#accepting applications until fucking march????? so what???? is the truth???????

[josecariohca]

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[thecreepiestcarrie]

#JusticeforJohnnyDepp: Johnny’s witness statements at a glance (Stephen Deuters, Malcolm Connolly & Trinity Esparza)

Things I Cover in this Post:

May 2014: incident on the plane

March 2015: the finger injury incident in Australia

May 2016: the phone throwing incident, leading to the application for the TRO

AH’s behaviour following her applying for the Temp Restraining Order against Johnny

Elon Musk’s involvement with AH

The witness statements I am featuring highlights from are from Stephen Deuters- personal assistant to Johnny from 2004-2017, working currently as the European president of Johnny’s production company (his texts were included in The Sun’s opening statement, there have been inconsistencies in his story but he claims the messages were altered), Malcolm Connolly-  security guard of Johnny since 2004 and Trinity Esparza-  owner of the Eastern, works as front desk supervisor since 2014.

I’m gonna go in chronological order of these events, which begins with Stephen Deuters statements.

The Sun have cast some doubt over how trustworthy Stephen’s accounts can be, citing text messages, which Stephen says were doctored.  Here we see that Stephen was using Scum’s language back to her to placate her because she was probably unresponsive and unwilling to converse with anyone until they presented themselves as at least a little on her side, I’m assuming. Was it manipulative of him to use the word ‘kick’ in order to gain a different reaction out of Scum? A bit, sure. But from the audio recordings we can see that she is insistent when she thinks she’s making a point, we can even hear how her use of language/the way she refers to certain incidents does not match up with the recollections of others present at the time. I think an important part of Stephen’s statement here is that the authenticity can be proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt. The chairs in the plane were fixed to the ground - facts are facts. What plane doesn’t have furniture fixed to the floor? What kind of crazy health and safety hazard is that?

This is something I wanted to expand upon. Victims of domestic violence can/will hide their injuries in order to protect their abuser and so, one could argue that Scum never disclosed any of her injuries to Stephen because she was either protecting Johnny or she was feeling the shame of being a victim of this violence. Nope. No sale, I’m not buying that. In the first screenshot, we see Stephen talking about how Scum insisted upon he and Jerry (the only two present aside from she and Johnny) that Johnny had kicked her. Continued to insist and, like I said before, she will repeat herself until she gets the response she wants (or gets distracted by something else). She was so quick to yell out to Stephen and Jerry to be her witnesses and Stephen even presented himself to agree with her. Even back in 2014, she was trying to plant the seeds of Johnny being an abuser and she was sharing this to members of his staff. Stephen was still Johnny’s assistant when the divorce/tro happened, so what happened between 2014 to 2016 to make her stop going to him with this false narrative? Was it that she thought this ‘kick’ (it was a tap on her butt from Johnny’s foot, my gf and I do shit like that to each other all the time, calm down Brenda) was strong enough evidence to convince them of her point of view, and everything else after that she didn’t have them bear witness to? (because none of it happened).

Okay now we’re going to move to March 2015 and Australia, namely the incident of Johnny’s finger getting sliced down to the bone, as recounted by Malcolm  Connolly

Malcolm had seen Scum throw objects before, interesting coz Scum (and her party) has accused Johnny of throwing things all about all of the time. She’s again projecting her own behaviour onto him because she’s the perfect abuser. Also, wow, how dare you hurt his perfect fucking face? And then tell him that you love him? She is disgusting.

They immediately came up with a way to cover for Scum because it would create extremely bad publicity for her. Or could it be that, as a man, Johnny was afraid to come forward as a victim of violence because no one would believe him because that’s exactly what’s happening right now. Fake feminists will spout shit like ‘men can’t be abused’ and will blindly believe Scum purely because she’s a woman. The idea of a man being abused is not a part of the accepted mainstream perspective and Johnny was undoubtedly shamed into silence, like so many other victims (regardless of gender) are. It’s an antiquated view that isn’t based in any facts and it’s keeping other male victims silent to protect this idea of men being always strong and to be anything else is pathetic.

Let’s jump ahead to when the shit really hit the fan - March 2016, this is when the allegations began to leak and Johnny was finally cutting himself free of Scum. The following are highlights from the statement of Trinity Esparza.

Hello to Miss Trinity who is an impartial witness, I think this is definitely worth taking note of. Especially when you compare it to who The Sun relied on for their witness statements- 8 people, including Scum herself, who all have a personal connection to her. People who are clearly her friends and have an emotional connection to this case. Trinity is the kind of witness we have been waiting for.

Okay, so the phone throwing incident, which led to the fantastical, moving bruise on Scum’s face, occurred on May 21st of 2016. We’ve all seen it by now because she walked around with it on display for sympathy/pity when she was going to court to apply for that temp restraining order (which was denied, never forget that fact). One would assume that it was visible to the press that day because there was no makeup was on her face. So how come the bruise wasn’t visible closeup four days after the injury supposedly occurred?

Here we have the magical, fantastical, moving bruise - welcome her to the stage, six days after the impact allegedly occurred. This is six days after Rocky took those closeup photos of the injury (the photos they took immediately after Johnny’s alleged ‘temper tantrum’ that left a path of destruction through the apartment... which four separate cops failed to find any trace of).

And here we have some more irrefutable evidence, video surveillance that is time/date stamped. I would like to note that Trinity points out Johnny left the night of the 21st and did not return, so Scum’s bruise only beginning to appear to Trinity on the 27th isn’t due to Johnny returning to abuse her some more. He was entirely gone.

