🌻 ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ─────────── DESPITE THE LESS THAN ENTHUSIASTIC gaze he’d given her, eren took him not asking them to leave as a promising sign. ( though even if he had asked, he probably already knew she wouldn’t have listened ). his hotel was a place she’d made herself at home on more than one occasion. whether it was ( and it so often was ) stumbling in after a drunken night, or impromptu visits just to say hello ( and get a pre-game ) just like now. each time he may have met her with unamused grunts, and suspicious side glances but they couldn’t recall a time that he’d turned her away. his patience was immeasurable. he always made sure they got home okay, or at the very least allowed them a home so they wouldn’t have to worry about the stumble home. perhaps it’s part of the reason they kept showing up. even if he did just see them as a liability, they could at least pretend his actions came from a place that meant he cared.
“ sure it is ! ” they exclaimed. “ if you put those bags of chips all in a big bowl or something it should be enough to be a family sized bag y’know ? and then if you’re still hungry, that’s what the candy bars a for. plus, a sugar rush. for energy. it’s the perfect imitation of a well balanced meal. ” her words following them as they disappeared momentarily to rummage through the small mini fridge and reemerging with a delighted squeal. “ found it ! i knew she was hiding it from me. not cool kate. ” they tsked before moving on to continuing to make their own midori sour. though his words were quick to put a pause on her actions. “ shit, des man. do you like memorize your own inventory by heart just for fun when i’m not around ? we should really get you out more…─── don’t worry i paid for it. some of it. well i left a five at the counter, that should cover it right ? ” they didn’t mention how they took it back when she left.
“NO, IT REALLY ISN’T.” It’s been too long since circumstances has forced him to consume food like that; the long passed memory of college, and idealistic independency that made him turn to snacks to sustain a body that needed more. [ THE SECOND THING YOU’VE LEARNED, IS THAT OFT FELT FRIENDSHIP COMES NATURALLY WITH THEM, AND THERE IS NOT MUCH IN THE WORLD YOU’D GIVE IT UP FOR. ] “Is this how you live?” Should he be worried, is the question he’d rather not admit to asking. “You know, if you’re nice to the cooks, they give you free food.” There have been too many times where he’s led hungry mouths to the kitchen, letting wandering souls feed on warmth and something that feels a little homemade.
The presented idea of getting Desmond to socialise makes his face scrunch. And rather than addressing it, he deals with it in normal Desmond fashion――he ignores it. “I memorise it in case stock goes missing.” He’s sure that if his father were still alive, he’d be able to get Eren to do some actual work around the hotel grounds to make up for it. Desmond’s tried, but he’s not Tyrone Castor.
With a sigh, he puts the chips back into the plastic bag. The candy bars, he pushes across the counter to Eren. “That’s your $5 worth. These are going back to the store.” He lifts the plastic bag to make a point.
LOCATION: the castor hotel
TIME: before the ice breaker
STATUS: closed / @unshed
mariana had offered to help billie set up the rooms for all the guests, but, as usual, billie insisted on doing everything herself. being back at the castor hotel was a bit nerve-wracking but also comforting. she’d spent a lot of time here trying to forget about jacob. interacting with guests and doing work helped distract her and clear her head. there were some changes here and there, but overall the vibe seemed mostly the same. very desmond. as if on cue, the very same man walked past her. he didn’t seem like he was in a hurry or going to chat with anyone, so mariana quickly called out “DESMOND?” a grin spread across her face as her eyes landed on his features. she hadn’t seen him in a really long time. she tried her best to check in every now and then, but her brain always seemed to forget that not everyone from sierra had ties to the bonfire. in general, her hometown was tough to think about. “i’m so sorry i haven’t been able to visit. life is crazy, you know? still… you look good,” she tells him. “time looks good on you. can’t say the same about some people i’ve seen around though,” she jokes, mainly referring to old shop owners she’ll probably run into during her stay here. “the hotel looks good! almost a bit too good… did you finally find someone to replace me? i’ll be a bit heartbroken but also… pretty impressed.”
HE FALTERS AT THE VOICE CALLING HIS NAME. Desmond’s first reaction is to pause, not yet turning around, only if to afford himself time to roll his eyes. It’s ingrained down to his very bones―every guest that walks through the doors of Castor Hotel deserves kindness. And yet. That doesn’t mean he has to like them, especially the ones that flaunt their wealth, demanding immediate service from people they treat as inferior. A STRANGER, EVEN IN A HOME HE HAS LIVED IN FOR LONGER THAN TOURISTS & OLD GHOSTS HAVE EVER CARED TO STAY.
