Bang the Doldrums (Jaylos fic)
Summary:Â Carlos is getting tired of how monotone his life is, he wants to have all the things he had read about: TV shows, internet and video games; so he tries to build a machine that could allow him to catch frequency signals from Auradon. Some of the things he needs start appearing mysteriously on an alley, because Jay is such a curious thief, and he wonât stop until he knows what the boy with the freckles is up to.Â
(N/A: Hiii, so this is an idea I had going around, but since i donât have an AO3 account iâm sharing it here. Iâve kind of overwritten The Isle of The Lost, although I keep the important things, so it also changes some aspects of the movie on the timing of this story, but later. I donât think it extends to more than fifteen chapters, problably ten, since i donât like long stories. English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. I might go back and edit little things at some point when the story had developed because iâve never ever published something without having it finished first and it makes me feel a little insecure.)
Honesty i would really like to know if you have any suggestions,doubts or opinions OR EVEN HATE my ask is completly open. The title is from a Fall Out Boy song and if you donât know it you should RUN AND LISTEN TO IT because it fits Jaylos so well that it hurts. Anddddd i love you all if youâre reading this)
Carlos had learned the rules of the Island through the years, and had grown shaped to them. There wasnât another choice. After watching how each person managed to live under the dome in a different way, prioritizing their own evil interest, he had figured out a way to make life worked for him: hiding.
Carlos had developed the art of being invisible: move quietly and be alert, be sneaky, melt in the shadows, resist the cold nights, read in the dark, wake up before a nightmare make you scream; and the most important: keep out of Cruellaâs way. Still, he had to do everything she ordered.
Carlos was a ghost in his own home. Or at least he tried.
However, there were times when Cruella was in good mood after going to the Spa- a bit of warmish steam escaping from the crags of rock near the villageâs limits that reminded her about the past- , and would sit at the big table in Hell Hall main room, with a cup of old tea that tasted like dirt for both of them. She talked about how back on twenty years, she had lived surrounded by jewels and fashion events, she had been respected or even better, feared. Carlos enjoyed that monologues at first, because she was strangely peaceful, and her voice almost sounded soft, like she was not there. But he had also learned with time that when she came back to reality after being drained by the past, and found herself in her shabby and run down present, she was furious. And each time it was worse. She would stand up and start screaming, throwing things at the air. Then, after some minutes she would start cursing at Carlos, blaming him for her misery and her ruin. And this was the part Carlos was afraid the most, because he couldnât barely see it coming. He would start shaking, terrified, not understanding some of the things his mother was rambling about. He feared for his life when she approached him and took him by the face with a bony hand, and her long, sharp nails pressed in his cheeks, while her eyes were looking directly at him, full of madness. And Carlos felt pure fear running through his veins.
Although, the last times Carlos found himself waiting for it to happen, because it meant it was the end of her psychotic rage and he could run to the dressing room, to sit in the bare mattress and hold his knees to his chest until his body and his mind were numb.
That was exactly what he was doing at the moment.
There has to be more, Carlos thought. More than his hysterical mother, more than screams, more than the same books and the same shows on the old televisions.
He stretched his legs with a sigh and decided to go spend the rest of the afternoon at the tree house, a small construction he had built some years ago to keep all the important things from Cruella: stolen chemicals, torn science-fiction and chemistry books, technology magazines, old manuals and colorful leaflets. All of them were of course, Auradon leftovers, but they were Carlos treasure.
The magazines and books he now had memorized talked about radio signals, frequencies, Wi-Fi, Internet and a lot of things that amazed Carlos. He tried to get all the information that he could but was hungry for more. He wondered, could it be possible? To have a virtual world? Talk with other people? Play video games? Or even watch another shows on the television? They had all those things in Auradon? He couldnât imagine how it could be to live there and didnât want to, neither. But could he bring them to the island? Carlos knew the barrier was unbreakable, and that was the only explicit rule. No one comes in, no one goes out. But maybe not someone, just a few waves of something. He wasnât even asking for it to be magic. Honestly, Carlos just was beyond bored.