Rocketman returns, clearly Scum was in some kind of relationship with him before Johnny left (emotional affairs are just as real/damaging as a sexual affair).

Wow. Read this paragraph and really think about what kind of twisted fuck Scum is. She has friends at People magazine, a direct line to the press so that she can control how the story comes out.

More of the Rocketman, just enjoying his time in the penthouse owned by Johnny, the penthouse he was forced to flee after continued abuse from his lying wife. It clearly was something she/they were trying to hide because he was only dropping by late at night when Johnny was away. Please note that Scum and Mollusc were publicly dating each other in 2016, online articles place their relationship as ‘beginning’ (I would say beginning to be public would be a more truthful way of putting it) in May of 2016. The exact same month when she began publicly accusing Johnny of abuse. So that’s a nice bit of overlapping there... and by nice, I mean gross and making no fucking sense.

I am really grateful for all of the reblogs and interaction, let’s keep fighting for the truth.

[weakzen]

(Not So) Small Detective Ask Game

(list here for anyone else who wants to do it)

alright, one sadsack detective and where she stands at the end of book 2, comin’ right up.

01. What’s their name and how do they look?

Alexandra 'Alex' Black.

Five foot three shorty. Twenty-eight years old. Light blue eyes. Long, bright red hair, usually done up in a big puffy Dutch braid. Athletic and curvy, with a decent amount of muscle. Covered in some gnarly scars too, mostly on the left side of her body. Buy her a drink and ask real nice about them, and she might just tell you about the time she got her ass kicked and almost died in a bar fight.

02. Why did they join the police?

Needed a job after crawling home to Wayhaven with her tail tucked between her legs. It was supposed to be temporary, just something to pay the bills while she worked up the nerve to jump back into academia.

Then years passed, applications remained unsent, and one day, she looked up from behind Reele's old desk and slowly realized she was never going to have the courage to get that PhD.

03. How did they get the promotion to detective and what do they think about it?

She turned the Chief down and kept turning him down for the promotion, right up until the morning he slammed a 'Detective Black' nameplate down on her desk and told her that she started in an hour.

After he stomped out of the station, she just sighed and spun around in her chair a few times.

That general mood hasn't changed since. But if no one else is stepping up, then she'll do the best job she can.

Not like she's really a mathematician anymore, so…

Might as well.

04. Can they handle blood/gore?

Yes. Very easily.

All that emotional detachment has to be good for something, right?

05. How are they with people?

Depends on how much those people like evasive sarcasm and bad puns.

06. What’s their relationship to Bobby?

First serious relationship. First love.

First person to stab her in the back so thoroughly she almost had a nervous breakdown.

You know, because of the whole threat of being kicked from her grad program and having her undergrad degree stripped away, the ongoing investigations of academic fraud, plagiarism, and theft of her TA answer keys.

And then, when the evidence for all of it wasn't lining up Bobby's way, the personal smears, the weaponization of everything she'd ever told him in confidence, until finally—the cherry atop the whole shit sundae—his accusation that she'd abused her authority as a TA to coerce him into a relationship.

All of that from someone she once truly believed when he looked her in the eye and told her she mattered to him more than anything.

These days, she avoids Bobby as much as possible. Because she fucking loathes that little ratfuck piece of shit, yes, but mostly because she's legit worried that she'll eventually snap and break his jaw if he keeps calling her 'angel' and trying to put his fucking hands on her.

She'd have to fill out an awful lot of paperwork if she did that, after all.

07. What’s their relationship with their mom like? How did it change?

When she was kid, she understood her mom wasn't around because of Work. Very important Work. She also understood that Work was the reason why her mom would constantly get up to take phone calls in the middle of dinner, or when they were sitting and talking together, and sometimes those phone calls would make her mom leave right after, even if she just got home.

She didn't understand why all of that bothered her though, just that it hurt for some reason and it sometimes made her cry later in her room. And eventually, after years of it, she started calling every nanny that stuck around for long enough her 'mom' instead, then begged them not to leave her too.

When she was a teenager, she stopped crying and started yelling. Started pushing back. Started avoiding home every time she'd walk up her street after school to see the lights on and the car in the driveway. She'd spend the night a friend's house instead, rather than endure another evening of emotional whiplash and half-hearted interest in her life and the constant reminders that Rebecca would rather take a work call in the other room than spend time with her or listen to her.

Because those calls were more important than her and anything she had to offer.

She frequently wondered why Rebecca even bothered to have a kid, then always rationalized that her dad must have talked Rebecca into it because there was just no way otherwise. And quietly, that gave her a small amount of comfort. Because if he managed to pull off that amazing feat, then he must have also really wanted her and loved her before he died.

Right?

As an adult, she no longer wonders about any of that. No longer cries. No longer gets angry. And she already knows what the answer would be if she straight up asked Rebecca 'Would you change anything, if you had the opportunity to go back and do it all over?'

She's firmly accepted that she never mattered to Rebecca, not the way the job did, and that she never will.

A one time stint with rule breaking doesn't change anything about that.

And it doesn't even hurt much, accepting that truth, as long as nobody pokes at it too hard and she doesn't think about it very deeply and Rebecca doesn't try to push any of those performative 'loving mom' displays of affection on her.

08. Who is their Love Interest and why?

Mason.

Because someone needs to put that asshole in his place. If he's gonna fuck with her, then she's gonna fuck with him right back. And if he's gonna fuck with her then, um… w-well, she's still gonna fuck with him right back!

