Poem: "Monkey Chew Pepper"
Oct. 24th, 2021 11:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem was written outside the regular prompt calls, based on conversations with siliconshaman and librarygeek. It fills the "Should've seen that one coming." square in my 10-1-21 card for the Fall Festival Bingo. It has been sponsored by Anthony & Shirley Barrette. This poem belongs to the Broken Angels thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.
Warning: This poem contains intense and controversial topics. Do not read with mouth full, as it's also funny in places. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes a bad magical hangover, adultification, little!Cas is a tiny tyrant, rude language, frank discussion of bodily functions and other hangover consequences, reference to banishing a hostile entity, reference to recreational substance use, poverty, reference to emergency sex magic, Freesia's free-love orientation, minimization of problems, Freesia's well-meaning but inept parenting, and other challenges. If these are touchy topics for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.
"Monkey Chew Pepper"
[Sunday, March 20, 2005]
Ti-Jean Castille woke
with an anxious little face
hovering over him, and
managed not to hit anyone,
mostly because he couldn't move.
"Hey, mister, are you okay?"
the boy asked, patting him.
Oh right, Freesia had a kid.
A halo of blond hair fluffed
out around the boy's head,
lined with morning sunbeams.
Ti-Jean blinked, trying to bring
the world into focus. Nope.
Everything was still too bright,
like staring into car headlights,
all jarring angles and dizzy blurs.
Whimpering, he closed his eyes.
Banishment hangovers sucked.
Tiny hands patted at him again.
"G'way," Ti-Jean groaned. Wait.
What was the kid's name? Cas,
that was it. "Cas. Go. Away."
"Do you have heart problems?"
Cas asked. "Can I give you
aspirin, or do you need ibuprofin?"
Half of Ti-Jean's brain was
still baffling over a kid asking
him that kind of question, when
the other half latched onto the offer.
"Aspirin, lovely lovely aspirin,"
said Ti-Jean. "Gimme all of it."
Cas frowned. "You can have two."
He trotted away, hopefully to get some.
Ti-Jean was still drifting in a haze
of headache and dizziness when
the little footsteps pattered back.
Cas held out two white pills
and a juice glass of water.
"Take these first, with
little sips," Cas said. "If
you can keep that down,
drink all the water. You
need it after last night."
Ti-Jean knocked back
the pills and the water.
What he needed after
last night, desperately,
was coffee and scotch.
"Hey kid, you got any coffee
around here?" Ti-Jean said.
"Not when you're hungover,"
Cas said. "It'll make you worse."
"Ah, you little possede, I need --"
"If you want coffee, then you
can walk to the coffeehouse,"
Cas said. "It's only three blocks."
No way in hell could Ti-Jean
make it that far in this condition.
Well, not without cheating, and
that seemed like excessive magic
even by his flexible standards.
"Come on, get up," Cas said,
cruelly not waiting for the aspirin
to kick in. "If you're awake, you need
to go pee before you wet the couch."
Of course that made Ti-Jean aware of
his urgent need to find a bathroom.
"It's okay, you can put your feet
down, I already mopped," Cas said.
Mopped? Oh right, the inevitable
result of dealing with evil and
then drowning the memory in
scotch: voluminous vomiting.
Ti-Jean let Cas drag him
to the cramped bathroom --
and he needed the help, dammit,
dreegailles just everywhere.
First things first, Ti-Jean
limped over to the toilet.
That done, he stuck
his head under the faucet
and turned the water on,
then cast a spell to help
wash away bad energy.
He'd been too wiped
to do that last night, and
even now it burned to use
magic, but he needed it.
Brown water swirled
away down the drain.
When the water finally
ran clear, Ti-Jean dried off
and looked in the mirror.
He had dark blotches under
both bloodshot eyes, and
his hair hung in limp rattails.
"Oo ye yi," he muttered, then
staggered out of the bathroom.
Ti-Jean made his way into
the kitchenette, where he
pushed the mismatched chairs
away from the battered table
enough to flop into a seat.
Cas was standing at the counter,
bare feet up on a milk crate.
