notionally vaguely Latin background drumming rhythms. All of which, when I write it down together, sounds like quite a weird combination, but Marion does just about make it work. So there's that.

I think writing about that last song, I might have brough myself round to liking a lot more than I did the first time I hit play? I certainly think it's a lot less old-fashioned than I initially assumed - ironically, it's actually a lot more forward-facing than the theoretically much more hip At the Hop, which is cool, but will age like milk as soon as any of the dances in it go out of style. But nostalgia has to win the day, for me. At the Hop is just a good song, man!

Favourite song of the bunch: At the Hop

[arogaba]

PARFAIT REDUX PART 8/?

And here we are arriving at gen 3!! So for my readers this is probably a surprise to see Klee with Zodiac first and not Eva but this was actually a plot point I had planned to be revealed in Tulip’s generation. Basically, the idea was unknown to Zodiac, he and Klee actually had triplets together after the breakup. Klee never told him at the time as didn’t know for certain whether he was the father or not and then just conveniently kept forgetting to inform him afterwards. It would have wound up being through sheer chance that Hyssop stumbled across one of his half-brothers leading to Zodiac finding the truth with Orion and Origami along for the ride.

Their triplets are Fandango, Flamenco, and Chalypso. Klee named them all after different dance styles as she was a dancer.

[mourning-again-in-america]

my god “at the hop” is a postmodern wonder

a song that you can do basically any basic-white-person dance to, generically singing about various dances (”You chalypso when you chicken at the hop”, “You can swing it, you can groove it/You can really start to move it at the hop”) and the nature of dance in general (”Do the dance sensations that are sweepin' the nation at the hop“, “All the cats and the chicks can get their kicks at the hop“)

and it really is a bop despite the inane lyrics!

or, to wit, it’s a memorably danceable yet generic song about dances and dancing all written in a general way that makes it timeless

[ernestomuthafuckinmorales]

Chamyle and Chalypso my pair of veiled chameleons... calling each others bluff.

[flipchin]

Join us for the first night of our new, 6-week, beginner-friendly "Vintage Swing (n' Other Dancin' Things)" Social Dance Series. This energetic, enjoyable, and "easy- to-do" course will cover the basics of double-time East Coast Swing/"Jitterbug," very basic Lindy and Charleston, basic Balboa, and '50's Cha-Cha/Chalypso. If you "dig" vintage rockin' music, if you want to learn some basic social dancing, if you'd like to get some moderate exercise that doesn't feel like "exercise," or if you're just looking for a fun way to socially spend a Friday night, locally, here in the Tri-City Area (the Union City/Newark/Fremont area), this is the class for you! Six-week session lasts from January 10, 2020 (first night) to February 14, 2020 (last night.) 7:45 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. Mark Green Sports Center 31224 Union City Blvd. Union City, CA 94587 (510)-675-5808 $47 per person (Union City residents) $56.75 per person (Non-UC residents) To register for classes, copy and go to the following link below (creating an account is required.): https://secure.rec1.com/CA/union-city-community-and-recreation-services/catalog/item/2639/57552/503001 For questions regarding class curriculum, contact instructor Mike Quebec by email at esperescano@gmail.com or by text at (510)-240-2732. #swingdancelesson #swingdancelessons #swing #swingdancing #swingdance #swingdancer #swingdancers #rockabillylifestyle #rockabillydancinparty #rockabillydancelessons #rockabillydancing #rockabillystyle #vintage #vintagedance #vintageswingdancers #vintagestyle #vintagelifestyle #fiftiesstyle #fiftiesdances #fiftiesliving #dancelessons #dances #unioncity #markgreen #danceclass #danceclasses (at Mark Green Sports Center) https://www.instagram.com/p/B56mo9qg0s2/?igshid=p2xxbc3fpkmg

[rocknrollwitit]

Teens' dancing during the 1950s was widely varied in steps and styling. Most of it was still swing-based, but swing had been diverging into local styles and regional variations each decade for about 30 years! One incentive for new variations was the rebelliousness of the time... teens didn't want to dance like their parents who were actively disapproving of their lifestyle, so they invented a wide range of replacements. Another motivation for change was the music.   Rock 'n' roll simply called for different styles of dancing, some of which mirrored the strong back-beat of rock. In addition to the many styles of swing, there was also the Stroll, the solo version of Bop, Chalypso, the line dance Madison, the Bunny Hop, various kinds of slow dancing, and much more!

