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oven3bird · 4 months ago

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Warnings: Cults of course, cult behavior, violence, abuse, death, heavy manipulation and other themes often related to Cults.

One of my biggest interests is cult behavior, so here's a list of the changes I did to the OG Children of Dionysus to make them more mine. (This is all fictional, and I have no experience in being part of a Cult whatsoever.)

There are mentions of this stuff in the fic, but I wanted to do a deep-dive into it before I posted the second (and final) chapter for it.

First: in this AU, the Children of Dionysus regrouped after the events of the Pride special, without the leaders. So, as a base, the new C.D works differently than most textbook cults. They don't have a leader assigned, so they're basically like a beehive without a queen.

There is a specific group that oversees the group activities, but otherwise, all decisions are voted for.

If you're familiar with cult behavior, you will know that often there's specific language used in the group to separate the members from the outside, we vs them situation.

In this case, the Children of Dionysus refer to each other as brother/sister/sibling. Since they believe to be under the same family, they aren't allowed to refer to the cult as anything else than family.

People outside the cult are referred to as “Offsprings of Hestia”. You might ask why Hestia? Because Hestia gave up her place for Dionysus, that, in the eyes of the OG leaders, the oldest children, was a weakness, and as the rest of the world is something below them, they're associated with her.

(No, there's no actual myth referring to this. Some places just had Dionysus instead of Hestia as an Olympian, but, just as real life cults, most beliefs are sustained under false pretences.)

About recruitment:

The members of the cult often help around their communities, calling these outings “The Canvasses”, they go out in smaller groups of 3-4 to do different activities.

Those range from painting murals to cleaning the city, gardening, helping around the places they live in.

The Canvasses are used to lure people in, to take people into their public meetings and slowly convince them about their beliefs.

Those activities are referred to as The Canvasses because the family tries to recruit empty people, who might need to live under their father's protection, people who might need to find a home.

As the cult started, the leaders would take anyone in. As long as you were at the meetings, they were part of the family.

This changes after the leaders are arrested, and the group separates for a while. They become wary and as the group gets back together, they decide to not let people in just like that.

The Children of Dionysus become an exclusive group, so even if you are in their public meetings, you still need to be invited to the family. People can bring a person up to vote and, as long as everyone agrees, the person can temporarily join them.

Inside the cult: Customs, attire, ranks, prayers and more.

So, you have made it into the group, and, as a temporally foster child of Dionysus: you have a few things to learn.

First, to reach your first milestone under the group, you need to participate in group activities that are overseen by the Central Council for the Children, the Interconnection.

The Interconnection, as the children who have reached all that it is to be reached, take it upon themselves to care for the rest now that the oldest siblings abandoned the group. (They went to prison.)

One of your first activities, in order to be allowed to participate in The Veiling, is to join the group sharing sessions, where you alongside other members will share traumas, struggles and more.

At first, you will be comforted, as you're just leaving those worries behind, yet to understand the beauty of physical pain.

You will be tasked to help with The Canvasses, attend the public meetings accompanied by one of your siblings who have already reached The Repeal.

You will only be allowed to participate in The Veiling when you leave your worries behind, when you no longer think about the offsprings problems as your own, when you are ready to only think about the family.

The veiling: The official integration to the family, you were saved from the outside world, full of weak and shameful offsprings, you are now a Children of Dionysus.

You, as a rightful family member, are now allowed to wear a white, clean, lace veil, that will reach just below your eyes.

This veil will protect you against the outsider's eyes.

Alongside your veil, you will also gain access to Connection, you're yet to be allowed to participate, as you are young and still adjusting, but you will see your siblings Connect.

During the Connection, the siblings who want to participate will fight against each other, normally the activity will stop when one of them bleeds. In special occasions it will go on for longer, but you're not allowed to watch.

The group sharing is still open, but you no longer need to worry about problems from outside the family. It would be shameful, for a Children of Dionysus, to need any other kind of pain other than physical.

Now, during the time of the sharing, you will learn about the Family, the prayers and phrases used around The Home.

After two months with the Family, you're now allowed to enter the Connection as a participant.

If you're strong enough to win, you have reached your second milestone.

The Masking: Congrats! You won against one of your siblings, don't you feel closer to them?

Now that you have won, you will be allowed to conceal yourself even more, your siblings will give you needles and thread, you will choose the lace you prefer.

There's now a new activity open, where you and others will gather to modify veils.

As you are now masked from the offsprings, you must sew into your veil your new lace, it will reach under your lips.

It's prohibited to wash it, it's meant to reflect your connection with The Father, as bloodied as your sibling's hands.

As bloodied as your own, since now Connections replace your old group sharing, you're not obligated to participate. But wouldn't that keep you away from your siblings?

Have you decided what you want to do next?

Are you satisfied with the Connections that you have?

What about moving into the home?

That could be your next step, moving into the home of Your Father, to Connect more with your siblings.

What would they think of you otherwise? When everyone is gathered around the table, the one in the Father's house, while you, a sibling who is not under his roof, are alone in a world full of Hestia's offsprings?

Have you decided yet?

The Repeal: Moving into Dionysus Home.

First, to be able to join, all siblings need to get rid of everything that is not fitting of the home, reminders of the world outside his protection are useless, cause unnecessary pain.

Nobody needs those objects, everything that it's needed exists in the Family.

As someone who has just reached The Repeal, you'll choose your new lace and add it just like the last one, reaching below your shoulders. Weren't you tired of carrying burdens outside of Father's reach?

Soon, as someone now living under Dionysus, public meetings and Canvasses will stop being mandatory, why would you need them? But Connecting is a daily task, isn't your veil the prettiest? Now that it's covered in the shared blood of the Children of Dionysus.

“Scars shall be sacred as they testify our unity.”

Don't clean that cut, open your stitches back, enjoy the pain, there is nothing outside of it.

Your mind is no longer needed, keep fighting, share with your siblings.

Isn't your veil a little short?

Disconnect: “Devotion exists within our sacrifices.”

Members of the Family will only be allowed to interact with each other, you are no exception.

Public meeting are prohibited, exiting the Home must be approved by the Interconnected first.

Group-sharing is allowed again between the siblings who had reached the Disconnect and Dedication.

The Connection will last longer, why would you stop spending time with your siblings for a bit of blood? Keep going until one of you passes out, Dionysus would be proud.

This time, just like the siblings before you did and the ones after you will do, your thread must be dipped into blood before you add more lace to your veil.

Using your own blood will ensure your Connection to The Father, no one will take away that from you, not even the offsprings.

Isn't the lace moving around your fingers calming? Now that your actions are hidden from unworthy people.

Who are they to dictate what's right? They don't live with you, they don't Connect with you, nobody will care outside your Family.

Your siblings and The Father are all that matters.

“Praise be our joint path.”

Dedication: Start anew.

Create a new identity away from the tainted one.

Cut every last connection that hasn't been touched by The Father.

“Devotion exists within our sacrifices.”

Make him happy.

Choose a fitting name. Be reborn.

“Scars shall be sacred as they testify our unity.”

As a new person, you will be gifted a new mark.

The burning sensation will pass soon, your siblings will be happy that you now share the scar, the mark of Dionysus.

It doesn't matter if it hurt, pain is the path.

Add more lace to your veil, the mark on your leg is only meant to be seen by members of the Family.

Keep Connecting with your siblings.

Dehumanization: Join The Father, be superior.

You have proven yourself worth it, join the Interconnection now, you're ready, your body bears the scars of your devotion, your mind free of any struggle.

You are ready to no longer be a human.

As something not human, the lace will cover you, only Dionysus himself can see you.

You have spent four long years proving yourself, you're ready.

“We thank our pain for our union.

Embracing wounds as our sacred bond.”

You will speak, opening ceremonies.

“As we face Hestia's children, our suffering echoes proudly.”

Will yell back your Family, matching wounds, scars, marks.

The ceremony is over.

More details:

Since this cult is based around pain, sharing that pain and being proud of being hurt, it's obvious that many members go too far and end up dying.

To be clear, after the OG leaders leave, the new group in charge of everyone else doesn't kill members*, they don't SA members or cause permanent damage to them outside the branding during Dedication.

The Interconnected are just member as well, they just organize the group, and everyone (as long as they have been part of the group for four years) can join.

But, with the amount of injuries and fights going on, some members will start self-harming, as it's seem as just another form of Connection, the Interconnected try to regulate the rest, but as they also share the same cult mentality they fail at doing so.

Speaking of Connection, the Mass Connection referred in the fanfic it's just like it sound, a huge group of people fight at the same time, it's only made in special occasions (Like the day the group was founded, when they find a new place, when they reach certain number of members, etc.)

What Bernard refers to in “20 people passing”, it's a reward given to the last twenty standing, who will be excused of the requirements for the next “rank”, they automatically pass.

For Bernard, that would mean joining the Dedication ranks, without having the mandatory months without outside world interactions beforehand.

Death and mourning:

Just as seen in the fic, the death of one of the members is important and mourning has specific rituals.

First, they need to clean their veils as much as possible, since the only one covered in blood the day of the burial will be the dead body.

The body is handled only my family members of the same gender, it's washed, any open wounds are cleaned and stitched.

Every dead body will have a piece of clothing in white during the ceremony, embroidered by those closest to the deceased, who first dip the threats into their own blood.

The clothes will have a design unique to them, meant to reflect who that person was in live.

The veil of the deceased will be covered in their blood and buried with them in a glass casket.

They will be buried in any patch of land the group can acquire, they're reported missing by the newest member, who is acting like a decoy while the ceremony is happening.

Reach of the cult:

During the DC Pride special, the cult it's Gotham based and not that big.

In this version, there's the main branch in Gotham, then smaller ones around the country. When the Gotham branch is found, the people who were living at that home go to other branches and wait to see what to do.

That's when the Interconnection is formed, by all the members who did their Dehumanization, who all decide to relocate the majority of the members into three houses, each one in a different state, merging all the small branches into three.

When Tessa dies in the fic, it's the 10th death that year, so the Interconnection decides that they need to move again, this time to a bigger house with all the members.

And that's all!

I will probably rewrite the first part of this fic, since I no longer love it, but I'm still happy with the building of the Cult.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask, I love talking about it.

#dc comics #children of dionysus #bernard dowd #timbern #dc pride #dc universe #worldbuilding #my writing #writing #timberkon #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #my fic stuff #cults #cw cults #cult behavior #fake cult #timkon

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taxreturnslut · 10 months ago

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Just posting this so I have an idea of where all the pieces are at the end of Egghead:

(for real, don't read this if you haven't caught up with chapter 1123)

1 - the strawhat pirates, *Lilith, Bonney, Kuma and the giant pirates are now heading to elbaf.

2 - Trafalgar Law & Bepo are at some unknown location, heavily beaten, the rest of the crew remains at large. Their pirate ship has been sunk.

3 - Eustass Kidd & his crew's current status is unknown, but they were last spotted near Elbaf. (I am assuming they are still alive because this is one piece.) ((Potential reunion with the strawhats incoming?))

4 - the Marines, Kizaru and St. Saturn are at Egghead. (This arc definitely seemed to be sowing seeds of doubt into Kizaru's resolve in the Marines.) They could possibly head to Elbaf, like the fleet is still at Egghead and they know the giant pirates are with Luffy so it would make sense to continue pursuit. But they also may stick behind to clean up Egghead. It is also worth noting that they thought they destroyed the civilian ship that was leaving. I am not sure if this will be brought back up, but afaik they don't think there are any civilian survivors from egghead.

4.5 - SWORD, recovered Koby and left Garp behind. Currently discussing their next steps while Koby resolves to stop Luffy.