Ti-Jean couldn't see what
he was doing, only hear
the sounds of puttering.
"Your mom keep any booze
around here?" Ti-Jean asked.
"Not since I started pouring it
down the sink," Cas said, glaring.
"Should've seen that one coming,"
Ti-Jean said. "Bossy little bit."
"Well, somebody has to be,"
Cas said. He hopped down
and went over to the fridge.
He poured a big glass of
something murky yellow and
set it in front of Ti-Jean.
"Drink up," Cas said.
"You need electrolytes."
"Get that away from me,"
Ti-Jean said, flailing a hand.
Cas frowned at him. "This isn't
from a can, that's crud," he said.
"I made it myself. It's lemon-ginger.
It's good. Come on, just try some."
Since Ti-Jean's mouth still tasted
like a possum died in it, he took a sip.
"Ca c’est bon!" he said, startled.
"This stuff actually is good."
"Well, yeah," Cas said,
pouting. "I told you it was.
I'm getting good in the kitchen."
"You made this?" Ti-Jean said,
staring into the glass. Something
flittered around the very fringes of
his senses, but he was so wrecked
that he couldn't begin to pin it down.
"Well, Mom had to grate the ginger,
I still can't do that," Cas said, "but I
put it all together from the recipe."
Ti-Jean took another sip of it.
"Did you put sea salt in this?"
"Just a pinch," Cas said. "It's in
the recipe! It has electrolytes."
"Okay, kid," Ti-Jean admitted.
"Sea salt is better than table salt
for this. You done good, yeah."
Cas ducked his head. "Thanks,"
he said. "So, what would you like
for breakfast? I'm not allowed
to use the stove yet, but I
can make some stuff."
Ti-Jean sighed. "I'm not
sure whether I can keep
anything down yet." He took
another sip from the glass. "This
may help, though. Ginger is --"
"Good for bellyaches, like
hangovers," Cas finished.
"That's why it's in the fridge."
Ti-Jean frowned. "Freesia
drinks a lot?" he said. "She
doesn't seem quite the type."
"Nah, well sometimes, but she
has a lot of friends who do that,"
Cas said. "Or they get stoned.
That happens way more often.
Then I have to hide the food
or there won't be nothin' left."
Ti-Jean waited until the kid
turned his back, then leaned over
to slip a fifty into the crack between
the counter and the fridge, where Cas
was sure to spot the green corner later.
For fucksake, Freesia, kids gotta eat.
Ti-Jean leaned his elbows on the table
and put his face in his hands. Maybe
the world would quit spinning soon.
Something clattered in front of him,
making Ti-Jean jerk upright again.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you,"
Cas said softly. "I made some toast."
"Yeah, maybe," Ti-Jean said. He'd
have to eat something sooner or later.
"You can have honey or jam, not both.
They're real though," Cas said as
Ti-Jean picked up a slice. "There's
butter, or almond butter but that
needs -- I could stir it for you."
Ti-Jean looked down. His hands
were shaking so the toast wobbled.
Sugar, fat, protein. If he could finish
one piece without puking again, those
would be good to put on the next one.
"Here, try some of this," Cas said,
sliding another plate toward him.
Ti-Jean blinked. A banana had
been cut in wafer-thin slices and
arranged in a fan across the plate.
"It's organic," Cas said helpfully.
"Mom insists on organic produce."
More life energy, Ti-Jean realized,
not the dead stuff sold in stores.
He snatched a slice and stuffed it
in his mouth, the soft sweet fruit
almost melting on his tongue.
"Oh hey, look, I found a jar of
ginger marmalade," Cas chirped.
"Well ... part of a jar anyway."
A slice of toast, glistening
with a coat of gold, appeared
in front of Ti-Jean's face.
"Just try a bite," Cas said.
Ti-Jean knew he was de'pouille,
but he drew the line at being
hand-fed toast by a little boy.
He took it in shaky fingers and
nibbled it slowly. Yeah, it was good.
Just then, Freesia sauntered into
the room wearing something long and
billowy, not like the next-to-nothing
that she'd been wearing last night.