He can have pleasure with her if he wants, but he is not getting it from seeing her back down.

That said, she does genuinely like the bastard, if a little begrudgingly. Thinks he's fun. Cute. Cares about his well-being too. Wants him to be comfortable and happy. Worries often that he probably isn't, considering how hard it must be to live with such painfully heightened senses.

And after Bobby, Mason feels safe. Comforting, in a weird way. She knows and accepts that the only thing he wants from her is sex, that he doesn't give a shit about her at all outside the bedroom, and that he won't ever pretend to either.

That's such a huge relief, to not be jerked around by somebody saying one thing but doing another. To have someone be brutally honest for once about what she actually means to them.

And if he ever does show any hint of affection, well, then it's probably because he's starting to see her as a part of the team. Maybe. Or he's just fucking with her again to provoke a reaction. Probably that. In which case, watch out buddy.

Two can play at that game.

09. What do they think of the supernatural?

Really interested in figuring out how all of it works, more than anything. It's magic, but there still has to be some kind of underlying set of rules and a logic to it all, right? She's definitely asked Nate to get her a baby's first book of vampire basics too.

At the same time, however, her enthusiasm for it all remains somewhat dampened.

She knows there's another Murphy out there coming for her eventually. It's just a matter of time. And until he shows up, she has to assume that every new supernatural she encounters is him.

Maybe that's unfair, but so was the target Murphy carved across her back.

10. How well did they handle the reveal that the supernatural exists?

Well, she already knew Unit Bravo were a bunch of shady-ass weirdos hiding obvious secrets, but… vampires? Not exactly in her top one hundred guesses for what one of those secret might've been.

Still, whatever. Didn't phase her. If she believes alien life definitely exists somewhere, then why should vampires be that impossible? Especially when she witnessed evidence of their abilities firsthand.

Oh, and since Felix was being such a little shit in the hospital room trying to scare her about it, she demanded even more evidence from him. Asked him to come closer to her bed again. Closer. Even closer. Then she put her face right by his and told him to prove it, and gestured for him to show his fangs.

Once he did, obviously, she did her best to look as bored as possible while she tilted his face between her hands to examine them. Gave him a glib little thanks afterward, for showing her his 'vampire teeth.'

And added that they were a lot smaller than she expected.

11. Do they have any tattoos/piercings?

Just the standard single-hole piercings through each earlobe.

She mostly wears tiny studs. Geometric shapes. Stuff that can't be grabbed and pulled during a fight.

12. What is their highest (professional) stat and why?

Combat (70%)

Guess that kinda happens when exercise is her primary mode of stress relief, and her favorite way to exercise for almost half of her life now has been to train in some form of martial art.

Rebecca is the one who encouraged it, too. Signed her up for lessons and said that if she was gonna fight, then she better damn well make sure she's the one standing at the end next time.

13. What’s their opinion of the Mayor?

Who, Mayor Fartman? She has definitely never slipped that into a conversation while talking to him and pretended she didn't afterwards.

Nothing but respect for her mayor.

14. Do they get along with Tina and Verda?

Absolutely.

She's not as close to Verda as she is with Tina, but she really appreciates his sense of humor and his overall chill, caring vibe. He's a good dude. And she loves asking him questions about his work too. Even better when those questions spiral into long, scientific bullshit sessions that leave them both grinning at the end like the huge fucking nerds they are.

And Tina, well…

After she returned to Wayhaven, Tina was the one who got her back on her feet. Pulled her out of one of the worst places she's ever been emotionally. Kept her marching forward until she could stand on her own again. And did all of that for her, someone still practically a stranger to Tina at that point, without ever asking for anything in return, other than for her to start being a little kinder to herself about everything.

Tina's an amazing person. Her best friend. She loves her. Trusts her completely.

And is totally fuckin' ride or die for her.

15. What do they think of Unit Bravo? How has that changed throughout the story?

Once all the secretive bullshit and obvious lying stopped, she was fine with them as a group. Overall, thinks they're good people. Likable, even. Fun. And they're using their time and effort to help others, and that's something she greatly admires.

But she doesn't feel like part of their team. Their family. Doesn't see herself as anything more than a temporary stop for them on the way to wherever they're headed next.

Not because of anything they've done, just… she knows probability. Wrote her thesis on it.

And after Murphy, the blood—her blood—she doesn't give herself great odds for reaching thirty.

In the meantime, though:

Adam

Well, first off, he deserved to get shot. She fucking warned him. And what kind of asshole tries to dismiss someone pointing a firearm at them as a bluff?! Secondly, the sheer audacity of this man! Who the hell does he think he is?! Thirdly, he needs to chill the fuck out. Or she's gonna drop a goddamn ice cube down the back of his shirt. Fourth, okay—admittedly, that combined take down of Murphy was pretty cool. They at least work well together in a fight. Fifth, well…

Shit.

She actually, really, kind of… respects him. Gets him a little, too. Understands him, in a strange way she can't explain.

Maybe it's because they're both far more alike than either one of them would ever care to admit.

Even so, he still needs to get knocked on his ass every once and a while. To keep him humble. And she absolutely can't wait for the day she finally does it when they spar.

Nate

Nate has always been great. Considerate. Welcoming. Warm. Thoughtful. A whole host of other wonderful adjectives that would definitely make the world a better place if more people aspired to embody them the way he does.

