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vegetalass · 4 years ago

Note

I know you're not around much these days but if you ever decide to make a come back, I dont suppose youd do some HC about the rdr2 guys and times theyve got caught mastyrbating around camp? I love your thoughts so much they're hilarious and cute ☺👉👈

This ask is very sweet and I like the idea so I will do it... thanks for your kind words and making me smile, anon!!🥺❤️😘

Find me at @ihatebnha

Hope you enjoy!!

Arthur

Used to get caught a lot more than he does now

Because of such, Dutch and Hosea don’t really care on the rare occasion they do catch him just because it was pretty common when he was younger

They laugh about it between themselves

And when caught, Arthur just pretends it didn’t happen

He’s like, “I don’t touch myself, Jesus, who do you think I am?”

Or if John jokingly is like, “Saw you the other day, what were you thinking about?” Arthur just plays stupid

Stuff like “See me where?” or “See me what?”

And if the subject is pushed it turns into fighting (Arthur saying that John isn’t much better)

Arthur thanks the lord every day that Micah has never caught him in the act because he knows he’d never be able to live it down

And if a girl caught him… he’d probably never be able to look them in the eyes again

Probably jacks off being going to sleep or if he’s alone at camp

John

He has a lot less shame about masturbating, but he’s definitely even more private about the subject than Arthur

He doesn’t really deny it, but he definitely pulls a “You didn’t see shit!!” Even if the person very obviously DID

Also probably gets caught more than not… It’s just at this point, people have stopped commenting on it

Dutch definitely jokingly plays the “Poor Abigail…” card all the time

It makes John (and Abigail) sooooooooo mad

Honestly, I feel like when people catch him, he yells at them but doesn’t bother to stop

Thinks it’s their fault and not his because it was OBVIOUS what he was doing and they still didn’t bother to check or knock

This has caused fights with almost everyone

It’s a “what did you expect” type moment

The only time he’d ever apologize to is if it’s you or another girl who catches him, and even then he would probably never want to see you again out of embarrassment

Hence why John probably just leaves camp and finds a secluded area to jerk off now(good luck to those who wander away from the fire)

Charles

We love Charles because he just jerks it when he’s bathing in a river or something

Out of everyone, he’s the least likely to get caught, and on the rare occasion that he is, is also the most willing to laugh it off

I feel like this is because he’s the one who accidentally catches other people so he knows it’s not a big deal

He’s so quiet no one knows he’s there until it’s too late

Gets called a peeper because of this… even though Charles doesn’t want to catch people any more than they want to be caught

If a girl caught him, he’d try to hide himself before approaching them later to formally apologize

It’s kinda weird… Just be like Arthur and pretend it didn’t happen babe!!

If Dutch or Micah ever caught him doodling it, they’d never let it go and tease him until wit’s end

“So Charles is human after all!” is the type of shit they’d say and he’d literally want to pass away

Dutch, Molly hasn’t had one single orgasm the entire time she’s been with you so BE QUIET

Most likely to masturbate when he’s bathing or when he’s away from camp and alone on missions

Micah

Everybody at camp has to pray that they don’t catch Micah masturbating

He has no shame and does not care what people see

He’s the “What? I have needs!” and “You do it, too!” guy... which honestly, isn’t even bad logic

It’s just when people actually walk in on him he doesn’t really seem bothered… which is kinda freaky

If it’s you or heaven forbid, another girl, he says “Quit staring, either help a man out or leave”

And if it’s Arthur or anyone else, “I knew you were a nasty bastard”

Like… Micah… you’re the one who isn’t ashamed!!!

Too bold for his own good and eventually Dutch probably has to get involved

They have one of those “man to man” talks where Dutch is like “Micah… You know… Men… We keep our business in private…”

Everyone at camp pretends they’re not eavesdropping on the conversation

It’s the only time Micah listens to complaints, and even though he forces himself to calm down on the lewd rudeness, he is still jacking it off whenever the urge arises

Rubs one out in his tent whenever he feels like it

Dutch

To give Dutch credit for something, he doesn’t jack off very often

Partially because he gets down with Molly a lot, but also because he considers himself to have dignity and doesn’t want to ruin that

The only people who’ve really caught him rubbing one out are Hosea and Arthur, and they probably let it go pretty quick after an apology

Most because Dutch is pretty polite about it

“A man’s business is a man’s business” or some BS like that

So when he does masturbate, it’s a calculated and timed move that he makes when he’s pretty sure no one is around

Also willing to laugh it off when he catches someone else masturbating, mostly because he raised two teenage boys, so in a way, he’s used to seeing it on the daily

God forbid is another girl catches him, though, because he’d also pull them aside to apologize

LET IT GO, KING!!!

Jerks off only when he’s desperate and camp is empty

Kieran

King of bad luck

I can see him with a pretty low libido, but probably gets caught making juice the first time he tries it at camp

He was lucky it was just Charles who saw, who thankfully, didn’t say anything about it

But still, it scares the absolute crap out of him and his desire to jack off gets even lower than it was already

Probably stupidly thinks that masturbating is dirty or a sin or something that somebody told him when he was a boy

And if a girl ever caught him, even if they didn’t realize what was happening, he’d just have a heart attack and die

Like he’d literally pack up his stuff and go

Everyone at camp: We’ve all seen Micah twisting it so we don’t care

Kieran: UHHHHH

Also gets teased by Micah and Dutch for it, except their comments are like “Aw, don’t be shy, be a man!” or “I’m sure you’ll find yourself a woman one day…”

Again, Kieran just passes away

Jerks off when he’s alone with the horses in a field and no one is around

Javier

Hasn’t been caught yet despite the fact that everyone knows he jacks off ALL THE TIME

Kinda proud of himself for this fact, too

If it’s the middle of the day and he’s in his tent, he’s busy

Usually can his volume to a minimum, but if he knows no one is around, he doesn’t mind letting it out

Charles, of course, hears it the one time he’s not on a team mission

He’d definitely not going to stop is someone catches him, but he has the decency to cover himself up

Especially if it’s a lady

We like him because he’s not going to acknowledge it happened later but he will apologize in the moment

Says some shit like, “Sorry, princess…” jdsfhksd

If another guy tries to tease him for it, he’ll take it in stride and just tease back

Especially because he knows he’s not as bad as Micah or John who get caught ALL THE TIME

Prefers to rub one out before bed but he’s not really picky as long as it’s in his tent and he has a way to clean up

Sean

Everyone’s had a run in with Sean when his dick’s been out

It’s practically a camp joke that everyone has a story about it

He’s another guy who jacks off when bathing in the river, except he’s:

1. Not secretive about it

2. Bathes all the time

Sean leaves the water hole and everyone knows that they shouldn’t go back in there until the water is washed away

Pretty vocal, too, so you always sorta know when you should avoid certain areas

The only time he’s ever embarrassed is when a girl catches him

Turns bright red, starts stuttering, looking for anything to cover himself up with while apologizing

That being said, he only feels bad because he feels like he ruined his chances of being friendly with them

Gets teased by the other boys for it but enjoys the attention, plus loves teasing right back

“Oh hush you, you love looking at me,” type stuff

He’s a lil nasty but he keeps it fun and fresh

Jacks off before bathing, and sometimes in his tent if he’s desperate or is already clean.

#red dead redemption 2 headcanons #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 headcanons #anon #ask #anonymous #this was so fun!!!

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jungle321jungle · 5 years ago

Text

Sleeping In The Woods: One

It was never in Virgil’s plan to be a camp counselor, he had never been a fan of kids.

It was never in his plan to learn to enjoy each of the boy’s company, he had never wanted to learn the truths behind their fake smiles.

It was never in his plan to get wrapped up in things he didn’t understand, he had always preferred to keep to himself.

None of it was ever his plan, but he’d do whatever he’d have to save everyone- even if it means risking himself.