5 - Vegapunks. All dead except for Lilith and York. York does not know Lilith is still alive.

6 - The Revolutionary Army is still at Kambakka Island. Sabo has informed Dragon & Iva about the existence of Imu. And VP's broadcast confirmed Sabo's story about Lulusia so they have no reason to doubt him.

7 - the world knows about an ancient weapon, the rising sea levels, the disappearance of Lulusia, & that the void century exists.

8 - Perona was last seen on Hachinosu trying to free Moria but we don't know the results of that.

9 - the Cross Guild is hyping themselves up to find the one piece thanks to Buggy strengthening his resolve.

10 - Shanks, annihilated Kidd and then presumably bounced from Elbaf, whereabouts unknown.

11 - Blackbeard is about to learn a lot of thanks to Caribou. It's unclear if he has returned to Hachinosu and seen the aftermath of the raid. *Blackbeard is confirmed not at Beehive as of 1121, doubtful he's made it there within the last two chapters.

12 - Smoker was last seen leaving the SWORD HQ presumably after talking with X Drake, current destination is unknown. *I take this back up on further review it seems like Smokey is heading towards the hospital/SWORD

13 - it is worth noting that the gorosei (minus Saturn) have returned to Mary Geoise. We also keep getting small frames of the dude with moon shaped hair who's name I'm forgetting. So something will presumably happen with them + him and his other holy knights.

There are so many moving parts and I still feel like I'm forgetting something. If anyone knows something I messed up or knows a person or group I missed pls let me know.

14 - we got a new silhouette a chapter or two ago. Man marked by flames?

15 - CP0. We know Lucci, Kaku & Stussy are still on Egghead. It's unclear but it seems like their loyalty to the WG is starting to waver.

16 - Vivi & Wapol are aboard Big News Morgan's airship. Vivi is wanted by Imu & we learned she is a bearer of the will of D & Wapol witnessed King Cobras assassination as well as the forms of the gorosei. We do not know what part of the world they are flying over.

17 - The Straw hat grand fleet is currently out and about in the world. I mention them because at the end of Dressrosa we were told they are the cause of some historic event, so we shouldn't forget about them.

18 - the og Stussy is on Sphinx island with Marco. We saw Weevil captured by greenbull and it seems like Marco is being pressure to save him.

* Thank you @brookstolemybrand for the help! I really appreciate it!!

** Please read through the comments. I did not remember this all on my own and had a lot of help. I appreciate everyone who mentioned something.

#one piece #one piece spoilers #op #op spoilers #one piece 1123 #alice.txt #alice.op

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lavenderleahy · 9 months ago

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A Buzzy Shift - Chapter 3

NOW COMPLETE

Rating: T

Chapters: 3 of 3

Summary: The captain's hubris leads to multiple members of the team being stung. Who will escape unscathed?

Excerpt:

Quickly, they make their way past the chickens squawking in their little yard and toward the beehive boxes. They’re an array of colors, from white to blue to pink to green. Fleetingly, Buck thinks it would be nice to raise bees and harvest his own honey. He wonders if Tommy’s neighborhood would allow a hive in the backyard. Suddenly, he notices that the woman’s waves become frantic. She’s no longer beckoning to them, but instead waving her arms across each other in the air, as if telling them to stop. Then she begins pointing to the left in an exaggerated motion. Buck thinks she might be shouting something, but he can’t hear her with the distance between them. Regardless, he understands the message. Gerrard doesn’t seem to, though. He’s walking with purpose directly in the path of the hives.

Read on ao3

#bucktommy #911 abc #911 on abc #911 fic #911 fanfic #tevan #kinley #the ally and the beast #thirteen year old me would be proud #dailykinley

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pikahlua · 1 year ago

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I wish to know your thoughts, like a bear to a beehive.

A sampler then:

1. Finally, finally we get back to the thing I always loved about Izuku and dearly missed for years. Pure intentions? Belief in others? Self-sacrifice? A heart that yearns to save?

NO. NONE OF THAT. That shit's a dime a dozen!

I so, so, so missed Izuku's penchant for showing people up.

Sure, he's a savior or whatever. But he's a savior that subverts. He's a savior that spits in the face of all the previously-accepted rules of saving that came before him. Fuck you and your tropes and your cold logic and your shounen feelgoods. Izuku is here to represent a consistent heroic moral philosophy that stomps all over your pragmatism (read as: weakness). AND I SAY THIS AS A PRAGMATIST.

Izuku will show all those would-be saviors what saving really means.

I haven't felt this way since the sports festival lol.

2. Timing-wise, you could be curious about my "why was Katsuki the only one who had his memory wiped after Heroes Rising?" post. Let's just think about the fact that this happened for a second. Why was All Might allowed to know what happened? Why was Izuku allowed to remember transferring OFA to Katsuki? Why was Katsuki allowed to remember everything else INCLUDING working together with Izuku to great effect?

The answer may lie in the fact that Katsuki was also not allowed to do one other thing: speak with All Might and Izuku in the immediate aftermath.

Which means.

His reaction is likely a manga spoiler.

But was the spoiler his reaction to having OFA? Or...was it perhaps his reaction to Izuku no longer having OFA?

And I'll leave it there for now.

3. No one ask me about predictions at this point I only have like 50 of them due to this chapter alone.

#ask pika #signed ask #herewardam #my hero academia manga spoilers #final arc spoilers #meta #my hero academia heroes rising spoilers

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amysnotdeadyet · 2 years ago

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When a sexy boy and a nonbinary hottie build a beehive together... Only in a solarpunk, magic, post-post-apocalyptic universe and alternate future London. This is a very chill book, there is a lot of tea, shopping, food, and a slow-build romance that takes its time while Jade figures themselves out enough to share. Some sex, but not a lot, and, of course, a cat.

I'm almost done writing the sequel, and it's the first thing I'm finishing for my "finish ALL the things" NaNoWriMo this year!

The astute fan will notice this was Inception fanfic for 0.7 seconds (or about 3 chapters) before I decided to shift some things around. Only 2 characters from the film are in there really, Arthur & his apprentice, Ariadne, and even they diverge from their canon characters pretty fast. Still, you can imagine JGL and Ari from the show, if it pleases you to do so. I also recommend young Tom Hardy for Jade, but that's entirely up to your discretion.

Anyway, read my books! Support living artists and writers!

#my fic #original fiction #solarpunk #to hive and to hold #tea

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matttgirlies · 1 year ago

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Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of dead people,, arguing

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 14

I’d now been living with Matt about two years and traveling with him regularly. My parents, having returned from Germany, were now staying temporarily with my Uncle Ray in Connecticut, on their way to Travis Air force Base near Sacramento. I was anxious to see them, yet I hated leaving Graceland. Outside those gates, the cord was cut. I was afraid that the one moment I was away from his world would be the one moment when another could slip in.

Yet I needed to see my parents. I did miss them. I was well aware that my appearance—in a tight, form-fitting dress, spiked high heels, heavy makeup, and with my hair dyed jet black and piled high on top of my head in a beehive hairdo—would elicit, as usual, a less than delighted response from them, but I was determined not to change a single part of the total look that Matt had painstakingly created. I flew to Connecticut and my expectations were correct. My parents were again so shocked when they saw me that they could barely speak. Later, my father told me that under all that makeup, my eyes looked like “two holes in the snow.”

The rest of the weekend brought no improvement. I wasn’t being honest about my relationship and style of life. Anticipating uncomfortable questions about my future, I spent most of the time in my room. However, the questions came.

“What’s it like, living at Graceland?”

“Is it true that Matt never goes anywhere?”

I felt their probing was an invasion of my privacy, my personal life, and I gave them guarded answers.

My parents didn’t appreciate my attitude or my defensiveness. They were just showing a natural interest in me, and a concern for my well-being, when they asked how I’d done in school, what kinds of grades I’d gotten, and if I’d brought my report card. They also wanted to know if I was planning to attend college. Even though my only plan was to go wherever Matt was going, I said that I intended to enroll. I tried to tell them what they wanted to hear, and to say as little as possible, convinced that if I said one thing wrong, they’d order me home.

After that weekend, I tried to avoid my parents. But they knew I joined Matt in Los Angeles while he was filming, and they wanted me to spend weekends with them in Sacramento. This created a problem. I couldn’t think of sharing my time with anyone but Matt, especially weekends when he wasn’t working. Still, I’d make occasional trips to Sacramento, because if I didn’t visit my parents, they’d visit us. I knew Matt was very touchy, and I was never sure what might set him off.

I was particularly nervous when my parents decided to bring my sister and brothers down to Disneyland for the weekend—and to stop and see us in Bel Air. I persuaded them that Bel Air was much too far out of their way and it’d be easier for me to meet them at Disneyland. I spent the weekend with them there, but on Sunday my parents insisted on bringing me home. Of course I had to invite them all to dinner.

They dropped me off and drove on to a nearby hotel to check in and get changed. I ran into the house in a panic because I knew I’d have to show them around. I certainly couldn’t tell my parents that I slept with Matt, and I decided to try to fool them into believing that I had my own room.

I asked Charlie Hodge, one of the employees, if I could borrow his room. I rushed up and down the hall, taking things from Matt’s room and putting them in Charlie’s. I placed my little perfume bottles around the tables, hung some of my clothes in the closet, which I strategically left partly open, and finally put all of the stuffed dogs and teddy bears that I loved to collect on the bed.

That evening when we had dinner, Matt was charming and wonderful, but I was too petrified to eat. I was always anxious whenever Matt and my father got together, since I never knew what Dad was going to ask him. Matt used to get very annoyed because so many people were curious about the “regulars,” always asking what this one did, or that one did, and why Matt needed to have so many of them around him. When I would try and tell Dad to be less curious, that only made him more curious.

“Why can’t I ask questions?” he’d demand. “What’s there to hide?”

After dinner, I gave my family a tour of the house. I tried to show them “my” room as casually as I had the others. “See how it overlooks the patio,” I said calmly. “Come on, I’ll show you Matt’s room.”

I opened the door to his room, praying that no one would want to see any of his huge walk-in closets because if they opened a closet door, all of my things would be revealed. One of my shoes, I noticed in horror, had been left next to the bed. I managed to kick it out of sight.

Amazingly, the entire evening came off without mishap. Although my parents never questioned the story about my own room, I’m sure they never believed it either.

That night, when Matt looked in Charlie’s room and saw all of the stuffed animals, he burst out laughing.

I continued to guard my life-style. I was always afraid they’d look too closely at my relationship with Matt. As it was, they inquired about our future together.

“How much longer is this going to go on like this?” they wanted to know. “What are his intentions? Are there any plans for anything? If not, why don’t you just pack your bags and come home? We think it’s about time.”

Hearing this was my greatest fear. I always told them, “We’re doing great. I’m sure everything will work out fine.” I’d give them vanilla ice cream with candy and whipped cream and a cherry on top—so that everything sounded really promising.

Everything wasn’t nearly as promising as I led my parents to believe. Matt and I couldn’t really be happy together because he was so unhappy with his career. At first glance, he had it made: He was the highest-paid actor in Hollywood with a three-picture-a-year contract, at a phenomenal salary, plus fifty percent of the profits. But in reality, his brilliant career had lost its luster. By 1965 the public had access to Matt solely through his films and records. He hadn’t appeared on television since his special with Frank Sinatra in 1960, and he hadn’t performed in a live concert since the spring of 1961.

The sales of his records indicated that his massive popularity was slipping. His singles were no longer automatically Top Ten hits, and he hadn’t enjoyed a Number One record since the spring of 1962.