Ti-Jean definitely owed her a favor.
He didn't know many people who
could whistle up a dozen friends for
an emergency orgy to raise power,
which really helped save the day.
"Good morning, sparkles,"
Freesia said, leaning over
to kiss him on the cheek.
"Not the April boyfriend, then?"
Cas said, sounding surprised.
"No, it's not like that, Cassie,"
said Freesia. "He's just a friend."
Ti-Jean frowned. "April boyfriend?"
he muttered. "Really, Freesia?"
"Like I said before, I'm a free spirit,"
she said, waving a hand. "I don't
believe in committed relationships."
Ti-Jean really couldn't throw stones
from his glass freaking house.
"Did anything go wrong on
your end?" Freesia said.
"You look a bit run-down."
"Alors pas," said Ti-Jean.
"Everything is fine now."
"I was just worried because
we couldn't find all the things
you asked for, so you had
to improvise," said Freesia.
"Well, you know how it goes,"
Ti-Jean said. "Pushed times
make a monkey chew pepper."
Cas laughed. "That doesn't
make any sense!" he said.
"It means when things get tough,
people do things they wouldn't
usually do," Ti-Jean explained.
"Oh, that," said Cas. "I get it.
Monkey chew pepper, huh."
"I'll put some eggs on,"
said Freesia. "I don't
know about you boys,
but I'm starving here."
Banging half the night
would do that to you.
Ti-Jean chased after
a fuzzy memory of her
hauling him home and then
pouring him onto the couch
after he'd staggered back
to the rumpus room from
banishing the bebette
some idiot summoned.
The old lady watching
the apartment had scolded
both of them -- she must
have thought they were
banging each other too.
Well, they'd gotten the job
done, that was what mattered.
"Yeah, I could eat an egg,"
said Ti-Jean. His stomach
had just about quit trying
to make a break for the hills.
Freesia cracked eggs into
a skillet. "So where are you
headed now?" she asked.
"Oh, I dunno," Ti-Jean said.
"Nowhere in particular, I guess."
"Cassie, my friend Ti-Jean doesn't
have a place to stay right now, so
I'd like to invite him to crash with us
for a while," Freesia said. "Would
that be okay with you, sweetie?"
"As long as he doesn't puke on
the floor every night," said Cas.
"That was a mess to mop up."
"Oh, Ti-Jean, are you all right?"
Freesia said, fussing over him.
"I know you warned us that
a big banishment would be
pretty hard on you, but I didn't
know it would be that hard!"
"Nah worry, cher, I'm fine, me,"
Ti-Jean said, waving her off.
That didn't stop the fussing.
Cas rescued the eggs
before they could burn.
"Put that down, sweetie,
it's hot," Freesia said, urging
him toward the dining table.
Cas set out a trivet, then
put the skillet on top of it.
The eggs were good, if bland;
Freesia had left out the milk
and the cheese that made
scrambled eggs worth eating.
On the bright side, they were
more likely to stay put that way.
Ti-Jean's belly still grumbled
a bit, but didn't try to reject them.
"Thank you both for breakfast,"
Ti-Jean said. "You didn't have
to trouble yourselves on my account."
"Don't be ridiculous," Freesia said.
"People help each other out."
That wasn't Ti-Jean's experience,
but he didn't feel like arguing.
He tried to push himself to
his feet, but couldn't make it.
Fuck, banishing things always
wrung him out like an old rag.
"It's no trouble," Freesia went on.
"Don't harsh all over yourself."
Ti-Jean leaned a little harder
on the wooden table. It would
be nice if that could be true,
though, just for a little while.
"Ça c’est bon," he whispered.
"Okay, I'll stay here for now."
"Maybe you can teach me
more about monkeys and
pepper," Cas said brightly.
Ti-Jean wondered if his Sight
was having a lollygag on him.