Ao3

General taglist: @ashensanity @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17

~~~~

One

Virgil had never been a fan of children.

They were loud, annoying, needy, and tried his patience to the point that driving off a cliff would be better than babysitting.

But when his mother had demanded that he get a job for the summer instead of: “becoming the newest piece of furniture in their home”, his father had unfortunately overheard. And of course because of truly cinematic timing, one of his coworkers had a son, Thomas, who would be working at Camp Storytime which was short a counselor.

Virgil already hated it at the sound of its name.

But upon research he had learned that due to being a camp for rich kids, the pay was very nice. So he had put on his best fake smile for that Skype interview where he had essentially lied to every question.

“Let's start easy, do you like kids?”

“Of course. Why would I be applying if I didn’t?”

The camp director had given a laugh, “So what age do you prefer?”

“I don’t really have a preference, but given I just graduated high school I’m not sure some of the older kids would really respect me.”

“Do you enjoy fairy tales? And all that goes with them? The younger kids are really into all of our themes. We have Pirate Days, and Royalty Days, and last summer we even had a Monster Day. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”

“Yeah, it sounds fun. What’s not to like about being a pirate? Well, other than scurvy.”

Despite getting the job, Virgil was not one hundred percent he could pull off the facade necessary to get through the summer.

But with training ending and campers arriving in a couple days, he didn’t really have a choice.

“Alright now that general training rules and protocol have been drilled into your head, it’s time to find out which cabin you’ve got and get your rosters. So you’ve got the rest of the day to move in and start prepping.”

Virgil gave a heavy swallow as the papers were passed around. For the last few nights they had all shared one cabin while the others were being prepared for campers, but now he was going to have to move elsewhere and truly begin to prepare for responsibility.

Yay.

He just hoped he was paired with one of the more competent counselors.

“Oh I got the Prince Cabin with Jon,” Thomas commented handing the stack of papers to Virgil.

Virgil glanced over Thomas’s shoulder, “Nineteen of them, you enjoy that.”

Thomas shrugged, “What do you have?”

Virgil gave a breath and finally flipped through and pulled out the assignment sheet with his name in confusion.

While it clearly said which grade and cabin was his, 4th and Wizard Cabin, it only listed five names under campers.

“Only five?” Thomas asked in surprise. “There’s really not that many Wizards this year, huh?”

“I’m by myself,” Virgil realized after a short pause as he passed the papers on.

“Well yeah, the ratio is ten to one. So you lucked out with half that.”

Virgil blinked before looking Thomas in the eye, “But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Fake it till you make it? But hey, if you really need help I’m in the Cabin next door.”

Virgil mumbled a thank you in reply.

Another thing Virgil had never been amazing at was decorations. And yet he had been tasked with decorating the cabin in a “wizard theme”. He wasn’t even sure he knew what that meant. So for now he guessed, and decided he was going to over use glitter, make some wands out of something, and maybe throw some glow in the dark stars up- was that too young for fourth graders?

Oh well, they would have to deal with it.

“Your stars are in the wrong places.”

Virgil’s mouth had opened and closed as the kid walked past him to sit on a bottom bunk bed. He looked at Virgil with a bored expression from behind his glasses, “This one says Dante but I want to sleep here.”

“Logan Ackroyd,” his mother chided before he held out a hand. “I apologize, you said it was Virgil, right? I’m Patricia Ackroyd, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Virgil nodded slowly before he pulled off the “Dante” sign and moved to the Logan one to switch them, silently wondering why the name sounded familiar.

“Oh you don’t have to,” his mother tried. “I’m sorry he’s being difficult.” She then sent her son a look which he stiffened at. “Usually he holds himself with a better demeanor.”

“It’s fine,” Virgil told her switching the signs. “I figured that I might get a complaint if I labeled things anyway.”

“I notice there’s only five names?”

“Only five kids apparently.”

“Interesting. Well Logan, let's get you unpacked.”

Virgil made awkward small talk as they did so before the next campers voices could be heard as they approached.

“But why can’t we be in the Prince Cabin,” groaned a small voice before an exasperated voice replied,

“That one’s for fifth graders.”

“But I don’t want to be a wizard!”

“Me neither!”

“Doesn’t matter what you want!”

The voices turned out to belong to the two twins which had been on his list. Roman and Remus Regis. Along with them were their parents- who did not look happy to be there. But then again the movie stars that they were, he guessed they didn’t really love the idea of being in a dirty forest.

“Sentor!” Their mother, Daniela Regis he recalled, cried suddenly excited going over to where Logan’s mother had been kneeling by a very small dresser (Virgil silently wondered the point of having dressers at all when each looked like they held four shirts at once). “It’s so good to meet you again.”

Senator?

Well, these were supposed to be rich kids.

Logan’s mother stood and gave a well practiced smile as she dusted off her skirt. “Hello Daniela.”

“You the counselor?”

Virgil turned away from the women to the man who had entered, movie star Michael Regis. Virgil hoped he was good at poker faces, “Yes. I’m Virgil.”

He nodded and set down the two suitcases beside the beds, “Keep them in check.”

“Got it...”

With that the man moved beside his wife to chat up senator Ackroyd.

“I’m Remus,” one the twins stated looking over to Logan. Virgil made a mental note that Remus was the one with a light patch in his hair. “This is my brother Roman. I’m gonna guess you’re Logan?”

Logan looked away from the conversation in front of him and gave a stiff nod, “Yes.” The boy said it with such finality that made it clear that he didn’t want to be spoken to, but that sentiment was apparently ignored.

“Have you ever been to a camp like this before?” Roman asked him.

“Do you like pranks?” Remus added.

“I’m gonna unpack,” was Logan’s reply as he moved to do so.

“Logan,” Mrs. Ackroyd tried, but the Regis’ were not letting up.

“Really? You know the director?”

For an actress Mrs. Regis was not very good at sounding as if she hadn’t rehearsed.

“Did you make the wands?” Roman asked appearing at Virgil's side.

“Uh yeah... I did. Why?”

The wands weren’t anything too special. He had simply taken a few cool looking sticks and cut them down with a pocket knife. And then Thomas had thought they were plain and had doodled on some mainly out of boredom.

“Ollivander said the wand chooses the person. And you chose for us.”

Virgil blinked, before he came up with a quick response, “You're not eleven yet. These are trainer wands.”

The boy seemed surprised by the response, but with that he backed off. Unfortunately Logan didn’t.

“Do we have to wear robes?”

“It’s summer so I think we can make an exception. Plus, we’re not British.”

Whatever was going to be his response was cut off by the sound of loud laughter from outside. And then moments later two women and a little boy entered. The first woman Virgil recognized as the head counselor as Delia, but the other woman looked like she should be anywhere but the middle of the woods.

She was tall, skinny, wearing a tube top and a very short skirt with tall heels. Her long dark hair was done in a fancy way and her make up was perfect too.

It just didn’t make sense. At all.

“I was coming to check in and I bumped into another one of yours,” Delia smiled. “This is Charlotte Ekans and her son Dante.”

Beside the super out of place looking woman Dante gave a smile and wave and Virgil forced himself not to stare at the boy’s half scarred face.

“I’m Virgil,” Virgil introduced. He then motioned to an empty bunk bed, “That spot over there is yours. Since there’s only five of you guys each get a top and bottom bunk to yourselves.”

“So you’re missing one?” Delia observed. “That’s not bad. Alright I’m heading to the next Cabin.”

“Michael! How are you?” Virgil’s attention was redirected as Mrs. Ekans walked up to Mr. Regis and pulled him into a tight hug. “How long has it been?”

“Hello Charlotte,” Mrs. Regis said as she gave a tight lipped smile. “I didn’t know your son went to this camp?”

“This is his second summer,” she replied letting go of Mr. Regis to hug his wife.

She pushed away near instantly, “We should be going Michael.”

The two left then with a few parting words to the Senator- and yet none to their sons.

“How are you Patricia?” Mrs. Ekans asked heading back to Dante to help him unpack.

“I’m fine,” Mrs. Ackroyd replied. “I do thank you for clearing my space to breathe.”

“You can always count on me for anything ... you know that.”

“Can I change my sign?” Dante asked Virgil. “I like to go by Dee.”

Dammit he should’ve thought about what the kids preferred.

“We have arts and crafts tomorrow,” Virgil started. “You could make a new one?”

Dee nodded satisfied as he pulled out his bedding, “That works.” He then looked to the other three boys in the room, “I’m Dee. What’s your names?”

“I’m Roman!” Remus answered eagerly. Wait. That was Remus wasn’t it? “What happened to your face?”

Virgil sucked in a breath quickly as he took a step forward, “Roman- Remus, either lets not ask people personal questions like that, okay?”

But apparently it hadn’t bothered Dee as he leaned forward on his bed, “Take a guess.”

Remus(?) gave a large smile, “You were abducted by aliens?”

“Nope.”

“Attacked by a shark!”

“No.”

“Wouldn’t something like a car crash make more sense?” Logan interrupted. “Or just being born with it?”

“But that’s boring,” Remus complained. “Ooo! What about jumping out of a speeding car?”

“Logan we mind our own business,” his mother stated sternly.

“It’s fine,” Dee told her with a smile. “And no to the speeding car.”

“Bear attack?”

“Nope.”

“Cannibal.”

“Nope.”

“Lochness monster- no Bigfoot!”

“Still no.”

“I’m going to figure it out,” Roman(?) replied.

“You won’t,” he smiled back before he pointed to the twin who hadn’t been speaking. “So he's Roman. What’s your name again?”

“Remus, I’m the one going gray from having the stress of a younger twin.”

Roman hit his brother with a pillow in reply.

Virgil blinked as he ran the encounter over in his head. How did he know that wasn’t Roman when Remus has introduced himself as his brother?

“Alright Lo, I think you’re all set,” Mrs. Ackroyd was saying as she pulled her son into a hug. “Remember the rules?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she pressed a kiss to his hair. “Love you.” She went to leave, but she hesitated at the door. “Charlotte are you perhaps free this evening?”

The other mother gave her a smile, “I have plans. But I can walk out with you? And if you’re feeling generous enough, could you give me a ride back? We were dropped off.”

“Then how were you planning to get back in the first place?”

“Who knows.”

The two women left then leaving Virgil alone with four kids.

The living nightmare was beginning.

He gave a sigh as he sat on one one of the unused beds.

The pay is great. The pay is great. The pay is great.

“So what do we do now?” Roman asked him.

Virgil cringed, “Well the plan is just for us to hang out here for the rest of the afternoon until dinner. After that is a campfire then bed. Then tomorrow we have a full day with swimming, arts and crafts, games and other things.”

“Can we go explore?” Remus asked.

Virgil shook his head, “Sorry, but no. There’s only one of me and I need to stay here in case our last camper shows up. But we can all play a game in here?”

“What kind of game?”

“Um... that depends on what you guys like.”

“Let’s play mafia!” Dee cheered after a moment.

“We need more people for that,” Logan disagreed. “Are there any board games?”

“No,” Virgil answered. “They’re in a different building.”

“Let’s play quack-a-dilly-oh-my,” Roman suggested.

With that they had gathered in a circle on the floor and begun to play- until an argument about the lyrics had arose.

“It’s eat a marshmallow,” Logan said crossing his arms.

Remus shook his head, “No it’s your face is turning yellow!”

“It’s yellow,” Dee agreed while Roman nodded. “Right Virgil?”

Virgil shrugged, “I grew up with both.”

“See? He’s on our side.”

“That's not what he said,” Logan disagreed.

“Either way you’re outnumbered,” Roman announced. “So what does your opinion matter?”

“Everyone’s opinion matters,” Virgil tried but he didn’t think he was heard.

As the argument escalated Virgil gave a groan, thankfully he was saved by the door opening and a boy walking in beside Thomas.

“This one got a bit lost,” Thomas explained setting down the kid’s bag. “This is Patton.”

Patton gave a wide smile, “Hi! What are your names?”

While the other boys stood up to introduce themselves Virgil moved over to Thomas. “Where’s his parents?” He asked quietly.

Thomas gave a shrug, “He was just left at the entrance.”

Virgil gave an awkward nod and looked back to the boys.

“Patton, are the lyrics to quack-a-dilly-oh-my ‘eat a marshmallow’ or ‘your face is turning yellow’?” Logan asked.

Patton seemed confused by the question but he answered anyway as he put his small backpack on his bed, “It’s marshmallow- oh cool a wand!”

“See?”

“You’re still outnumbered,” Roman reminded him.

Logan gave a frown before he turned to Thomas. But Thomas was faster, “Well I need to get back to my own cabin.”

~~~~

Someway, somehow, Virgil managed to survive the afternoon. He had helped Patton set up his bed (before the twins because they hadn’t actually done more then dump stuff out) and then it had been time to take a small tour.

He showed them places around the camp, from the fields to the bathrooms, to the dining hall for dinner and a few others in between. And for a little while Virgil thought he could actually do this.

And then a scream woke him in the middle of the night.

Virgil shot up from his bed and promptly fell to the floor. He hurried out his room and into the next one hitting the light as he did. When he did he found Remus and Dee laying on the floor cackling beside Roman who was comforting a crying Patton. Meanwhile Logan gave the world a glare from where he had sat up in his bed.

“He’s fine,” Dee laughed.

“The spider is fake Patton!” Roman was trying.

“Can we reenact that?” Remus asked between gasps of laughter. “Virgil can take a video!”

“You’re all stupid,” Logan mumbled flopping back down and pulling a blanket over his head.

Virgil gave a deep breath calm down his now quick beating heart, but his fear as he did his worry was replaced by anger. “All of you, go to bed!”

“Some of us are trying!” Logan shouted back.

“It's the first night of camp,” Dee frowned. “Did you expect us to sleep?”

Virgil gave the child an annoyed glare, “I expect you to be quiet enough that I can sleep.”

“Have you ever been to camp before?”

“Get in your bed. I don't give a-” He forced himself to take a breath. “Just get in your bed and be quiet. All of you... Patton do you want water or something?”

Patton had calmed slightly and shook his head as he wiped at his eyes, “‘M okay.”

Virgil nodded and headed back to his room. “Just be quiet. No. Be silent. Understood?”

“Yes Mr. Virgil!” Remus mocked climbing into his bed.