Yet… whenever Nate aims any of that kindness her direction, it unnerves her. Probably as much as her tattered relationship with Rebecca unnerves him.

She believes he's genuine about his comments and compliments, even as she swerves around them. They're just… hard to hear. She doesn't know what to do with any of them. Or understand why he's giving them to her in the first place.

They barely know each other, so how can he say stuff like that? Especially so easily?

Felix

She's real glad that unsolicited, near-kiss of his turned out to be a fluke—because it would have sucked to miss out on a fellow troll who can match her beat for sarcastic beat.

Felix is more her speed, so to speak. She appreciates his approach, the heart wrapped in levity and laced with a bit of shit-stirring. The playfulness. The excitement. Though, sometimes the sheer chaotic energy fueling it all can be a bit overwhelming, even for her.

Still, his fumes are infectious, and she can already tell they're gonna be terrible enablers for each other.

Mason

Unsurprisingly, she likes him much better now that his jerk dial is turned to 'playful teasing' rather than 'unwarranted hostility,' though she's still not quite sure what changed to make that happen. Not sure how long it will last either, any of it. Either way, she has no expectations of him and their non-relationship, no secret hopes for feelings or a future.

She's just enjoying the banter, the amazing sex, and the fun moments as they come with him, until they don't come any more.

Pun completely intended.

16. Do they have any pets?

Do houseplants count? If so, she has an amazing kentia palm.

17. What are their hobbies?

Sparring, running, and weight training, primarily.

Yes, that probably makes her a total douchebag bro. And no, she doesn't skip leg day.

She also likes reading, knitting, gardening, feeding the neighborhood birds, playing strategy games, doing logic and word puzzles, examining systems of any kind to figure out how they work, and spending time outdoors enjoying all the gorgeous mountain scenery, lush wilderness, and dank weed BC has to offer.

So, you know, a well-rounded douchebag at least.

18. What do they think of Douglas?

She knows how much it fucking sucks and hurts to have a parent who obviously loves their job way more than their kid. She also remembers how annoying she was as a teenager. That said, those bits of sympathy and understanding are really the only things standing between her and complete exasperation with him.

Still, it's probably only a matter of time before she switches his phone language from English to something non-Romance, probably Arabic. Something that would be really difficult for him to switch back anyway.

And if that doesn't work, well, then the entire station is gonna bear witness to whether or not their paper shredder has enough muscle to chew through a cell phone.

19. What does their apartment look like?

Minimalist. White walls. Warm woods and leather. Clean lines with pops of color from textiles, house plants, and cut flowers. Not a lot of clutter or material possessions.

Very tidy, too. Bed always made. Dishes washed after use. Baseboards, corners, and door frames dust free.

Of course, the building she lives in is pretty old, so all of that sleek, immaculate minimalism is wrapped around some hideously dated interior design. Hello, puke green shower tile and baby pink countertops.

20. What is their personality?

Overall, pretty chill and content to live and let live, for the most part. Unless someone's being an asshole or a bully. In which case, she's very inclined to get up in their face about it, even if she has to stand on her toes to do so.

Once she does that, good luck. She's fucking tenacious. And stubborn as shit too, so she won't be the one backing down.

She would prefer to keep things relaxed, though. Playful. She likes banter. Sarcasm. Teasing and being teased. Laughing and making laugh. And she absolutely loves deploying and receiving truly awful puns, the more eye-watering and cringe-inducing, the better.

The humor is enjoyable enough on its own, but it also lets her be friendly while still keeping a buffer of emotional distance.

Because holy shit is she guarded.

It takes her a very, very, very long time to feel comfortable opening up to people. Or to let herself feel anything deeper for them beyond detached affection. Or to reach out and ask for help, even when she desperately needs it.

She's far more accustomed to being on her own, looking out for herself. And, luckily, she's resourceful and competent enough to make that work, most of the time. It helps having highly analytical mind geared toward problem solving.

Well, it helps when she's not using that mind to construct defensive rationalizations to keep people out. And when that mind isn't busy encouraging her curiosity to pry into things and people to figure out how they work.

Terrible habit, her nosiness. The probing. The eavesdropping. The occasional snooping. Just the worst, really, especially from someone so reluctant to share anything deep about herself.

Like the fact, beneath everything else, she just feels completely alone and about to drown in unending sadness.

But, hey, that stuff down there doesn't matter.

It really doesn't.

21. Their favourite/comfort food?

Fish empanadas with pebre. Ate a lot of those when she studied abroad in Chile, and that was probably the happiest year of her life.

She still makes pebre all the time, but the empanadas are actually something she would break her vegetarianism to eat again, if she ever got the chance.

22. Do they go to the bar or stay at the station?

Stayed in. Not a big fan of bars anymore.

23. Their gender/sexuality?

Cis woman. And, well… straight?

Not a whole lot of sexual experience to draw from there. And it's a bit late to figure out whether she likes girls or just thinking about girls, right? That's the kind of thing she was supposed to have sorted before she turned twenty-five, not let sit until she's almost thirty and finally ready to see people again and then expect some poor woman to hand-hold her awkward ass through it, all while she shies away from making any real, intimate connection, partially because the thought of ever making herself that emotionally vulnerable again makes her want to throw up in fear, but mostly because it would be incredibly unfair to date someone with the mountain of secrets she has to now keep and also when it seems like her goddamn life expectancy is a just big fucking question mark these days.

So, yes. Straight.

Sure.

