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bedlamsbardFuck. It's raining. Again. It rained an inch yesterday, one-eighth of our average yearly rainfall. I live in a dry semi-arid area. There was a hurricane in Yakima yesterday. What the fuck?
I really have no explanation for this. 14-year-old Danny, who has the bright idea to run away to Tanglewood...
Dark of the moon, and Danny huddles under a streetlight, raising a stolen cigarette to his lips with shaking fingers. They’ll come. Sonny said they would and Sonny doesn’t lie, not to Danny. Sonny lies to others, to prep school girls in their pleated plaid skirts and Danny’s mother and cops –
– and what if he thinks Danny’s a cop, thinks he’s Sergeant Edward Messer’s youngest son and nothing else?
what if it’s all a trick –
– but it’s not. It can’t be. Sonny doesn’t lie to his brothers and Danny is going to be one, be a Tanglewood Boy, get the tattoo scripted blood-black into his back.
Sonny will come, to run his seventeen-year-old already-gun-heavy hands down Danny’s fourteen-year-old sides, whisper promises in his ear. Yeah, they’ll take you, of course they will. With blood like yours, who wouldn’t want you? His promises keep Danny there, keep Danny from dropping his cigarette on the sidewalk and going home to the room he shares with Nate, who curls his lip up at Danny and tries not to be seen with his younger brother.
“He’ll come,” Danny whispers to himself, the words slathered with accent.
He hears them before he sees them, hooting and screaming, and then the battered red car pulls to a stop in front of him. Sonny pushes his way out of a mess of teenagers scrambling out and looks Danny over as he straightens.
And he grins.
And Val Constantine, immediately after the previous piece. And Angela Messer, of course.
Val wakes from a sound sleep at the sound of his phone ringing. He sends the comforter flying as he reaches for it, pulls it sleepily to his ear. “Constantine.”
“Val? Vally, is that you?”
“Angie?” Val says, sitting up. “Angie, what’s wrong?” He can’t think of the last time his sister called him and knows she wouldn’t, not at – God, five-thirty in the morning on a Thursday. Angela Constantine Messer won’t go to her Mafia brother for anything short of murder…or anything that has to do with her children.
Angela draws in a sharp breath. “Danny’s missing,” she says simply.
Val feels his heart stop. Danny. His sister’s youngest boy, the one who might be a Constantine rather than a Messer, the child that might have been his and not Edward Messer’s. “How long?” he asks, fishing around his bed for slacks and a shirt.
“Two days,” she says.
He sets his jaw angrily. “And you didn’t call me first?”
“The police have been looking for him, and maybe –”
“Never mind,” Val cuts her off. “I’ll be right over –”
“No,” Angela says flatly. “No, Ned’s friends are here, I don’t want –”
“Anyone to know your brother’s Val Constantine,” Val says. “I understand. I’ll put my men on it. Your Ned doesn’t need to know.”
Angela pauses before saying anything. “No,” she says finally. “He doesn’t.”
My Danny...
...has three older brothers: Edward Jr. (Eddie), Thomas, and Nathaniel (Nate). They're all cops.
...has a father named Edward Messer Sr. who was a Sergeant wtih the NYPD before retiring about two years before Mac hired Danny.
...has a mother named Angela Messer, nee Constantine. She died, officially, of heart disease, but Val Constantine believes she was poisoned by a Mafia rival. He can't prove it, though.
...an uncle named Valentine Constantine. Val Constantine is Angela Messer's younger brother. He's about fifteen years older than Danny. He's underboss of the Constantine Family, the "Sixth Family", although he's been acting as boss since he was sixteen. His father went to jail for many many years for various reasons. One of them was refusing to cut a deal, and Val has always remembered this. I have no idea how much older Angie is than Val, but it's a lot. Val has never gone to jail, never got caught, and is alternately loved and hated by the other five families. His most loyal followers, men he's known since they were kids, are Joey Sforza, Carmine d'Alessandro, and Michael "Ace" Aciello.
Er, and that's it for now.
Huh. And now it's stopped raining. Mother Nature is totally on crack this year, I swear to god.
Random original drabble (occasionally, I write fanfic for my own stuff. I have issues, okay?). This is the post-apocalyptic Boston fic, although it's...er, peri-apocalyptic Boston, now?
