my 6 month contingency. how long has it been since the last one?
Table of Contents:
wardrobe volume
controller or keyboard or other
which glue works the best
responsible homeowner or nah?
taxes?
number of hairstyles, lifetime
favorite firearm
nailpolish
huhu
WARDROBE VOLUME
Chrollo: Low. The coat, earrings and headband are always on his person anyway. Probably also has a suit stashed somewhere for emergency suave-ness.
Nobunaga: Low. The kimono will do.
Feitan: Impossibly Low. The clothes on his back and that's it
Machi: Medium. Has an assortment of gi and slight variations on the obi but generally all of that can fit in a travel sized bag. Otherwise steals to blend in.
Phinks: High. Collects expensive clothing items
Shalnark: Medium. Has a personal collection, probably stashed in Meteor City but has recently taken to the tunic.
Franklin: Low. Comfort over appearance. His Haori and earrings are the two constants.
Shizuku: Low. Wears donated clothes which can be too small or too big depending on where she got them.
Pakunoda: High. Has a good collection of types of outfits. About one and a half wardrobe's worth.
Bonolenov: High. No idea where he's stashing all of it but tell me why he changed outfits THREE TIMES in Yorknew.
Uvogin: Low. Shirt? No Shirt? Don't matter to him
Kortopi: Low. One tunic can last 3 months if he takes good care of it.
CONTROLLER OR KEYBOARD OR OTHER
Chrollo: Keyboard + Gamer Mouse - Likes his buttons
Nobunaga: Controller
Feitan: Controller
Machi: Controller
Phinks: Controller
Shalnark: Keyboard
Franklin: Controller - Specifically an Atari game Joystick
Shizuku: Controller/Tablet (for rhythm games)
Pakunoda: Keyboard
Bonolenov: Controller - Specifically Playstation. Joysticks get stuck in his thumbs.
Uvogin: Controller - Any with joysticks
Kortopi: Any
WHAT GLUE WORKS THE BEST?
Chrollo: Depends on the situation. Can't go wrong with some white glue
Nobunaga: Paste. Usually very strong and comes in tubs. No need to worry about running out
Feitan: Hot glue. Only bcs there's a gun involved
Machi: Hot glue. Good for crafts
Phinks: Super glue. If it ain't stuck forever then whats the point
Shalnark: Solder. That doesn't count. Epoxy. Slightly better. Still not a glue. I give up.
Franklin: Tacky glue. It just works
Shizuku: Paste. Handy and versatile for any kind of job, no matter how big.
Pakunoda: Glue stick. good for makeup and simple adhesive
Bonolenov: Blue gel glue. Pretty and useful.
Uvogin: Tape. Specifically duct tape.
Kortopi: Fabric Glue or Spray on Adhesive. Both are good for many types of crafts and dry slowly so you can fix your mistakes before it sets.
HOME OWNERSHIP
Chrollo: nope
Nobunaga: Has a nice villa out in the forest of Jappon as a part of a larger dojo. Keeps a clean ship. Has a maid.
Feitan: nope
Machi: nope. Crashes with Nobu if she needs a place to stay
Phinks: Has a few small apartments dotted across the west continent. All three are somehow all equally disastrous man caves.
Shalnark: nope. Squats.
Franklin: Has hermit hovels in Meteor City and a few other abandoned buildings.
Shizuku: Sheltered by the church in Meteor City. Doesn't pay rent.
Pakunoda: Has a nice house in a major city. Owns three cats and has a spacious back yard with a flower garden. Also has a membership with the local firing range.
Bonolenov: nope
Uvogin: nope
Kortopi: nope. Sleeps on the side of the road. Is allowed to or sometimes asked to stay over at Paku's place to watch her cats.
TAXES
Chrollo: hell no
Nobunaga: absolutely not
Feitan: what
Machi: only sometimes
Phinks: sales tax and rent
Shalnark: hell no. Number 1 undesirable by the IRS until he became a Hunter. now he's tax exempt.
Franklin: no
Shizuku: nope
Pakunoda: property tax.
Bonolenov: what are taxes
Uvogin: the IRS can fucking try
Kortopi: no. and he got away with it too.