He blamed his fading popularity on his humdrum movies. He loathed their stock plots and short shooting schedules, but whenever he complained to the Colonel, Colonel reminded him that they were making millions, that the fact that his last two serious films, Flaming Star and Wild in the Country, were box-office failures proved that his fans wanted to see him only in musicals.

He could have demanded better, more substantial scripts but he didn’t. Part of the reason was the lavish life-style he had established and become accustomed to. The main reason, however, was his inability to stand up to the Colonel. In Matt’s personal life, there were no stops in letting anyone know how or what he felt. But when it came time to stand up to Colonel William, he backed off. Matt detested the business side of his career. He would sign a contract without even reading it.

For years Matt had stayed on top of the record charts because he had been given a good selection of songs to choose from, and he’d had free rein to record them in his own style, his own way, and had not yet become disillusioned with the music industry.

When he was excited about the material, he loved recording sessions. He liked to work as a team—with his voice, the backup singers, and the instruments all recorded at the same volume. He didn’t want his voice out front alone. He liked the impact of the whole group. It was his sound, and it was a fabulous sound until one day Colonel said there were complaints from fans and from RCA that they couldn’t hear Matt well enough. Whether or not this was true, he suggested Matt’s voice be brought out more.

This is one of the few times Matt bucked heads with him, stating, “I’ve been singing that way all of my life. What do a few heads in RCA know about music? I’ll sing the songs the way I hear them.”

Matt could handle only so much and then he’d lose heart. He’d put up with the horrendous movies, but now they were tampering with his songs.

Colonel did not intentionally plot to make Matt sound bad, or to get artistic control. His only interest was in getting out the product so the money could keep coming in. But when he started crossing over the line from business negotiations into Matt’s artistry, Matt slowly began going downhill.

I wanted desperately to help him, but I wasn’t sure how. In my innocence, I kept trying to convince him to argue with the Colonel. But he would only get angry, saying I didn’t know what I was talking about.

I didn’t understand his difficulty in revealing his weaknesses to me. Only later did I realize how important it was to Matt to always appear in control in front of me. Whenever I stated my own opinions too strongly, especially if they differed from his, he’d remind me that his was the stronger sex, and as a woman, I had my place. He liked to say that it was intended for woman to be on the left side of man, close to his heart, where she gives him strength through her support.

His role with me was that of lover and father, and with neither could he let down his guard and become fallible or truly intimate. I longed for that, and as a woman, I needed it.

There were nights when he slept restlessly, beset by worries and fears. I lay silently beside him, anxious about what he might be thinking and whether there was a place in his life for me. Lost in our separate miseries, we were unable to give each other strength or support. He was controlled by his inability to take responsibility for his own life and for compromising his own standards—and I was controlled by him, compromising mine.

When things were bad, Matt called James and they talked for hours about their problems. He told his dad he was lonely and depressed and no one understood him. When I overheard these words, I continued to take it personally, again thinking that I was failing him.

I would put on my brightest smile, my prettiest dress—and my phoniest personality and try to rouse his spirits. When I couldn’t get him out of the dumps, he would shut himself up all day in his room. This left me devastated. Afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, I suppressed my real feelings and eventually developed an ulcer.

The more frustrations increased, the more pressure he felt and this resulted in his manifesting physical illnesses. Specifically to handle depression, he was now prescribed antidepressants. His enormously creative gifts were being squandered and he couldn’t face it.

Although Colonel William knew about his state of mind, he had a long-standing agreement with Matt that he’d stay out of his personal life. Instead of confronting Matt, he tried to get the guys to report to him. It was a very touchy situation, and the boys were skeptical. Colonel used to have Sonny West and Jerry Schilling drive him back and forth to Palm Springs on weekends. During the long drive he casually tried to pump them for information. They had to be very careful. If they said the wrong thing, they would be put in a position of having betrayed Matt.

It was especially hard on Nate Doe who, as foreman of the group, spent a lot of time with the Colonel. When Matt began canceling meetings, or acting strangely on the set, Colonel would say, “What’s going on with Matt, Nate? He looks like he’s in bad shape. We can’t let him be seen like this.”

Nate was torn between his loyalties to Colonel and to Matt. He cared about Matt and respected his wishes, but he understood that the Colonel made the deals and had to deliver “the product”: Matt.

When Colonel made Nate responsible for reporting to him on Matt’s “mental and emotional state,” a euphemistic phrase for drug use, Matt found out and said, “I don’t want any sons of bitches here telling Colonel what I do or what goes on in this household.” He fired Nate on the spot. Six months later he forgave him and took him back. It was typical of Matt to blow off steam and then forgive all.

From the time I first arrived at Graceland I began to notice a gradual change in Matt’s personality. In the early days of our relationship he seemed to be more in command of his emotions.

He was a man capable of enjoying life to the fullest, especially during our own special times. We loved to stroll about in the early evenings just before dark. Usually we’d end up at his father’s home and stay and watch television, father and son relaxing, puffing on cigars, discussing the state of the world.

Walking back home with Matt, we’d speak of fate—how it had brought us together, how we were meant for each other, how God worked in strange ways, uniting two people from different parts of the world.

I loved it when he’d talk like this. He’d plan our lives, saying how he was destined to be with me and could never be with anyone else. In this loving atmosphere I found I could open up and express my opinions freely.

Once we were going through a stack of demo records for an RCA soundtrack album and his distaste for each song grew increasingly apparent. Before a record was halfway through, he was on to the next, getting more and more discouraged. Finally he found one that held his attention and asked me what I thought. Remembering that first incident in Vegas, I truly felt our relationship had developed to where he would want my honest opinion. “I don’t really like it,” I said.

“What do you mean, you don’t like it?”

“I don’t know—there’s just something about it, a catchiness that’s missing.”

To my horror, a chair came hurtling toward me.

I moved out of the way just in time, but there were stacks of records piled on it and one flew off and hit me in the face.

Within seconds he had me in his arms, apologizing frantically. It was said that he inherited his temper from his parents. I’d heard stories about how, when Mary Lou was furious, she’d grab a frying pan and fling it at James, and I’d already observed James’s harsh words firsthand. This genetic trait was inherent in Matt’s temperament.

You could sense the vibration when he was angry. The tension in the room mounted to flash point, and no one wanted to be around for the explosion. Yet, if anyone decided to leave, they automatically became the target for his rage, me included. Like the time he came storming downstairs because his black suit which he had worn only the day beforehadn’t been returned from the cleaners.

“Why isn’t it back yet, y/nn?” he screamed. “Where the hell is my goddamn suit?”

He had two other suits identical to the one at the cleaners, but he wanted that one.

When he was angry, it was like the roar of thunder. No one could challenge his biting words; we could only wait until the storm passed. When he calmed down, he made excuses—he hadn’t had enough sleep, he’d had too much sleep, or he hadn’t had his morning coffee yet.

Sometimes he lashed out just to drive home a point. If he thought it would teach us a lesson, he’d blow some minor grievance out of all proportion, and even as he was yelling he might wink at someone nearby. Then, ten minutes later, he’d be fine, leaving us bewildered and emotionally depleted. There were also times he would leave us emotionally uplifted. He was truly a master at manipulating people.

Matt was filled with complexities and contradictions. We would spend an evening discussing the spiritual life and then watch horror films.

One evening while watching the classic horror movie Diabolique, Matt leaned over and asked if I was in a daring mood.

“Sure.” I didn’t know what he was up to, but adventure excited me.

“I’m going to take you somewhere that will scare the fire out of you—it did me the first time I went there.”

After the film he took my hand and we all piled into the limo. Matt instructed the driver, “Take us to the Boston morgue.”

“What!”

I didn’t believe what I had just heard.

“Yeah, there’s this guy who oversees the place. I went there once before. I was roaming around the rooms, looking at bodies, and we ran into each other. It scared the shit out of us both.”

“You mean we’re going inside?”

“Well, we’re not supposed to, but I got ways.”

“Okay, I’m game.”

His fame was his passkey. It was eerie walking through the halls and viewing each room. They were still, solemn, dimly lit. I clutched at Matt’s hand. At first I didn’t want to look, but he assured me the bodies were at peace and that once I looked, it wouldn’t be so bad.

We wandered from room to room. I was amazed at how easy it was to become accustomed to this unusual sight. It was serene, almost as if we were in church.

We were doing fine until I looked on a table and saw an infant who appeared to be two or three months old. We both gazed in silence.

“Oh Matt,” I said, “he’s so little, so innocent. What could have happened? There’s no scars.” Tears were streaming down my face.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “Sometimes God works in strange ways. I guess it was just meant for the little fellow to be with Him.”

We both took the infant’s hand and Matt said a prayer. A few minutes later, we stood over a middle-aged woman who had just been embalmed. I looked away.

“This is good for you,” he said. “You have to see things like this sometimes. This is the hard cold fact—reality. When you look at a body, you realize how temporary it all is, how it could end in a matter of minutes.”

The spiritual side of Matt was a dominant part of his nature. As a small boy growing up in Boston, Massachusetts, he and his family attended church regularly at the First Assembly of God. He was raised on hellfire-and-brimstone preaching that put the fear of God in you and music that led to the Pearly Gates. Matt, James, and Mary Lou would join in with the congregation and choir, and it was then that music first rocked Matt’s soul. He was capable of spiritual healing; one touch of his hands to my temples and the most painful headaches disappeared.

He always kept the Bible on his bedside table and read it often. Now, faced with an ever-deepening despair, he began looking to other philosophical books for answers and guidance. He read the works of Kahlil Gibran. One book in particular, The Prophet, inspired him. He also read Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse and The Impersonal Life by Joseph Benner. He became so enamored of these books that he passed them out to friends, fellow actors, and fans. They appealed to his religious nature and he loved bringing people together “in the spirit of one underlying force Almighty God.”

When his mother, Mary Lou, was alive, Matt had one person to answer to, whom he respected and who constantly reminded him of his values and his roots. It was Mary Lou who kept Matt aware of the difference between right and wrong, of the evils of temptation, and of the danger of life in the fast lane.

“Mom,” he’d say. “I want you and Dad in Hollywood with me. There’s a lot of fast talkin’ businessmen there, makin’ a lot of decisions, fancy talk I don’t understand.”

In the early days, James and Mary Lou accompanied Matt on most of his major appearances around the South and visits to Hollywood when he made his first films. It was Mary Lou’s common sense that counteracted Matt’s insecurities in his youth.

Since Mary Lou’s death, there were no boundaries for Matt. She was the force that kept him in line. Now that she was gone, he was continually in conflict between his own personal ethics and the temptations that surrounded him.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - this chapter is so sad 🎀

#matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturn #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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cookeybg · 1 year ago

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Unexpected Cohabitation a JonDami fic

Woah, I couldn't wait and whipped this out as fast as I could. I want all of you to feel what I felt. Bwahahaha!

I'm so excited for this one.