[nedsecondline]

Danny and the Juniors- At The Hop (lyrics in discription) - YouTube

Danny and the Juniors- At The Hop (lyrics in discription) – YouTube

Danny and the Juniors- At The Hop

Bah-bah-bah-bah, bah-bah-bah-bah

Bah-bah-bah-bah. bah-bah-bah-bah, at the hop!

Well, you can rock it you can roll it

You can stop and you can stroll it at the hop

When the record starts spinnin’

You *chalypso* when you chicken at the hop

Do the dance sensation that is sweepin’ the nation at the hop

Ah, let’s go to the hop

Let’s go to the hop, (oh baby)

Let’s go…

[thesimonthedevious]

Chalypso 16. For the KISSSS MEEEEME!

16.... lazily

(set after AOTD)

The snow has stopped falling. Cal stands on the balcony of their chalet. They both still have their worst wounds bandaged, but for the most part, Olive had approved their leave and so long as they didn’t do anything strenuous (she made an odd face saying this, which Cal and Charles ignored at the time), they were free to do as they pleased. A holiday had put Charles on edge, but with enough prompting and harassment from the boys, he agreed.

Everywhere is a shit show. But the snow has returned to the world, and the weather seems to be regulating itself. Verbier is still gorgeous. Switzerland feels like the perfect getaway; no one knows them. Or if they do, no one dares speak to them. Not that they bother to leave the chalet. Charles approaches, the warmth of the fire inside radiating behind him. He stands behind her, able to hear the cogs turning in her head.

“If I’m not allowed to think, you aren’t either.” He murmurs against her ear, fingers spreading across her hips, bringing her against him. She obediently leans back onto his chest, tilting her head to look at him. The skin around his eye is a dusty green now, and the popped blood vessels are more or less cleared.

“I can think.” Cal smirks, and Charles pretends to ponder on it.

“I’m sure Pickles said specifically that ah, if we had a single logical thought, they’d come out here themselves and make us relax.” But he knows there’s no trying. Both of them are on, constantly, especially now. The world needs rebuilding. But there is nothing that says neither of them can’t relax just a little before getting their hands dirty again. Cal’s done so much – Charles has nearly given up everything and he risked the world to save it. They’d both argue to the moon and back that this holiday is for the other’s benefit. “What are you thinking about?”

“The world.” As always. Charles nods, looking out onto the landscape before them.

“It will heal.” He promises, with no real intention of proving how. They have the money to do it – and the devoted believers to help them with everything else. The world has no choice. Cal wishes Charles would say anything else: say that it can be someone else’s problem. But it’s not. It’s theirs. When she doesn’t respond, he turns her on the spot, and her hands snake around under his arms, thumbs stroking his back through the fitted turtleneck. “We have a few more days here. To do nothing. Plan nothing. We will do what we want, not what is expected of us – to work when no one has asked us to.”

“Yes, sir.” Cal jokes, and Charles smiles – not as restrained as usual – fingers sliding up and down her spine.

“I wonder though, if you might think about, just one thing…” he trails off, gazing at the lines on her face – the stress lines gained from this whole ordeal alone. The age lines that grace her, the greying of her hair he hasn’t noticed until now.

“I could try.”

“Would you be with me?” he asks, and silently reprimands himself for totally going off-piste – the rehearsed speech he had for the last four weeks totally ruined by the peering eye of his love. “To do nothing. And to do everything. For a lifetime and more.”

Cal stares, her eyebrows meeting – not in confusion. But the sudden rush of emotion that surges into her heart is almost too much. She had always thought she would be with Charles for as long as he wants her… But to be wanted for eternity?

“I don’t have to think about that answer.” She promises in barely a whisper, rising on her toes to reach him.

His own hand movements are lazy, with no true purpose. And while the lackadaisical of it all feels foreign to him, it does not feel wrong. She’s slow to put her lips to his, in absolutely no rush.

They have a million more to share.

[thesimonthedevious]

24. For Cal x Charles please? (Or the Old People polycule if you want to spice it up)

24- Write about your ship cuddling.

i loved this prompt ty so much!!!

Charles’ room is as she expects; rich woods. Four poster bed, beautiful walls with large crown mouldings, and a gothic revival medallion above the golden chandelier in the middle of the room. It fits in with Mordhaus and DethKlok, yet sets Charles apart by lightyears. There’s more trophies and achievements on shelves, but they’re in a corner. Not displayed, but not hidden away. Things that no longer mean much to him. Instead, displayed in the middle of one of the walls are copies of DethKlok’s awards. Amongst them: going Platinum, going Diamond, and one that had been made for DethKlok specifically due to their popularity; going Obsidian.