NUMBER OF HAIRSTYLES: LIFETIME
Chrollo: 3
Nobunaga: 2
Feitan: 4
Machi: 2
Phinks: 10
Shalnark: 5
Franklin: 1
Shizuku: 2
Pakunoda: 6
Bonolenov: 0
Uvogin: 3
Kortopi: 1
FAVORITE FIREARM
Chrollo: Sniper
Nobunaga: Silenced Handgun (would rather use sword)
Feitan: Rifle
Machi: Pistol
Phinks: Sawed Off Shotgun
Shalnark: Automatic Rifle
Franklin: Heavy Machine Gun
Shizuku: Musket (she would rather beat people with it than shoot it)
Pakunoda: 6 Round Revolver
Bonolenov: n/a (he would break his frail little bones)
Uvogin: Buckshot Shotgun
Kortopi: Submachine Gun
NAILPOLISH
Chrollo: black, clear or whatever color his fuckass earrings are. usually only gets one color in gloss or matte
Nobunaga: i mean sure but he'll chip or scratch it so easily
Feitan: black only. maybe with little skulls. but again, will chip that shit like no one's business
Machi: clear coat usually. not the biggest fan
Phinks: no
Shalnark: anything and everything. catch him texting with glittery pink nails any day.
Franklin: meh. i mean his fingernails aren't . . . . flesh so like. um.
Shizuku: would love a nail day. would forget what colors she wanted halfway through
Pakunoda: anything warm or close to skin tone. usually solid color or no color
Bonolenov: no nails.
Uvogin: it'll be on one second and gone the next. why bother
Kortopi: he has to do it himself but usually a color that compliments or matches his eyes. Likes those nail stickers. he would love press on nails too.
Honestly, if you see an angel thatās all eyes and wings and wheels of fire, you should be worried. Like, not because itās going to hurt you or anything, but because scripturally, angels invariably appear to ordinary people in human form. In general, they only show their inhuman true forms to prophets ā which means if youāre seeing them like that, they come bearing responsibility.
"Better than Gold"ā Squire Trelawney/Captain Smollett Fic
Rated T | 3k Words | Fandom: Treasure Island | No warnings
When Squire Trelawney is left to keep watch over an injured Captain Smollett and a cave full of treasure, their fireside conversation turns to some last minute confessionsā¦
Read below or on Ao3
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Keeping watch was a grueling task for an impatient man such as Squire Trelawney, made even more so by the heavy weight of anxiety which bore down on his shoulders. No sooner than he had returned this morning, his brave Dr. Livesey made a hasty exit with Ben Gunn and Abraham Gray in tow, leaving the Squire to watch over the treasure and an injured Captain Smollett. The word of Jim Hawkins and his daring reclamation of the Hispaniola had brought some hope to Trelawney's heart, quickly tempered by the reality of young Hawkins predicament; he was at the mercy of pirates, who weren't likely to show him any when the red X on their map proved to stand for 'nothing'. The Squire could only hope that the Doctor's plan to distract and disrupt the mutineers would succeed. Until then, he himself was at the mercy of time.
He paced the mouth of the cave restlessly, keeping an eye on the shore and treeline alike and finding nothing in any direction. The morning air had already succumbed to humidity, which seemed to sit in the Squire's lungs heavier than the smoke he presently yearned for. He still managed to harbor his pipe, but a pat-down of his tattered clothes reminded him that his tobacco stores had long since been expended or lost. He heaved a sigh and, knowing it would be some hours before he was likely to hear from any party, retired into the cave.
Captain Smollett lay beside a fire pit on the sandy floor, propped up on a smooth, sloped rock. His eyes were closed, so Trelawney did his best to move quietly. The Captain rarely allowed himself the rest Dr. Livesey prescribed, choosing instead to continue giving orders from his low position and asking for constant updates on the developing situation. On the voyage out, the Squire had loathed those barked orders, and the sharp tongue he was often lashed with. Now, with the stench of death lingering in his nostrils, blood staining his hands, and the results of the entire cruise weighing on his conscience, Trelawney found himself wanting for a harsh reprimand. Harshness, however, had all but bled out of the Captain. No matter how brave an act he attempted to put on, weakness seeped into his voice, forcing him to speak softer, breathier, to take breaks between words. The Squire had to admit his pity and admiration alike for such tenacity.