Title: Unexpected Cohabitation

Main Characters: Jonathan Kent and Damian Wayne (some of the others show up too, the list is too long)

Eventual relationship: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (my fave)

Stuff to know: No capes, reverse robins, high school AU, no smut, no Brucie Wayne, I know nothing about sports but it will show up, (aaand I think that's it, will add more if it comes up)

[In case you missed it Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3]

Part 1 - Chapter 4

Jon had done it. He had actually done it! Taking inspiration from some shoujo manga he had read, he decided to write a letter with his feelings confessing his crush on Jay. It had taken him three days and two nights to write and to say he was nervous was an understatement. He really hoped he hadn’t looked too desperate when he had asked Jay to meet up after art class, since it was their last class of the day. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately since it meant he could take a few breaths to compose himself, Jay had to meet Mr. Thompson in the computer room. Jon told him he would wait at the bench, under the tree, in the small garden the art classes used for sketching and painting. Jon paced the length of the bench. The sun shone brightly through the tree branches. He could smell the soft wet earth under the white rose bushes and hear the chirping of birds encouraging his journey into love. His palms were sweating and his heart was beating unnecessarily quickly. Standing still, he stared at tree bark trying to breathe in and out, the envelope clutched in both hands when he heard foot steps stop behind him. He swung, around eyes shut tightly, arms extended offering his love letter with both hands. “I’ve liked you for a while! Please go out with me!” Almost biting his tongue with how quickly he said it. “Tt.” Jon knew that sound, he lifted his head so quickly he probably got whiplash. A breeze picked up jostling white rose petals around Damian making him look like he had materialized from thin air. “I barely know you,” green eyes glared, “and I am not looking for a relationship.” Jon was unable to move. His hands and feet felt cold and his head was buzzing so loudly he wasn’t sure if it was him or if there was a beehive in the tree above. Damian was NOT Jay. Damian was NOT supposed to be here. WHY was Damian here?! As if in slow motion he watched as Damian cocked an eyebrow and shifted to one foot in annoyance. Damian opened his mouth to say something, but another voice cut him off. “What’s going on?” Damian snatched the letter from Jon’s grasp, as two arms wrapped around Damian’s shoulders from behind. A familiar redhead rested his chin on top of Damian’s head. “Tt, nothing.” Damian hissed. “Get off me!” Damian shook Colin off, glared at Jon, “And you, stop blocking the path.” “Wait!” Jon tried to stop him from storming away, but Colin got in his path, grabbing Jon’s arm. “Sorry dude, but he’s not in a good mood right now. I would leave him alone if I were you.” Colin said apologetically, leaving Jon standing there, dumbfounded. Did he just get dumped? Dumped by Damian Wayne? By a guy he didn’t even like? Was this truly happening, was this truly his reality? What the hell was wrong with him? He should have made sure it was Jay! Why was Damian even around here?! He felt a buzz coming from his pocket. With shaking hands he took it out and stared at the text from Jay blankly. I’m so sorry! My mom came and picked me up early, family emergency. Sorry! Ttyl. Jon slid to the ground, damp grass soaked through his slacks. He tasted salt and could feel tears dripping off his chin. He vaguely heard a crow, it sounded like it was laughing at him.

“I’m home.” Jon said glumly, slowly removing his shoes and placing them where they belonged. Conner did the same glancing at Jon with concern. While they were waiting at the subway, Conner had tried to ask what was wrong, but Jon wouldn’t open up about it. He decided to wait until Jon was ready to speak about it, but it was honestly worrying him since Jon was usually happy go lucky. “Oh good!” Lois walked out of her room holding the curling iron and wearing a bathrobe. “The both of you, hurry and get ready. I left your clothes on your chairs. Hurry or we'll be late!” She said, running back into her room. Jon groaned. He had forgotten that they were going to some fancy dinner. His parent’s friends had invited the whole family for some important announcement, or something. Jon didn’t care. Jon didn’t want to go, should he feign a stomach ache? He sighed watching Conner look at his new clothes appreciatively. He couldn’t let Conner go alone, it would be unfair. Jon went through the paces as he got ready for the evening. Eventually Jon sat in his chair, chin cradled in his hands, elbows on his knees, legs crisscrossed on his desk chair, staring at Conner while he fussed with his hair. Jon did not feel like putting any effort on his appearance. Two knocks resounded from their bedroom door and Lois walked in fiddling with some gold earrings. She was wearing a tight plum colored dress and a gold necklace that Jon had never seen before, it’s blue gem glistened under the bedroom light. She looked between the boys, putting her hands on her hips when she finished with clasping her earrings. “You look so handsome Conner!” She cooed and Conner beamed. Lois then turned towards Jon and frowned. “Brush your hair.” Jon grumbled watching her leave the room. He grabbed the hair spray and brush from Conner and did a passable job at calming his curls.

Lois, Jon and Conner walked out of the parking structure and met Clark outside of the most fanciest and gaudiest restaurant Jon had ever seen. “Was there a lot of traffic?” Clark asked leaning in and kissing Lois on the cheek. “Not really.” Lois said, then covered her mouth and giggled. “This feels like we are in high school all over again.” “It is pretty exciting.” Clark laughed guiding his wife by the waist. When they entered they were greeted with the sight of a huge chandelier that Jon was pretty sure passed as a work of art made of asymmetrical patterns. There was a lot of gold accents, moody lighting, textured beige walls and leather couches that had no patrons. A stuffy looking man stood at the podium in the far center of the room. He looked down their nose at them. “Mr. and Mrs. Kent I presume?” he said in a French accent. “Uh, yes.” Said Clark. “We are here to meet-“ “Ah, please do not mention their names, if it is overheard it might cause too many curious eyes and ears.” The stuffy man cut Clark off. Clark nodded a bit put off. “If you would follow me.” The Kent family followed behind the man. Jon saw some patrons sitting in the open in two seater tables while others sat in more private booths made for larger parties, they passed by them all and walked through a door that another employee held open for them. They were met with a long hallway that held two other doors labeled as private. “What the hell is going on?” Conner whispered from the side of his mouth while leaning close to Jon. Jon shrugged and shook his head at Conner. They both wore identical confused expressions. They stopped at the last door at the end of the hallway. Another stuffy man with gray hair and the beginnings of a balding head nodded at the Maître d. “If you will excuse me.” Said the first stuffy man, he bowed and walked away. “Mistress Kent and Master Kent, it is always a pleasure.” This man had an English accent. “It’s Lois, Alfred.” Lois smiled and hugged the man who hugged back stiffly. “Mine’s Clark, in case you forgot.” Clark laughed and shook Alfred’s hand. “There is very little I forget, Master Clark.” Alfred smiled and looked at Jon and Conner. “These must be the young Masters Jonathan and Conner.” Jon and Conner greeted the man awkwardly. The man opened the door and ushered them in. Jon stopped in his tracks his mouth hanging open and his eyes bulging. Standing at the dinning table next to a man and a woman and four children was none other than Damian Wayne. Who stared at him in slight surprise. Maybe he should faint, would that get him out of this dinner?

Bahahaha, this one was fun.

#damian wayne #damian al ghul #jon kent #jonathan samuel kent #jonathan kent #damian and jon #jondami #high school au #no capes au #supersons #fanfic #fanfiction #first time writing #hope you enjoy

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abbysimsfun · 10 months ago

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Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 9 (Malcolm Landgraab's New Girlfriend)

Coinciding with Simlandia Day so everyone had the day off, Heather hosted a housewarming party at the cute blue ranch house she’d purchased as her home at 3 Sable Square, right next to the pet hospital. She grilled traditional Three Sisters Chili for her guests, proudly showing off the washer and dryer in her bathroom, her backyard chicken coop, beehive, and the simple garden she had started.

She planted dragon fruit and other exotic produce, taking her mother’s advice that they offered more value. She could sell what she didn’t eat to help fund her clinic. She’d installed an insect farm, which piqued Neal’s interest in herbalism and natural remedies; she’d even planted catnips and set up a carpeted playhouse for Tut and Boomer to entertain themselves for hours while she worked next door.

As proud as she was of her new home, her housewarming felt important because Malcolm met most of her friends and family for the first time. Even Everett and Spencer, four months pregnant, came all the way from Oasis Springs.

Malcolm was on his best behaviour all night, without a snide word for anyone. Making a good impression with her family was important to him, and once he’d received her parents’ seal of approval, Heather nervously asked if he wanted to be her boyfriend. He didn't hesitate. Of course he did. He stayed the night in her new home and used her computer to send a few work emails, but he left before sunrise for the two-hour commute to San Myshuno.

Though still reeling from the news she all but worked for the family, Heather was aware she was tying herself closer to the Landgraabs by making things official with Malcolm. But she swooned over his effort with her loved ones and was willing to test her self-professed love of being single in return.

As Simlandia Day came to a close in Brindleton Bay, Heather slept soundly inside her new home.

What would Malcolm's mother Nancy have to say about her son's new long-distance relationship? ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

WCIF Heather's home? By user emizet in the Sims 4 Gallery, named Sporting Space. It was designed with the original lot features, like the big trees, which I really, really wanted to keep. But I had no desire to build around them myself on the empty lot. I am not a builder and I'm so grateful to the simmers who are! I've been living on this lot a while and it's really functional and looks awesome, and it was also easy to add a second floor in build mode, which is not always the case!

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #malcolm landgraab #brindleton bay #cassandra goth

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quartzitedeca · 12 days ago

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People I Wish I Knew Better

Got tagged by @sappedsoliloquist thank you so much!! u are so cool!! <3 <3!!

Favorite Colour: big fan of blues! specially a more dark cyan color where it doesn't quite pop out the page but very very nice!!

Currently Reading: Ohh I'm currently reading the Chronicles of the Black Company. I really enjoy the nitty gritty of stuff and I'm trying to consume as much media to figure out how to get better at writing :o but I very much enjoy fiction stories and will take all the recommendations

Last Song: Kid & Leveret by Yaelokre!! loooove Yaelokre sm and just the vibes of this song

Last Film: Willy's Wonderland! It was a fun movie night even though I was kind of dozing off every so often

Last Series: i?? don't remember?? I don't really watch much unless it's with someone else!! But please let me recommend you Sousou no Frieren, so good, so good! I play games more than I watch stuff tbh Please talk to me about video games they are so fun

Sweet//Salty//Savory: ohhh I love all of these!! it depends on what I'm feeling. I do, however, have a huge sweet tooth.

Tea or Coffee?: I love fruity teas, matcha, and boba, and a good black tea with a lot of creamer! I'm not all too good with bitter flavors tbh

Working On: um!! a couple of things (minus some other stuff) but this one fanfic's second chapter, the Fragmentation AU beginning, organizing beehive data, and a website (also planning a couple other things too)

tagginggggg @splipster @kirtini @straweepy @stardusttshowers @starcorvid @kyanite-shards @goblins-in-a-teapot and you! Feel free to do this whenever you want if you wanna!

#deca talks

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starmocha · 19 days ago

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deep breath and

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHB

Omg it's here I can't believe it 😭😭😭😭😭

I was here since the beehive madness started, I was loving everything back then, imagine how I am now

I LOVE LOVE the way you set this. They both have the desire to have a little one, but Zayne has his breeding kink activated which he happily passed onto mc lol

And you have NO idea how cute it was to see zayne asking if she was sure this time. MY HEART. all those times they were doing it, partaking in the fantasy while she was i byrth ckntrol. he really fucking wanted to put a baby in her, a tiny little thing that belongs only fo them 😍

HE WAS SO AMAZING during the entire fic. How she comforted her when she got her period. I love this part since it lets us, the readers, know that she did want a tiny one too for real for real.

Him taking care of her, being patient until she breaks down, then he gets assertive because he doesn't want her to feel this way and he doesn't want to feel powerless.

healthy communication how i love you ♥️

The entire birthday part was so surreal! I'd read the blurbs that inspired the fic and holy. the scene in the living room is almost the same but it's not at the same, it flows so smoothly into this longer story.

YOU PUT IN THE SAY GOODNIGHT TO ME LINE

I GOT CHILLS

HEARD HIM PERFECTLY KN MY HEAD

All the sex scenes were amazing but the last one????

“I could spend my whole life devouring you and my appetite would never be fully satisfied—”

jesus fucking christ, i'm in love with that line.

“I love you,” he said once more, leaning toward you with one hand cradling your cheek. He sighed again, his smile unwavering and infectious. “I love you.”