It was going to be a long summer.

~~~~

One - Two

Welcome to yet another AU!

As with all my aus the original idea was to have happy fluff throughout because I realize I’ve done all the sides as kids except Dee. But if you can read the description that’s not where we will end up.

But welcome to the ride!

#virgil is already so done #angst will come #so will fluff #summercampau #kid fic #kid!roman #virgil sanders #kid!remus #kid!logan #kid!patton #kid!deceit #sympathetic deceit #character!thomas #sanders sides fic #sanders sides

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missblissy · 6 years ago

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Title: Homeless at Home Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Genre: fanfiction, chapters, angst, reader insert, fluff, slow burn, friends-to-lovers, pre-game Characters: Young!Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Mathews, Arthur Morgan/ Reader, Female reader, Arthur x Reader, Arthur Morgan x Reader, Arthur/ You, Young!reader Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Follow me on AO3!! Read it there too!

(( Enjoy the angst!! WARNING!! PHYSICAL AND ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT BELOW!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! Enjoy the chapter!! Only more angst to come!!))

Description:

He cut you off. Why was he so angry? “You even a girl under there? Or you just some sissy boy?” He took a step towards you and you quickly backed away. He was quick though and snatched you up by your arm. You dropped the art book you were holding and it fluttered to the ground with a solid slam on the hardwood floors.

“L-let go of me!” You tried yanking away from him. He smelled so bad, like someone shit on him and dumped a bottle of rum on it and lit it on fire. Where was Dutch? Where was Annabelle? Why did he care what you looked like? You tried so hard to get away from him but you were stuck in the corner of the room now. You didn’t know how you got there.

__________________________________________

The sun was so hot. You had fair skin and it was not use to this much daylight. The sunburn that had worked it’s way onto your arms stung and itched at the same time. You and Arthur were sitting alone in camp, while the adults went off on a big heist. Dutch said they might come back with stacks of cash. The goal was to get enough money to head further northwest and into the Nevada territory.

You were slowly reading Jungle Hunt while Arthur scribbled away in his journal. On days like these, he was the baby sitter for little old you. He didn’t seem to mind though, he enjoyed your company. It was refreshing to talk to someone who wasn’t twice his age, though, you did little talking right now. It was so god damn hot, dry and terrible, that the two of you sweated in silence under the shade of the shallow cave you called home.

It was hard to believe, but about two months had already gone by since you joined the gang. Life was simple, but very hard at the same time. You worked a lot, doing chores, practicing your hunting and shooting skills, and every once in a while you got spoiled by Dutch who made it a habit to take you to town on Saturdays. That was today, and even though he was away on some big mission, he promised to take you into Dodge as soon as he got back. You knew he mostly went there to visit Annabelle, but he was kind enough to bring you and buy you things.

You had gotten to a pretty boring part in your book, and the heat was making it hard to think. Your little eyes wandered away from the pages and towards Arthur. He seemed like he was… angry? No… he looked more frustrated than anything. He sat across from you at the table. You thought he was just doodling, but it looked like he was trying to write.

“You spelled it wrong,” You sat up and pointed at his chicken scratch letters, “It’s spelled D-o-d-g-e. You forgot the D,”

Arthur groaned out and threw his pencil down onto the table, “God dammit!” He huffed and puffed and crossed his arms, “This shit’s hard. You don’t hear no second ‘D’ in Dodge! Where the hell did it even come from?” It was a little funny watching him get so upset over some words. He didn’t much like your giggles either, “Fuck off,” Arthur crossed his arms tighter and kicked back his seat so his chair leaned back.

You giggled a little more, waving a hand, “I’m sorry- I’m sorry. You just get so mad! It’s silly.”

This made him even more irritated, “Well you can fucking read!” Why was he so mad-… Oh.

You stopped your little laughter and stared at Arthur, “You can’t read?”

“Barely,”

Really now? How long had you know him? You had no idea he struggled with reading. He always had that damn journal. He lived for it, breathed for it, he bleed ink to soak on those pages. He also had that old torn up book too that he wouldn’t let anyone touch. And he couldn’t read? No way. You felt a little bad, in a way, because you remembered your father and how much he struggled with learning to read English. He hated every second of it, and you did your best to teach him, but after a while he just gave up. He could read fine, but only in French. He hated how English had so many words that could mean just one thing, he hated how silent letters could sneak up on you, he hated the way the letters didn’t sound or look the same as his mother tongue. You missed him. You missed him a lot.

You did your best to shove those thoughts away and turn your focus back on Arthur, “Do you want some help?” You asked.

Arthur didn’t seem in the mood, but he glanced back at you, “Help with reading?”

“Yeah. I use to teach my dad how to read until he got sick of it,”

Before Arthur could answer, the two of you could hear the low distant hum of horses running across the desert plain. The adults had finally returned. The two of you forgot your conversation and fled for the opening to your hideout. As you raced, you shoved Arthur out of the way, and in return he shoved you back as you both fought to get there first.

The second you made it past him you bolted, leaving Arthur in the dust. Dutch and Hosea seemed as cheerful as always, and Susan’s mild mannered mood told you that the heist was a success.

“What did you get!? What did you get!?” You were nearly jumping in place as you watched them all dismount and hitch their horses. Arthur joined a second later, frazzled and with new dust stains on his face and arms. Did he fall on the way here?

“Money!” Dutch grinned like a mad man, “Three grand!”

“And!” Hosea chimed in, “Some very handsome bonds. Thank you, Mr. Denis and your fine gold mines!”

Holy shit! Three grand and some bonds? All that hidden in some stagecoach? People out west sure were dumb, you thought. No one in their right mind back home would just leave stuff like that out for grabs. It’d be in a safe, within a safe, within another god damn safe and guarded by men with guns bigger than your arms.

“How much more do we need?” Arthur asked.

“A bit more,” Dutch handed the money off to Susan, while Hosea gave her the bonds. She was surely going to stash it away in the chest, “Maybe two more jobs like this and we’ll be good to go. Nevada’s got our name on it, and they’ve got land out there and people who need saving.” He always said that. What people needed saving? Who was Dutch going to save? Guess that was apart of the journey. You stood there, smiling wide at Dutch with an eager look on your face. Just like all the adults plus Arthur, he patted your head and walked past you, “Don’t you worry, my little lady, we’ll go to town soon. Give an old man some rest, though, would ya?”

And so you did. You patiently waited while Dutch talked over plans with Hosea, and pestered Arthur with philosophy lessons on nature or something like that. You didn’t really pay attention. You just wanted to get to town, buy a new book to add to your growing collection. And maybe possibly also ask Dutch to get you a candy bar. How on earth could he say now if you asked so nice and sweetly?

After what felt like years, Dutch finally saddled up and brought you to town. It was getting late and the sun was on it’s way down towards the horizon. You had just a few hours of day light left. The ride to town was always pleasant, it was just a good twenty minutes there. Ten minutes today because Dutch felt wild, and you laughed out as he spurred his trusty steed to race across the desert sands.

Like always, the two of you zipped right into Annabelle’s store. She was always happy to see you two, more so Dutch than anything however. She greeted you both with a smile.

“Well hello! Here for another book (Y/N?)” Annabelle’s kindness always surprised you. It surprised you because she was so smart and wise, yet she wasted her time with Dutch of all people. They did seem to make each other happy though.

“Mhm!! I’ve read Jungle Hunt two times now! It’s time for something new,” You stopped just short of the counter that was too damn tall, standing a few feet away so she could see you. Dutch made himself at home and easily went behind the counter and greeted her with a peck on the cheek.

Annabelle smiled like a freak, elated to have her dark and mysterious stranger back within her reach. Though she was sure to tell you, “I just got a new shipment of books. They’re up stairs. I was waiting for you guys to get here to put them out.”

Dutch was so kind to ask her, “Would you like me to get them, my dear?”

“There are two crates, we can each get one?”

“Lead the way,” Dutch gave her a gentleman’s bow and a flirty look that still made you want to barf, “We’ll be back down in a second, little lady. Don’t you steal nothing,”

Dutch pointed a finger at you and grinned while you both shared a laugh.

While you waited for them to return with the new books, you took your time looking at the ones already out. You worked your way into the back of the store, into corners you haven’t searched yet. It was dark back there, muggy, and the sent of old leather and yellowed pages wafted all around you. You found something neat, a book about art and history filled with more pictures than words. Maybe Arthur would like it? You knew he didn’t read much, but it didn’t hurt to start somewhere. You leafed through the pages, interested in the stories this book had to tell. It had pictures of famous paintings in it and statues from ancient times long ago. Arthur would love this, you just had to get it!

Maybe you could sit down with him, and read it together? The thought made you smile.

In the distance, you could hear the doorbell to the store jingle alive. Another customer? You paid them no mind, choosing to lurk around in the back.

This didn’t mean they didn’t see you. The store was like a hall way, and didn’t have any other rooms. You heard footsteps approach you, and a man say, “Excuse me, son-” When you turned and looked at him, clearly not a boy, but a girl just in boy’s clothing, he stopped and knitted his brows, “…Miss…”

This man didn’t look friendly. Or sober for that fact. You could smell the booze on him. He was old, with wild gray hair that was so messy that it probably never had been brushed before in his life. His face had patches of fuzz on it, with some stains that must have been from his day drinking. Whatever that man was thinking, must have been some fucked up thoughts. He seemed rightly angry at you for some reason.

“Anyone ever tell you how to dress, little girl?” His voice set off alarms in your head. What was he talking about? How many times have you walked through this town in pants, jeans, button downs and work shirts? No one ever said a thing before? “Didn’t your mama tell you how to act? What’s wrong with you?”

“I-..I’m sorr-”

The stranger grabbed your other arm, pinning them above your head, “What’s the matter, girl?” He got so close you could count the teeth he had missing, “You gonna dress like a boy, I’ll treat ya like a boy!”

“Let go!” You felt some swell of energy, fear, and anger manifest within you. It gave you the strength to buck your leg up and kick him in his knee as hard as you could.

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that. He let go of one of your arms, but used his free hand to slap you so hard in the face that you saw stars. What you did only made him more angry. In the few seconds you were dazed by the sheer blow of his hand against your face, he grabbed your leg and pulled it out from under you, causing you to fall backward and slam into the ground. How could all this noise not have made it’s way to Dutch and Annabelle? You pleaded, and were about to scream when the man slapped his hand down on your mouth while pinning you to the ground. He was so much bigger than you, and stronger too.

“You nasty little runt!” With the hand on your mouth, he used the other one to grab at your shirt. You kicked him again, nocking the gun free from his belt and it wobbled away onto the floor a few feet away from you, “You’re a little freak, aren’t you? A bastard? I’ll show you what happens to little freaks and bastards!” How could this have happened? How did it happen so fast? You started to cry, tears welled in your eyes and stung when they reached your cheek that was already inflamed. His hand smelled like rotten food, and he clamped your mouth shut so hard that his nails were digging into your skin.

It hurt as he pinned you there. The man started to grab at your clothes, he was so damn intent on seeing what you had to hide, which was your pride and dignity. Your heart was racing a mile a minute and you wished, hoped and prayed Dutch would hear what was happening and come to your rescue. The drunk tugged so hard at your shirt that the buttons started popping lose one by one. When he pulled your shirt free, he grabbed and yanked at your belt. You noticed his gun just out of your reach and something rang in your head though, words that Arthur told you not to long ago.

It’s either you. Or him.

You tried one last time, kicking him as best you could, wriggling around and trying to free yourself. You stretched out your arm, reaching with the very tips of your fingers as they grazed the gun’s barrel. Come on! Come on dammit! The man had managed to finally tear your shirt completely open just as your finger snared at the gun and finally grabbed it.

It happened within a second. The loud bang of a sawed off shotgun echoed so loud that the people in the streets could hear it. Blood washed over you like a tsunami, splattering your face, soaking your clothes, as you fired the gun right into the man’s stomach. He went limp, his eyes changed from rage filled and bloodthirsty to nothing and hollow in an instant. You watched the life and color drain from his face and his dead body collapsed right on top of you, trapping you under it. The awful smell of him, the blood and the gunpowder made your stomach twist in knots and you had to fight from puking.

Footsteps thundered from above and crashed down the stairs, “(Y/N)!!” Dutch called, “(Y/N)!!” He couldn’t see you there from the front of the store, or from behind the counter.

You whimpered out, letting out a cry and he followed. Annabelle was soon behind him. Dutch couldn’t believe his eyes when he found you. You couldn’t see it, but so many emotions twisted on his face. It went from fear, to anger, to pure blood-boiling rage. The man was lucky you shot him, because Dutch wanted to do something far worse. He ran towards you and pulled the corpse pinning you to the ground and flung it away like it was nothing.

“(Y/n), (Y/n)-”

You were shaking like a leaf when he freed you. Instantly Dutch fell to his knees and grabbed ahold of you, wrapping you in his arms as you sobbed. Annabelle stood in shock behind him while Dutch asked, “Annabelle- please get her something- a blanket- towel. Whatever you got,” She ran away without a sound and came back with a blanket.

Dutch took it, still holding you tight, “It’s alright, my dear,” His voice was low and soothing. You buried yourself in his chest, not wanting to face the scene before you, “I’m here-” he cleaned away the blood from your face.

“He- He-” You started to hyperventilate, your mouth felt numb as you struggled to breathe, “I-I- didn’t-”

“Shh- hey. It’s okay,” It didn’t take much for Dutch to understand what happened, seeing the state you were in, “He’s dead, you’re safe now. My poor sweet girl, it’s alright,” Annabelle called the lawmen over. She told them what happened and they took away the body, and left you all alone. Dutch would not let you out of his sight, nor his grip.

You wrapped the blanket around you, covering your exposed body as you huddled close to Dutch, afraid that the man would show up again even though you knew you killed him. You couldn’t stop crying, but you did so silently as the tears just kept on falling. You had horrible flashbacks to the night your parents died. Their screams echoed in your mind, mingling with your own now. Dutch quickly helped Annabelle clean up the mess. She noticed the booked you had dropped and handed it to you.

“You can take this home, no need to pay, my dear,”

“It’s for Arthur…” You whispered out in a broken voice, raspy and rough. You were still to frozen in fear to really move.

Dutch took the book for you, stuffing it away someplace you didn’t see. He kept his arm around your shoulder and herded you out of the store, telling Annabelle he’d be back later in the week. Right now he just wanted to get you back home, safe and sound.