But he remembers her, remembers her helping out around the hotel before she too, had left, just as everyone had a tendency to do. [ LITTLE BIRDS FREE OF THEIR NESTS, AND YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE THAT HAD YOUR WINGS CLIPPED. ] “Hey, Mari.” There are faces he cannot and does not forget, and once someone chooses the hotel for work, Tyrone claims them a Castor for life. It’s Desmond’s job to carry out that legacy. “What’s a man supposed to do when his best worker leaves, huh?” His countenance gets a little more friendly, now that he knows she’s not a stranger. “How has time treated you?”
IT’S A FAMILIAR FACE HE HADN’T IMAGINED SEEING. He recognised the names on the bookings, but he hadn’t quite reconciled the idea of seeing old ghosts until now. Desmond’s wiping down the chairs in the lobby when he sees them, memories of younger and fuller times―so at odds with where he is now―burgeoning in his chest. “Hey.” It almost steals his breath, the wave of nostalgia clogging his throat, suffocating with simpler times. “Long time, Marls. You’re a bit earlier than your booking, though.” ╱ @broussards
starter : closed / ( @unshed )
location : castor hotel bar
🌻 ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ─────────── UNANNOUNCED AND UNABASHED seemed to be the only kind of entrances eren knew how to make. it had gotten to the point where she was on a first name basis with most of the castor staff, and those who they didn’t recognize her had certainly heard the stories about them. eren practically skipped her way through the lobby with a grocery bag filled with lunch ( two bags of chips, a pack of gummy worms, and some chocolate bars ) swinging around in her hands. they didn’t know desmond would already been in the bar, but they figured he would have found her there eventually.
“ oh my god ! just the fancy smancy hotel concierge i was hoping to see ! ” they exclaimed as they dropped the bag onto the counter. “ i brought lunch, just for you. no need to thank me, i know. i’m the gift that keeps on giving. ” she says, waving away the gratitude that was never coming to begin with. with ease, they moved behind the counter and began taking down a glass for themselves. “ so what’s our speciality drink for the evening, and can i get a sample ? no one knows alcohol, like i know alcohol so you should really put my taste buds to good use. ” as they spoke their hands moved through the counters pulling what she’d need to make themselves a midori sour, but paused when the lime juice wasn’t where she left it. “ did kate reorganize the fridge again ? where’d the lime juice go ? ”
THERE IS A SIGH LODGED SOMEWHERE IN THE BACK OF HIS THROAT. He’s long suffered the personality of one Eren Thompson, and while that kind of friendship remains unasked for, he knows, ultimately, beggars cannot be choosers, and if he had the choice, he’d probably be the loneliest soul on the island. [ SEE, THERE ARE TWO THINGS YOU KNOW ABOUT EREN―ONE, IS THAT THEY’RE CHAOS INCARNATE. ] Desmond looks up from where he’s tightening the screw on the bar stool on their entrance, eyes trailing after the bag of what should contain food. Wiping his hands on a wet rag near him, Desmond rises, grunting in lieu of the thanks Eren unsubtly requests, one arm leaning against the counter as he rifles through the bag.
“This is...” He stares at the snacks, removing them one-by-one to display them on the counter, as if they don’t know their own purchases. “This isn’t lunch.” And yet, again, beggars; choosers. Watching them putter behind the counter like they Goddamn own the place, he inspects the colourful packaging of the proffered snacks, something itching at his mind.
“―――You don’t work here, Eren.” Gaze once again turning to them, a frown of something disbelieving on his face. He’d think he’d be used to their antics by now. “You don’t need to know where the lime juice is.” From the corner of his eyes, he sees the snacks again, and―― “Hang on, did you take these from the convenience store downstairs?” A question of the rhetorical sort, because Desmond damn well remembers scanning these products into the cashier.
HE TRULY HAS NO PATIENCE FOR THIS. A lobby full of long forgotten pasts―strangers with familiar faces, moulded and changed by adulthood. With a heavy sigh, Desmond lowers himself to the ground, balancing on tucked legs and elbows atop his knees. “Fuck. What a waste of time.” ╱ @onlyparker
hello hello! i’m knock ( she / her, 22, aedt ) and this is the groundskeeper! my disc*rd is at the end of the post, so feel free to add me through there. i am a poc, but i’m not black, so please hold me accountable for any insensitivities i make.
Eight years ago, Desmond was an incredibly hopeful, family man. He was in the last year of his Engineering masters, hoping to eventually graduate and get a job. He wanted to start earning enough, so he could take care of his father, Tyrone Castor, especially considering the work that Tyrone did around the hotel. Desmond was studying part-time, so he could still have enough time to help his father out. Born as an only child, losing his mother at an early age, he felt like he was responsible for being there for Tyrone. He wanted to focus on his future, so that it improved his father's life as well.
how , if at all , have they changed in those eight years ?