As Charles unbuttons his shirt, Cal walks over, having been ready for bed for what felt like an age; but Charles always finds something to do. But he’s in his room far earlier than she has known him to be. Perhaps her being there was a cause for early sleep. She takes the shirt from his fingers and undoes the rest for him, taking the shirt off his body. He is tense, perhaps not used to such help for what seems like a menial task. But when he realises nothing bad happens as she puts it on the hanger for him – and he even feels a twinge of excitement as her fingers trace down his happy trail to his belt – maybe it is not something to tense up over.

“Come to bed.” She whispers into his ear, and Charles can’t help but give a squint smile. There’s no need to give him such orders; that is his only plan. He removes his pants and she hangs them up too, but he can’t help but watch her. There’s no need, as she puts them aside in the correct place to get picked up and washed later. She knows him – he has to give her more credit. Charles sits on the bed, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Cal slides behind him, fingers moving over the old scars on his back. As she leans forward and puts her chin on his shoulder, Charles relishes the warmth of her chest against his cold body. “Tough day?”

“Seems silly to complain to you.” Charles responds, his hand reaching up to take one of hers that’s snaked around his chest, “You deal with the boys perhaps more than me, now.”

“And I have the girls.” Cal jokes. Charles sets his glasses aside and moves onto his back. Cal shifts so easily against his body, his arm finding the perfect spot around her waist, fingers drawing circles. It relaxes them both. “There’s more to come, isn’t there.”

“Always.” Charles murmurs, glancing at her. He knows Cal is strong, in many ways. But he knows whatever forces are trying to kill DethComz are strong too. As he stares at her, Cal looks back. Neither are put off by the eye contact, though Cal can feel Charles tensing up again. He’s lost in his own thoughts: his own worries. This is why he doesn’t want to form connections. Not with someone like Cal – someone who he cannot patronise into being protected. Someone who doesn’t deserve patronising. Someone who can look after herself, and so she will, and it will make Charles worry when he can’t see her. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to worry about another human right now, and yet the thought of putting Cal out of his door and out of his life is too painful. So he wants to hold her, keep her, and he can’t decide if that is selfish or selfless.

“You’re breathing kinda heavy, sug’.” Cal’s whisper brings him back, and he leans his head down to kiss her forehead.

“Sorry.”

“Never say sorry to me.” She makes it sound like a request, but he knows it’s more than that. His smile returns, small (because Charles never feels like he should entertain the feeling of joy for too long). She rests her head on his chest, and though he looks the way he always does, she can hear the thunder of his heart. His anxieties and his stress pulsing with every rapid beat. She pushes herself tighter against him, arm around his stomach squeezing just a little, and he apprectiavely squeezes back.

[thesimonthedevious]

Chesterlypso - 7 >:)

7- Write about one member of your ship asking the other to dance with them.

WEHEHE i love this but also SURPRISE CHALYPSO

The hall is loud – the band the reverend hired were a tad unusual. Mary supposes with the rise of the Unmentionables, musicians are finding it harder to get jobs outside their comfort zone. So what little they had, they made do: be it the strings are far more violent and the drums louder and heavier. She does note that Orlaag’s charge, Olena, stands on stage with her violin. She is good. Unfortunate that her business seems to lie in the unknown than music. She sits at her table, happily sipping her sherry as she listens to Angie discuss her most recent commission from Orlaag.

“You seem to be quite good with him,” her friend points out, and Mary shrugs.

“I find him easy in personality and in temperament.” She excuses. Though it is as if God thinks she cannot have too much of a good thing: Angie nudges her, head angling to their right, and Mary spares a glance, not making it obvious (the pair had made it their duty to be able to peer and peek and not be noticed for maximum information retention and gossip). Chesterfield approaches, snakelike eyes on the women.

“I’m not putting up with this,” Angie mutters behind her fan, “I’ll get you another drink, right?”

“No, Angie, do not leave me!” Mary hisses, trying to bring her back down onto her seat, but Angie is already up and resilient.

“I’m not gettin’ kicked out of another ‘do!” she replies, winking as she hides her smirk behind her fan. Mary grits her teeth, the fabric of Angie’s dress slipping through her fingers. Another meek ‘no!’ escapes before she straightens and clears her throat, feeling the shadow of a predator falling upon her.