He talked to you lightly on the ride home, “I’m sorry,” He said, you rode up front, Dutch’s arms encased you, ensuring your safety. You leaned back into his chest and kept the blanket tightly held around you, “I should have heard- I… I was foolish. Stuck in my head,” He was admitting in his own way that he was distracted by Annabelle, “I should have done better.”

“It’s okay,” Your tiny voice was barely a whisper, but he still heard you. You had finally stopped crying. Your face hurt a lot, you knew there would be a bruise and several cuts on your cheeks. Your legs hurt, so did your neck, and back. Everything hurt really.

“It’s not okay,” Dutch’s voice was low and he sounded like he hated himself, “I swore I’d keep you safe. I…” He took in a deep breath, not wanting to worry himself over the if onlys. He shook his head, left with nothing but disappointment, “We’ll get you cleaned up, my sweet girl, feed you and get your face patched up.”

The rest of the ride was in silence. When you had gotten back to Fortunes Hollow Dutch let out a loud call beckoning everyone to come out of there hiding spots. When the rest of them laid eyes on you, the nearly lost it. While Dutch explained everything to Hosea and Arthur, Susan took you off by herself, seeing as she was the only other woman around.

She took you to your tent and gave you a sponge bath of sorts. She talked a lot, but you didn’t really listen, instead just enjoying the hot water she ran down your back and dripped onto your hair. It felt good to finally get the smell of death and blood off you. You could hear Arthur and Hosea losing their minds back in the center of camp, demanding they kill the bastard, until Dutch told them you did it already when he attacked you.

After you got dressed, Dutch called you out of your tent, and kindly offered to let you stay the night in his. You gladly accepted, not wanting to be alone with your thoughts, nor alone at all. He moved your cot to the other side of his large and luxury tent.

You sat with your legs crossed on the edge of your bed, watching Dutch loot around in some chest of his, “Arthur liked his book,” He told you. That was nice. You nearly forgotten about it.

“Where is he?” You asked, noticing you hadn’t seen him since you got cleaned up.

“Said he had something to do and left off in a hurry,”

“Oh… Is.. he mad?”

“Mad? Sweet girl, no. Well, not mad at you at least- Ah! Here we are,” He had found some old book tucked away. He wandered back over toward you and pulled up a chair beside your bed. He waved his hand at you a few times while showing you what he had, “You might like this. It might help you feel better. Arthur told me how scared you were to kill someone, I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

You did hate that feeling. You finally took a human life. It didn’t change the way you felt, it only reassured you that killing and taking lives just wasn’t something you had in you. The book’s title simply said A Way of Thought. You didn’t understand, so your silent question as to what exactly this where came from the blank stare you gave Dutch.

“It’s a book about human philosophy. It teaches you how to think outside the box, how to look at things from other angles.”

You slowly shook your head, “I don’t want to kill people Dutch. Even the bad ones,” You confessed. He sat there listening to you, giving you his full attention, “My mother always told me it wasn’t right. It still don’t feel… it didn’t feel right. Even then. I… don’t want to be..”

“Like us?” He finished what you were thinking. It was true, you didn’t really want to be much of an outlaw.

“I want to do what my mother did. What my grandfather taught her to do, what my family has done for generations.” You felt it rooted deep in your heart, you knew that this was your calling. Maybe yes, you lived with a bunch of outlaws, criminals and thieves, but that didn’t mean you had to be one.

“And what’s that?” Dutch raised a brow.

You mulled it over, then finally choked it out, “I want to be a doctor. I want to save lives. Not end them,” You stared up at Dutch, watching him react to your little dream.

You were surprised he didn’t laugh and tell you a woman couldn’t be a doctor like so many people told your mother. He didn’t call you silly, or foolish. He looked at you the same way your father used to. With a love and need to protect you, keep you safe, and make you happy. Dutch gave you a small warm smile, “Then I’ll be sure to make you the best god damn doctor this side of the Mississippi.”

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veteran-shipper · 6 years ago

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rl quick little doodle bc i really want a voltron beach day/ call me by your name shout out for season 7

plus i just bought a stylus and can now start learning about how to draw on my kindle!?

Without the ship or the teludav, their journey back to Earth was painstakingly slow. They had to stop more frequently along the way to rest, to refuel. One of their stops was on a small planet on the outskirts of a binary star system with an Earth-like atmosphere according to Hunk and Pidge’s measurements. They landed their lions in at the edge of a bluff that led down to the planet’s ocean shore, eager to touch the ground again after almost a full phoeb of nonstop travel.

Lance was the first to hit the ground, having eagerly shed his Voltron uniform for a more relaxed uniform of t-shirt and an Altean version of swimming trunks. He was quickly followed by Hunk and Keith’s Cosmic Wolf, all excited about the prospect of a beach day. The rest of the team followed at a more sedate pace, Pidge grumbling about finding space sunblock to protect her pale skin and Keith and Krolia helping Shiro down from the Black lion as he had been adjusting poorly to having just one fully functioning arm. They decided to set up camp at on a bluff near the beach, chuckling at Lance’s attempts to convince Allura to come into the water while the Alteans and Pidge set up to bask in (or, in Pidge’s case, hide from) the warm. Keith’s Cosmic Wolf teleported rapidly between the water and the beach, carelessly spattering Coran with water every time it shook itself off.

“This is nice,” Allura sighed, tilting her face up towards the binary points of light in the sky as she settled down onto a beach towel next to Pidge. “I haven’t had a day like this in so long.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Princess,” Coran replied jovially, smearing himself liberally in Pidge’s sunscreen while simultaneously wiping off the Wolf’s spatter. “I’m going to see if I can comb up some treasures! My great-great grandfather was once a famous space pirate who always used to say that the best Plaxian valuables were always found on a hot day with a cold body of water.” Whistling a tune, he stepped off to begin his search.

In the meantime, Keith had found a good sized stick to play fetch with his Cosmic Wolf. He laughed every time the Wolf, instead of running, simply teleported to the stick’s landing location to retrieve it.

“That’s cheating!” he insisted every time, only to be met with an onslaught of enthusiastic licks from his Wolf. Shiro watched their play with fond eyes from his place on the bluff with Krolia.

“He’s just like you,” he called to Keith. “Doesn’t follow the rules at all.”

Looking away from his Wolf, Keith rolled his eyes at Shiro and gave him the finger. “Like you were any good at teaching me the rules, Shiro,” he said.

“Oh please, you just needed a--watch out!” Shiro’s eyes widened in shock as Keith was bowled over by one hundred pounds of excited Cosmic Wolf, who after knocking him over teleported a few feet away and dropped what definitely was not the stick Keith had thrown on the ground next to his face. Shiro rushed over, ignoring Krolia’s exasperated expression at his alarm. “Are you okay?” he asked, sliding his only hand underneath Keith’s upper back to help him up.

The Cosmic Wolf yipped with impatience, stamping his paws into the soft sand and going into a play bow.

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled, sitting up and shaking sand out of his hair. “Dumb dog.”

Shiro caught his eye and they burst out laughing. “Remember that time when--”

“Nooo,” Keith complained, swatting gently at Shiro’s face. “You said we’d never talk about that again!”

Shiro chuckled. “Fine, but I think your dumb dog wants to keep playing.”

The Cosmic Wolf yipped again, tail waving back and forth, nosing the not-stick closer towards Keith, who grabbed it unthinkingly. “What the darg?” he exclaimed, feeling smooth stone. Shiro grabbed the other end, near the bend.

“It looks like an arm!” he said, examining it. “From a statue,” he amended.

“Huh.” Keith adjusted his grip on the stone arm. “Help me up?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. Shiro pulled him up using the arm.

“Thank you kindly, good sir,” Keith said cheekily, giving the arm a jaunty little shake.

“You’re very welcome, kind lad,” Shiro returned with a fond little smile, one that Keith hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“Whoa! What do we have here?” Coran exclaimed. “This looks like an artefact from the ancient religion of Hybraxis! It would be worth an absolute fortune! How in the Ancients’ did you ever manage to find such a beautiful thing?”

Keith and Shiro shrugged. “Ask the dumb dog over there,” Keith said, pointing to where the Cosmic Wolf no longer was. He’d teleported away to wreak havoc on Hunk and Lance’s one sided splash war against Allura and Pidge when it became clear Keith was no longer interested in playing fetch.

#voltron #vld #voltron legendary defenders #sheith #keith kogane #vld keith #call me by your name #handshakes #fan art #shiro #vld shiro #takashi shirogane #beach day #voltron season 7 #i may be a better writer #but thats not saying much

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streetdancerproject · 6 years ago

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My Last DJ Set for The Jam Cellar Is a History of The Jam Cellar

Last Tuesday, I put together a playlist that told the Jam Cellar's story as I have experienced it over the past 15 years.

Chant of the Groove, Fats Waller: Typically after announcements, we open the second half of the night with a line dance or a jam. I had songs for the Shim Sham and the Big Apple at the ready, but I didn’t want to turn my set into a line dance-a-polooza. I opted for the Tranky Do with the song that Jam Cellar instructors have preferred as an alternative to the Dipsy Doodle by Ella Fitzgerald.

Also, The Tranky Do was always more of a Jam Cellar thing. Way back in the early 00’s when Mike Faltesek was living here, he decided to piece together the original choreography. Up until that point, people were doing a version taught by Frankie Manning. Falty had noticed that the version in the Spirit Moves documentary seemed a little different and went on a mission to find any and all evidence of it on film. Eventually he was able to piece it together from a variety of film sources mostly featuring Al Minns and Leon James. This is a video of him alongside Frida Segerdahl the weekend they taught it at a workshop he organized and called “The Toe Jam” at the old Jam Cellar location. (This demo was not at the Jam Cellar though)

Well, Git It!, Tommy Dorsey. As I said before, we usually do a jam or a line dance after announcement, but I did both because I had to play this song, and there was no way people would not jam to it. The much faster version of this song was the one used in the landmark Mad Dog routine, of which all the original JC founders were a part of. That's a pretty lengthy story by itself, but fortunately, I have written about it previously as part of my history of the modern Lindy Hop scene.

The Primordial Ooze

This section of songs served as a quick tour of the musical landscape leading up to the founding of The Jam Cellar.

C Jam Blues, Lincoln Center Orchestra. I’m so confident that this is probably the most played song ever in the modern Lindy Hop scene, that I’m not even going to bother researching it.

Swing Lover, Indigo Swing. Icons of the neo-swing era from the late 1990s. The irony is that this can be technically considered vintage music now. Also, yes, I did cut out that weird spoken word bit at the beginning.

Watch The Birdie, Gene Krupa. On the short list of iconic Hollywood style songs. Another version was featured in the much less famous Hellzapoppin clip.

Alright, O.K., You Win / Everyday (I Have the Blues), Barbara Morrison. Another overplayed classic representing the groove period, but still a great live album recorded at another legendary Lindy Hop venue in San Francisco: The 9:20 Special.

Inspiration

The next set paid homage to the modern musicians that have greatly influenced and supported The Jam Cellar.

Sweet Eileen, Blue Sky 5. Craig Gildner has been a long time stalwart of the DC scene and a friend to The Jam Cellar since before the beginning.

Massachusetts (Live), Gordon Webster. Before starting her own band, JC co-founder Naomi Uyama was featured on a number of live Gordon Webster recordings.

Black Coffee, The Careless Lovers. Friend of the Jam Cellar, Mike Faltesek, went on to play and lead several bands of his own.

Someone’s Rockin My Dreamboat, The Boilermaker Jazz Band. The Jam Cellar has benefited greatly from its relationship with The Boilermakers. They were the band that opened the first night at the new location in the Columbia Heights neighborhood from the actual cellar location in Vienna, Virginia. More importantly, there's no way to quantify how the collective knowledge and understanding of Rich Strong, Marc Kotishon, Ernest McCarty, Jennifer McNulty, and especially Paul Cosentino has filtered throughout the world by way of the international instructors of the Jam Cellar, but it is incredibly significant. In regards to this specific song, I remember The Boilermakers first trying to figure it out at one of their gigs in DC because they heard it from an old Bugs Bunny cartoon.

Meschiya Lake and the Little Big Horns. This represents the contributions of the vibrant New Orleans music scene to the Lindy Hop community. JC co-founder Andy Reid currently resides and plays music there on the regular.

Storming the Air Waves

About 10 years ago, I was invited to guest DJ on the live streaming radio channel that Yehoodi.com sponsored. I turned around and asked if we could feature all the DJs of The Jam Cellar. A total of 10 DJs submitted their favorite songs which we turned into a 4 hour radio show.

Dinah, Cab Calloway & His Orchestra. The file I got for this song got corrupted, so it cuts out the last few seconds, but I had to play it because Dinah is supposed to be The Jam Cellar’s theme song . . .

Opening JC Theme, The Hot Club de Jam Cellar. . . .which is why they re-worked it into this version. It has the distinction of actually being recorded live at The Jam Cellar in one of the spare rooms with a band completely made up of JC staff.

Spinnin’ The Webb Chick Webb & His Orchestra.

Yacht Club Swing, Fats Waller. The live version. Not to be confused with the not as good studio version.

Sister Kate, Muggsy Spanier.

Dark Eyes, Fats Waller. These last few songs are a sampling of what we submitted for the show. Dark Eyes for some reason was the most popular song amongst the DJs. It’s such a moody and unusual song for a swing dance, but that’s part of the reason why I think people love it.

Live! By The Jam Cellar

The next couple of songs were used in signature performances by Jam Cellar instructors.

Jump through the Window, Roy Eldridge. A lot of people like to hate on this song because it inspires everyone to do the claps. However, can you think of another performance that has introduced such an indelible mark on a song that it's hard to imagine the song without them almost a decade later? Usually the music influences the dance, but this is a case where it goes the opposite way. People who have never seen this performance do the claps at the breaks to this day. Embrace the claps.

I Could Write A Book (Live(1963/Copenhagen)), Sarah Vaughan. Not as famous as the last one, but one of my favorites from Naomi and her soon to be (at the time) husband Peter. I'm also going to take partial credit for this because I gave Naomi this song (along with a ton of other music) when she moved away. (Although I'm actually not sure if she realizes that.) My favorite part is seeing Ernest from the Boilermakers just grooving up there on stage. I normally hate it when musicians camp out on stage during performances, but considering the history between Ernest, Naomi and the rest of The Jam Cellar, I'm a fan.

The Finale

I actually planned my whole set to lead up into this last stretch of songs.

Just Kiddin’ Around, Artie Shaw & His Orchestra. Except this one. Honestly, I just threw this one in at the last second to eat some time, but it is one of my own personal favorite dance songs.

On Revival Day, Laverne Baker. A local favorite. Generally I try to avoid drawing religious parallels to the dance scene because at the end of the day, they’re not really the same thing even if some people feel that way. In relation to this song at least, I like the themes it invokes about the hopefulness and joyfulness of being together. That's not very surprising since it invokes a lot of strong imagery of life in black churches and black culture in general from which Lindy Hop is very indebted to.