He fed a few logs to the fire, further brightening the large space. Golden flames glinted off of the hoarded wealth that surrounded them and chased away the shadows on the Captain's handsome face, which was chiseled as it was weathered by sun and experience. Even when the most righteous anger had tightened Squire Trelawney's chest at the Captain's audacity, he had to, at least internally, appreciate the build of his face. And his physical buildā¦ Dr. Livesey had caught him staring on more than one occasion, which might have been far more embarrassing had the roles not been reversed an equal number of times. Livesey joked he was merely making a visual assessment of a patient, and Trelawney insisted he was staring in anger and nothing more, but the pair knew each other too intimately to buy the excuses. This led to several hushed conversations in their quarters, and agreements that seemed, at the time, entirely fantastical.
Now, the Squire's mind wandered back to such fantasies. It felt strangely close to his grip, with the Captain softened by their shared trauma and the Squire having fallen from his high horse long ago. And yet there still seemed a wall between them. Perhaps this time, it was of the Squire's making, not his stony Captain. Or perhaps, more likely still, he was just thinking wishfully as he tended to do.
Trelawney was adrift in daydreams when he noticed Captain Smollett's eyes had opened, and were staring back into his own. He startled out of his trance with an ungentlemanly yelp. "Ah! Captain! Forgive me, I wasā¦ lost in thought."
"An unfortunate state for a watchman on duty, Squire," Smollett said, the reprimand tempered by a rare glint of humor in his eye.
"It will be hours before we see or hear from them, Captain. The pirates have a long, fruitless journey ahead as it were, and that worthless map will bring them nowhere near our hideout." The Squire took a seat on a nearby rock. "I can assure you, there is little to watch."
"Save for me, it would seem."
That comment brought a flush to the Squire's cheeks, which he hoped would be disguised as warmth from the fire. He huffed. "Of course, even in your injured state you still find a way of practicing self-interest. I admire your commitment to being a pompous ass in the face of adversity, sir, but as I said, it was merely a lapse in focus."
The Captain exhaled something akin to a scoff, at the expense of a coughing fit it triggered. He put a hand on his chest in a self-soothing manner. "I'll remind you, Squire, that I am still your Captain whether walking the decks, or laying on this sandy floor. That doctor of yoursā"
"Of mine?"
"Indeed. He promised me a full recovery, and I intend to make good on that. You may very well prefer to be on my good side once I have the strength of health once more."
The Squire was quite preoccupied with the Captain's insistence on calling Livesey 'his' doctor. While it was true that he and the Doctor were attached, much in the same way a husband and wife might consider themselves, he hadn't expected a single-minded fellow like Smollett to pick up on their affections. The pair took great efforts to introduce themselves as good friends, lest their deeper connection bring judgment or even harm; then again, perhaps he was giving the Captain too much credit, and he was actually making some joke about the two of them being inseparable on a platonic levelā¦ Trelawney hummed, hoping none of his musings showed on his face. "Is that a threat, Captain Smollett?"
Smollett shook his head, best he could with it propped against a stone support. "No. Pirates threaten. I give you my word as an honorable seaman that should we get out of this alive, and you have the audacity to come knocking about another treasure-bound expedition, I will give you more than the deserved earful, Mr. Trelawney."
He couldn't help the breathy chuckle at the Captain's words. "I suppose that is only fair. Though, I do wish you wouldn't use language like 'should we'. Look around, Captain. We practically bathe in coin, and young Hawkins secured us the means of bringing it home. The Hispaniola is out there, awaiting your command. All that remains is those pesky piratesā¦"
"The very same 'pesky pirates' that turned your own men against us and killed nearly all the others just for the promise of something heavy to line their pockets," the Captain reminded, managing a surprising sternness for his current state. "Hear me well, Squire. I am not a negative man, despite what you may think. I am realistic. And it is that realistic view what has saved my hide more than once." He attempted to lean forward for effect, wincing at the action. As he was seemingly set on following through, Trelawney had to take him by the shoulder and urge him back into a supine position. The Captain waved him off. "The ocean doesn't bow to optimism. You must prepare for any squalls that may appear," he continued. "I wish our crew to return triumphantly all the same, but that will not make it so. All we can do presently is wait and see."
"Yes, because thinking objectively about our friend's chances of failure is a much more comforting notion," Trelawney muttered.
"It is comforting to me."
"How in the blazes is that comforting?"