24. How did they handle the fight with Murphy? Did they get bitten?

She jammed that DMB syringe right into that fucker's neck with one hand, while her other pressed against her own neck to stop the bleeding.

Then she kicked him a few times after he was down. Hissed curses at him while she asked him who was making idle threats now, motherfucker.

25. What do they usually wear? Has that changed?

Usually something form-fitting, flattering, and fairly subdued and minimalist in color and pattern. High-waisted jeans. High-necked blouses, sweaters, and soft, stylish t-shirts. Lacey crop tops and a gambler hat in the summer. Boots, slightly heeled and slightly pointed, all year round. Maybe some rings and a metal cuff if she's feeling fancy. Sunglasses if it's bright. All of it paired with either a black denim jacket, a black leather jacket, or long black trench coat that swooshes when she walks.

Overall, she definitely channels that cowboy witch vibe.

[believerindaydreams]

Does it count as a slow burn if it's been less than 15000 words I dunno anyway here be the shagging chapter.

"Arcade Gannon, you're extremely drunk."

That he's saying it aloud seems to confirm the validity of the statement. Good.

Boone looks up briefly from his compulsive scribbling. It seems backwards somehow that he's sitting here with the drink while Boone is writing, but he can't entirely think of why. Tomorrow Arcade's problem.

Tomorrow along with the hangover and scavenging for survival and getting to one of the people they're meant to be rescuing. He giggles, tenderly adjusts the angle of his new glasses. They're utterly priceless, at least until he gets back to the Old Mormon Fort and can grab one of the three pairs he's put by for emergencies.

"What are you doing?"

There is a definite moment during which Boone has decided not to answer, but then he does. "Letter for my wife."

"Oh. Uhh, sorry about her...I can't, you know, take too many more emotional shocks before falling asleep. The-" he frowns abruptly, feels at his neck to see if the collar is still there. It is. "The thing thing. Enough for one day."

Compiling a list of the variables causing him to have hit this level of coherency would take long enough he'd be sober before finishing. Never mind.

"That thing," Boone says, sharply enough to break his pencil between words. He takes out a knife and starts whittling a fresh point. "Don't ask about the thing."

"Understood." He is absolutely dying to know what science involves making targets glow, but that's not Brotherhood or Legion business and it might not even be his. Much as he wants to find out. Man has a right to secrets.

He shuts up and just watches for a while. The scratch of pencil lead. The way Boone's frowning over the letters, a hint of pink tongue at the corner of his mouth, so profoundly earnest. The slight glisten on one side of his jumpsuit, catching the light-

oh. Oh! Fuck.

"I was crying on your shoulder earlier." The whole chain of memories pops up obediently, now he's looking for it.

"Don't worry about it."

"I-", Arcade starts, and promptly stops, because he was going to say he's sorry now but that might be misconstrued as rude, and why can't he offload some of this eighteen-caret vocabulary right now except making his mouth say it sounds difficult. "So you don't mind."

"In your position I'd have beaten my brains out against a Legion tentpost ages back. You're pretty coherent for a prisoner of war."

Now isn't that rich, being told he's coherent by...why is he thinking like this? That's Enclave talk, isn't it?

He firmly shoves that whole line of thought into a box and locks it away. "I should shut up and go to sleep now."

"Probably," Boone agrees. He folds the letter up, tucks it in a pocket. "I'll wake you when I can't stay awake any more."

"A watch? Do we really need one?"

"I'd rather not risk it."

It's either argue or go to sleep. He falls asleep trying to decide.

***

"Wake up before I pass out."

A return to the land of the living. Not as rough as it could have been, he's drunk so much water in ecstatic indifference to lurking radiation. Rads can be cured, dehydration can't.

He returns to the sink for more and turns around to find Boone already out, small and vulnerable the way people are when they sleep. Dragging the mattresses from the cells into this kitchen had been a good idea, there's a double layer to sleep on, another to sit on.

Compared to the life he was living, sustenance on sufferance and a guard every moment, this is the lap of luxury. Even the slave collar-

he feels the harsh metal against his throat again and shudders, returning sobriety hitting hard. This is not normal. This is not a state to get used to. He deserves better than this, as does Boone.

For a moment he considers crawling right back into a bottle, but they don't have an infinite supply and besides, Boone's trusting his life here. Best keep steady hands.

Old world poetry marching through his skull. Center cannot hold. If he has to get to terms with what's been happening to him, he will fall apart right here in this kitchen.

Focus, Gannon. Focus.

Boone turns over in his sleep, emits a soft snore, and it's silly to say that does it when it's the weight of death pressing down on them, attraction formed out of raw aching need, spending the most stressful hours of his life wrapped up in concern for the life before him; and something turns over and now he's in love. Or at least lust. His body, fed and watered and rested, is absolutely desperate for release.

A jumpsuit's not ideal for this sort of activity. Arcade removes it, adjusts his position to be able to see the entryway and Boone both, the other man's body gently rising and falling with each breath. The rhythm of it is steady, reassuring, makes for a fine counterpoint to his own meditative movements.

If an enemy comes in now, his senses are on high alert. Listening, seeing, it's an acceptable risk.

Boone isn't asking for this.

Boone doesn't need to know. They're keeping enough secrets from each other, he can have one more.

The crescent-shaped scar trailing down past the ear, normally covered by the beret. Rounded curve under the ribcage, a callus on the forefinger of indeterminate origin, every small detail whispering him on as he pulls and pulls and comes-

- the whoop of pleasure as he does so, clutching the butt of the holorifle for support, is tremendously unintentional.