No Regrets, Billie Holiday. My favorite Billie Holiday song. Shout out to Mike Marcotte for introducing it to me too long ago. The lyrics are spot on for this occasion.

Shiny Stockings, Count Basie & His Orchestra. When I started putting this playlist together, this was the first song that I put on it, and I knew it also had to be the last one played. If Jumping at The Woodside is Lindy Hop’s national anthem, then Shiny Stockings is its national hymn.

The Encore

Just One Look, Doris Troy. I was totally unprepared for an encore, so I had to scramble. I probably should have seen this coming, but I overestimated lindy hoppers’ collective ability to figure out a social cue. I defaulted to one of my favorite “end of the night, everyone go home” songs.

Dinah, James P. Johnson. Of course someone said that we should swing the eff out to end this. I thought about Woodside or Lindy Hoppers Delight, but this song has a very specific story attached to it.

At the end of the night of one of the first times I DJ’d at The Jam Cellar, I was messing around, playing random songs as the JC crew cleaned up. I decided to play a really hot song that I had found recently, and what came next felt like a lost clip from Hellzapoppin.

Everyone dropped their brooms and trash bags and started a solo jam. This was 2003, solo jazz was not a thing in the Lindy Hop scene, but the Jam Cellar was at the bleeding edge of the community’s understanding of the dance. This was mostly due to the fact that several of the world’s best dancers were living in DC at the time.

I'm sure it is a gross exaggeration to say this was the greatest solo jam I have ever witnessed, especially after seeing some of the best since then. There is no video. Just my increasingly nostalgic memory.

The song ended, people exchanged high 5’s and they finished closing up. Soon, some of them would be headlining workshops and winning major competitions all over the world. Some of them were already at that point. Others decided to follow different life paths that. But at that moment, it was just a Tuesday night.

This is actually not the song I played that night. It was a version of Charleston by a band led by Sidney Bechet, but it is on the same James P. Johnson compilation CD as this version of Dinah. These two songs are closely associated to me by sheer organizational chance. Plus it seemed more appropriate with Dinah being the Jam Cellar's theme song, even if few people remember that.

Epilogue

I suppose at it’s worse, The Jam Cellar allowed people to be a little too self indulgent like I am being here. It’s one of the pitfalls of having a nearly unrestrained creative sandbox. However, at its best, it was a place where people could come together to inspire and be inspired; to challenge and be challenged. Sometimes it was through creative performances, other times it may have been with difficult conversations, but most of the time it was with 2-3 minute dances.

The future of The Jam Cellar is uncertain. On Tuesday, they announced a summer break. The website was recently updated with a banner calling it an "indefinite break." To be honest, even if it doesn't come back, I won't miss it. I don’t miss trekking out to Vienna, Virginia to a basement in a strip mall. And I don’t even think I’ll miss the mansion/sauna in the heart of a changing nation's capital. To me The Jam Cellar wasn’t just a location.

I did the math, and I can confidently say that I’ve spent over 90% of my Tuesday nights at some form of The Jam Cellar over the past 15 years. I've seen people who were moving away break down into tears knowing that they may never return. We've celebrated engagements and consoled divorcees. The room was packed as people took turns telling their favorite Frankie Manning stories the Tuesday after he passed away.

What all these experiences have in common is that they are about people. Folks. Community. I will miss is having a place to go every Tuesday night, knowing that I’ll see people that I want to be with. People who understand some of the fundamental principles of the dance that have not changed since it was born on the dance floors in Harlem almost 100 years ago. While there is plenty of room for individual creativity, you should not lose sight of your partner or the people around you. That's the main thing of value that we should take away from The Jam Cellar that should be carried over into the next chapter of whatever happens next.

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holdenmgrudges · 7 years ago

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Chapter 3 - Helpsies

I know, I’m a couple of days late. I’ve been busy. And I had a bit of trouble writing this for a few reasons. The first was coming up with a reason for Crutchie’s messed up leg. I know he’s canonically supposed to have polio, but since it was pretty much eradicated in the US back in the 90s, I felt that it wouldn’t be a good enough reason. So the reason I came up with is a bit simpler than that, and it opens up a plot point I might use in the future. Second, was coming up with a math problem for the Sprace part of the chapter. I’ve never taken statistics and probability, but seeing as how the problem I used is a probability problem, I felt it worked. Anyway, here’s chapter 3! Enjoy!

Or read on AO3 if you prefer.

The next day, David couldn’t help but feel he was doing a great job of adjusting to his new school. In PE, the kid Crutchie had called Race, completed his usual lap, but just before overlapping him, slowed down next to David to say, “Hi Davey…” with a smile. And then, “Bye Davey…” as he sped off again. In his English class, Katherine gave him a quick smile before taking a seat and huddling with two other boys. Despite ignoring him for the rest of the class, David was satisfied. It was safe to say joining the LGBTQ+ Club was the best decision he could’ve made.

Lunch came around and after waiting in line for a calzone, he headed to the Little Theatre. Inside, he quickly spotted Jack and Crutchie, sitting at two desks that had been pushed together. He also saw a few other kids he didn’t know playing some trading card game he didn’t know, and a few others either reading or doodling. No one else he’d seen yesterday. Even Miss Medda wasn’t there.

“Hey Davey, grab a desk and sit with us,” Jack said, as David approached him and Crutchie. David did as he was told and Jack moved his desk so the three of them were in a sort of triangle. “We were just talking about what kind of trust exercises we could do for the club.”

“He’s been trying to convince me physical activities, like a trust fall, wouldn’t work,” Crutchie chimed in. He grabbed his crutch and tossed it to David. David held out an arm and was able to catch it right before it hit the floor. He looked a bit startled, but Crutchie laughed. “See, I’m good with the physical stuff. I don’t need the crutch to stand and catch someone.”

David let out a small chuckle as he handed the crutch back. “I’d think a trust fall would be too obvious. But I don’t think we should rule out anything physical.” Crutchie stuck his tongue out at Jack. “If Crutchie says he can handle it, I think we should trust him.”

Crutchie laughed again, saying, “I like you, Davey. You got some great ideas.”

Jack crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Alright then, Davey with the great ideas, what do you suggest?”

“Hmm...lemme think…” David took a bite out of his calzone and then put it back down on the paper plate it had come on. He scanned his brain for ideas as he chewed, thinking about anything he’d ever done at camp or his family reunions.

While David was thinking, Jack took a second to give David a discreet once-over. Crutchie, however, noticed and gave Jack a light kick in the shin with his good leg. David, in turn noticed this and looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to figure out what was happening. Crutchie was giving Jack and accusatory look and Jack was staring at him as if he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Uh...what’s going on?” David asked, feeling out of the loop. He thought that he could really benefit from a trust exercise right about now.

“I’m just punishing Jack,” Crutchie answered quickly, “for trying to use my disability against me. As if I don’t get that enough from everyone.”

“I’m just very overprotective of you, Crutch,” Jack replied. “Someone’s gotta be.”

“If I fall, I fall. It’s not a deadly stunt.”

“But it’ll hurt like shit…”

“You’re a shit…”

“You’d be the one eating shit…”

“We’ll see who eats shit when we’re doing the trust fall…”

“Not me, ‘cause I’m not doin-”

“What is your disability?” David interrupted. “Like, what happened to your leg?” The other two fell silent and David felt like he’d messed up. He needed to learn to keep his mouth shut.

But then Crutchie smiled. “People don’t usually ask,” he said. “They just see that I have a crutch and move out of my way.”

“Even I didn’t know until his foster mom mentioned it while I was sleeping over,” Jack contributed.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a shit.” Crutchie kicked Jack again before turning back to David. “But to answer your question, I was in an accident. Got hit by a car. I mostly recovered but my leg didn’t. But I’m still alive and other people have it worse. So I don’t let it define me.”

David nodded in understanding. “But you still call yourself Crutchie.”

“I didn’t start that shit,” he responded with a laugh.

Jack covered his face with his hand and mumbled, “Kick me again.” Crutchie did so, but not as hard. “I thought it’d be a cute nickname. Better than ‘Crutch Boy’ or ‘He-Who-Must-Have-The-Crutch.’”

“You could’ve called me by my actual name. But of course, Crutchie stuck. I wear it as a badge of honor. And it makes people wonder if it’s my real name.”

The three laughed and then David asked, “What is your real name?”

Crutchie smirked and shook his head, “That’s something you’ll have to figure out on your own, Davey..”

David nodded and then remembered he was supposed to be thinking of ideas for the club. He continued eating his calzone.

“What about you, Davey? What’s your story?” Jack asked.

David shrugged with a nervous smile. “I don’t know...I’m just Davey.”

“But what makes you special?” This came from Crutchie.

“Oh uh…” Whenever he was asked this question, he always went to his go-to list of interesting David facts. “I can play the piano...I’m a Ravenclaw...but House Lannister...I’m a twin, but not identical-”

“You’re a twin?” the other two boys asked in unison, curious to learn more.

“Yeah, figures that’s the most interesting thing about me,” David replied with a snort.

“That’s not true,” Jack said, as if he knew something about David that he didn’t. “You’re in our LGBTQ+ Club which is interesting on its own.” David nodded in agreement. “Which uh...letter do you belong to?”

David raised an eyebrow in confusion while Crutchie rolled his eyes. “He means, are you gay, bi, trans, queer...plus?”

“Oh,” David responded and then thought for a few seconds. “I guess queer. I know I’m not straight, that’s all I know.”

“Cool,” Jack said with a smile. “I’m a proud bisexual.”

“And I’m straight...up guh-guh-gayyyyy.”

The three laughed again and continued talking until the end of lunch, when David remembered, “Oh, shoot, I forgot we were supposed to be thinking of trust activities for the club.”

“We can brainstorm some more in art class, but…” Jack took out his notebook, wrote something, and ripped the page out, handing it to David. It was a phone number. “You can also text me with ideas.”

“Oh okay, cool,” David replied. The three got up and headed out of the Little Theatre. Before Crutchie could walk off to his class, David called out to him. “Hey, do you wanna...maybe...give me your number too? Wouldn’t wanna keep you out of the loop.”

Crutchie grinned widely and nodded. He wrote his number down on the piece of paper and then they went their separate ways. David smiled. Now he had two friends.

Spot wasn’t bad at math. In fact, he’d been the first kid in his third grade class to learn all his timetables. But he wasn’t in third grade anymore, and he wasn’t learning his timetables. Statistics and probability was much harder than he thought it was going to be. He thought it was all about percentages and fractions, but what he got was so much more confusing than that.

He was in class, scratching at his chin, trying to figure out the problem the class had been given. It didn’t seem hard but as he looked around the class, everyone seemed to have a different answer. But he couldn’t ask for help. He was Spot Conlon. He was never helpless. He looked over the problem again but still didn’t understand how some people were arriving at a different solution than the obvious one.

“You need help there, Spot?” came the friendly voice of Jojo. Jojo was pretty special to Spot because he was another one of the few people that wasn’t afraid of him. Not that Spot had ever threatened to hurt Jojo. The kid was too sweet to ever want to harm. He was funny too, which didn’t hurt. And he was a great teammate to have, cheering people on at not just every match, but every practice as well.

So when Jojo asked him if he needed help, he knew he was in good hands. He trusted Jojo. “Yeah, man. I don’t get it. I mean, the answer’s one-half, right?”

“Actually, it’s two-thirds.” Jojo took a second to double check his paper. “Yeah, two-thirds.”

“But how?” Now that he’d gotten confirmation that his answer was wrong, Spot needed to know how. He wasn’t satisfied with just the answer.

“Uh...I forgot. Hold up.” Jojo turned around to the desk behind him to ask his friend. Spot had seen him before, running around the school track like he was Usain Bolt. He’d been impressed, but didn’t think more about him. Now, he had to because the guy had turned his head to stare at Spot. Jojo turned back to Spot as well, and said, “Race here is gonna show you how you get the right answer.”

Spot waited while Race hesitated. He’d obviously heard about Spot’s reputation. But after a few seconds, he began to talk, trying to explain to Spot why the answer was two-thirds using mathematical terms. Suffice it to say that Spot still wasn’t understanding.

“Okay, so you have three boxes, right?” Race spoke. “And each box has two drawers, right? And each drawer has a coin.”

Maybe it was the way Race was talking to him, or maybe it was the fact that he was fed up with the problem, but Spot was not having it. “Yeah, I’m not stupid. You don’t have to talk down to me like I don’t know what the scenario is. I know what the scenario is.” He ran his fingers through his hair, getting a good grip.

Race went silent and looked down at his piece of paper. He hadn’t meant to offend Spot. In fact, he was aiming for the opposite. Sure, in class he was safe, but who knew what Spot could do to him after school. His only hope was running fast enough, but he didn’t know how fast Spot could run.

Jojo looked back and forth between Race and Spot and then giggled. “Go on, Race. Don’t mind Spot. He’s like this all the time.”

The other two boys made eye contact and Spot nodded. Race straightened up and continued. “Alright, so you pick a box and open up a drawer at random. It has a gold coin inside.”

Spot knew each box was different. One had two gold coins, another had two silver coins, and the last one had one gold and one silver. The question was, what was the probability of the second drawer also having a gold coin?

Race went on. “So you’d think, it could only be one of two options, right? The box you picked can’t be the one with two silver coins, so it must be one of the other two. Which means that the second drawer will either have a gold coin or a silver coin, making the probability of the second coin being gold one-half. Well that’s wrong.”

Spot took a deep breath, making a conscious decision not to bang his fist on his desk. This kid was telling him what he already knew.

“Okay, okay. So let’s start with the first coin instead of going directly to the second one. Out of the six coins, how many are gold?”

Spot glanced at Jojo, who looked like he was enjoying himself. “Three,” Jojo replied, and Spot rolled his eyes.

“Right. So the first coin you pick will be any of those three coins. Which means for the second coin there will be three possibilities.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Spot interrupted. “How?”

Race paused for a second as he thought. He took a pencil and placed it into his mouth, holding it as if it were a cigar. After a few seconds, he took a piece of paper and drew three boxes. In each box he drew two circles and then labeled each of them with either G for gold or S for silver. He then crossed out the box with the two S circles.

“So,” Race started again, pointing to the box with one gold coin and one silver. “If you picked this gold coin, then the second coin would be silver. That’s one possibility.” He then pointed at the first G in the other box. “If you pick this gold coin first, then the second one would be gold. That’s your second possibility.” He moved his finger to the second G in the box. “But let’s say you picked this gold coin first instead. Then your second coin would still be gold, but you’d have a third possibility.”

Spot’s eyebrows raised in understanding.

“Therefore, the probability of your second coin being gold would be two out of three possibilities.”

“Two-thirds,” Spot stated as his lip curled into a smile. He didn’t notice Race perk up at this, but Jojo did.