“Miss Huggenkiss!” Dr Chesterfield smiles. He’s got a new suit jacket, velour and red. She despises it (it would look good on Charles). “I see you are alone. That simply will not do.”

“Oh, I find it quite adequate, Dr Chesterfield.” Mary scans the room over his shoulder for anyone she might make eye contact with. Unfortunately she already sees Roisin and Magnus sneaking out onto the balcony. Angie is following around a waiter. Finally Chesterfield leans into her vision, as casually as he can.

“Nonsense, you do not know adequacy quite like I do.” Mary wonders how he thinks these words might make any sort of positive impact, if that is even his intention. Suddenly he holds his arm up, “Come, I think a dance. I have not seen you on the floor once. Surely not all your dances are reserved for the Colonel, even in his absence?”

At the mention of Charles, Mary wants to bristle. Wants to know where he is. Wants to write him another letter. But instead she smiles, standing up, eye to eye with the doctor. “No, not only him. I keep all my friends in mind.” She makes a show of looking around, “Though you will do, if it eases your emotional state that I dance with you.”

She isn’t sure if he simply allows the comment or it’s flown over his head. But as soon as he turns, hand gripping hers a bit tightly, he grunts as he walks right into someone. Chesterfield nearly raises his voice, until he stares at the bespectacled man, still in uniform.

“Colonel!”

Charles, she thinks with a sigh of relief. The moment she sees him she slips out of Chesterfield’s hold and to his side, taking hold of Charles’ arm to make sure he is not a mirage.

“I do not mean to interrupt, but I do believe that ah – the first dance is at least reserved for me.” Charles explains, looking at Mary. As their eyes lock, her gaze softens entirely, and she doesn’t even feel the smile that is present on her face. He smiles back at the warm reception. He always feels prosperous when she shows him her beautiful smile. “That has been our deal for a very long time.”

“Yes!” Mary nods, soothing her tone, “Yes. Apologies.”

“Indeed, apologies for the interruption, Mr Chesterfield.”

“Doctor.”

“Hm.”

Charles turns with Mary, the pair effortlessly joining the crowd, leaving Chesterfield in the shadows.

[thesimonthedevious]

#23 Regency AU: Either Cal/Orlaag or Cal/Charles ♡

23- Write about your ship supporting each other through a hard time.

Running with Orlaag/Cal as I have a few Chalypso anyway!!

Mary doesn’t know how it happens. She is out looking for her brother, Patrick, and perhaps she lets her guard down.

The snarls in her ear are panic inducing as he drags her down. He’s gnawing mindlessly, hand crushing her back and holding her there, face in the dirt, she has never felt so helpless. Lacking the desire to kick and punch and –

The gun shut rings out. The body falls aside and she is pulled back by another arm. A warm, human touch. Mary’s ears ring from the gunshot and she looks back round, seeing Magnus approach the body, gun in hand as he reloads. She screeches “NO!”, her voice crackling and losing sound completely as the word trails off into silent tears. She tries to fight the man holding her back.

“I’m sorry, Miss.” He whispers into her ear. Orlaag’s deep tone isn’t enough to make her stop struggling as she reaches for Magnus, begging him to stop, “Do not look.” He knows it is futile to make a demand like this. That Mary is going to watch Magnus shoot her brother in the face, skull shattering from the bullet. But the zombie is no more. Her brother is no more.

She stares at her palms. The blood on them has dried, matching in colour to the stains on her soft blue dress. Her eyes focus past her palms and to her muddy boots, heels digging further into the gravel. Her cottage feels empty. Though the sky is light and all the clouds in the sky are a peaceful white, she feels cold. What has she witnessed? Patrick – she had only just seen him this morning, perfectly fine, and then – God in Heaven. A figure sits on the bench next to her, and her bloodshot eyes look to him. Orlaag, still in his dark suit. She can just see the stains of blood and mud on the edges of his long coat. He rolls a damp cloth in his hands.

“How are you?” he dares ask, and Mary clears her throat. Her words barely come out, and her lips tremble.