He hadn't seen this coming at all.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, setting, and content notes appear elsewhere.
siliconshaman and librarygeek. It fills the "Should've seen that one coming." square in my 10-1-21 card for the Fall Festival Bingo. It has been sponsored by Anthony & Shirley Barrette. This poem belongs to the Broken Angels thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.Warning: This poem contains intense and controversial topics. Do not read with mouth full, as it's also funny in places. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes a bad magical hangover, adultification, little!Cas is a tiny tyrant, rude language, frank discussion of bodily functions and other hangover consequences, reference to banishing a hostile entity, reference to recreational substance use, poverty, reference to emergency sex magic, Freesia's free-love orientation, minimization of problems, Freesia's well-meaning but inept parenting, and other challenges. If these are touchy topics for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.
"Monkey Chew Pepper"
[Sunday, March 20, 2005]
Ti-Jean Castille woke
with an anxious little face
hovering over him, and
managed not to hit anyone,
mostly because he couldn't move.
"Hey, mister, are you okay?"
the boy asked, patting him.
Oh right, Freesia had a kid.
A halo of blond hair fluffed
out around the boy's head,
lined with morning sunbeams.
Ti-Jean blinked, trying to bring
the world into focus. Nope.
Everything was still too bright,
like staring into car headlights,
all jarring angles and dizzy blurs.
Whimpering, he closed his eyes.
Banishment hangovers sucked.
Tiny hands patted at him again.
"G'way," Ti-Jean groaned. Wait.
What was the kid's name? Cas,
that was it. "Cas. Go. Away."
"Do you have heart problems?"
Cas asked. "Can I give you
aspirin, or do you need ibuprofin?"
Half of Ti-Jean's brain was
still baffling over a kid asking
him that kind of question, when
the other half latched onto the offer.
"Aspirin, lovely lovely aspirin,"
said Ti-Jean. "Gimme all of it."
Cas frowned. "You can have two."
He trotted away, hopefully to get some.
Ti-Jean was still drifting in a haze
of headache and dizziness when
the little footsteps pattered back.
Cas held out two white pills
and a juice glass of water.
"Take these first, with
little sips," Cas said. "If
you can keep that down,
drink all the water. You
need it after last night."
Ti-Jean knocked back
the pills and the water.
What he needed after
last night, desperately,
was coffee and scotch.
"Hey kid, you got any coffee
around here?" Ti-Jean said.
"Not when you're hungover,"
Cas said. "It'll make you worse."
"Ah, you little possede, I need --"
"If you want coffee, then you
can walk to the coffeehouse,"
Cas said. "It's only three blocks."
No way in hell could Ti-Jean
make it that far in this condition.
Well, not without cheating, and
that seemed like excessive magic
even by his flexible standards.
"Come on, get up," Cas said,
cruelly not waiting for the aspirin
to kick in. "If you're awake, you need
to go pee before you wet the couch."
Of course that made Ti-Jean aware of
his urgent need to find a bathroom.
"It's okay, you can put your feet
down, I already mopped," Cas said.
Mopped? Oh right, the inevitable
result of dealing with evil and
then drowning the memory in
scotch: voluminous vomiting.
Ti-Jean let Cas drag him
to the cramped bathroom --
and he needed the help, dammit,
dreegailles just everywhere.
First things first, Ti-Jean
limped over to the toilet.
That done, he stuck
his head under the faucet
and turned the water on,
then cast a spell to help
wash away bad energy.
He'd been too wiped
to do that last night, and
even now it burned to use
magic, but he needed it.
Brown water swirled
away down the drain.
When the water finally
ran clear, Ti-Jean dried off
and looked in the mirror.
He had dark blotches under
both bloodshot eyes, and
his hair hung in limp rattails.
"Oo ye yi," he muttered, then
staggered out of the bathroom.
Ti-Jean made his way into
the kitchenette, where he
pushed the mismatched chairs
away from the battered table
enough to flop into a seat.
Cas was standing at the counter,
bare feet up on a milk crate.
Ti-Jean couldn't see what
he was doing, only hear
the sounds of puttering.
"Your mom keep any booze
around here?" Ti-Jean asked.
"Not since I started pouring it
down the sink," Cas said, glaring.