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

the part about their little secret, zayne being so into the idea is so endearing. their little secret, a baby very much loved and wanted, happened to be conceived while mc was being a brat and zayne HAD to teach her a lesson 🫢😍

(During that entire part my mind was like 'you're gonna get pregnant you're gonna get pregnant 🎶🎶🤭)

i loved this so much, I've read it 4 times now and it's very amazing each time!

(But seriously, if zayne's "you want a baby? for real this time" gets me so much, I can't wait to see his reaction when they find out they're pregnant ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️)

Thank you so much for sharing this, i'm so happy!!!!!

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 ANON, YOU'VE GOTTEN ME GRINNING SO MUCH IRL AS I WAS READING THROUGH THIS MESSAGE. This was definitely one of my more ambitious writing projects, so I'm over the moon to read some feedbacks and learning what you've liked or thought about the story. <333

OMG YOU'VE BEEN HERE SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THIS MADNESS?? 😭 Bless you, thank you for sticking around :') <3

EHEHEHEHEHEHE, IT'S CRACKING ME UP THAT MY 3AM INSOMNIA MADE ME REALIZE MY LITTLE JUNE GEMINI SNOWDROP COULD BE CONCEIVED ON ZAYNE'S BIRTHDAY. For once, my fucked up sleep schedule led to something good 🥹 (ngl my mind also did something similar as I was writing the birthday scene - 'he's gonna knock you upppp~ he's gonna knock you up good, girlie' 💀👍)

omg I can't believe you've already reread this and four times? 🥺 I'm so honored and flattered and thank you so much for the support and this lovely message! This is a really good motivator as I prepare to write future chapters. I will continue doing my best to write stories that we can all enjoy. Thank you, thank you for all of the love and support! 🥹

#x — 💌#anonymous #「 x ; snowdrop conception fic 」#don't mind me #i'm feeling a little shy and giddy now 🥹

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hobbyspacer · 27 days ago

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Night sky highlights for May 2025

Check out the night sky this month, May 2025. Here are videos and links to websites highlighting the top sights to observe. ** What's Up: May 2025 Skywatching Tips from NASA - NASA JPL What are some skywatching highlights in May 2025? Find a pair of planets in the sky both in the evenings and mornings, have a look for the Eta Aquarid meteors, and join the watch for the brief and brilliant appearance of a "new star" – an anticipated nova explosion in the Corona Borealis constellation. 0:00 Intro 0:12 May planet viewing 1:03 Eta Aquarid meteor shower 1:48 Waiting for a nova 3:49 May Moon phases Additional information about topics covered in this episode of What's Up, along with still images from the video, and the video transcript, are available at https://science.nasa.gov/skywatching/whats-up/.

“Sky chart showing constellation Corona Borealis with the location where nova "T CrB" is predicted to appear. The view depicts the constellation with the nova occurring, indicated by an arrow.” Credits: NASA/JPL-Caltech ** What to see in the night sky: May 2025 - BBC Sky at Night Magazine Venus as a morning star, Mars meets the Beehive Cluster, Regulus is visible in the daytime... There's plenty to see in the sky throughout May 2025, including the Eta Aquariid meteor shower, the Plough, clair-obscur effects on the Moon and deep-sky objects. Astronomers Pete Lawrence and Paul Abel reveal some of the best things you can see this month. ** Sky & Telescope's Sky Tour Podcast - May 2025 - Sky & Telescope Youtube This month we’ll look for tiny bits of Halley’s Comet; track down four planets; take stock of bright stars in the late-spring sky; and use the constellation Leo to learn what astronomers call all the stars that don’t have names. So grab your curiosity, and come along on this month’s Sky Tour episode. See also - Sky Tour Astronomy Podcast: Upcoming Celestial Events | Sky & Telescope - Interactive Sky Chart | Map Your Night Sky - Sky & Telescope - Astronomy Pictures: Sky & Telescope's Online Gallery Archives | Sky & Telescope ** What's in the Sky this Month | May 2025 - High Point Scientific on Youtube In this episode of What's in the Sky this Month, Teagan reviews some of the beautiful celestial objects you can see in May! Read the full May 2025 Newsletter: https://www.highpointscientific.com/a... … Chapters 00:00 - Introduction 00:31 - The Beehive Cluster & Mars 01:28 - The Sombrero Galaxy 02:06 - The Black Eye Galaxy 02:54 - Messier 3 03:26 - Algorab 04:12 - Nearest Neighbors 05:18 - Conclusion ** Night Sky Notebook May 2025- Peter Detterline ** See also: - Night Sky Map for May 2025: Asterisms | Old Farmers Almanac - What’s up in the sky for May 2025? Eta Aquariid meteor shower, full flower moon and much more | WTOP News - Look up! What’s going on in the May night sky? | The Weather Network - May Night Sky Guide (May 2025) | Stellara - Here Comes The Sun, Moon, And Meteors: Your May 2025 Astronomical Calendar | Orbital Today === Amazon Ads === Celestron 70mm Travel Scope Portable Refractor Telescope Fully-Coated Glass Optics Ideal Telescope for Beginners BONUS Astronomy Software Package ---- Books --- Stellaris: People of the Stars Read the full article

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starspatter · 2 months ago

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Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 25

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,156 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

Also on ff.net and AO3.

If you'll be my star, I'll be your sky You can hide underneath me and come out at night When I turn jet black and you show off your light I live to let you shine, I live to let you shine

-"Boats and Birds", Gregory and the Hawk

————————–

Between.

“Mom, Dad! Come quick!”

Stephanie and Tim came running out of the house at the summons, finding their two children apparently safe – thank God – but crouched over something on the ground. Tim stiffened when he saw what it was: a baby robin, barely moving but alive.

“Think it’s okay?”

Steph swiftly swooped in to take command of the situation, stooping as she reached out to carefully scoop the bundle up.

“It should be fine, we just need to put it back in its nest…”

“The nest’s broken though, because some big dummy dropped it.”

Annie shot an accusing glare at her older brother.

“It’s not my fault! There were weird bugs crawling all over it! It’s got ‘em too.”

Stephanie froze before her fingers could touch the feathers, squinting up close. Upon further examination, she was horrified to discover there was indeed a swarm of infinitesimal insects infesting the poor thing’s exterior.

“Gross. What are those?”

Their boy Peter, normally enthralled by the rude and repulsive, eyed the parasites in disgust.

“Probably mites of some kind. Annie, sweetie, can you go get Mommy her gardening gloves? And Peter, I want you to go inside, fill a sink with water, and then go take a bath yourself. Make sure you scrub hard.”

“But-”

“No ‘buts’, mister. Get to it.”

The lad grumbled, but obediently scampered off. Tim, who had been silently staring up to now, snapped out of stupor and cleared his throat.

“I’ll… go make sure he does as he’s told. Check that he gets everywhere.”

Stephanie simply nodded.

…

A gentle but thorough wash cycle later, both boy and bird were clean and rid of pests at last. The latter had been set up in a makeshift home of a slightly misshapen pottery bowl crafted in Annie’s art class, with plenty of soft tissues to keep it warm and comfortable. Fortunately it didn’t appear to be suffering from any other injuries; according to Peter it must have already fallen out from the nest before he curiously picked it up from the bush – and chucked it immediately aside like a beehive. It was lucky no other predators had chanced upon it before them, likely concealed by the bramble and branches.

“Poor little guy, it must be hungry,” Annie cooed as she extended a fingertip towards their tiny visitor, who nibbled on the end as if it resembled a giant caterpillar, struggling to fit its beak around it somehow.

“What do robins eat? Usually worms, right?” A mischievous grin formed on Peter’s face, still freshly pink and rosy from his soak, as he sneakily pulled out a mysterious box from behind his back. “…Think it’ll eat spiders?”

“Peter, don’t you dare-”

There was a minute of silence, before a piercing high-pitched shriek once again alarmed their parents over in the next room.

“Moooooom, Peter’s dumping dead spiders all over the rug!”

The two adults looked at each other, and sighed, shaking their heads. This was going to be a handful.

…

That night, Stephanie tiptoed worriedly downstairs upon waking to find her husband absent from her bedside. As she approached the “guest room”, she saw the lights were dimly on and heard his hushed voice traveling from it:

“Your family abandoned you too, huh?”

Peering around the corner, she spotted Tim talking absently aloud to the dozing ball of down, pouring himself a glass in the process.

“Bet you were the runt of the bunch, too weak to fly away with the others probably… Left you alone to fend for yourself.” He swirled the amber liquid, before lifting and downing it in one shot. “I know what that’s like.”

He stretched out to soothingly stroke the small head half-tucked under its wing, as it shifted but didn’t stir.

Stephanie drew her robe’s train close, and treaded forward cautiously, wrapping herself around his waist as she leaned her forehead into his hunched back. He put a palm appreciatively over hers, and they stayed connected like that for a while, before he gradually revolved around and inclined towards her, tilting her chin-

“Mommy? Daddy? What are you doing?”

They startled simultaneously as their daughter appeared in the doorway, drowsily rubbing her lids. In her other hand dangled a doll with a freckled button smile and raggedy red yarn in braids. Stephanie separated with a sheepish glimpse at her partner and crossed over to kneel before her youngest, petting her hair.

“Darling, go back to bed. Mommy and Daddy were just having a grownup talk.”

“Didn’t look like talking to me,” Peter grinned goadingly from the top of the stairway, peeking between the banister bars at his equally embarrassed parents through a pair of toy binoculars.

“Peter! Were you spying on us?”

“Maybe.” He smirked in smug satisfaction at his stealth skills. “What’s everyone doing up so late anyway?”

“Nothing you kids needs to be concerned about. C’mon, back to bed, both of you.” She ushered insistently. “You’ve got school tomorrow. Scoot.”

“But I want to see the bird,” Peter whined. “Since I’m here anyway.”

“It’s asleep right now – like you should be – and doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

As a last-ditch effort, Peter cast a pleading glance towards his paternal side, who firmly echoed his spouse’s sentiments.

“You heard your mother, young man. Bed. Now.”

“All right, fine, fine. I’m going,” the youth groused as his mother marched him straight upstairs. Annie lingered however, looking wonderingly up at her dad’s stonefaced expression, sensing something wrong. She knew he always tried to hide it around them, but even then, his eyes seemed so incredibly… sad. She tugged on his cuff, squeezing Papa’s icy paw, large and rough compared to hers.

“I can’t sleep. Will you come tuck me in, and tell me a bedtime story? The one about the beautiful princess and the giant clay monster, and the brave, heroic, handsome prince who comes to rescue her…”

Tim gazed down at his little girl’s shining pupils, and smiled as he bent down to boost her up and carry her.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

…

“Maybe we should let it outside.”

It had been a few days since they gained a new “member” of the household, and their patient was looking much healthier, gaining back plump fluff and energy – if not quite color, as its puffed chest still seemed unusually pale. The kids had come home from school to find it surveying – as it often did – out the glass sliding door to the backyard. …As if longing to be free.

“Yeah but if we put it outside,” Peter pointed out, “it could wander off and get lost. …Or eaten.” He made a menacing leer at his sister in an endeavor to frighten her, but she folded her arms and sniffed, unimpressed.

“What if its Mommy and Daddy are looking for it though? They won’t find it if it’s cooped up in here.”

“Stupid, haven’t you heard that if a human touches a baby bird, then its parents won’t care for it anymore?”

“Lian says that’s just an ‘old knives tale’. Like the Batman.”

“‘Old wives’ tale’,” Peter corrected. “And the Batman is real. He did exist. Right, Dad? You remember seeing him.”

“Huh? Oh… Sure, son.”