Boone opens one eye, fixes his squarely.

"Huh. Nice to know you're human like the rest of us."

Sitting naked and covered in cum is so far past any reasonable course of denial or explanation, truth will have to serve. "I do find you very attractive, but we seemed to have enough to deal with without me dumping that on your head."

"...how about you give me a handjob, and we'll call it quits."

There are so many more extravagant ways to show a man a good time, but- this is Craig Boone. No surprise if he likes to keep it simple.

Arcade wipes himself off, ruining the lining of a poorly made fedora in the process, and crawls over to strip his lover.

(Can you say lover, etymologically, before actually committing the act? Never mind, it's bound to be a moot point shortly.)

He struggles to get the jumpsuit off- it's tight and Boone isn't helping much, limp with exhaustion- doesn't give him much to work with here. They might not get very far.

Nevertheless, it's incumbent on him to make the attempt.

Arcade teases the soft uninterested cock into a slightly more pliable form, careful application of fingertips that have touched more than their share of yielding flesh. Back and forth, back and forth, the hold is blessedly familiar after the holorifle grip and rightly so.

Still not getting very far. He lies down, tests a quick light lick along the shaft for a sounding before putting his mouth to work.

Boone twitches beneath him, shifts his weight, like the whole world turning over just for him. "Thought you'd just do it quick, not massage and swallowing thrown in."

Arcade doesn't hurry his investigation, the gentle play of tongue and lips, before withdrawing to reply. "Do you want me to argue or get you off?"

Boone does the thing he does best and shuts up.

He does quicken the pace after that, though- manipulation here, delicate squeezing there, minimizing the exploratory touches he would quite like to linger over- and it really is much too soon, when the warm rush hits his mouth.

Normally he would swallow, but the act ends in an anti-climatic puddle of spit and less attractive flavors, drooled out into a rusted tin can. "Tastes like cloud. No offense."

"None taken." Boone does, actually, sound relaxed now. He's unconscious in seconds.

Arcade clambers back into his jumpsuit and covers Boone best he can, before picking up the holorifle to keep a proper watch this time.

Everything that's stewing between them right now, he's not even sure this will change the dynamic between them. Death is the only thing more intimate than sex.

In the Sierra Madre hell, though, it's nice to have one thing to simply feel good over.

[ragethewriter]

A New Recruit

What was Ira’s introduction like from the perspective of the local drama queen?  Today we discuss.

Below is another behind-the-scenes passage, between Caecius and Arcana - the curious Hybrid Captain, and his tactician who always knows too much.  Their topic?  The enigmatic new recruit... who just arrived about five years too late.

taglist:  @authorkimberlygrey @wingedcatwblr @pineappleofdoom @kainablue @altheathewriter

posted below the cut!

~ ~ ~

Caecius shivered as he landed on the dock.  

He turned the action into a vigorous, full-body shake that sent a mist of water off his person; letting the movement roll down his limbs and through his wings, as if he could fling off his drenched clothing along with the chill.  He left wet footprints in his wake as he made his way to shore and down the path back to the compound.  

Flying would have been much faster, but he took the long way; not sure if he was hoping to meet someone or avoid them.  Thoughts lost in reflection, it felt like his head was still underwater.

Until a voice called him to a halt.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Caecius straightened his posture on instinct, but he knew the speaker.  Arcana.  There she was, looking him up and down in his inappropriately soaked clothes.  He set his jaw.

“Out to get some fresh air,” he deflected her question.  

More accurately, fresh water.  But it was truthful enough to avoid her suspicion.  Just a stroll, turned flight, turned swim... to clear his head…

“What, now?” she accused.  Because she knew better.  “The new recruit just got in!  You’ve been stalking the perimeter all afternoon, how could you miss-”

He waved a hand to cut her off.  “I saw her.”

Of course he wouldn’t have missed it.  When the War Mother left that morning, trailing a rumor that she had found another abducted Hybrid after all these years, he could hardly focus on anything else. The curiosity gnawed at him, even after he’d caught a glimpse of the new arrival dragging her feet down the crater path towards the compound.

A pale female.  Disheveled white wings.  The shelled ears and tufted tail of lion.

And the flimsy fabrics of a pet’s uniform, covered in… blood?

He thought that following his mother’s posse like a curious cub, stealing more glimpses of the winged lioness, would have been below his station.  And yet, that’s what he did - slinking from wall to wall to watch her introduction.  She had a wild tangle of gold hair, and her slender feet were dirty.

He had watched until he heard her speak.  Irakata… The way she spat her new name at his mother made him cock his head, listening intently.  It seemed stupid to compare her voice to the sun - but it was raw and vibrant, and something beneath the dangerous tone of it commanded attention.  A bright new spot in the crowd.

When she shifted, he could see her striking face in the red sunset… and the comparison only seemed more applicable.  He was still seeing it when he blinked and turned away from the scene.

Arcana’s snort snapped his attention back to the present, standing in the cool evening gloom.

“And?”  She prodded.

“And… it looked like she could use some space,” he supplied by way of explanation.

Arcana shot a pointed look around his side, eyebrows raised.  That much space?  Really?

Caecius frowned, choosing not to comment.  He didn’t have a good enough reason for why he didn’t do his job - greeting newcomers.

“I heard she fainted…?” he asked instead, the concern in his tone genuine enough to cover the bluff.