“That’s right!” Jojo pat Race on the back. “Now I remember. See, Spot, I told you it was two-thirds.”

Spot was too distracted writing down the explanation to say anything. Race gave Jojo a quick smile before going back to his own work.

“Isn’t Race a genius?”

“I wouldn’t call me a genius. You can google the answer and get a better explanation.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t need to ‘cause we have you.”

Spot finally finished and looked up. His smile was gone, but he gave Race a nod of gratitude. Race would’ve been satisfied with that, but then Spot followed through verbally. “Thanks, man.”

Race relaxed a little, realizing Spot wasn’t the bully he’d been led to believe he was. He’d been afraid to talk to him all year long because of the stories he’d heard about him. But now maybe Spot Conlon could be his friend. Or at least someone who wouldn’t beat him up. “Mhm,” he replied, giving Spot a nod right back, and then one to Jojo.

Jojo was all smiles. He lived not only for making friends, but for making his friends become friends with his other friends. He was like a friendship wingman. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he said, “We should start a study group.”

Immediately, Spot and Race looked at Jojo and then at each other. It was really up to Spot to decide. “Yeah, maybe,” he decided. It might as well have been a no. He already had a lot to worry about with wrestling, and he didn’t want to add a whole study group to his list of responsibilities.

The other two nodded and went back to their work. It wasn’t until near the end of class, when their teacher was passing back their latest test results, that they spoke again. Race had gotten an A, as he always did. Jojo got a B, which he was proud of. And Spot got a D, the last grade he wanted. He might as well have gotten an F.

“Alright,” he said, turning to face Jojo and Race. “Let’s start a study group.” Jojo did a little victory fist pump while Race looked up in surprise.

“We can meet at my place,” Jojo said. “I can have snacks ready and all that.”

“Sounds good,” Spot replied. “Text me your address.”

The three made arrangements to meet that weekend, and thus the Stats and Probs Study Group was born.

Sarah had collected as much as she could the night before. Old essays, class assignments, and even some diary entries that she felt were really good pieces of writing. She put them all in a folder, thinking Katherine would take it home and read each piece in her free time.

She was so nervous about what Katherine would think, that she was barely paying attention in her last class. Her usual thoughts about Jack were nowhere to be seen, though he didn’t seem to mind. He seemed giddily distracted.

When Sarah got to the computer lab after school and handed her folder to Katherine, she surprisingly began reading then and there. Skimming, more like. She’d move on to the next piece after a few seconds, giving a few nods of approval and even some quick chuckles at the diary entries. About halfway through the stack, she handed it back.

“You didn’t read everything.”

“I don’t need to. You’re qualified. Some of that stuff was actually pretty good.” Katherine went back to her computer where she was editing an article. “Also, I have more important things to do.”

"What can I do to help?" The day before she'd been shown around and explained most of what they do. Everyone wrote at least one article with at least one picture, though from one of the sample newspapers Sarah had seen, it was clear Katherine wrote most articles. She was also in charge of editing every article. Darcy and Bill helped print out the papers and distribute them every Friday morning, which happened to be the next day. And Mr. Denton looked over everything to make sure it was PG and PC. So far, Sarah didn't have any job in the club, so she was just there to help in any way she could.

"Nothing right now," Katherine responded, brushing her off. "Go see if Darcy and Bill need anything."

Sarah was a little disappointed but she knew the girl didn't need any distractions. Darcy and Bill were sitting together talking with Mr. Denton. As she approached, the teacher saw the folder in her hand and gave her an amused smile. "You know, you didn't actually need to bring in any writing samples. You're in the club no matter what Katherine has to say about it."

"She's just so in charge," Sarah said, putting the folder in her backpack. "She's inspiring. I wanted to impress her."

"And was she impressed?" Denton asked. Darcy and Bill looked at her in anticipation.

"She said some of my stuff was pretty good." The boys nodded as if they'd expected that.

Mr. Denton just smiled. "That's a good sign. Katherine likes to go on rants when she reads bad writing."

"I wonder what she'd say about great writing. If I was pretty good, my brother would probably be amazing."

"You should have him join then," Denton said. "We're always looking for writers."

"I'll ask him, but he's not really the joining type."

Denton soon went back to his desk to do some of his own work and Sarah stayed with the two boys. "So what are we up to right now?"

"Waiting for Katherine to finish editing, basically," answered one of the boys. Sarah didn't think she'd be able to remember which was which, but as she saw that each was wearing similar clothes to what they'd been wearing the day before, she deduced that the one who had just spoken was Darcy. He had on a dress shirt tucked into his khaki pants and his hair was neatly combed. The other boy had on a superhero shirt.

"When she's done," Bill said, "we arrange everything on the template, print out a bunch of copies, and tomorrow morning we release it."

"She lets you arrange the paper?" She would've figured Katherine would be in charge of everything.

Darcy replied, "Mr. Denton felt she had too many responsibilities and we not enough, so we do it now."

"But we still ask Katherine for help with it," Bill whispered. "When Denton's not around."

"Of course," Sarah said, nodding. "So you guys hang out with her outside of the club?"

Darcy shook his head, but Bill nodded. They looked at each other and then Darcy explained. "We have English class with her, but we only ever talk about the paper. If it's not about that, she's not really interested."

"We've never hung out with her outside of school," Bill added.

"Well, except that one time she asked me to walk her home because the Delancey brothers were being creeps. But that was only one time."

"Does she have any friends outside of the paper?" Sarah couldn't imagine anyone being so obsessed with one thing.

Bill responded, "Not sure. At school she spends her free time either writing or interviewing people for articles. I know she wants to be a journalist someday."

Katherine seemed almost as antisocial as David, but Darcy and Bill didn't seem to know anything about her outside of school. And just like that, Sarah's curiosity grew. She was gonna make it her own personal assignment to find out as much as she could about the girl. And if she couldn't find information from other people, she'd go directly to the source. After all, Denton had told her yesterday that she would grow on Katherine.

It didn't take long for Katherine to finish editing. She sent the articles and photos for each to Darcy and Bill and they started copying and pasting all over the news template they used. Sarah was bored out of her mind watching the two boys try to figure out where everything should go. She could see Katherine out of the corner of her eye, just fidgeting, probably wishing she could do it all herself. Mr. Denton seemed to notice it too because he sent her home soon after. Sarah was slightly disappointed with that, but then Mr. Denton came to the three of them and requested for her to take the reigns.

"What?" She knew she was new and didn't want to risk ruining all the hard work that was already put into the paper. She would hate for Katherine to come in the next day and absolutely abhor anything she did.

"Don't worry," Denton replied. "We’ll help you out. I just want to see what you can do. Besides, how else are you going to learn if not by doing?"

She supposed he was right, but she was still nervous about it. Luckily, she had no reason to be.

#newsies #newsies high #newsies fanfic #javid #newsbians #sprace #jackcrutchie #holdenmgrudges #fanfiction #au fanfiction #jack kelly #david jacobs #sarah jacobs #katherine plumber #crutchie morris #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #jojo de la guerra

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mintchocolateleaves · 7 years ago

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We’ve Only Just Begun (5/??)

Summary: The world comes to a halt, everything torn apart, All-Might left as dust, Deku the last hero left standing. In this world the villains win. In a fit of desperation, Midoriya Izuku turns the clocks back. In a fit of desperation, he rewrites everything. TimeTravel!AU

[Beginning] [Previous Chapter]

Before

Izuku isn’t sure how long it’ll take them to walk to Tokyo, but he does know that it’ll take days. They don’t have any quick means of travel – cars and bikes are useless with all of the rubble acting as blockades on streets – and while they could use their quirks, they can’t afford to use up any stamina with such a high risk of villain’s being around.

They need to have enough energy for a fight, if it comes to it.

So, it seems, they’re stuck with walking.

They’re headed East, making their way through sheltered areas that they can hide inside if any planes come flying overhead. The risk of raids is high in this area, although as long as they stay hidden during these moments, they planes fly past without creating any explosions.

That means risking cities and woodlands – it’s dangerous, because there’s the risk of running into dangerous animals and survivors scavenging for supplies, but it’s better than walking out in the open. It eats away at their time too, but neither Izuku nor Uraraka complain.

“We need to come up with a way of travelling through Tokyo,” Uraraka says, on their fifth day of walking. They’ve been going over what they can remember of Tokyo, the reports they’d received. Getting in won’t be the problem, it will be extracting the girl – making sure Nagisa gets out without any injuries.

They’re both exhausted, and while there’s enough light to continue walking, Izuku’s forced Uraraka to help him set up camp so they’ll have enough energy to continue tomorrow. They need the rest, after all.

“You’re right…” Izuku nods. He points towards a cluster of bushes, something they slowly make their way towards. They split up, circling in opposite directions so that if there’s anyone there, they’ll have an upper hand in the confrontation. No one’s there, so Izuku continues, “Tokyo is practically villain central these days, we’ll have to be discreet.”

Uraraka pauses, crosses her arms. “Deku… what if this is a trap?”

Izuku has to stop himself from asking, ‘what if it isn’t?’ He knows it’s a lot put on their shoulders, but well – everyone else is gone, there is no one else they can transfer this weight over to.

“This is our only lead,” Izuku breathes instead, the two of them settling down on leaves and overgrown grass. “We don’t have much of a choice but to go ahead with it. Even if it is one.”

After

Izuku’s quiet on the way home.

It doesn’t matter so much, seeing as he walks home alone. The quiet gives him enough time to watch the streets – safer streets now, than the warped version of Tokyo he’d been walking in shortly before his trip back – a soft smile on his face.

It’s overwhelming, just how different everything is. Not just because the buildings are intact, and there are actually children playing in parks and not huddled up in alleys trying to keep warm. It’s not the signs of safety that’s odd, but the streets themselves. Izuku walks home and remembers apartments where a small rundown supermarket is stationed, sees a mall where there’s empty office buildings.

Everything had changed before the villains had taken over, and even normalcy doesn’t seem normal, because he’s walking down streets he’d reminisced about once.

‘Hey, remember when the park was just a few slides and a tyre swing?’ Izuku doesn’t need to remember, because he’s looking at it again, thinking about how they’ll install a climbing wall for the more adventurous kids, something parents will dislike because there’s an element of risk alongside it.

Izuku thinks about risk, about the one’s he’s taking now. What if he ends up making things worse, or causes the deaths of people who had managed to survive as long as he had.

He thinks about what he’d been called, the last remaining hero, and decides he doesn’t want to hear it again. To hell with risk, he’ll make sure everyone survives, and he’ll do his best to avoid getting people caught in the crossfire.

By the time he climbs up the stairs to his family home, he’s determined again. He’s glad he’s been thinking about the future he wants to avoid, the risks he’ll be taking, because it means he hasn’t been dwelling on this – coming home.

Seeing his mother again.

He grabs his key from his backpack, waits until he hearts the click that accompanies the door unlocking and enters the home he’s ached for, for years. He closes the door behind him, places his backpack on the ground, before hesitating.

Izuku takes a deep breath, slips off his shoes, and shouts, “I’m home.”

The response is immediate. His mother comes running from the kitchen, like she used to ever time he’d returned from school, and she greets him with the widest smile she can muster. Izuku’s glad he’s put his slippers on before she’d arrived, because he can’t look away from her.

Midoriya Inko stands in front of him, and she smiles as she says, “welcome home Izuku.”

She has not been able to say welcome home for years. Izuku’s lips part, and he’s certain he’s getting overemotional but who cares because this is his mothers. She’d… he’d lost her and it had torn him apart at the seams. He remembers the feelings of losing his friends, and even if he added it all together – every friend, every loss – it would never reach the same amount of pain that he’d felt when he’d heard the news.

“Izuku?” Inko says, and Izuku listens to her voice as if it is music, something he’s not heard in years. He moves then, quickly – so quickly in fact that it surprises a soft ‘oh?’ from his mother as he wraps his eyes around her.

“Mum,” he says, and his voice cracks. He tightens his hands around the fabric of her jumper, and feels relax under her touch, as she lifts her hands up to pat him on the back. “I… missed you.”

“Silly,” Inko says, and there’s a soft laugh, “I’m not going anywhere. Come on now Izuku, don’t cry.”

Regardless of her pleas, he does anyway. He considers telling her everything, there and then, but he can’t bear to steal the son she’s raised away, swapping him with an older, more scarred version. But… he also can’t bear to lie to her.

Izuku moves to let go, looks at his mother again, and resumes the hug. Now, he’s not crying, but sobbing, gasping in air as he chokes on tears, and regrets and words he’d never spoken because he’d thought he had time.

He’d considered himself lucky.

His mother had died in the initial villain take over, hadn’t been alive long enough to live through all the atrocities – he’d hated to think of his mother living in such a broken world, like his friends’ parents had. Seeing how stressed they’d been trying to ensure their families weren’t lost in attacks, taken as hostages…

Izuku quickly realises he’d lied to himself. Seeing his mother now, hugging her and seeing her smile at him again, well he would have made sure she’d stay alive, regardless of the stress he’d be put through.

“Izuku honey, what’s wrong?” She says, and Izuku finally pries himself off of her, standing awkwardly in the hallway as he looks at her. She’s got tears in her eyes too, she’d always been sensitive, and Izuku feels a wave of guilt flash through him like lightning.

The feeling is jarring.

“I had a bad dream,” Izuku says, and he wipes the tears from his face, only feeling faintly embarrassed, “that you were gone. I just… I don’t want to relive it you know?”

Inko blinks. She says, “oh Izuku, come here, I’m okay. It was just a dream, I’m not going anywhere.”

She gives him another hug, this one firmer, more certain. Then, she turns and says, “I was just making curry for dinner, do you want to do your homework in the kitchen while I continue?”

Izuku nods, and he follows her as she walks away.

He wipes away more tears.

He’s halfway through his homework – how do they have homework on the second day, it seems barbaric – when Izuku comes to a decision. So he can’t tell anyone about having travelled back from the future, not without putting that person at risk, or causing people to scrutinise what he says.

Not that he’d want to talk to them about the future. Seeing as it’s something Izuku’s going to ensure they don’t live, it’ll all become irrelevant anyway. But there are some secrets he can tell.

Starting off with his mother. He’ll tell her about his deal with All-Might, because then she’ll stop feeling so awkward about his being enrolled at U.A high. Plus, he feels almost angry at himself for not having told her the first time without having it practically forced out of him.