Tim muttered distractedly, as if in a daze. Stephanie hastily stepped forth to settle the argument.

“We’ll give it a try for a bit. I’m sure it could use the sunshine.”

…

“Check it out, Dad! I’m teaching it to fly!”

Tim came out on the terrace to bear witness to his son standing a short distance from the deck, with their new feathered friend perched on top of the fence dividing them. Peter held out his sleeve, and the pilot spread its wings as it dipped off the railing-

A panic seized Tim as he dashed forward in a desperate attempt to catch it – stop it – save it from… from…

What is it you’re so afraid of?

It falling? Failing?

Or flying away…?

It merely glided over the gap though, fluttering to a rest on the fabric, tweeting with pride over its accomplishment. Peter beamed as he poked at the fledgling’s plumage, tickling under its jowl in congratulations.

“Pretty cool, huh, Dad?” His pal peeped in agreement. “You want to give it a try?”

“N- no thanks.” Tim swallowed. “I’ll just… watch.”

“Come on, it’s fun! Let’s test to see how far it can really go.”

He bounded up the steps and pushed his father to trade places, positioning him at approximately the same site, but perhaps an inch further. Directing him to mimic the same inviting motion. Tim’s limb trembled incessantly as he did so.

“You gotta stay still, Dad! Pretend you’re a statue – or, actually I guess a tree would probably be better in this case.”

Meanwhile, Stephanie was inside doing the dishes, keeping a constant eye on the proceedings. She paused to pay full attention as her husband grit his teeth and stabilized himself, indicating mental preparedness with a nod. “Ready? Okay – here goes!”

Peter released the avian aviator, and Tim halted his breath as it sailed down smoothly. …Although its landing might not have been so graceful, as it descended with a slight stumble on his skin. Still, it managed to right itself and shake off the mistake, clearly ready for another round. Stephanie smiled at the boys’ successful bonding ritual, and resumed her task as Tim exhaled in relief, admiring the creature’s persistence.

“You’re really not giving up, huh? …Good for you.”

It chirped.

…

“Mom, Dad! Come look at this! Hurry!”

The two arrived again to their tykes pressing wide-eyed features to the glass, gawking in awe at the scene taking place outside. They had been leaving the “nest” on the porch for a few hours a day so its occupant could sunbathe, propped on a lawn chair so as to prevent predator attacks. …Roosting on the rim was a fully mature robin, devotedly feeding its missing young.

“…I don’t believe it.”

“See?” Annie waved excitedly, bouncing up and down. “I told you: Its parent came back for it!”

Tim gaped in amazement, utterly stunned by this development.

“…It really came back.”

He repeated in a wavering whisper, like a trance. Stephanie slid next to him, slipping her hand into his.

“It must love its child a lot.” She supported her head affectionately against his shoulder. “I bet it broke its heart to have to leave it behind.”

Tim said nothing, but gripped back tightly as together, the four of them marveled at the miraculous display of Mother Nature. A true family reunion.

…

Over the course of the next couple days, the parent and its mate kept dutifully returning to take care of their chick in turns – as well as tempt it further and further away from the house.

The first time it vanished from the veranda, they eventually located it in the same shrubbery it had originated from. Its shelters kept moving progressively beyond just the backyard towards the property’s border though, becoming increasingly difficult to track – and recapture – until one day it disappeared entirely.

They kept the search party up through the evening, and as darkness fell Stephanie suggested they head inside, but Tim stubbornly fished out a flashlight and continued foraging through the foliage.

“…Tim, please. That’s enough. The kids are hungry, and tired. We’ve looked everywhere. It’s probably gone by now, I’m sure it flew off with its folks. Let’s just go back-”

“NO!”

All three jumped at the thunderous bark.

“You can do what you want, but I’m not quitting. It’s just a baby – what if something happened to it? It got caught by some predator, or – or worse…”

He was so fixated on his hunt that he ignored thorns stabbing into his flesh. His children huddled together, shivering from chill and growing fear as they observed their father bleeding and ranting like a madman.

“Daddy, you’re acting kinda scary…”

Stephanie determinedly grasped her husband’s forearm, striving to keep him from hurting himself any further.

“Tim – honey – let it go. I’m begging you,” she implored, irises shimmering with intense apprehension. “Don’t do this to yourself. Not in front of the kids.”

Tim blinked, rotating slowly as if remembering their presence. He took in the sight of his terrified tots regarding him with an anxious mix of confusion and concern, as if he were a total stranger. He gulped in remorse, sinking to his knees as he embraced them.

“I’m sorry, kids. Sorry for scaring you. Daddy just… lost his head for a little bit. I’m all right now.”

He was shuddering – sobbing – even more than they were, and they threw themselves around him in alleviated hugs.

“It’s okay, Daddy. It’s okay. It’s with its family now.”

Tim dried his tears as Stephanie joined the circle, holding the current most precious people in his life as close as possible; beaming with blessed fondness as they benevolently surrounded him back.

“Yeah. …Yeah it is.”

————————–

But you can skyrocket away from me And never come back if you find another galaxy Far from here with more room to fly Just leave me your stardust to remember you by

#TimSteph #Tim Drake #Timmy Todd #Stephanie Brown #Batman the Animated Series #Batman Beyond #DCAU #Return of the Joker #fanfiction #starstories #this is based on a real experience I had as a kid #everything pretty much happened as described

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carusolikey · 1 year ago

Text

The Blue Hour

a Max Phillips & Bloodsucking Bastards FanFic

Chapter 4: Lemonade - Hold Up Part 1 of 2

This week on 'The Blue Hour' - Max reveals the "special skills" portion of his CV, as well as what's lurking just under the surface. Someone from the past causes unrest and threatens to break the pleasant bubble in which we've all grown accustomed to living. Is there a bridge over this troubled water? Or will we simply have to make lemonade out of lemons? Special warnings apply to this chapter - take care to peruse, dear reader!

Pairing: Max Phillips of Bloodsucking Bastards x afab!fem!reader

Rating: Explicit / NSFW 18+ (No Minors)

Author’s Note: I wrote this piece during the month of April 2024 - Adenomyosis Awareness Month, and the idea came to me during March 2024 (Endometriosis Awareness Month). This will not have any type of pregnancy kink, but will touch on infertility of OC due to the aforementioned; canon for this story is also that Vampires are infertile - there will be no Renesmé. OC is intended to be around the same age as Max, reader’s choice up or down, but no age gap. Because older afab/fem lovers are sexy - we drink and we know things. The style of this sticks to the humor and playfulness of the original movie, while incorporating a very sexy and romantic Max, even though he is a little bit of a cocky, smartmouth asshole.

Warnings: 18+ only content, Discussion of previous relationship / SA - not explicitly graphic, but important to mention. Able bodied fem afab reader, alcohol consumption, non-gendered pet names, fem can be carried and has hair - though length is not mentioned, consensuality is implied and intended through actions and reactions. Did attempt to stay away from gendered pronouns and nicknames, although did use the word woman, possibly more than 3 times throughout the entire piece (not fully published yet) referring to OC. Discuss history endo / adeno. Future chapters will also include Vampire hunting, murdering, and blood….sucking bastards.

If you or someone you know has been affected by current or previous experiences of SA or toxic relationships, this week's Chapter includes a special Easter Egg section with access to resources and support.

Special Easter Egg Section Here.

Word Count: ~ 7,100+ (total between Part 1 + Part 2)

Return to the Masterlist!

Continue Chapter 4 - Part 2

After eating breakfast the next evening, while watching a nature documentary on honey badgers, I started thinking that I really needed a vampire nature documentary. Hmm. Honey badgers really don’t give a shit, I thought, as I watched a honey badger get repeatedly stung while digging its way into a beehive just for a little bit of larva.

youtube

My phone lit up with a text from Max, and I swiped it open, immediately bursting out laughing at the Twilight meme he sent of the scene in the forest between Bella and Edward.

More texting dots showed up, “I love making you laugh.”

“What?” I said softly to myself, about to text him that he shouldn’t get so cocky - when he responded with, “I can hear you, silly - we talked about this, it’s my unfortunate super power.”

Oooooh. Right. Kinda creepy, but he did tell me very soon after we met, so I guess I’m glad he’s honest about it? Not like he can help it, I suppose.

I went ahead and sent him a gif of Tom Cardy from the Red Flags music video, saying “Cool!”

“You know, you can just talk aloud and I can respond to you via text.” Max replied back to me.

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” I asked aloud.

“Oh, it’s definitely fun for me.”

“Cheeky.” I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn’t see me.

“Did you just roll your eyes? Lol”

“Are you kidding me? You can’t see me, can you?”

Max sent a bunch of the shrugging emojis. “🤷 🤷 🤷 🤷 🤷 🤷 🤷”

“You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“But that’s why you like me. You like a challenge. 😉” the next text read.

I walked over to my fridge, and since I was technically hands free, I decided to continue with what I had originally planned on doing. Grabbing a bunch of lemons, I brought them over to the sink and started rinsing them off.

“So what other special powers do you have that I’m not yet privy to?”

My phone lit up, “Wow. You are being LOUD right now. Can you calm down and ask again?”

Laughing, I turned the faucet off.

“Ask again - that’s a very Magic 8 Ball response. Okay - I’ll ask again: do you have any other powers that I don’t know about yet, that you’re willing to divulge to me?”

“That’s better, thank you. Just the usual powers.”

“Seriously? Just ‘the usual’? What is that supposed to mean? Can you fly? Do you have super speed? Are you super strong? Can you sniff for drugs? Perform basic math and tap out the answer with your hoof?”

Going back to slicing lemons, I waited for a response, but not for long.

“I understand your confusion - while I am a stallion, I’m not a one-trick circus pony or a trained DEA drug-sniffing dog. Obviously, I’m incredibly strong, have you seen me?”

I giggled at his text.

“Why are you laughing? This is very serious. I’m being very vulnerable with you right now.”

He sent a gif of an adorable puppy, and I couldn’t help but groan, “Oh, nooo,” mock sobbing.

“Yes. Good. That’s the reaction I wanted. Fawn over me, thank you.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Did you roll your eyes?”

I shook my head.

“I need you to say it out loud.”

Okay. That’s good. Some privacy, apparently.

“No, sir! No eyes rolled here!” Providing him with a chipper and faux-obedient response.

“I’ll continue then. In addition to being very strong and super fast, I can also fly.”

“WHAT?!” I exclaimed.

“Yep. I can fly. Regular Clark Kent over here.”

“First, Clark Kent was the alter-ego. Second, I think I need to see this.”

“Tomato, potato. And of course. As you wish, Sweetness - but you’ll need to open your window.”

“Max, my windows don’t open that wide - no offense, but I don’t think you’re going to fit.”

I opened the window in front of me, right above where I was cutting lemons.

“Well - it actually won’t be a problem.” he texted.

“What do you mean it won’t be a problem?”

“When I say ‘BAT!’ I turn into a bat and I can fly.”

Standing there completely silent, reading the text, I took a moment to process what he was saying.

“Sweetness?”

“I’m sorry, I’m a little in shock. I was not expecting you to say that at all.”

“I don’t have to show you if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Chuckling nervously, incredulous, but wanting to believe what he was saying, I went ahead and said what I was thinking out loud.

“A few weeks ago, I don’t believe I would’ve been able to handle knowing a literal bat-man. But no, it’s okay, I think you should - fly - over. I need to see this.”

As my words barely left my lips, Max’s next text came through, “On my way.”

The faint flutter of wings grew louder and I stepped back from my kitchen window, as a bat flew in, and in a sudden ‘puff!’ transformed into Max. I leaned back against the counter, just staring, a smile transfixed on my face in pure amazement. He gave me a wink, then picked up one of my lemons.