Eight years after, it feels like Desmond’s life has changed. Tyrone was severely injured during the hurricane, and Desmond dropped out of his master’s degree to become Tyrone’s primary caregiver, as well as take over the grounds keeping at Castor Hotel. It’s a family-run business, and the Castor family have always felt iffy about hiring anyone outside people they personally know to help out.
For years, Desmond took care of Tyrone, but eventually, the elder Castor lost his life and Desmond, at 26, had to start taking care of everything himself. Since then, he’s become more closed off, unable to properly handle or process his grief and guilt, believing himself to be the reason his father was injured in the first place.
He struggles with maintaining long-lasting connections, telling himself that it’s better if he doesn’t get close to people because they have a habit of leaving him behind. He’d rather dedicate himself to the hotel, immersing himself with his job to avoid ruminating on how lonely and stagnant his life truly feels.
WANTED CONNECTIONS.
Someone that came to his father’s (Tyrone), funeral. Ever since then, Desmond has considered this person to be sort of a friend, or at least someone that he can rely on / trust. It doesn’t come easily for him, but someone being there for him during a difficult time is something that he won’t forget. This is someone that he eventually considers to be, perhaps, his only friend, or acquaintance.
Childhood friends. Perhaps one of the 15. They were merely children, running around the island, youthful and carefree; chasing dreams of moving away from Sierra. After the night of the hurricane, both were forever changed, but this person moved beyond Sierra, while Desmond felt as if he was trapped here by responsibilities to his father and the hotel. After this friend comes back for the wedding, they both are unsure of where they stand with each other, and Desmond will hold them at arm’s length. (Maybe he’s jealous they were able to move away, while he couldn’t. Maybe he tried to contact them after his father’s passing and never got a reply, so he’s super bitter about that etc.)
People that stayed on the island that he knows from passing. While he doesn’t care much about making connections / long-lasting relationships, he will help people if they’re in need of work. If they need a job over the summer, he’ll take them in the hotel as a cleaner, janitor, bartender, doing things around the hotel, etc.
As they got closer to senior year, they started working at the Castor Hotel over school holidays. They got to know Desmond since he’s always there as well. Tyrone usually oversaw the younger workers, but Des and the others were usually just a bunch of kids messing around on hotel grounds, with Tyrone half-heartedly chastising them.
Within the eight years, Desmond offered a room to someone that needed it. If they weren’t able to pay for it, he let them work around the hotel in exchange for lodging. He’s slightly protective of them, and will keep tabs on them / want them to check in and say hi, even if they’ve moved on from this part of their life.
EXTRA HEADCANONS.
Castor Hotel came from Desmond’s mother’s side of the family, Ivery Castor, who passed away due to complications during childbirth. When Ivery and Tyrone married, they kept the Castor name. Desmond’s father inherited the Hotel, and eventually passed it to Desmond in his will.
If anyone ever comes looking for his guest, he’ll demand a warrant before he gives over any information. Once he’s sure the people are gone, he’ll ask his guest about their situation and if they need anything. He’ll never force them to talk if they don’t want to, but he lets them know that he’s there to help.
He’ll rent out rooms for cheap if he notices someone running from a bad situation / needs a place to stay. If they can’t pay, he’ll get them to work on the hotel grounds in exchange for the room.
you may be similar to : ron swanson ( parks and recreation ) , frank castle ( the punisher ) , stevie budd ( schitts creek )
some common tropes for you may be : the stoic , ineffectual loner , & eat the rich
DIVE BELOW THE SURFACE AND YOU’LL SEE…
hundreds of people coming to your hotel inn for a hidden away wedding ? that’s money in the bag if you ever heard it . you’ve always taken pride in the space you maintain - that’s why it’s usually booked years in advance for weddings , or special occasions . it overlooks the ocean perfectly , with a great view of the sunrise and sunset . it’s been voted one of the most romantic spots on earth , with your name as a special shoutout for keeping it that way . it belonged to your family , basically is another member of it . just like many of the other workers on the island - you aren’t a big fan of flashy money , or ‘ tourist season ‘ . you know the respect you usually receive is minimal , and your job is to do everything you can to ensure everyone else has the perfect time . so , you work in the background , trying to stay as far away from rich people as you can , but sharing a bond with all the other locals and townsfolk who actually understand what it’s like to have intruders arrive , with money too big for their own pockets .
“ I don’t mean to sound bitter / cold / or cruel / but I am / so that’s how it comes out ”
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