Because he didn’t hear that.  He saw it.  He felt it, like someone plucking a cord strung through his chest.  That moment the light in her eyes evaporated, and he fled as if somebody had cut him loose from them.

...Her eyes were an entrancing shade of bright green, he had learned.  

That detail followed him all the way over the wall, into the air, and crashing down in the depths of the lake.  Running from gods-know-what.  The sudden wave of instinct had unsettled him… not fear, but pure adrenaline; nerves taut, lungs held full of a new, confusing scent.  A desire for some burst of action - and he found it.

He had talked himself through it in the murky water, his mind finally clear and irritated at the cold.  He was sure if he recounted the story to Pinna, she would say he overreacted - perhaps his blood sugar was too low, or he was too sleep-deprived.  She would have a whole host of excuses to chastise him with until he felt less ridiculous, and amended himself.  Freezing at a first meeting was normal, she might say, even for a trained Captain.  Maybe she would even call him shy.

Shy… that couldn’t be it.  Not when he felt so eager to see the new recruit again.  And to talk to her, hoping to claim her attention as thoroughly as she had managed to claim his.  “Intriguing” didn’t quite seem to cover it.

Something about the winged lioness was profoundly and addictingly different.  He could still picture the feline eyes that stared him down with an intensity he couldn’t name.

...Perhaps it didn’t help that she was beautiful.

“Fainted?”  Arcana balked, pulling him back from the memory of slanted cheeks and messy gold hair.  “What’s wrong with her?”

Caecius gestured with a useless hand - no idea.  The warden he spoke to didn’t exactly have a full file on hand.  But he couldn’t be the only onlooker that saw the exhaustion, unkempt grooming, cracking voice, and bloodstained clothes... and ended up with suspicion.  Something had to be wrong.

Arcana was already tapping a finger on her arm, tongue held with some kind of musing as she turned to look down the open stone hall.

...No better time to get some use out of his slacker strategist.

“I need you to check on her,” he spoke up.  “Wherever they took her, I’m sure Talon and Sarge have their hands full.”

Arcana nodded, distracted.  “I’ll need more info.  She looked gaunt… maybe starved,” she muttered.  And she was probably right.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.”  Caecius turned his arm over to glance at his timekeeper.

“With her file,” Arcana insisted, pointing a finger at him.

“With whatever I can get.”  He frowned, pushing it down for her.  “I’ll need to speak to my mother, and I doubt she has the time.”

Arcana only clucked her tongue with an unappeased look as she left him in a swirl of tails.  Still… he could tell by the tall set of her ears that whatever interest the new recruit had sparked in the crater, she was eager too.

He wandered the path to his own room, down a different hall.  It didn’t stop him from listening at each corner.  Strange, to think that somewhere in these caverns, there was a new element to their home.  A new branch to the team… a new face to see each day… a new seat taken at meals…

He had almost forgotten what it felt like to meet a new Hybrid.

He was quick to clean and redress, spurred on by his curiosity.  Perhaps the War Mother would sate some of it, if he was convincing enough - and didn’t smell like lakewater.  Five years ago, he couldn’t use his age as a bargaining tool.  Caecius drew himself up with confidence as he marched back through the halls.  Now, this was his clan accepting a newcomer. He couldn’t deny a twinge of pride.

The distant sound of Arcana’s voice made him pause.  She must have found Irakata and her new wardens.  Judging by the echo, she had found them in the bath hall.

Caecius shook his head and quickly put the prospect of following her out of mind.  He could wait his turn.  After the new recruit had time to recover… and be properly dressed.

He ducked his ears as he hurried away from the thought of her dunked in a tub, and told himself that maybe he was just the right amount of shy.

~ ~ ~

[justsomeantifas]

Here’s your dose of “What the Fuck Is Going On” news (March 5th 2017 - March 6th 2017)

A new travel ban was revealed today regarding six Muslim-majority countries that will go into effect on March 16th 2017. Iraq, which was included in the initial ban, has been removed from those included. For full details that cover what the new executive order covers, how it differs from the first, and how it might be challenged in court see HERE.

The White House has proposed that they will keep federal funding in place for Planned Parenthood but only if they agree to discontinue providing abortions. Trump himself gave a statement saying that he thinks the group does important work regarding women's health, but doesn't support their abortion services. Planned Parenthood was quick to respond and rejected the proposal. (source)

House Republicans have unveiled the replacement plan for the Affordable Care Act, called The American Health Care Act. The bill can be read in full HERE and will undoubtedly reduce the number of people insured currently. It defunds Planned Parenthood, rolls back the Medicaid expansion, restricts abortion, and lets insurers jack up premiums by 30 percent if there's a lapse in coverage. Oh! And there's a big tax cut for CEOs making more than $500,000 and notes a ban on lottery winners getting Medicaid for some reason. However, it will allow children to stay on their parents insurance until 26 and won’t deny coverage based off of pre-existing conditions. (source)

The White House announced that they are planning to propose "fairly dramatic" cuts to U.S foreign aid by the end of March. They say that the cuts will not target a specific country or region but the intention is to redirect the money here in the U.S, specifically towards the military budget increase. (source)

Foreigners aiming for temporary jobs at high-tech U.S. companies will undergo a longer visa approval process after the Trump administration announced it will temporarily suspend expedited applications for H-1B visas. The U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services said that starting April 3rd it will suspend "premium processing" for six months. (source)