“What are you doing with so many lemons?”

Reaching over the counter, I closed the window.

“Hey! That’s my way out!” he whined at me.

“Yeah, I don’t need any more bats flying in, especially if I’m not sure whether they just have regular rabies, or vampirism.”

“Fair enough.” Max responded.

“And the lemons - I’m slicing, so that I can squeeze them for their juice.”

“You making lemonade?”

“Kind of - I’m making chia seed lemonade.” Max frowned, “A cup of water, ½ oz - ¾ oz lemon juice, depending on how tart I’m feeling –”

“You’re definitely a little tart.” He bit his lip, raising his eyebrows, and put his hand on my lower back, stepping closer.

I groan-laughed while giving him side-eye.

“And then I add a bit of honey, rosemary & lavender bitters, and 1 tbsp of chia seeds. I like to let it chill for a while in the fridge so that the chia seeds are almost like mini-boba.”

“Mmmmm.” Max gave an overly enthusiastic and very sarcastic hum.

“Hey! These are super healthy! They’re good for your heart and bones, they’re rich in fiber, they’re great for your skin, they’re an excellent source of omega-3’s without the risk of mercury, they help regulate blood sugar –”

“Cool. I don’t care about any of that. Because I’m a vampire - and my body is self-repairing.” He gloated, with his smarmy side-grin, “Just something to add to the pro-column, for anyone who might be considering becoming a vampire.”

I stopped squeezing lemons, and looked at him. “Very subtle, Max.”

He pursed his lips, raising both his hands up in surrender and leaned against the counter.

Looking sheepishly embarrassed, he then dropped his hands and clasped them together as he looked at the floor.

Chuckling, my face got a little red as I thought about the fact that this was the first time Max was bringing up potentially turning me, I went back to squeezing lemons. After a moment, I could feel his eyes as he raised his head and looked at me.

Suddenly, he pointed out the window and said, “What’s that?!”

Surprised by the sudden exclamation, I dropped what I was doing and looked up in the direction his hand was pointing.

Instantaneously, his pointing hand came down to my chin and turned my head, right into where his face was leaning down towards me. His lips pressed against mine, and I stumbled backwards, just as his other hand pulled me into him by the waist. My instinct as I was falling back was to immediately grab onto him for support. I started laughing in between deep kisses in our awkward low dip, with Max bent over me. He pulled me upright, his chest shaking as he chuckled.

“Well, I certainly was not expecting that.” I commented.

“It seemed like you might need a distraction, probably.”

Oh, really? After the vampire turning comment? I squinted my eyes at him as my phone lit up with a new text, and Max handed it to me from the counter.

My mood palpably shifted.

“Nat and I are moving in together, and I have a box of stuff that you left in the apartment,” the text read. “I can bring it over tomorrow, if you’d like?”

I slid down onto the kitchen floor, sitting with my knees up to my chest; one hand clutching my knees and the other holding my phone face down, and stared straight ahead.

Max bent down, sitting on the floor next to me and putting his hand over mine. I looked up at him, looking back at me, and leaned my head on his shoulder. It was hard for me to feel anything, except nausea - but feeling my face against Max’s strong shoulder, felt like it was grounding me.

Is there any point in telling him about this? Does it matter? It’s drama. It’s too much, right? But - if it matters to me, it matters, and if we’re going to be anything, I guess I have to let him get to know me.

A good ten minutes of silence had passed as I debated my internalized desire to “be so chill” against everything I’d learned in therapy. Which was admittedly excellent advice that I wasn’t always keen to follow.

Lifting my head from his shoulder I took a deep, slow breath in, and another out.

“That was my ex.”

I glanced over at Max, his eyes watching my face intently, and he squeezed my hand reassuringly. Meanwhile, I looked back at my knees, picking imaginary lint off my pant legs.

“We have a very complicated history, and he –” I sighed.

“It’s okay. Start from where it feels right.”

Letting out a somewhat sarcastic laugh, where it feels right?

“God. Okay. I guess I’ll give you the summary. We did love each other - I think. I’m fairly certain I loved him. We were together for several years, you’d hope love existed between us, right?”

I paused, thinking, my eyes reading the air in front of me.

“He had a hard time getting work for a while, and he always hated his job, no matter what job it was - he was always quitting and then looking for another one. I actually worked in marketing at the time, so I carried the financial burden of the relationship. Which I didn’t care about. I loved him.”

Taking a break to look at Max, he lifted my hand and gave it a kiss.

“Then he finally found a job he really loved, working at a brewery. He made a bunch of friends - we ended up going to a party one of them threw and playing a drinking game. I was drinking cocktails because I’m not really a beer person, while everyone else was drinking beer. So, I definitely lost the game. After the party ended, he invited a friend and their girlfriend back to our apartment to keep the party going. At this point, my endo was definitely symptomatic, but none of my doctors were concerned - just to keep in mind.”

The next part I was hesitant to bring up, because it was always something that fucked with my head. Some days I would tell myself it was nothing and other days I would think, but it did happen.

“I knew that I was way too drunk to keep hanging out - I had a snack from the fridge. Then I ended up getting sick from too much alcohol almost immediately, so I went into the bedroom to lie down. He spent another hour or two or three, I’m not really sure, with his friends. But then he came into the bedroom. I was still very, very drunk, but I was somewhat aware of what was happening.”

As I looked down at the ground, Max put his arm around me.

“He didn’t stop. He knew I wasn’t fully conscious, and he just kept going. I wasn’t in any shape to push him off, I just waited for it to end. And then it did. Until he decided to do it again. I lost track-- The nausea was overwhelming and I could barely think through it.”

Max brushed his other hand through my hair and kissed me on top of my head, as I went on.

“The next day I was so confused - why would someone who loves you, hurt you? But I also felt like maybe I should have seen it coming? He never asked for consent the first time we were together, he never let me lead. Very often he would wake me up in the middle of the night even when I hadn’t been drinking and was fully sober, to needle me while I was exhausted - until I gave in.”

I could feel Max’s muscles tense under his shirt and vest.

“When my doctors finally started to take my endo seriously and scheduled surgery, I had to get my mom to come stay with us, because he didn’t want to take off from work. And when that surgery was immediately a bust and I had to schedule a follow up surgery, my mom came back to help. He cried in the waiting room when the specialist told him everything that had been going on inside my body. Because he hadn’t believed me when I told him that I was in pain.”

“While I stayed home, healing, I started to pick up on some things - I learned that he was spending a lot of time talking to someone else. When I asked him about it, he claimed they were ‘just work friends’, but one night he told me he was going over to a mutual friend’s to hang out. When 3 a.m. rolled around and he wasn’t home, I was worried something had happened to him, and texted our friend, who texted me back immediately saying that they weren’t together. I checked social media, and he was tagged in an intimate photo with the person he’d been ‘talking to’.”

“This fucking guy.”

I looked up at Max, and his fangs were out. Although I was stuck in the feelings that this text had uprooted, something about seeing him in defensive mode pulled at my heart, bringing me back to the here and now, where I’d done the work to move past this.

“The next day, I stood on my own two feet, cleared to start doing chores around the house and put the song, Burn It Blue, by Caetano Veloso & Lila Downs, on repeat and on blast."

youtube

"He came into the kitchen, confused and for the first time worried - worried that I was upset with him. I told him that I saw the picture that was posted, and that his lying was the final straw. To be his bang-maid was beyond, but to add the insult of lying to my face? Enough. I found a new place. This place. And moved out within a week.”

Max’s fangs retracted and he gave me kisses all along the side of my face, while giving me a squeeze in our side-hug on the floor.

“But this text,” he stopped to listen as I continued. “He’s moving in with them - the person he was fucking around with behind my back, and he wants me to meet him, so that he can give me some things I left behind.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Max spat out his response, full of disgust.

“Listen, if you want to meet with him to get your stuff, fine. I can come with you, if you want - or I can just go for you, so that you don’t have to see him. Tell me what you need.”

“Well, I don’t want him in my place. And, I think maybe, based on your reaction, it would be best if I went alone.” I picked up my phone and started texting. “I’m just gonna tell him to meet me in that Belgian Café across the street tomorrow evening.”

“Okay. And what do you want to do now?”

“I need to clean up these lemons, and I definitely need to get my mind as far off of this as possible.” I stopped for a moment, biting the inside of my cheek. “I don’t love that I had to share this with you.”

Max frowned, “I don’t love that this happened to you,” then gave me a kiss on the forehead, “but I love that you felt comfortable enough to share it with me.”

He helped me finish my lemon goals, keeping me company and tossing lemon husks in the trash like each one was worth 3-points for his imaginary lemon-based basketball team.

We cleaned up quickly, and then he said, “You know what? We’re going on a field trip,” opening his eyes super wide and giving me a huge, enthusiastic grin.

“Where??” I asked, intrigued, excited, and already feeling a bit less anxiety ridden, just being in his presence.

“It’s a surprise. But you don’t have to change your clothes or anything, you’re perfect just as you are - and you only need to bring your keys, we’re not going far.”

“Uh, okay.” With only a tinge of uncertainty, I put my trust in him. Max hadn’t failed me yet.

Taking my hand, he led me out into the hallway and I locked my door, while I could hear Mr. Vilallonga from behind his door saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Pulling me down the hallway towards the elevator, I dragged behind him.

“Hey - is Mr. Vilallonga gonna be okay?”

“He’s fine. Don’t worry about him.”

The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside with Max, who pulled me close, and pressed the button for the top floor.

“We’re going up?” My eyes widened with surprise - we’re going to someone else’s apartment!

Max smirked, giving a quick flash of his eyebrows, and before I knew it, we had arrived. Stepping off onto the top floor, there were only three apartments. This was penthouse level, for sure.

What was I getting into? Oh god. I wasn’t walking into any Christian Grey shit, was I? Too soon, Max. Too soon.

As he unlocked the door at the far end, I had no idea what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t what I ended up walking into. The style was a mixture of mid century meets craftsman, no greige here. It was colorful, vibrant, retro, eclectic, lived in, and so much more light than I would’ve expected for a vampire.

“Okay, so why have we been spending so much time in my place when you have all of this?” I asked, in awe.

“Your place is cozy, and it smells like you.”

“I will happily rub myself all over your furniture, spreading my scent, if that’s all it takes to get you to let me spend time here.”

Max laughed, “I will happily watch that take place.” He stopped briefly before continuing, “But to be honest, I wanted to make sure you were comfortable first before I invited you into my den of iniquity.”

“Den of iniquity? You running a speakeasy out of this joint?” I walked further through his apartment, admiring his choice of wallpaper in the bar, and then immediately got distracted by the grand piano in the living room. “You have a grand piano in here?! You play then, I assume?”

This man never fails to surprise me.

Chuckling, “Yes, my abuela had me taking piano lessons by the time I was nine. She loved the piano, loved hearing me play. I was actually going to be a music major because of her, but in between my freshman and sophomore year of college, I dropped out. She got sick and I wanted to help take care of her. When I was able to go back to school, I re-enrolled as a business major.”

“So, when you helped me with my bath, and washed my hair –"

“I used to help her, yes.”

I took his hand in mine, giving it a kiss before moving in closer to hug him.

“If it’s okay to ask, why did you switch to a business major instead of sticking with music?”

He sighed, “It’s fine - it just, it made more sense for me to do something more practical with my life. And it was more her dream for me. I think it just really hurt too much to keep doing it after she passed away. I was a real asshole after I returned to school, though.”

Max gave an empty chuckle, shaking his head like he was trying to get rid of the memory.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. There was this guy who was kind of a little punk. His girlfriend was into me, and I definitely slept with her just because I could. And then he had me kicked out of school for cheating, so - I punched him. I was kind of a mess.”

