Fill 1/? - School Days: Ties and Tattoos
anonymous
March 20 2011, 20:02:43 UTC
Setting this in an English boys school. Hope that's alright, Anon! (Note: England, private schools are called public schools.)
Prologue -
Marcus pulls at his tie, trying to loosen it. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, waiting for the headmaster to finish his spiel so that he can get the fuck out of there already. This is the first day that he’s been in England where it hasn’t rained. He’s anxious to get outside while the sun is still visible.
“We hope you’ll be happy here, Aquila.” The headmaster stands. “Your father is one of our best alumni.”
“Thank you.” Marcus’s smile is strained, but the headmaster doesn’t seem to notice fortunately. He’s already well aware that he has his father’s reputation to live up to. He’s been doing it all his life.
For some reason he’d hoped England would be different. That the Eagle, the prestigious public academy his father respects so much, would be different. No such luck apparently, Marcus thinks dismally as at last he escapes outside into the pale afternoon sun.
Fill 2/? - School Days: Ties and Tattoos
anonymous
March 20 2011, 23:50:33 UTC
Marcus pulls his tie off with a sigh of relief, shoving it in his blazer pocket. Technically, he could get into trouble for that sort of rule-breaking, but it’s only the first day of term so he’s not too worried. Plus, he’s an in older form in the well established Calleva House. From what he’s heard, nobody’s going to give him shit
( ... )
Fill 2a/? - School Days: Ties and Tattoos
anonymous
March 21 2011, 00:01:41 UTC
“Are you okay?” Marcus asks.
Tattoo-boy snorts. “What’re you playing at?” He pushes himself up, wincing at the pain in his ribs.
“Nothing. I’m just…trying to help.” Frankly, Marcus had expected the kid to be, well, grateful. Not acting like it was Marcus’s fault that he’d gotten his ass kicked. That was his own damn fault.
“Oh really?” Tattoo-boy grabbed his undershirt, pulling it on. “And why’s that?” He moved in, glaring up at Marcus. “You think I’ll suck your cock because you saved me, is that you what you think?”
“What? No,” Marcus had had no such idea. Of course now that the kid has mentioned it, he can’t help imagining it. Shit. That’s the last thing he needs.
“Well, good, cause it’s not happening. I don’t like Americans, and I don’t need your fucking help.” Huffing in disgust, Tattoo-boy scoops up his shirt and blazer, rolling them into a sodden mass.
Marcus watches him walk away. “Nice tattoo.” He mutters lamely. What the hell had that been about?
Re: Fill 3b/? - School Days: Ties and TattooscoeurdesoleilMarch 21 2011, 15:46:44 UTC
This is great! Love how their relationship starts off so analogous to in the movie and wheee! you used Esca's famous line ("I am my master's hound...")!
Fill 4a/? - School Days: Ties and Tattoos
anonymous
March 23 2011, 23:15:07 UTC
“You’d probably rather have a drink.“ Placid goes and pours a whiskey for both of them. Marcus accepts it gratefully. If there’s one thing that definitely helps with his leg, it’s that. He slugs it back, and lets the familiar burn wash over him.
By the time he goes upstairs, he’s almost forgotten about Tattoo-boy…who turns out to be lying on his back on Marcus’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. He leaps up at Marcus’s entrance and goes to stand at the foot of the bed.
“Oh…right.” Marcus stops. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do with the boy. “Um.” He knows what he’d like to do…But that's a different subject entirely
( ... )
Fill 4b/? - School Days: Ties and Tattoos
anonymous
March 23 2011, 23:19:06 UTC
So the boy does, pointing out the obvious places. Marcus resisted the urge to check his bags, but at last he can’t hold back any more. He slides his hand along the inside of his duffel and freezes. The lining is empty. He feels it again, and looks at Tattoo-boy
( ... )
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Prologue -
Marcus pulls at his tie, trying to loosen it. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, waiting for the headmaster to finish his spiel so that he can get the fuck out of there already. This is the first day that he’s been in England where it hasn’t rained. He’s anxious to get outside while the sun is still visible.
“We hope you’ll be happy here, Aquila.” The headmaster stands. “Your father is one of our best alumni.”
“Thank you.” Marcus’s smile is strained, but the headmaster doesn’t seem to notice fortunately. He’s already well aware that he has his father’s reputation to live up to. He’s been doing it all his life.
For some reason he’d hoped England would be different. That the Eagle, the prestigious public academy his father respects so much, would be different. No such luck apparently, Marcus thinks dismally as at last he escapes outside into the pale afternoon sun.
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Tattoo-boy snorts. “What’re you playing at?” He pushes himself up, wincing at the pain in his ribs.
“Nothing. I’m just…trying to help.” Frankly, Marcus had expected the kid to be, well, grateful. Not acting like it was Marcus’s fault that he’d gotten his ass kicked. That was his own damn fault.
“Oh really?” Tattoo-boy grabbed his undershirt, pulling it on. “And why’s that?” He moved in, glaring up at Marcus. “You think I’ll suck your cock because you saved me, is that you what you think?”
“What? No,” Marcus had had no such idea. Of course now that the kid has mentioned it, he can’t help imagining it. Shit. That’s the last thing he needs.
“Well, good, cause it’s not happening. I don’t like Americans, and I don’t need your fucking help.” Huffing in disgust, Tattoo-boy scoops up his shirt and blazer, rolling them into a sodden mass.
Marcus watches him walk away. “Nice tattoo.” He mutters lamely. What the hell had that been about?
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Tattoo-boy takes a deep breath and does so, pressing the tips of his fingers to his shoes. Placid takes up his position behind him. “Count aloud.”
The first crack of the cane makes Marcus jump. He can only imagine what it’s like for the boy receiving the punishment.
“One.” The boy’s voice is strained.
Crack. “Two ( ... )
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By the time he goes upstairs, he’s almost forgotten about Tattoo-boy…who turns out to be lying on his back on Marcus’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. He leaps up at Marcus’s entrance and goes to stand at the foot of the bed.
“Oh…right.” Marcus stops. He has no idea what he’s supposed to do with the boy. “Um.” He knows what he’d like to do…But that's a different subject entirely ( ... )
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