And then… he’ll tell her that he’s worried about what having this power means. He won’t be able to share the main burden weighing down on his shoulders, but his mother might understand a little more, and… and maybe she’ll overlook any strange behaviour that he exhibits.

Izuku nods his head.

He’ll tell her after dinner, and… and maybe he could spend the evening reading in his room, but Izuku decides he’d much rather sit with his mother and watch one of her terrible dramas on screen.

“Mum?” Izuku says when the drama goes to adverts. They’ve eaten their food – Yes, Izuku had cried eating his mother’s cooking again, but it had been overwhelming and frankly if he can’t cry around his mother than who can he cry around? – and Izuku had settled on the sofa beside his mother, drawing small doodles in one of his notebooks.

“Yes?” Inko responds, turning to face him. “Oh… Did you want me to bring out the diafuku, we could snack on them while we watch-”

Izuku pauses and decides that diafuku would be great, but it’s not what he’s after right now. He says, “maybe in a minute, but… I wanna talk about something important first.”

Inko nods her head, leans forward to pause the TV, and turns to him with her full attention. She says, “I’m all ears.”

“Ah… Okay how do I start…?” Izuku says, because he doesn’t know how to put it without it worrying his mother. He clasps his hands together and decides he should just blurt it out and deal with whatever comes next. “…I uh… well you remember when I said I met All-Might? Back with the sludge monster?”

His mother nods.

“Well… I asked him if he thought I could become a hero, even if I was quirkless.” Izuku knows he’s told her part of the story but he’d left the more important parts out. It hadn’t felt like a lie at the time, because he’d told her something, and something was always better than nothing. “And… he told me no.”

“Oh… Izuku…” She frowns, and he knows that she’s looking for some form of comfort that she can offer him. Izuku continues before she can come up with it. He does not need comfort from this conversation, he just needs to tell her the truth.

“But then… after I tried to help Kacchan, set him free, All-Might changed his mind.” Izuku says. “Well… I still think he thought people without quirks couldn’t become heroes, but he did say I could.”

His mother’s frown wavers, mixing with confusion.

“He said I could, because he could give me a quirk.” Izuku says. “It’s… it’s really strong, and I know I should have talked to you before I accepted it but I wasn’t really thinking. I just… well, it’s All-Might, you know? It’s just… this means that I’m All-Might’s successor. And… Mum, I don’t know what to do.”

Inko takes a moment to think. Her expression changes a few times, confused, to worried and so forth, but Izuku’s glad to notice that she never once looks angry. That, blended together with the fact that her lips finally settle on a soft smile, leaves Izuku feeling a rush of calm.

“What do you want to do Izuku?” She asks, because she’ll always prioritise his wants over anyone else’s. All-Might’s wish for him to become his successor… somehow, Izuku knows that she’d find a way for him not to become it, if he’d decided the pressure was too much.

“I…” Izuku hesitates, “I want to be someone All-Might can be proud of, you know? And… and I want to save people, everyone… anyone. I just don’t know if you can.”

Inko’s smile blossoms, she smiles toothily at her son, and Izuku wants to step forward to hug her again. He doesn’t have to move, she scoots across to meet him on the sofa and hugs him close to her.

“Oh, when did you begin to grow up so much?” Inko says, and then, as if she knows she’s getting too sentimental for a teenager, she laughs. “Honey, you can do whatever you put your mind too. Remember when the doctors said you had no quirk, you thought that meant you couldn’t be a hero – but… but look at you now Izuku, you’re at U.A high and you’re on your way.”

Izuku blinks. His mother squeezes him and when she lets go, she’s got tears in her eyes – again. She cries almost as much as he does, Izuku thinks. Well… as much as he had before the disaster.

“Every time someone tells you that you can’t do something,” Inko continues, “you prove them wrong. So… I’ve got no doubt in my mind that you could save people…”

Izuku feels tear forming around his eyes.

He lets them fall.

His mother plants a kiss on his hair, stands up. Then she says, “I’ll get the daifuku. We can snack together, alright?”

Izuku nods.

[Next Chapter]

#It would seem that this past week I've been stuck wanting to write BNHA - don't worry I will get back to my DCMK fics as well #Midoriya Izuku #Midoriya Inko #All-Might #Uraraka Ochako #Boku no Hero Academia #My Hero Academia #BNHA #Fic: We've only just begun #mywriting #PLEASE ENJOY

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keijay-blog · 6 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://cookingtipsandreviews.com/how-to-make-snow-ice-cream-the-best-winter-treat/

How to Make Snow Ice Cream, the Best Winter Treat

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Nancy MockDecember 13, 2018

If you’ve never tried sweet snow ice cream, you’re in for an absolute treat! This simple dish needs just a few pantry ingredients and, of course, fresh snow. There’s no better way to celebrate a snowfall.

Photo: Nancy Mock

Do your childhood memories of winter include gathering freshly fallen snow to stir up a big bowl of snow ice cream? Or, like me, is this treat completely new to you? Either way, snow ice cream is definitely a treat worth trying: It’s easy, fast, fun to make with kids, and delicious!

Here in the Northeast, we love our sugar on snow. A treasured part of late winter is to visit a local sugar house and enjoy warm maple syrup poured over a dish of fresh snow (with a dill pickle on the side!). But an ice cream made of snow was a new one! A poll of fellow Taste of Home Field Editors revealed that snow ice cream is a beloved tradition common in Mid-Atlantic and Southeast states, as well as in the Great Lakes region. It’s also popular in Southern states like Georgia and Texas where snowfall is rare, and therefore all the more reason for a celebratory snack! In Tennessee, it’s such a beloved treat that the Mayfield Creamery sells half-gallons of “Snow Cream” flavor ice cream in stores.

My family and I just tried snow ice cream for the first time, and we were instantly hooked on the frosty concoction. It’s creamy and smooth, and the sweet vanilla taste is scrumptious. I don’t know how we made it this long without trying this amazing dessert (we certainly have plenty of snow here in Vermont!), but snow ice cream will be a winter tradition for us going forward.

If you’re curious to try snow ice cream and you have some fresh snow on hand, you’ll love how simple it is to make. There are many recipe variations available online, but snow ice cream is essentially milk and sugar, or sweetened condensed milk, plus vanilla extract combined with fresh snow. You can also top it with sprinkles for fun and a little extra crunch. Here’s my quick and easy recipe:

How to Make Snow Ice Cream

Ingredients:

1/2 cup milk 1/2 cup sweetened condensed milk 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 7-8 cups clean, fresh snow Sprinkles (optional)

Directions:

In a small bowl, stir together the milk, sweetened condensed milk, and vanilla extract. Have the snow ready in a large bowl. Pour in the milk mixture and stir to combine it with the snow. Spoon it into serving dishes, and, if desired, top with sprinkles. Serve immediately and enjoy this sweet, wintry treat!

More Snowy-Day Fun for Your Whole Family

Shutterstock / BlueOrange Studio

Woo Hoo! Snow Day!

When Mother Nature goes crazy in winter, it’s time for a snow day. Sure, the idea is fun for everyone—the kids are off from school while adults work from home—but with nowhere to go and nothing to do, snow days run the risk of being, well, boring.

If you don’t want to spend the day binge-watching whatever’s on Netflix, here are 11 snow day activities the whole family can enjoy.

Shutterstock / Hassel Sinar

Make Snow Cones

Sledding and snowball fights are all fun and games until someone experiences the first signs of frostbite. Want to bring the winter wonderland inside? Ask the kids to collect balls of fresh snow. Back in the kitchen, drizzle lemon juice and a pinch of sugar on the packed balls, and presto! Homemade snow cones in a snap. Add some pizzazz by coating your cone in colorful food dye.

Shutterstock / pio3

Turn Your Kids into Mini-preneurs

The kids will be begging you to go outside, but you still have bills to pay, deadlines to meet and lunch to cook (psst…check out these kid-approved snacks). The perfect solution? Encourage your kids to create their own snowy startup. Your little workers can go to your neighbors’ homes and offer services like shoveling walkways and brushing off patio steps for a small fee.

It’s a win-win for everyone: The kids will make some extra allowance money (and spend time outside), while you’ll have some peace and quiet.

Shutterstock / Evgeny Atamanenko

Have a Snow Day Spa

Craving some rest and relaxation? This snow day, turn your living room into an at-home spa. From giving your daughter a stylish set of French braids, to manis and pedis, to homemade lotions and potions (peppermint lip scrub, anyone?), it’s a great way to unwind.

Shutterstock / Africa Studio

Build a Cozy Campsite

The brewing snowstorm is no match for a camping trip, but you can have some outdoorsy fun in the comfort of your own home. After the kids build a fort out of blankets and couch cushions, they can roast marshmallows (and create some finger-lickin’ good s’mores) at the fireplace—with Mom and Dad’s supervision, of course!

Shutterstock / Romrodphoto

Study Snowflakes

Like a set of fingerprints, every snowflake is different. And what better way to pass the time than analyzing ’em? Take a magnifying glass and piece of cardboard outside and wait until a few flakes fall on the board. Hold your magnify glass up to the cardboard and find the differences between each flake. It’s the perfect mix between outdoor fun and an impromptu science lesson.

Shutterstock / Alena Ozerova

Make Kitchen Sink Cookies

Baking may be a no-brainer for a snowy day at home, but the slick roads make it nearly impossible to pick up all the ingredients for apple crisp or ooey, gooey brownies. Our solution? Bake with what you got. Your batch of kitchen sink cookies probably won’t win any awards, but it’s a fresh way to get crafty with the kids.

Shutterstock / Nuttapong Wongcheronkit

Make Your Own Mood Boards

Put that stack of old magazines to good use and let your kids create some fun collages. Break out the glue sticks, scissors and construction paper, and the kids will take care of the rest. From hodgepodges of favorite celebs to a makeshift paper doll to a spooky ransom letter, they’ll spend hours on this frills-free craft.

Shutterstock / Mariontxa

Get Taping

On a regular day, a roll of masking tape is simply one of the many things lurking inside your junk drawer. But on a snow day? It’s vital for never-ending fun. When the kids are frozen from a day spent sledding, use tape to create crazy mazes, tic tac toe or a “jumping contest” on the floor. It’s so simple, you’ll wonder why you never thought of it before!

Shutterstock / Scott Liddell

DIY Snow Globes

The swirling snowflakes make even the biggest Scrooges feel as if they’re inside a snow globe, so why not recapture that magic with a handmade one? Grab some mason jars from the basement and fill them with trinkets, water and lots of glitter. Whether you shake your globe or let it sit on your coffee table, you’ll feel like you’re walkin’ in a winter wonderland. (Or, you could make an edible one!)

Shutterstock / Levranii

Do Glacial Graffiti

Why spend the entire day cooped up inside with a coloring book when the pristine blanket of snow can be your canvas? Fill several spray bottles with water and food coloring and your yard will be a shoo-in for best dressed on the block. Spray paint zany doodles or play a couple rounds of Pictionary—the options are endless.

Slow Cook Hot Cocoa

No snow day is complete without some creamy, dreamy hot cocoa. Instead of microwaving store-bought mix, use this day to make some hot chocolate from scratch. For best results, melt dark chocolate, milk and brown sugar in a slow cooker. Check out the full recipe here and, please, don’t forget the marshmallows.

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aidenlikesprose-blog · 7 years ago

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The Locker

“David? David! Goddamnit where are you this time?” Edward whispered, looking behind and under anything and everything he could find. I watched from the rafters, stifling fits of laughter when he jumped around corners, thinking he had found me. Finally he came under the beam I was laying on, giving me a chance to reach down and snatch his bandanna. You can imagine his feeling of confusion at the sudden disappearance of article of clothing and disembodied laughter coming from above him in the dark.

Edward shook off the confusion after far too long, in my opinion, and looked up at my beam with a look of amused contempt. “You done acting like a child?” his voice was thick with annoyance, but he ended the sentence with a short laugh.

“I’m the captain, I don’t necessarily need to act my age,” I stated as I landed in front of him with a flourish. “I take that back, actually, I need to act like an authority figure in the daytime. Anyway, what calls you to the Hold at this hour?”

Edward’s eyes drifted towards the nearest lantern. “I don’t know I just thought we could talk, like old times, you know?” He tentatively moved his gaze toward me.

I smiled, “You say that as if you’re asking for my ship.”

“If you wanted to give it to me I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“When I die, good sir, when I die.”

His eye twitched, “You can’t die, you’re the Great David Jones, most feared pirate in the Mediterranean.”

“Edward, have you ever heard my name uttered outside of this ship?” I grabbed my sketchbook as I started making my way up to the higher decks.

“I’m sure… no I haven’t, you’re right. But, your crew respects you, and your record is near perfect. Plus, could you imagine me being captain? ‘Edward Teach, Pirate Captain.’ I’d be keelhauled within minutes.” Edward’s voice dropped as we passed under and around the our sleeping crewmates in the Orlop.

We make it to the stairs, and the change in air was immediate and shocking. The fresh air from the Main Deck greatly contrasted the musty, dirty air of the Orlop. I made my way over to the banister and leaned over, looking out into the ocean. The full moon was leaving a trail leading away from the ship, daring me to chase it.

“Edward,” I started, “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

“What do you mean?” He inquired as he picked up my sketchbook and started surveying my doodles.

A sigh escaped my lips. “I just wish things could go back to how they were before, just you and me out exploring, stopping at any island we could find to camp out, fishing for food. Back when I was just a young kid named Davy Jones travelling with his First mate Blackbeard.”

“You know I hated being called Blackbeard.”

“And I hated being called Davy Jones! But none of that mattered, because we were free and the only people who knew or cared about ‘The Great Davy Jones and Blackbeard’ were the Great Davy Jones and Blackbeard. We didn’t need to worry about a crew, or the fact that you were too young to grow a beard, or the royal navy or any of it!” I buried my face in my hands, “I just want to leave everything and take nothing but a bottle of Whiskey and a fiddle.”

“Well you’d better bring me along as well. While you’re at it grab some paper, because you sure can draw. Say, what kind of bird is this? I’ve never seen one.”

I looked down at the page he had open, “That’s a parrot, I saw one in a book while we were at that port last week Speaking of which, I got something for you while we were there as well.”

He looked up in curiosity, “Oh?”

From my pocket I retrieved a rather sizable leather pouch and handed it to him. “It’s an herb called ‘Hemp,’ apparently if you light it while it’s in hair the hair won’t burn. I thought maybe you would enjoy lighting your beard on fire and amazing everyone.”

“You had a pouch this large in your pocket and it just slipped your mind?”

“Have you seen my coat? The pockets aren’t small.”

•••

“Edward?” I whispered, checking if he was asleep.

Edward snored, seemingly in response, but it was obvious he didn’t hear me. I smiled sadly, took off my hat, and put it in his hand. “Good luck, Edward Teach.” I left my letter to him on the hat and the name stared back at me accusingly. “Blackbeard.”

As my hands wrapped around the oars, an ache settles in. A deep rooted, overwhelming ache in the middle of my chest. I was leaving everything I had, my sketchpad, my ship… most importantly my only friend, no, my only family in this entire world. Edward knew what he was doing, the ship was in good hands. Yet, I felt like I couldn’t leave him. I was probably just being selfish, I didn’t want to leave him because he was the only person who had ever really cared about me.