"Should've seen that one coming,"
Ti-Jean said. "Bossy little bit."
"Well, somebody has to be,"
Cas said. He hopped down
and went over to the fridge.
He poured a big glass of
something murky yellow and
set it in front of Ti-Jean.
"Drink up," Cas said.
"You need electrolytes."
"Get that away from me,"
Ti-Jean said, flailing a hand.
Cas frowned at him. "This isn't
from a can, that's crud," he said.
"I made it myself. It's lemon-ginger.
It's good. Come on, just try some."
Since Ti-Jean's mouth still tasted
like a possum died in it, he took a sip.
"Ca c’est bon!" he said, startled.
"This stuff actually is good."
"Well, yeah," Cas said,
pouting. "I told you it was.
I'm getting good in the kitchen."
"You made this?" Ti-Jean said,
staring into the glass. Something
flittered around the very fringes of
his senses, but he was so wrecked
that he couldn't begin to pin it down.
"Well, Mom had to grate the ginger,
I still can't do that," Cas said, "but I
put it all together from the recipe."
Ti-Jean took another sip of it.
"Did you put sea salt in this?"
"Just a pinch," Cas said. "It's in
the recipe! It has electrolytes."
"Okay, kid," Ti-Jean admitted.
"Sea salt is better than table salt
for this. You done good, yeah."
Cas ducked his head. "Thanks,"
he said. "So, what would you like
for breakfast? I'm not allowed
to use the stove yet, but I
can make some stuff."
Ti-Jean sighed. "I'm not
sure whether I can keep
anything down yet." He took
another sip from the glass. "This
may help, though. Ginger is --"
"Good for bellyaches, like
hangovers," Cas finished.
"That's why it's in the fridge."
Ti-Jean frowned. "Freesia
drinks a lot?" he said. "She
doesn't seem quite the type."
"Nah, well sometimes, but she
has a lot of friends who do that,"
Cas said. "Or they get stoned.
That happens way more often.
Then I have to hide the food
or there won't be nothin' left."
Ti-Jean waited until the kid
turned his back, then leaned over
to slip a fifty into the crack between
the counter and the fridge, where Cas
was sure to spot the green corner later.
For fucksake, Freesia, kids gotta eat.
Ti-Jean leaned his elbows on the table
and put his face in his hands. Maybe
the world would quit spinning soon.
Something clattered in front of him,
making Ti-Jean jerk upright again.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you,"
Cas said softly. "I made some toast."
"Yeah, maybe," Ti-Jean said. He'd
have to eat something sooner or later.
"You can have honey or jam, not both.
They're real though," Cas said as
Ti-Jean picked up a slice. "There's
butter, or almond butter but that
needs -- I could stir it for you."
Ti-Jean looked down. His hands
were shaking so the toast wobbled.
Sugar, fat, protein. If he could finish
one piece without puking again, those
would be good to put on the next one.
"Here, try some of this," Cas said,
sliding another plate toward him.
Ti-Jean blinked. A banana had
been cut in wafer-thin slices and
arranged in a fan across the plate.
"It's organic," Cas said helpfully.
"Mom insists on organic produce."
More life energy, Ti-Jean realized,
not the dead stuff sold in stores.
He snatched a slice and stuffed it
in his mouth, the soft sweet fruit
almost melting on his tongue.
"Oh hey, look, I found a jar of
ginger marmalade," Cas chirped.
"Well ... part of a jar anyway."
A slice of toast, glistening
with a coat of gold, appeared
in front of Ti-Jean's face.
"Just try a bite," Cas said.
Ti-Jean knew he was de'pouille,
but he drew the line at being
hand-fed toast by a little boy.
He took it in shaky fingers and
nibbled it slowly. Yeah, it was good.
Just then, Freesia sauntered into
the room wearing something long and
billowy, not like the next-to-nothing
that she'd been wearing last night.
Ti-Jean definitely owed her a favor.
He didn't know many people who
could whistle up a dozen friends for
an emergency orgy to raise power,
which really helped save the day.