Fire flickers golden across the land, and they know. Know what the people don't, cannot possibly know or understand. Flames lick Boston and New York City and the sad twisted remains of Washington, and slither across land and sea to scorch Los Angeles and London, brush with burning fingers the glass towers of Tokyo and the shattered stones of Rome.
The rocks know.
Know what the people cannot and will not comprehend, even as they huddle in their homes of wood and brick. Those in Boston sit at the eye of the storm, and the power rages and surges around them like blood in boiling water.
Blood spills crimson across the earth and a billion, two billion, three, four, five catch themselves and fall, endlessly. Smoke curls around the wreckage of broken cities and sleeping fire wakes in the eyes of the survivors. Blood, here and thee, and flame scorches scarlet mutations across DNA.
The rocks know.
The soft tilt of the world on its axis. Bright flickers of starlight in the velvet sky, and the world catches itself before it falls too far. Here, in the sanctity of the unchanged-always changing ocean, the rocks know.
*sniff* There was more of the threesome, but I'm going to play around with it some more. It annoys me. Why can't they just be normal?
I really have no explanation for this. 14-year-old Danny, who has the bright idea to run away to Tanglewood...
Dark of the moon, and Danny huddles under a streetlight, raising a stolen cigarette to his lips with shaking fingers. They’ll come. Sonny said they would and Sonny doesn’t lie, not to Danny. Sonny lies to others, to prep school girls in their pleated plaid skirts and Danny’s mother and cops –
– and what if he thinks Danny’s a cop, thinks he’s Sergeant Edward Messer’s youngest son and nothing else?
what if it’s all a trick –
– but it’s not. It can’t be. Sonny doesn’t lie to his brothers and Danny is going to be one, be a Tanglewood Boy, get the tattoo scripted blood-black into his back.
Sonny will come, to run his seventeen-year-old already-gun-heavy hands down Danny’s fourteen-year-old sides, whisper promises in his ear. Yeah, they’ll take you, of course they will. With blood like yours, who wouldn’t want you? His promises keep Danny there, keep Danny from dropping his cigarette on the sidewalk and going home to the room he shares with Nate, who curls his lip up at Danny and tries not to be seen with his younger brother.
“He’ll come,” Danny whispers to himself, the words slathered with accent.
He hears them before he sees them, hooting and screaming, and then the battered red car pulls to a stop in front of him. Sonny pushes his way out of a mess of teenagers scrambling out and looks Danny over as he straightens.
And he grins.
And Val Constantine, immediately after the previous piece. And Angela Messer, of course.
Val wakes from a sound sleep at the sound of his phone ringing. He sends the comforter flying as he reaches for it, pulls it sleepily to his ear. “Constantine.”
“Val? Vally, is that you?”
“Angie?” Val says, sitting up. “Angie, what’s wrong?” He can’t think of the last time his sister called him and knows she wouldn’t, not at – God, five-thirty in the morning on a Thursday. Angela Constantine Messer won’t go to her Mafia brother for anything short of murder…or anything that has to do with her children.
Angela draws in a sharp breath. “Danny’s missing,” she says simply.
Val feels his heart stop. Danny. His sister’s youngest boy, the one who might be a Constantine rather than a Messer, the child that might have been his and not Edward Messer’s. “How long?” he asks, fishing around his bed for slacks and a shirt.
“Two days,” she says.
He sets his jaw angrily. “And you didn’t call me first?”
“The police have been looking for him, and maybe –”
“Never mind,” Val cuts her off. “I’ll be right over –”
“No,” Angela says flatly. “No, Ned’s friends are here, I don’t want –”
“Anyone to know your brother’s Val Constantine,” Val says. “I understand. I’ll put my men on it. Your Ned doesn’t need to know.”
Angela pauses before saying anything. “No,” she says finally. “He doesn’t.”
My Danny...
...has three older brothers: Edward Jr. (Eddie), Thomas, and Nathaniel (Nate). They're all cops.
...has a father named Edward Messer Sr. who was a Sergeant wtih the NYPD before retiring about two years before Mac hired Danny.