"I would rather temper my expectations and be thankfully proven wrong, than spend hours in unfounded excitement just to be disappointed," he said. "However, if your preference is blissful ignorance, far be it from me to keep you from your bliss."
The Squire opened his mouth to offer his usual sputtered rebuttal, but found himself exhaling a heavy sigh instead. His head drooped with his shoulders. "I must admit there's little bliss in my current ignorance, Captain. I am worried about them."
Captain Smollett allowed a silence to lapse, broken only by the crackling fire, then reached out a hand and gently rested it on the Squire's shin. The touch jolted through Trelawney like lightning. His gaze snapped up to meet Smollett's again, finding a fierce yet unreadable expression staring back; it was like his eyes were desperate to tell the story the rest of his face concealed. "We'll have some certainty soon enough," the Captain finally said.
It was perhaps the closest thing to positive encouragement the stuffy seafarer could have offered. Trelawney accepted it with a small nod. Even if he wasn't exactly comforted, he found it rightly difficult to focus on the possible fates of their companions when the Captain's sizable palm remained like an anchor on his leg. "Right you areā¦" the Squire said. The warmth from the fire felt suffocating just then, leaving him to once again crave a different kind of smoke. "Say, Captain, I don't suppose you'd happen to be hiding some tobacco in those bandages of yours, would you?"
At that, Smollett smiled. It was barely more than a grimace by any other man's standards, just the humblest upturn at the corners, yet Trelawney felt he might as well have been graced by a toothy grin. Smollett patted Trelawney's leg before pulling his hand away and making the effort to sit up straighter once more, at the same time waving off the Squire's efforts to aid the endeavor. He managed it well enough and gingerly tucked a hand into an inner pocket of his coat, procuring a cigar to the Squire's wide-eyed awe.
"My last cigar," Smollett said, turning it over in his fingers with something of reverence. "I don't make a habit, you'll understand. Smoke and drink have claimed even the most respectable sailors, and I'd much rather my death be of the sea, not excessive indulgences. Howeverā¦ should my death not find me waterlogged, I like to believe a final smoke would be preferable."
"Soā¦ this is a dead man's cigar?" Trelawney ventured. "I can't imagine it'd bring much luck to smoke it, then."
"You misunderstand, Squire. I hoped to smoke it in case of uncertainty for the future." The Captain held out the cigar. "So I can think of no better time to light it."
The Squire considered the cigar and words alike, his cravings eventually winning out against what he believed was his better judgment. He plucked it from the Captain's fingers and turned to the fire. In lieu of sticking his hand into the flame, he selected a stick which had only partially burnt, and held up the smoldering end to the cigar as a makeshift match while he puffed. Once lit, he drew a long, indulgent drag and let it out in an exaggerated sigh of relief. "You're a good man, Captain Smollett," he said, passing it back to its owner.
Smollett accepted the offer, his pointed attention never faltering as he wrapped his lips around it and took a couple puffs. The hazy smoke plumed from the corners of his lips. The Squire felt he couldn't be blamed for staring this time, and thus he did so shamelessly.
"So, after all this time, it was a lungful of smoke that proved my worth to you, Mr. Trelawney?" Smollett said.
"Now, Captain. I know I've given you plenty of grief over the course of this voyage, and yes, we certainly got off on the wrong footing, but you surely must know how I truly think of you by now."
Smollett took another, longer pull and let it out in the Squire's direction. He tilted his head, an action that might have seemed playful on anyone else. On him, it seemed a challenge. "A 'pompous ass'?"
The echoed words brought a wince. "All in good nature, I assure you sir. Truthfully, I have come to respect you as an upstanding man and sailor alike. And me, the true ass, am in your debt."
If it were a test, it seemed Trelawney passed well enough. He was rewarded by the cigar being held out again, and he more than eagerly took it.
"And that's all?" the Captain said.
The Squire's brow pinched. "All, sir?"
"That's how you think of me? No more, no less?"