"Good morning, sparkles,"
Freesia said, leaning over
to kiss him on the cheek.
"Not the April boyfriend, then?"
Cas said, sounding surprised.
"No, it's not like that, Cassie,"
said Freesia. "He's just a friend."
Ti-Jean frowned. "April boyfriend?"
he muttered. "Really, Freesia?"
"Like I said before, I'm a free spirit,"
she said, waving a hand. "I don't
believe in committed relationships."
Ti-Jean really couldn't throw stones
from his glass freaking house.
"Did anything go wrong on
your end?" Freesia said.
"You look a bit run-down."
"Alors pas," said Ti-Jean.
"Everything is fine now."
"I was just worried because
we couldn't find all the things
you asked for, so you had
to improvise," said Freesia.
"Well, you know how it goes,"
Ti-Jean said. "Pushed times
make a monkey chew pepper."
Cas laughed. "That doesn't
make any sense!" he said.
"It means when things get tough,
people do things they wouldn't
usually do," Ti-Jean explained.
"Oh, that," said Cas. "I get it.
Monkey chew pepper, huh."
"I'll put some eggs on,"
said Freesia. "I don't
know about you boys,
but I'm starving here."
Banging half the night
would do that to you.
Ti-Jean chased after
a fuzzy memory of her
hauling him home and then
pouring him onto the couch
after he'd staggered back
to the rumpus room from
banishing the bebette
some idiot summoned.
The old lady watching
the apartment had scolded
both of them -- she must
have thought they were
banging each other too.
Well, they'd gotten the job
done, that was what mattered.
"Yeah, I could eat an egg,"
said Ti-Jean. His stomach
had just about quit trying
to make a break for the hills.
Freesia cracked eggs into
a skillet. "So where are you
headed now?" she asked.
"Oh, I dunno," Ti-Jean said.
"Nowhere in particular, I guess."
"Cassie, my friend Ti-Jean doesn't
have a place to stay right now, so
I'd like to invite him to crash with us
for a while," Freesia said. "Would
that be okay with you, sweetie?"
"As long as he doesn't puke on
the floor every night," said Cas.
"That was a mess to mop up."
"Oh, Ti-Jean, are you all right?"
Freesia said, fussing over him.
"I know you warned us that
a big banishment would be
pretty hard on you, but I didn't
know it would be that hard!"
"Nah worry, cher, I'm fine, me,"
Ti-Jean said, waving her off.
That didn't stop the fussing.
Cas rescued the eggs
before they could burn.
"Put that down, sweetie,
it's hot," Freesia said, urging
him toward the dining table.
Cas set out a trivet, then
put the skillet on top of it.
The eggs were good, if bland;
Freesia had left out the milk
and the cheese that made
scrambled eggs worth eating.
On the bright side, they were
more likely to stay put that way.
Ti-Jean's belly still grumbled
a bit, but didn't try to reject them.
"Thank you both for breakfast,"
Ti-Jean said. "You didn't have
to trouble yourselves on my account."
"Don't be ridiculous," Freesia said.
"People help each other out."
That wasn't Ti-Jean's experience,
but he didn't feel like arguing.
He tried to push himself to
his feet, but couldn't make it.
Fuck, banishing things always
wrung him out like an old rag.
"It's no trouble," Freesia went on.
"Don't harsh all over yourself."
Ti-Jean leaned a little harder
on the wooden table. It would
be nice if that could be true,
though, just for a little while.
"Ça c’est bon," he whispered.
"Okay, I'll stay here for now."
"Maybe you can teach me
more about monkeys and
pepper," Cas said brightly.
Ti-Jean wondered if his Sight
was having a lollygag on him.
He hadn't seen this coming at all.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, setting, and content notes appear elsewhere.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-25 06:01 am (UTC)Wish I could pull that trick with the water, tho. Hmmmm....
Thoughts
Date: 2021-10-25 06:22 am (UTC)Mais oui.