The horizon was starting to turn blue, so I figured it was now or never. I pushed off, and got into a rhythm with the rowing. The waves were calm out there, and not very long after the ship was merely a dot on the horizon. The sun was peeking out and I imagined the crew waking up, Chef making breakfast while the rest of the crew yelled about him taking too long. Then, an hour or so later, Edward waking up, figuring I just slept in again. He’d eat with the Chef, talk with him because he knew nobody else would. Around that time he’d probably get suspicious because I usually joined them in the kitchen. And then the crew would get suspicious, too, and they’d brush it off and go about their daily tasks. While they do that Edward would search my quarters, then the galley, the brig, the cargo hold. Eventually he’d remember our conversation from last night and it would dawn on him. I didn’t know what would come after that but I didn’t want to think about what he would do. How he would feel. I just wanted to row, get as far away as I could so I didn’t need to think about the crew, or Chef, or Edward, or any of it.

I had been rowing for a few more hours, when my thoughts came to the conclusion I had been avoiding through the entire trip: I’d never get far enough away, the memories would always haunt me. I’d never be able to leave the past, the only way to escape it would be to kill my part of it. I tried to push those thoughts away, to just keep rowing but they just kept resurfacing. It was far too late to row back to the ship, I didn’t even know which direction it was in. My eyes drifted up towards the noon sun, trying to drink in as much of the world as I could. This was it. It was amazing to me how quick and natural the transition was, I almost instantly had accepted that I was going to die. There was an odd peace in that.

My body stood up, almost of its own accord and with a surprising amount of stability given the circumstances. A few minutes passed of me watching the ripples. They were so peaceful, the ocean was so peaceful. I closed my eyes and I jumped. All my instincts told me to swim up and get some air but I swam down; lower and lower trying to get so deep that I couldn’t get back to the surface alive if I tried. My ears popped as the pressure became overwhelming, and soon my head started pounding. Still, deeper and deeper I went, when lights started dancing in my eyes I almost stopped and let myself float back up but I still kept going down. And then, nothing. I was somehow conscious, but I couldn’t feel anything at all, I couldn’t see I couldn’t smell I couldn’t hear. It was almost tangibly empty.

“David Jones.” A gruff voice said from behind me. I would’ve gasped if I could’ve, but I didn’t seem to have anything to gasp with, which somehow magnified the emptiness exponentially.

“That’s me,” I said, but it wasn’t really talking, it was more like I was thinking but the thoughts were external.

“I’d like to make you a deal.”

A pathway of candles started lighting, one set at a time, a few in a figure became visible.

“And what would that be?” feeling started trickling through my body, namely fear.

The figure was wearing a long black cloak, so I couldn’t see any features of his face or body, but he didn’t seem to be moving his legs.

“I realise you haven’t caught on yet because you’ve never given me much thought as a person, more as a process, but I am Death. I realise it’s going to take you a second and I don’t have the time to answer all your questions or address your disbelief so try and keep up. I’m offering you the chance to live again, in a sense, you’ll get to explore the oceans at your leisure and stop at ports whenever you like, you can even decide if you’re visible to other people. However,” suddenly, his robes fell as if nobody was wearing them, and then they flew through the air towards me, and reshaped right in front of my face. Then, he looked up, and I saw his face. There were burns and cuts everywhere, from what I could tell he had no hair. A deep scarlet cut ran through where his right eye should have been, his left eye was completely white, and half-closed permanently. The left side of his mouth was melted shut, and the burns ran up under the hood. “You’re going to need to attend to those who die at sea. Anyone, pirate, naval officer, fisherman, you bring them to your locker and do with them what you will. I don’t care about the details I just need you to do that, okay? You’ll get used to it after a while. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve already stayed talking to you too long. Have fun.”

Suddenly, I felt like my body got torn apart, and then cut into pieces. The pain was unimaginable, I could feel my throat, but I hurt too much to scream. Everything there was and ever would be was just pain, endless fields and mountains of pain. My spine was stretched, my ribs pulled apart, my skull crushed, my tongue pulled out. If I were to say it was excruciating you wouldn’t be able to begin to understand an iota of the pain. After what felt like hours I felt a sudden snap and the pain was gone.

I was on the bow of a ship, one much, much larger than my last one. Despite the size, I somehow knew there was no crew, I was alone. Suddenly a body floated up from under the water, a young lady in a lacy nightgown. Then, ten metres away, a man in a British Navy uniform. Suddenly they started popping up left and right, faster than I could keep track of, but I somehow knew what to do. I set to work letting out the fishing nets on both sides of the ship, and then pulling them back in when they had filled. After that I would drag the bodies to a trapdoor in the middle of the deck and drop them in, unconcerned with what happened. If I wasn’t so occupied with dragging in bodies and redirecting the ship to get the farther away ones, I might’ve thought it morbid, or even disgusting, but I didn’t have time to think, my main purpose was to dispose of these bodies.

Four years into the job, far sooner than I had expected or hoped, a familiar face showed up next to my ship. I let out the starboard net and pulled it in with just this body, suddenly everything else became obsolete. I shook the body’s shoulders and compressed his chest, trying desperately to get him to wake up.

Suddenly, Edward’s eyes opened, and he smiled the widest smile I had ever seen. “David? David is it really you?”

I fought back a sob as tears rolled down my face, “Yes, Edward it’s me. It’s me.”

#pirate #davy jones #blackbeard #creativewriters #prose #short prose #matelotage #original prose #short story #short #davy jones locker

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mrjohnhthompson · 7 years ago

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Samsung Galaxy Note 8 Vs iPhone X: The RM4k Question

On Tuesday, Apple rolled out the much-anticipated iPhone X and it broke the internet. Dubbed “the biggest leap forward since the original iPhone”, Apple’s latest iteration is a glass and stainless steel device with an edge-to-edge display. But the release comes on the back of the Samsung Galaxy Note 8. Of course, these were too hot handle for Malaysia, a country where 89.3% of its internet users rely on smartphones for their online joys as evidenced by local news reports converting those US dollar price tags into ringgit. So while they are yet to reach Malaysian shores – their introduction more than an eventuality – we have done the work and compared these devices side-by-side. Here’s what we have found:

Specs

Powering the iPhone X is the A11 Bionic chipset. Apple dubs it the “most powerful and smartest” processor in a smartphone. Well, while we can’t exactly quantify that claim, it is expected to be a pint-sized powerhouse: the A11 consists of six cores – two for high performance and four for efficiency – as well as a graphics processing unit that is 30% faster than the A10 Fusion chip embedded in the iPhone 7. Why so much extra muscle, you ask? Well the A11 is expected to help iPhone X deliver top-notch augmented reality functionality as well as Apple’s Face ID technology and TrueDepth camera system. We are still in the dark over RAM as, typically, Apple doesn’t reveal those numbers. Now, for the Galaxy Note 8, it utilises Qualcomm’s Snapdragon 835 processor with 6GB of RAM. Basically what Samsung has put into this phone is a chip that has delivered smooth and consistent performance across other various Android handsets such as the HTC U11. While both iPhone X and Note 8 come with 64GB of storage, only the latter features a MicroSD slot for extra room. On offer is 256GB on both phones but that comes at a premium. Regardless of which device you choose, on board are Bluetooth 5.0 and NFC for tap-and-pay transactions. It goes without saying that the Note 8 is also compatible with legacy terminals through the Samsung Pay’s proprietary MST technology. [block title="Winner: Tie"] This is due to a lack of real-time testing to see which outperforms the other. Also, on paper, both phones are offering a powerful chip and similar digits for storage and add-ons.[/block]

Design and durability

Let’s start with the iPhone X. Its display follows the contours of the device. It sports a futuristic design: there’s a pronounced black border to the screen as well as that controversial notch housing the camera system and earpiece. Also the new iPhone is clad in glass around the back, allowing it to charge wirelessly and features vertical stacked dual cameras. The sides are designed from stainless steel and look remarkably shiny compared to the matter aluminium of its predecessors. But unlike those older iPhones, you won’t find a home button or Touch ID anywhere on the handset. This makes the phone look so much better overall but where’s that fingerprint recognition? Not having that feature exported into the iPhone X’s stunning 5.8-inch OLED display is a tad disappointing. The good news is that it has been replaced with Face ID. Not that Samsung is perfect. As there is no room for a sensor on the front of the phone, it’s been relocated to the right of the dual cameras around back – just like the Galaxy S8. And who loves a rear-mounted fingerprint sensor? A more central placement would have been better, no? Because reaching across the lenses is a pretty excellent way to smudge them. Design wise, the Note 8 is, well, a larger Galaxy 8. You may shout and scream about that, however it is not a totally unfair claim. Yes, it’s still a great piece of kit – with a headphone jack at that – and if we were comparing that with any random device, it’d win hands down. The face of the Note 8 is a 6.3-inch 2,960 x 1,440 AMOLED panel that is fitted onto a body that is compact for its size however the iPhone has a tighter setup with 2436 x 1125 OLED display. As for durability, both are made of glass and water resistant. The iPhone X is rated IP67 – good to withstand a meter’s depth for 30 minutes – while the Note 8 fares better at IP68, which just means an additional half-meter of submersion. [block title="Winner: iPhone X"] Looks are subjective but the design of the iPhone X, with its removal of the home button or Touch ID, pushes the boundaries of smartphone design, hence being the winner here. [/block]

Battery life/charging

We may not have the hard numbers on the capacity of the iPhone X battery, but Apple has announced that users can expect up to 21 hours of talk time – roughly two hours more than an iPhone 7 Plus. You have wireless charging capabilities as the iPhone X is compatible with the open Qi standard used by many other phone manufacturers. Apple claims the iPhone X charges faster, too, and a high-speed wall adapter packaged with the device will get you up to 50% in 30 minutes. The Galaxy Note 8 also has wireless and fast charging – hopefully not to the point of exploding – and some reviewers believe you can even manage a day and half without charging if you use the phone conservatively. So because the iPhone camp is silent on its battery and charging capabilities, this is an easy decision to make. [block title="Winner: Tie"] Again, just like the first point, due to the inability to make real-time comparisons, we are unable to decided which is better than the other. [/block]

Cameras

It’s unsurprising that the camera setup on both phones are similar. Both have dual 12mp sensors, combining wide-angle and telephoto lenses. Also each lens on these phones is supported with optical image stabilisation, translating into less blurrier shots. Both allow you to take portrait-style photos with background bokeh, although the iPhone allows you to play with the light source of these shots through a new in-built feature called Portrait Lighting. The iPhone X can achieve this through its front cameras as well, courtesy of Apple’s new True Depth system. The Note 8 has an 8mp shooter for selfies and when taking still, you can get impressive results with either camera. But the iPhone X can do a bit more once you get to filming. While the Note 8 can only manage 4k recording at 30fps and slow-motion 240fps at 720p, Apple’s prized child can handle 4k at 60fps and 240fps at 1,080p. Yes, yes, we are getting to it: Face ID. With the iPhone X, you can unlock your phone by looking at it – it’s designed to be that simple. The Samsung uses iris scanning for authentication in the Note 8 but that’s a system that’s simply easier to fool and less secure. We are not sure whether the Face ID is fool-proof – despite Apple saying it works well in low-light and can tell the difference between a picture and a real person – but depth-aware imaging features is a major breakthrough. Also, you can use the iPhone X to transform words and expression to an animated emoji in real time, through a feature dubbed Animoji. [block title="Winner: iPhone X"] This is self-explanatory. From Face ID to filming capabilities, the iPhone X takes home the gold. [/block]

Software

Out of the box, the iPhone X will come equipped with iOS 11. It’s the latest version of Apple’s mobile operating system and features an all-new App Store and a host of small improvements. The Galaxy Note 8 is packed with the Android 7.1.1 Nougat and while it’s not the latest version, the 8.0 Oreo should arrive early in 2018. Now, it’s silly to compare both systems and choosing is just a matter of preference. But there are some tools and features only found in one or the other. The standout being Samsung’s S Pen. The Note 8 stylus makes it a powerful tool for jotting down ideas and some quick doodling. The phone’s always-on screen also means you can take notes without having to wake the phone first – a very useful software tweak. Hold the pen over the text you’re reading and it will even translate on the fly or even magnify the area of the screen. Another new feature to the Note 8 called App Pair allows you to join certain apps together so you can launch them both at once. Open a pair and both apps immediately display in split-window mode – a multitasker’s delight. There’s also the DeX Station, which is an optional dock that transforms your Note 8 into a desktop computer. So when you step back from the iPhone’s camera innovations, there’s pretty much nothing new on the software front. But the Note 8 provides more by way of software, so you’ll know where this vote will swing to. [block title="Winner: Note 8"] We expect many to appreciate a phone that multitasks and the Note 8 is a practical choice here. [/block]

Pricing/availability

The iPhone X launches November 3 while the Galaxy Note 8 is available for pre-order. Either way you go, expect to spend a lot of money and, if you are eyeing that Apple, be prepared for the mad rush. But with a starting price of US$999 (or approximately RM4,190 at writing time), the iPhone X crosses a bracket high-end smartphones had been able to comfortably avoid until now. The Galaxy Note 8 begins at US$930 (or RM3,900). Despite being just RM290 cheaper, the Samsung phone is much more generous with add-ons and promotions such as a wireless charging stand or a 128GB memory card. [table id=863 /] Also, we are not sure if mobile carriers here will offer deals for users to upgrade from older iPhones to the X. Checks on Apple’s website does not indicate the option of a SIM-free, unlocked model, whereas Samsung is offering exactly that for customers who wish to stay off-contract. So this flexibility and as well as purchasing and trade-in options, makes the Samsung Note 8 an easier buy. [block title="Winner: Note 8"] This, too, is an obvious choice. At least with the Samsung, you don’t need to camp outside its store just to grab the latest Note 8. [/block]

And the winner is…

So based on our comparison, it’s a tie. It’s really a tough call: the Galaxy Note 8 is a robust smartphone and the iPhone X on paper looks to be equally great. But each carries its own compromises and cancel out each other’s flaws, so the average user can’t go wrong either way. The Galaxy Note 8 is great if you are looking for versatility, multitasking and writing things down. The iPhone, besides the euphoria, gives you cutting edge design, imaging and augmented reality (not to mention bragging rights). However, we are personal finance website and we’ll lean towards pricing and availability. That means our choice has to be the Galaxy Note 8 for its cheaper price tag and also user-friendliness when it comes to trade-ins and off-contract options. However, at the end of the day, it all boils down to: Are you team iOS or team Android?

The post Samsung Galaxy Note 8 Vs iPhone X: The RM4k Question appeared first on iMoney Malaysia.

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