...has a mother named Angela Messer, nee Constantine. She died, officially, of heart disease, but Val Constantine believes she was poisoned by a Mafia rival. He can't prove it, though.
...an uncle named Valentine Constantine. Val Constantine is Angela Messer's younger brother. He's about fifteen years older than Danny. He's underboss of the Constantine Family, the "Sixth Family", although he's been acting as boss since he was sixteen. His father went to jail for many many years for various reasons. One of them was refusing to cut a deal, and Val has always remembered this. I have no idea how much older Angie is than Val, but it's a lot. Val has never gone to jail, never got caught, and is alternately loved and hated by the other five families. His most loyal followers, men he's known since they were kids, are Joey Sforza, Carmine d'Alessandro, and Michael "Ace" Aciello.
Er, and that's it for now.
Huh. And now it's stopped raining. Mother Nature is totally on crack this year, I swear to god.
Random original drabble (occasionally, I write fanfic for my own stuff. I have issues, okay?). This is the post-apocalyptic Boston fic, although it's...er, peri-apocalyptic Boston, now?
Fire flickers golden across the land, and they know. Know what the people don't, cannot possibly know or understand. Flames lick Boston and New York City and the sad twisted remains of Washington, and slither across land and sea to scorch Los Angeles and London, brush with burning fingers the glass towers of Tokyo and the shattered stones of Rome.
The rocks know.
Know what the people cannot and will not comprehend, even as they huddle in their homes of wood and brick. Those in Boston sit at the eye of the storm, and the power rages and surges around them like blood in boiling water.
Blood spills crimson across the earth and a billion, two billion, three, four, five catch themselves and fall, endlessly. Smoke curls around the wreckage of broken cities and sleeping fire wakes in the eyes of the survivors. Blood, here and thee, and flame scorches scarlet mutations across DNA.
The rocks know.
The soft tilt of the world on its axis. Bright flickers of starlight in the velvet sky, and the world catches itself before it falls too far. Here, in the sanctity of the unchanged-always changing ocean, the rocks know.
*sniff* There was more of the threesome, but I'm going to play around with it some more. It annoys me. Why can't they just be normal?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-12 01:06 am (UTC)Danny? Oh, Danny. Danny's got it *bad*, wanting to be with his special new pals, wanting to belong, wanting honor and glory struck from his hide.
Val. Such siblings, they are, the brother and his frantic sister--but she's still his big sister, and there's the sense she will tolerate no bullshit from the younger.
Boston destroyed the world? Dude, why am I not surprised? *grin*
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-12 01:31 am (UTC)Exactly. There's a scene I was playing with where Val and his friends went to "interrogate" some of Danny's so-called friends, and all the jerk was talking about was how Danny didn't fit, how he was pulling away, how he was...y'know, non-normal junior high student. Anything designed to repel people. And then Sonny happened by and everything went to hell in a handbasket. And he's the youngest brother, the problem child - the one that really takes after Angela's side of the family, not Ned's. Scarily like Val, except Val has fewer problems.
Val. Such siblings, they are, the brother and his frantic sister--but she's still his big sister, and there's the sense she will tolerate no bullshit from the younger.
...that's good to know, because I'm an only child and have no experience with siblings. Besides, Angie practically raised him after their mother died and father went to jail *checks timeline* Or not, seeing as she was married with four kids by that time. Er. Well. Siblings.
Boston destroyed the world? Dude, why am I not surprised? *grin*
Well, not exactly. *goes into pseudo-lecture mode* See, in the year 2012 (December 23, for those interested), the last of a bunch of big storms collectively known as "Hurricane Eve" occurred. Think "The Day After Tomorrow", but with magic and not so much snow and global warming. Anyway, these storms triggered every node - reservoir of magical power - in the world. They're usually sleeping. *facepalm* Crap, I'm forgetting my technical terms. This is all written down somewhere. Anyway, there's one in Boston and another one in a fictional Massachusetts town called Albion, and since the story ("Uncovering Delphi") is being told in Boston, well...also, the storms didn't have much immediate effect on the places where the nodes are located. (Corinth, from the Kyle and Fury dream, is another one, one which was actually active before Hurricane Eve.)
Er. That made no sense at all, did it.