>> Wish I could pull that trick with the water, tho. Hmmmm.... <<
All he's doing is a souped-up version of a basic cleansing ritual. It looks worse because he's more gunked up and can expel it fast enough to be visible. That doesn't usually happen but there are plenty stories of it even here, mostly around New Orleans, where some heavy shit goes down.
Water is generally cleansing. Running water is better. Intent matters, so pay attention to what you're doing. Salt is another purifying material, and sea salt or black salt work better. Hoohoo bath salts are charged for specific purposes. Another option is herbal bath salt -- lavender is a good choice there. Get in the shower, rub it on, rinse it off, and you should be clean.
Also, after a rough banishing, try to finish the cleansing before you pass out. Leaving crud on you overnight is not good and will make the hangover worse.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-25 04:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-25 04:19 pm (UTC)He's nice, gentle, good at problem solving, protective, respectful of women/kids, willing to share his resources (material and knowledge), is chill with people who fall outside of conventional expectations or norms, has good emotional fluency, and doesn't fell the need to do dominance posturing to prove he's not weak.
It would be interesting to see if that casual mentoring-the-precocious-kid relationship lasted, at all - and how he'd react to teenage Cas.
Thoughts
Date: 2021-10-25 09:34 pm (UTC)Yay! I'm hoping if people like Ti-Jean, I'll get more prompts for him.
>> He's nice, gentle, good at problem solving, protective, respectful of women/kids, <<
*laugh* I wouldn't necessarily call him nice or respectful, but he is protective as hell and good at troubleshooting.
>> willing to share his resources (material and knowledge), is chill with people who fall outside of conventional expectations or norms, <<
Very true.
>> has good emotional fluency, <<
... not so much. He tries, but he's missing some pieces and got others bent out of shape.
>> and doesn't fell the need to do dominance posturing to prove he's not weak. <<
Mostly what he does is try to hide problems, but there are times he gets into power squabbles. That doesn't show as much here because Cas is little, so it's fussing rather than fighting.
>> It would be interesting to see if that casual mentoring-the-precocious-kid relationship lasted, at all <<
Somewhat. Ti-Jean stuck around for at least a little while, and likely passed through occasionally.
>> and how he'd react to teenage Cas. <<
"The Hog Knows the Tree" 10-10-21 (fishbowl spillover)
Story Date: Friday, April 29, 2016
Summary: Ti-Jean meets the Broken Angels.
424 lines, Buy It Now = $212
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2021-10-26 04:39 am (UTC)Basically, I like that he didn't hurt anybody (well, aside from the magical hangover) and was trying to be mindful of other's needs.
Alas, what is this disposable income you speak of?
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2021-10-26 05:23 am (UTC)I try to consider a range of cultures.
* L-American: people would consider him a kook, but his rude behavior wouldn't raise any eyebrows.
* T-American: standards of social skills are higher in most areas. This is one reason he hangs out in bohemia so much: they're mellow and don't care.
* Louisiana (both): tighter family ties than many other areas, so the tension there hurts him a lot more than he lets on.
>> Basically, I like that he didn't hurt anybody (well, aside from the magical hangover) and was trying to be mindful of other's needs. <<
True. Ti-Jean is clumsy and damaged, not nasty.
>> Alas, what is this disposable income you speak of? <<
Options include:
Non-cash support methods
Anything you have read, or just really want to see, you can lobby for during a sale. Sometimes it sways the donors. Also, if I know people like a given character, series, etc. then I'm more likely to write more of it. Of course you can prompt for it too.
You can make any size of donation (preferably about $2 up because PayPal takes a cut) toward open epics. Any time there's a pool going during a fishbowl or half-price sale, you can donate any amount there too. I understand that not everyone has enough for the epics.
Coming in December! The Holiday Poetry Sale typically has items from $2.50 (the original $5 poems) on up. If you get holiday money or people ask you what you want, this is a good opportunity.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2021-10-27 03:40 am (UTC)Off the list...I've done feedback and prompts. I've occasionally referred people in RL to specific series-es.
Most of the online stuff...I don't have much of an online presence, so that's not very viable right now.
Fan art - maybe?
Yay!