“Max!” I wanted to cry for him, but I settled for leaning into him instead and giving him a squeeze. “That’s not great, but college age is still very young, and it sounds like you were having a really hard time grieving. I think having you kicked out for cheating is a bit of overkill, though. What did you do after that?”

“Oh, it was fine. All of my credits transferred, I had good grades, and good recommendation letters from other professors, so I ended up graduating - just a bit later than anticipated.” He stood, holding me, thinking for a bit, “I actually ran into the guy a little while ago.”

“Really? What did you do - how did you react?”

“Uhhh, well. It turns out he worked at a branch of the company where I was hired - right before I was turned. After I was turned, I discovered that corporate was actually mostly vampires.”

I was stunned to hear this, and my face definitely reflected that as I leaned back to look at Max.

“Yeah. It’s true.” And he moved on, like it was no big deal, “Anyway, that branch of the company needed to, as HR put it, ‘be redistributed’, so that guy is no longer my concern.”

“What happened, Max?”

“Ehhh, there was some bad blood.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“Okay, I was still pretty fresh and hyped up from the transition, and I probably should not have been put in the same room as him. Because I definitely tried to turn his new girlfriend and fuck her on the branch manager, Ted’s desk, and ended up just killing them both. Oopsy-daisy.” He shrugged as he said that last bit.

Blinking slowly at him, I responded, “What I said about overkill before? THIS part - is the actual overkill.”

“What was it you said earlier? My bad? I’m gonna go with that.”

“I didn’t say that. I might’ve said ‘my bat’?” I said with some snark.

He pulled me closer, “Oh, was that it?”

His face close to mine, he swerved past my lips as I went to kiss him, and nibbled at my ear, kissing my neck instead.

“You know, they started vampire group therapy sessions as part of our company benefits and it’s really worked wonders for morale.”

I laughed, “Really? Because I did wonder if such a thing existed.”

Squinting down at me, he said very low and smooth, “Oh yeah. Many, many wonders for morale. And for individuals, too.”

“I’m impressed that vampires are able to put together such comprehensive mental healthcare plans.”

“Can’t have a sound body without a sound mind.”

He said it like he was selling sex and reading off a Yogi Tea bag label. I rolled my eyes playfully - although, I was ultimately pleased to hear that he had access to it.

Breaking away from Max, I wandered over to the piano, “So - you still play?”

“Yeah. Of course - after I got kicked out at my first school, and I finally got going again at my second school, I decided to be a music minor. I took piano lessons, had to perform in a recital once a semester, performed and had my skills tested in juries at the end of every semester, the whole nine yards.”

He scooted the piano bench back, giving his long legs room, and his arms space to move as he sat down. He pointed at the white chair near the piano, encouraging me to have a seat.

“My abuela was a huge fan of Enrique Granados, and I used to play his Spanish Playera, Op. 5, No. 5 for her every time she asked.”

Running through a few scales first to warm up, he looked back at me and winked, “Okay, now I’m good to go.” I chuckled at how bubbly and eager he seemed to be, to show me his passion.

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As his fingers gracefully touched the keys - the low note grace notes, combined with offbeat chords, giving the harmonic sensation of a Spanish guitar - I relaxed back into the chair. Soon, the melody sang over the bass line, haunting and virtuosic, moving through sweet soft moments, into more intense, demanding chord progressions then back again, cycling through various sentiments of ardent fervor and subtle emotion.

Watching his hands was mesmerizing. His large fingers, you would think would be so cumbersome across the keys, but they were not. Quite the opposite, actually. Agile, smoothly running across, loosely reaching between keys with a practiced posture - the small tendons raising in the back of his hand, the muscles gently flexing. The way he pressed down on the keys, ensuring that each one was only as loud as he wanted it to be, his nuanced rubato was downright erotic.

As he finished, he let his hands sit on the keys, lifting them slightly, holding his foot on the pedal as the final delicate chord hung in the air, allowing it to breathe for just a moment before carefully lifting his foot off the pedal, releasing the notes from their captive audience of one.

Naturally, I slow-clapped for him. He turned around, and gave me his half-smile, and I let him have it, “I enjoyed every second of that. You play so passionately,” I put my hand on my heart, “I felt - everything. It definitely evokes the sensation of dance.”

His smile grew, “I’m glad you liked it. The composer, Granados, was a huge fan of the painter, Francisco Goya, and even wrote an entire piano suite called, Goyescas, based on his paintings and tapestries - which he then adapted into an opera, and then that even got turned into a movie.”

Max spoke quickly, invested in his subject, “But the saddest part is that he died when he was only 48 years old, after traveling to the U.S. to perform for President Wilson at the White House, and then premiering his Goyescas Opera at the New York Met Opera. He and his wife missed their original boat, and had to take another steamer ship to the U.K., which crossed the English Channel and was attacked by torpedoes from a German submarine. Because it was right in the middle of WWI. The boat sank and Granados and his wife perished, leaving behind six kids. Isn’t that incredibly sad?”

“Uh, yeah, Max. That’s super sad.” Leaning my head against my hand, furrowed brow, “But I certainly appreciate the backstory. I’m very curious about the Goyescas and how they relate to Goya’s paintings –” I drifted off, leaving space for him to tell me more.

“I thought that might interest you. I’ve always appreciated how much you communicate via music.”

He gave me a gentle smile, “There is another piece I’d like to play for you, a little bit calmer - if you want to grab that pillow from the chair, you can lie down under the piano and experience it in complete surround sound.”

As I picked up the pillow and set myself up awkwardly beneath the piano, with a healthy view of Max’s feet on the pedals and his legs - he bent over and peeked down at me, “This piece is by Debussy, it’s called Rêverie - it’s impressionistic, but it uses a lot of 5-7 chords that have a richness predating their common use in jazz. It’s a whole thing.” He waved his hand in the air, as a sort of ‘whatever’.

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Breathing out, I watched his foot step on the pedal before he’d even started playing a note. Suddenly I was surrounded by left handed rolling arpeggios, as I stared back into the inky black of the piano above me. The right hand melody came trickling in, cutting through like a boat through the mist, slowly floating along the musical river that carried it to its unknown destination. Each lift of Max’s foot on the pedal, a breath between phrases, sentences of a poem, and I relaxed in its embrace.

He lifted his foot after holding the final chord, and I wiped away the renegade tears forming that sought to make a fool of me. I knew they weren’t there because I was sad, but because I felt relieved to be with someone who sought to take such thoughtful care of me - with me. It had been so long, and I had been holding myself in so tightly, that my own body had started to feel like it had become a part of the wall I had put up to protect myself. Every ache and bruise felt new, but at the same time, I felt the warmth of being able to set them down without judgment.

This was a safe place. Max is a safe place.

Peering under the piano, Max gave me a wondering look, “Are you okay? Do you want to, maybe, come out from under there?”

I laughed lightly, “Yes, of course - that was really, really lovely.”

Max had come around the side of the piano, offering me his hand as I slid out from underneath.

“I can’t for the life of me figure out why you chose to switch to a business major, though? You play so beautifully - talent like that deserves to be shared.”

“Piano is very competitive,” he started, “and after my abuela passed away, I was all alone. I didn’t feel secure enough to pursue a career that didn’t guarantee that I would have financial security. Can you blame me for wanting a future?”

I shook my head sadly, not completely understanding his situation first hand, but of course, capable of comprehending that life sometimes makes difficult choices for us.

“Besides,” Max smirked, “It could’ve been worse.”

Confused, I tilted my head, “How so?”

“I could’ve grown up to be what I wanted to be in the seventh grade.” His eyes widened, and so did his grin, “A hype man for The Mighty Mighty Bosstones.”

“Are you kidding me?!” I yelped, laughing.

“I had all the moves, I even wore suspenders with a bow tie, and checker-print Vans.”

Looking pleased with himself, he stepped back to give himself space to dance.

“Oh no. I’m trying to picture you in suspenders and a bow tie and all I’m getting is Orville Redenbacher.”

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“The popcorn guy?? No way, I was way cooler than that! Check me out!”

He danced. It was dancing. Definitely of the 80’s and 90’s persuasion, some hype-man in there, a little bit of Jack Black. Of course, I gave him a soundtrack and turned on the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Heads Will Roll.

“Hey! This isn’t Ska! It’s not the right tempo.”

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Bursting out laughing, I told him, “I know. It’s just so much funnier to watch you try to dance like you’re dancing to Ska, when the music doesn’t match.”

I was crying a little bit, my breathing halted by my laughter, “I had a roommate in college who really struggled with rhythm, and always danced just a little bit faster than the music.” Pausing to gasp, wiping my eyes. “This is bringing back some very happy memories.”

Clutching my stomach, I leaned against the couch to hold myself up, laughing as Max continued dancing, just a little bit too quickly and frantically.

The song ended, and Max did a graceful leap over to where I was laughing, “Oh, I’m sure you had all of your shit together when you were in seventh grade.”

Still laughing, “No. No, no, no.” Resting a moment to catch my breath before continuing, “I was super bored in my math class, so I started drawing Kermit the Frog, and my friends had me draw him doing different things, being different celebrities - Tommy Boy, Pamela Anderson, Jerry Garcia. I made the mistake of showing the pictures to my mom, and from that point on, I never stopped receiving Kermit themed gifts. Henceforth, I was a Muppet Person - everything was Muppets whether I wanted it or not.”

I cried while laughing, caught in a state of humorous melancholy.

Max roared, as laughter tumbled from his lips, “No. No! Really?”

“I wanted to be so much more than that.” I wailed.

“That means you can draw, then - you’re an artist?”

“No, absolutely not. I haven’t drawn since. Well, actually - that’s a lie.”

He cocked his head in intrigue.

“I did do a bit of chalk art for this cocktail shop I worked at, and uh, after I tried to draw a chalk ad in the style of Ryan Gosling’s ‘Hey, Girl’ Era, they informed me that I no longer needed to do the chalk art, because they would be paying a professional.”

Sighing sadly, I went on, “My dreams for my own chalk art business named Chalka Khan went up in smoke, just like that.” I said, snapping my fingers.

“Was your slogan going to be, ‘I’m every woman’?” Max shook his head dramatically, as though he had long, flowing hair, suddenly channeling his inner diva.

Shaking my head at him, “Psssshhhh. No.” and then I sang, “Anything you want done baby, I do it naaaturally.” Giving him a little wink at the end.

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“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He held up his hands, palms forwards as if to beg me to stop. “That’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, but my art wasn’t - good - enough.” Punctuating those last three words, really hitting home the point.

Max frowned, “Awww. I’m sure it was so good.”

“It wasn’t. Everyone kept asking me why I drew my coworker, and not Ryan Gosling. I actually - I have proof.”

Pulling my phone out from my back pocket, I showed him the art in question.

He burst out laughing, immediately covering his mouth, “No, no. It’s not that – okay, it’s not Ryan Gosling. At all. I’m not sure who it is, Nic Cage - Jeff Golblum, maybe? But the font’s not bad.”

“Thank you for that! I’m actually really into fonts, and I’ve been into them ever since middle school, when someone got me a little book with a fancy pen. I did them all! I don’t care for Papyrus, though.”

“What about Wingdings?” Max asked, focusing his eyes on me.

“Are you kidding me? I live and die by Wingdings. It’s in my will - my tombstone will read, born: file folder, open mailbox, telephone, pencil - died: peace sign, open book, boat helm, scissors-mid-cut, lit candle.”

“Wow. Planning on living a long time, huh?”

“Who knows?” I smirked. “Maybe forever.”

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