“Fine.” Is all she can muster, and she looks back down at her palms. She curls her fingers inwards until Orlaag takes one and starts to wipe the blood from her palm with the cloth. She almost wants to make him stop. The last thing she has of Patrick that is him. But Mary knows that’s illogical. There is no time for emotional attachments and early reminiscing in this day and age. Too dangerous. He wipes away the other palm, still keeping a firm hold, and her hand twists so that she simply holds his instead of being catered to. He hesitates to ask, but must know where she stands, and must fill the silence that he now inexplicably dreads, “Are you angry at Mr Hammersmith.”

“No.” she shakes her head, blood-free hand wiping away at her cheeks. And Mary knows what this question leads to, so she continues for his benefit, “You saved me. And that is his job. I do not hold it against either of you. I owe you a great debt.”

Orlaag stares at her, gaze intense. It can be no other way – he is always thinking, planning, wondering, daydreaming. What he has found out here has been great for the Tribunal, but now at what cost? He looks to their hands. “I ought to stay, if you would allow such a thing. To ensure you will not turn overnight.”

Mary nods slowly. She is now part of the danger. No longer an equal, but something to be kept an eye on. To be fair, when has that been any different in this society? Perhaps it’s the fact it is Orlaag that admits it that it hurts. “And if you permit,” he continues, his thigh pressing against hers as he leans in. Though no one is home with them, he acts as if he might be sharing a secret, and Mary leans in too instinctively, “You may need a check up. To make sure there are no hidden marks or wounds.”

She doesn’t think whatever he might say would work. But she feels the corner of her lips curve, and Mary dare not look away from him. The almost coy look on her face reassures him that he is in fact, permitted. “I may not be a British doctor, but I am good with my hands.”

“As I well know.” Mary whispers. Her pain is not gone, but it is eased, tucked away for when she is with someone more capable of empathising with her plight. Orlaag rests his forehead to hers, and she closes her eyes. “Let us retire. The setting sun brings the cold.”

“Of course, Miss.” He watches, still, and stands, keeping her hand in his. She snakes it up and through his arm as he leads her into her home.

[arogaba]

PARFAIT REDUX PART 11/?

Wrapping up the triplets families is Chalypso. Like Fandango, she was more open to Zodiac being in her life, but it took her a while to get used to the concept of having around. In the end I had it plotted out that she did become close with her half-siblings, and would have played a role in the later half of Tulip’s generation.

In the redux she is paired with Damson Fizz from @vintageplumbobs and they rolled for one son together - Gooseberry Fizz.

[flipchin]

Get your heart pumpin' n' your toes jumpin' with our Fab '50's Dance Party! This daytime dance, marketed to, but not limited to, our Bay Boomers n' Active Adults in the Tri City Area, will feature a Jitterbug, Chalypso, n' early '60's Fad Dance lesson at 12:30 p.m. from Bay Area fitness and vintage dance instructor Mike Quebec, then Open Dancing from about 1:00 p.m. or 1:30 p.m. (depending on how much we can handle reviewing our heppest hoppin' steps) till 3:30 p.m. Bring a dish to share, and vintage (NOT costume party!) 1950's and early 1960's dress is admired, but certainly not required. (Please no black-soled shoes, because of our wood floor.)  Dee-Jay Mike Quebec will play dance music that will be strictly hard rockin' 1950's and early 1960's Rock n' Roll (Rockabilly, Rhythm and Blues, Do-Wop, Teen Pop, early instrumental Surf, early Girl Group), so please, NO DIsco or Top 40 requests! (Save that for a future 1970's dance party, daddy-o!) Any rockin' requests from the years 1955-1963 will be honored, to the best of our ability. Spread the word n' tell all the hep cats, hep kittens, dugaree dolls, n' beat generation hipsters! (This ain't nostalgia, daddy-o! It's a rockin' record hop as it was, for those who were there.) Information is below: Friday, December 1, 2017 12:30 p.m. to 3:30 p.m. The Mark Green Sports Center 31224 Union City Blvd. Union City, CA 94587 Phone: (510) 675-5808 $7 members  $10 UC residents, non-members  $12 non-UC residents Online Registration: www.rec1.com Facebook event page: https://www.facebook.com/events/498171607221993 #daytimeevent #fitness #unioncity #danceparty #unioncitydance #BabyBoomers #linedance #fitness #seniorfitness #markgreen #dancelessons #potluck #swingdancelessons #seniorsdance #sockhop #jitterbug #dancefitness #dancefit #fitnessmotivation #exercise #unioncityactivities #tricity #unioncityevent #unioncityevents #markgreensportscenter (at Mark Green Sports Center)