He might be a ghost, but he was a smart one, with big ideas. And once this specific one had crossed his mind some weeks ago, he couldnât stop thinking about it when he felt hopeless. Which was most of the time.
He had made some basic sketches and lists of materials he could use. He had managed to shoplift some other books about radio signals and manuals that explained how a television worked. Wires, needles, old wands, remote controls, everything he could stole, find or trade was in the tree house, waiting for him to finish the design. But when Carlos took the pile of drafts hidden under a wood box, he discovered he had almost run out of paper. He huffed and tried to fix the old drawings, but they werenât appropriated -according to the newest manual he found on the Dump- and just drawing over them wouldnât help.
Carlos sighed as he searched for some paint, heâll have to re-make everything and put it all together as one specific design, and heâd need a big canvas. One of the tree houseâs walls was the easiest option, he thought. It wasnât a completely flat surface because it was made of wood and veneer, but it had to work.
But it didnât work. To ruin Carlosâ mood even more, it was too small to fit the entire new drawing with the details he was adding. He stared at the corner of the messy construction pretty frustrated, brush in hand, like he was expecting it to get bigger magically.
Well fuck. He took the paint cans, brushes and papers, thinking on that large brick wall in an alley, and got off from the tree house. If I canât do it there then Iâm not doing this shit anyways it wouldnât work and I donât know how to get the things I need damn why is everything so difficult Iâm tired Iâm fucking tired. Carlos was frowning even when he reached the alley, and keep frowning when painting the structure of the machine on the wall; and when he finished it, he sat on the ground in order to examine it, with his arms crossed on his chest. The sun was still up somewhere above him, although on the Isle, they couldnât look directly at it because the dome was always kind of blurry, and they just could see the colors of the sky and the light âor the lack of it at night.
But the design was still fresh and pretty clear. Perfect, Carlos thought, proud of it. He also had scribbled vague sketches of the things he hadnât found yet, next to the drawing, so heâll knew what to search for first.
A little more cheered up, he decided to go back home. Heâll start officially the next day, now the sun it was setting off, and nights werenât nice on the land of villains.
Nights arenât nice on the land of villains, was what Jay thought too, when he saw the sky turning orange above his head, and decided it was time to go back to the Shop. He wasnât afraid of the dark. He knew every curve and edge on the town like the palm of his own hand and sometimes, he could even work out his best when everyone else was sleeping. But of course, some other villains also thought nights were the perfect time to carry out their wicked plans; so still, being around at midnight wasnât a very smart thing to do.
Jay landed gracefully on the alley next to Jafarâs Junk Shop, with his pockets full of the stolen stuff he had collected during the day. He immediately noticed a strange graffiti on the wall, and his first thought was that it was awful. That was art? It had to be some abstract shit inspired on Auradon. But Jay was too curious, so he took another look before heading straight to his house. It was a complicated figure made with white paint and it looked like a weird kind of device. There were some little drawings around it too. He recognized a calculator. It came across his mind that one he found on the Dumpster early on the morning. I donât know why I took it, itâs probably just a piece of trash, who would pay for it? The Shop was full of useless stuff and Jay was pretty tired of it deep on the inside, so he dropped the calculator on the ground. Oops, not my piece of trash anymore.
When he opened the door, Jafar greeted him with the usual âWhat did you score today?â in a happy and avaricious voice. Jay started to empty all his pockets and sleeves, but when he finished Jafar was still staring at him like was expecting his son to make the Genius appear out of nowhere.
âThatâs allâ Jay stated, and his fatherâs shoulders fell. The disappointment implicit on that gesture was something Jay would never get used to, even though he saw it every single day.
âIago ate the last egg.â Jafar said, without giving him a single look, but Jay got it. Youâre not having dinner tonight.
He went to sleep trying to think that it didnât matter. Tomorrow heâd come home with something better. Heâd have to.