Date: 2021-10-25 08:29 pm (UTC)Ti-Jean had the same effect on me. He's a hot mess, and kind of an asshole, but he does his job as best he can and fumbles through trying to interact with people.
Re: Yay!
Date: 2021-10-25 11:16 pm (UTC)Ah, but there are different kinds of being a jerk.
The "My wants are more important than your needs" kind are at best really annoying... and past childhood can be anooying to dangerous.
People with emotional damage... depends on the specific extent of damage, and if or how they're trying to compensate it so as not to hurt anyone.
Someone who lacks social skills and is willing to learn is usually okay...if you know they are lacking skills and are willing to learn.
So here we have an emotionally damaged grump, who is not lashing out aggressively, and who also has strong protector / provider impulses. So if the grumpiness and trauma (and bad luck jinx) aren't flat-out dealbreakers, he does have a ton of good qualities.
Re: Yay!
Date: 2021-10-26 04:30 am (UTC)That's true, and they are important distinctions.
>> The "My wants are more important than your needs" kind are at best really annoying... and past childhood can be anooying to dangerous. <<
Yyyyeah. That's the kind Ti-Jean winds up cleaning up after frequently. 0_o Another is the thoughtless kind who make stupid mistakes with people and other things, like opening the sealed evil in a can -- the "poor impulse control" type.
>> People with emotional damage... depends on the specific extent of damage, and if or how they're trying to compensate it so as not to hurt anyone.<<
That certainly applies to Ti-Jean. His family drama was always a bit of an issue, but got much worse after most of his friends died in a magical incident. Ti-Jean tries to be a decent person, but he has come through so much crap -- and missed important experiences as a result -- that it's hard for him. He's always moving around, so a lack of roots and ties is not helping that. Add in his crisis-to-crisis lifestyle and a frequent need to get things done quickly to prevent worse problems, when people around him rarely understand and sometimes get in the way. Now consider that he often gets banged up while fixing things, and he copes with that by using substances. You can see how this can make him a bit brusque and prickly.
>> Someone who lacks social skills and is willing to learn is usually okay...if you know they are lacking skills and are willing to learn. <<
Yeah. At this age, Cas is too little to make fine distinctions like that. He can, however, distinguish between sheer meanness and social clumsiness. That's enough for going on with.
>> So here we have an emotionally damaged grump, who is not lashing out aggressively, and who also has strong protector / provider impulses. So if the grumpiness and trauma (and bad luck jinx) aren't flat-out dealbreakers, he does have a ton of good qualities. <<
Very well reasoned. Ti-Jean certainly has the heroic trait of throwing himself in front of a bus to protect other people. The damaged part is that he has almost no personal regard or self-preservation. He tends to feel that he deserves bad things happening to him.
Re: Yay!
Date: 2021-10-26 02:11 pm (UTC)Reminds me of a story I read once:
A) The guy was a guest on a military base...
B) ...he decided to open a door that was papered with "Do Not Open" signs in literally every language spoken on base, under the logic that his hosts were stupid...
C) ...and didn't even have time to proceess that he was dying before being actually dead.
They did manage to return the body with some sort of diplomatic message after they'd solved the problem: a killing-cold supernatural entity that had been dealt with the first time by locking it in a salt-powered freezer.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-25 10:20 pm (UTC)Little!Cas: You threw up because you drank too much that night, right? Why would you do that to yourself?
Ti-Jean: Well, I drank too much because I didn't want to remember something that made me feel très mal, but had to be done to help people, c'est vrai? It's toujours really hard, and makes me feel dirty.
Little!Cas: Well, if it makes you feel dirty, why don't you take the shower or soak your head *before* you start drinking? Getting sick from drinking too only makes you more in need of a good shower. If I go jump in mud puddles, I leave my boots at the door and wash up when I get home!
And Cas's wings are very obvious in Ti-Jean's Sight while saying that. 😂😇 Then Ti-Jean hasn't said anything to Cas about the wyrd going on, but did try to explain appropriately to the kid, who has been very helpful. 🤣😁✋