[personal profile] freakishlytallaustralian
Title: a thousand lost days
Characters: JewWario/Liz, a few other cameos
Rating: Again I rail against non-international rating systems. In the Land Down Under, this is probably a M15+.
Summary: Ten drabbles about JewWario in the Hooker!verse
Disclaimer: The people in this story are not mine, the 'verse belongs to [livejournal.com profile] emeriin  and this is pure fiction.
Author's notes: Ten random prompts from a generator. I swear they were, even though a couple were particularly fortuitous. All are exactly 100 words long.

a Western setting.

Midnight and he’s already dead on his feet. The club is noisy and hot and filled with an undercurrent he’s not been able to place since he started his shift. The triumphant look that Donna (was that it?) shot Ellis when he announced the newest member of staff. The blue haired girl (why wasn’t he better with names?) watching a twitchy guy with a fedora check his pockets. The DJ not seeming to be able to decide who to glare at – the Frenchman with his tongue down Donna’s throat or Chick.

Coming back was never meant to be like this...

a dark alley

JewWario is putting trash in the dumpster at the end of the night when he sees a plume of smoke rise up from a little further down the alley. He throws the last couple of bags in and turns to greet his new employer when a figure runs out of the club and into Ellis’ arms. From his vantage point he can’t understand the conversation, but he can see the strength that they are drawing from the embrace. Clinging to each other as their last hope for escape.

Melting back into the shadows he removes himself from their stolen moment.


He’d woken up in a room he hadn’t recognised, a tall man with a baseball bat over one shoulder leering at him.

“Thought ya were better’n us did’ya? Thought ya could come in and do what ya did and there wouldn’t be consequences? Thought ya could break the rules?” each sentence punctuated with a blow from the baseball bat, becoming slick with his blood.

“Rules are rules buddy, but I’m gonna give ya a break, take it easy on ya today” Thump. “I’m gonna give ya two choices.”

The next day he was on a flight back to the States.


The moment he finally felt a part of the club was the night they’d spotted a well-known moral guardian in the club enjoying Benzaie’s company. “Didn’t even try to cover her face or wear a hat or anything!” Donna was telling him as she swept the floor while he put the last of the glasses away. JewWario replied in his best impression, “Won’t somebody think of the children?” Laughter filled the club, his impersonation just about perfect. Ellis may have even tilted a lip upwards.

And he realised that his laughter was just as broken as everyone that surrounded him.

fingers sliding under clothing

He’s not entirely sure how he ended up with against the wall with Liz’s tongue down his throat but he’s certainly not complaining. He won’t deny that he’s been watching her around the club since the night he started. She’s sucking on his neck and he’s running his hands through her hair and she’s raking her nails down his back and he’s undoing her corset and all rational thought is flying out the window.

She stops long enough to pull him into the nearby storage room and the movement is all it takes for him to get the upper hand.

a gift you couldn't give

Waking up the day after his encounter with Liz leaves a rotten taste in his mouth. This isn’t the first club he’s worked in. He knows what the rules are. You don’t touch the talent. You don’t fuck the talent. You don’t fall in love with the talent.

The first gets you hatred or ridicule from all the other workers. The second leads to awkwardness that can cost you your job. The third...

He’s in the shower for twenty minutes longer that morning trying to wash all of it away.

This isn’t the first time he’s broken the third rule.

come like an evening shadow

He’s got her pressed up against the wall when he sees it. A little tattoo, one that‘s easy to miss under all the gaudy leather and bindings. A little tattoo that reminds him of Japan, of a thousand lost days. But then he’s brought back to the present, back to this woman who wants him here and now and he lifts her legs up around his waist and enters her roughly, each thrust a barrier between his past and this wonderful present.

The sound that escapes his lips as he cums is inhuman and for that moment, so is he.

something beautiful.

He’s discovered a fairly deserted little park near his apartment that affords him a fantastic view of the ‘L’ train. He doesn’t take notes, just sits and watches as they pass by.

There’s a fantastic rhythm to the trains as they move around the city. A lifeline, the city’s pulse. The carriages filled with ordinary people doing ordinary things. He hasn’t caught a train yet though. Still doesn’t believe that he could pretend to fit in with society yet. Still isn’t sure that he wants to. Still can’t get the last train ride to the airport out of his head.


JewWario hadn’t realised that Liz had a kid until he saw them together at the supermarket. Hell, he hadn’t even recognised Liz until she
flicked her hair back out of her face to grab the milk out of the fridge. The exact same way he’d watched her doing it at the club for the past few weeks.

“Aidan, sweetie, can you carry this for mommy? And when we get to the checkout we can pick you out a new toy for your collection.”

He watches them until they leave the store, with Aidan clutching a plastic Triceratops to his chest.

your infinitude of stars

Glittering, sparkling, shining, the girls and guys at the club come alive to patrons for the night when they need them and disappear into nothing when they are feeling ashamed. Daylight comes, and they limp away to lick their wounds and escape into dreams. JewWario feels himself become more a persona, an act for the night with gratuitous Japanese and bowing. He’s having trouble sleeping. He’s got a nasty cough that will not go away. These kids, half his age some of them, they shine so brightly. JewWario squinted up at the sun. Midday, and he was still dead on his feet.
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