The Captain's voice was quiet. Squire Trelawney might have attributed it to his weakened state, had he not detected a hint of shyness under his usual flat tone. The words, however, struck true like an arrow, and not the drunken sort what got buried in the sea many nautical miles back. Trelawney faltered, blinking rapidly as though that would bring clarity to his suddenly swarming mind. It, of course, did no such thing. And the Captain, always the stoic one, offered no further context in his expression. One would think all the wrinkles on his face could be read like a book, or the rings of the felled tree that birthed the pages, but even his facial muscles were under strict, explicit control. All in a neat line with not a worry showing, it was a wonder he had any wrinkles to begin with. He may as well have been carved by marble. And such Trelawney was imagining the handsome sculpture Smollett would make standing tall and half-nude in a personal gallery, when the Captain's clearing throat reminded him that he had to at least attempt to conjure an answer.
"Iā oh! Umā¦ well, Iā¦" He willed himself to come up with something better, to speak properly, to not miss his chance, only for his tongue to continue betraying him with useless hemming and hawing. His face took on the hue of the glowing embers.
Smollett held up a hand. "Alright. Spare us both indignity, Squire, I can tell my question was ill received. Do not fret. I understand you have a special relationship with Dr. Livesey already, and I do not wish to impose any further than I already have."
"No! No, please, sir, don't mistake my tied tongue as rejection," the Squire blurted out rather hastily. "I'm just, you seeā¦ well, ahā¦ justā just let meā¦right." He took a deep drag of the cigar and let it out at a molasses pace, willing his thoughts, and his pulse, to slow in time. When he'd finally collected himself enough, he continued. "Yes, it's true that Livesey and I are closely intertwined, as much as two men may be in the grace of privacy. However, it is also true that both of us have noticed a quickening heartbeat in your presence, Captain. Even before I would have admitted to appreciating your character. In fact, the Doctor and I already discussed certainā¦ scenariosā¦"
"Scenarios," Smollett echoed flatly. If Trelawney wasn't mistaken, he swore he could see the gears churning behind the captain's dark eyes.
"About yourā¦ involvement, sir. I admit, Livesey and I previously thought these to be nothing but baseless fantasies, though we did take the discussion of the matter quite seriouslyā¦"
Smollett fell silent. His gaze finally drifted away to stare up at the cave ceiling, as though he'd find some answers there. Or perhaps Trelawney had misjudged, and the Captain was begging the Lord for forgiveness from his association with a sinner such as this. Trelawney had sucked down half the cigar in nerves by the time Smollett spoke again. "So, youā¦ bothā¦ think of me well, then."
"Oh, well indeed sir."
That earned a small, breathy chuckle. Rarer than a smile, and rarer still than the wealth that surrounded them. At that moment, the Squire wanted nothing more than to hear it again. "I suppose that alleviates the need for another, equally uncomfortable conversation. I know I can be sparing with my praise, but let it be known that I have come to regard yourself and Dr. Livesey with the utmost respect myself. And the utmostā¦ interest. If we get off this island aliveā"
"When," Trelawney corrected.
"ā¦If we get off this island alive, I would very much like to treat you both to a proper supper so you can debrief me on these 'scenarios'. I must admit you have piqued this old captain's curiosity."
Trelawney's heart swelled as though Smollett had just spun the most romantic yarn. He dropped from his seated position to kneel between the Captain and the fire pit, taking one of his hands in his. "Consider it a date. I think you'll find my imagination favorable, Captain."
"Hmā¦" Smollett squeezed his hand in turn and brought it gently to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Shivers raced up Trelawney's spine as soon as his lips made contact. They felt soft despite the sun-made cracks peppering the surface. "I don't doubt it, Mr. Trelawney. This entire trip was born of a wild imagination, for better and worse. And despite my best efforts to entertain logic, I can't say I regret it."
Incensed by the kiss, Trelawney scooted closer and leaned in with eyes blazing. "I could give you a taste of one of those scenarios now, Mr. Smollett."
"That's still 'Captain' to you," he replied, though the correction came quietly through a good-natured smile. "And I'd thank you to be gentle with me, Squire. Doctor's orders, you'll remember."
"Naturally, my Captain," Trelawney said pointedly. He closed the gap between their faces, eyes flickering down to the Captain's lips which slackened in anticipation. "So long as you promise not to be quite so gentle with me once you have the strength of health."
Another soft chuckle. "Agreed, Mr. Trelawney."
Their mouths connected in a delicate yet lingering kiss tasting of salt and smoke. The Captain's free hand came up to cup the Squire's face, and in that very moment Trelawney felt that he had stumbled into something worth far more than gold.
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