Trump has called on Congress to investigate his claim that Obama wiretapped Trump Tower, despite (still) providing no evidence. (source) (source) Politicians, included some of Trump's biggest supporters, have spoken out against his baseless claim. White House spokeswoman, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, told the news that Trump does not accept those who are denying the accusation. She stated that Trump "wants the truth to come out to the American people and he is asking that it be done through the House Intelligence Committee and that that be the process that we go through." White House press secretary Sean Spicer that neither Trump nor any White House official will be commenting further on the matter until it's investigated. (source) 

After months of investigations, states have little evidence of voter fraud despite Trump's other baseless claim that 3-5 million people voted illegally. Several states found some instances of illegal voting practices but the numbers were low as usual and nowhere near the number Trump claimed. (source)

Rep. Steve King tweeted Trump telling him that he needs to "purge leftists from the executive branch before disloyal, illegal, and treasonist acts sink us." This comes only a few weeks after saying in an interview “We have to find the people that are working against this administration and they need to be purged from this community.” (source)

The Supreme Court has decided not to rule on Gavin Grimm's case, the transgender rights case that could have clarified whether federal law covers gender identity discrimination in public schools. The high court asked the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 4th Circuit to look at the case again and decide what to do with it now that the transgender guidance is no longer on the books, thanks to the Trump administration’s reversal of the federal government’s position on transgender rights. (source)

A bill introduced in the Arkansas state legislature aims to bar public schools in the state from assigning books by the late author and historian Howard Zinn. The bill would halt the use of any book or other material authored by Zinn between the years of 1959 and 2010 in public schools and open-enrollment public charter schools. (source)

Housing and Urban Development Secretary Ben Carson was speaking with his department employees when he referred to slaves as "immigrants." "That's what America is about, a land of dreams and opportunity. There were other immigrants who came here in the bottom of slave ships, worked even longer, even harder for less. (source)

Former Trump campaign advisor Roger Stone admitted that he had a "perfectly legal back channel" to Wikileaks founder Julian Assange and then deleted it. This is something that Stone has admitted before however this time he did so over Twitter in response to various women tweeting about the comments. In these posts he told random women they were "fat," "stupid," ugly," "ignorant," or a "bitch." (source)

The U.S. has started shipping an anti-missile system to South Korea after North Korea tested medium-range missiles into the Sea of Japan. (source)

Politicians are demanding that the White House provide more information about the global gag rule Trump signed on January 23rd. The order has caused confusion among international organizations involved in family planning, AIDS treatment and other healthcare issues. A bipartisan letter explained that "This directive has caused mass confusion among federal agencies and international relief organizations. While they wait for clarity from this administration, there's been a global chilling effect on life-saving work.” (source)

Trump has hired the son of former New York City Mayor and trusted campaign adviser Rudy Giuliani to work on his White House staff, Andrew Giuliani. He will work as an associate director in the Office of Public Liaison, which is tasked with outreach to outside interest groups. (source)

A lawsuit filed in 2014 has reached class-action status this week, the contents claim that tens of thousands of immigrants detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement were forced to work for $1 day, or for nothing at all which is a violation of anti-slavery laws. It’s the first time a class-action lawsuit accusing a private U.S. prison company of forced labor has been allowed to move forward. (source)

And now your daily reminder that: Flint, Michigan still doesn’t have clean water. Standing Rock still needs your support. The American infrastructure report card still averages poorly with the rating of a “D+”

[ezra-blue]

You’ve Got Something - 31

For @baronvonriktenstein‘s Messy!AU

31: A Bright Future

Despite the ill omens he’s seeing, Sanzo is looking towards the future.

Word Count: ~1950

Happy 3/9, everyone!

31: A Bright Future

"Oh, here you are." Hakkai popped his head out the back door, where Sanzo was propped against the wall, cigarette in his mouth, phone in hand. Sanzo shifted his cigarette to the side of his mouth and raised an eyebrow.

"You're surprised? I don't just wander off."

"You weren't at the counter or in the office." Hakkai dusted his palms as he came out and let the door fall shut behind him. "It was either there, here, or somewhere I hadn't yet thought of."

Sanzo scoffed. "Either way, you've found me. Now, what do you want?"

Hakkai, still cleaning the flour from his face and the cuffs of his shirt, hesitated, shuffling his feet, then quietly said, "How are Koumyou and Toudai doing lately?"

Sanzo rolled his eyes. "Same as ever. Whispering about my business where they think I can't see, nosing into my life, and being a general embarrassment."

"I believe that's called 'parenting.'" Hakkai let a smile slide into place, but it quickly faded. "But, er, Toudai. How has he--"

Sanzo cut Hakkai off with a heavy sigh, and stood upright off of the wall, shoving his cell back into his pocket. "I've been watching him. He's been slowing down."

"Ah." Hakkai's chin dropped towards his chest, but he rubbed his cheek in thought. "But, er, no illnesses? It's, er, not the disease itself that will take him, but complications related thereto--"

"I know that, fuck." Sanzo rolled his eyes, almost without wanting to.

"If he takes care of himself and continues to take his medicine--"

"I know. He knows that and Koumyou does too, but fuck, they're both going on like normal most of the time, pretending they don't know he's gonna die while I'm pretty sure he's given up already." Sanzo smashed his cigarette on the wall, then sighed again. "It's stressful. One day, the thing that's gonna kill him is gonna come along, and I'm worried he's too ready for it."

Hakkai frowned, slouching. "I... I see. No, nobody should accept death that easily, but perhaps he's trying to come to terms with it. It's not easy, but he has known it was coming for a long time. Perhaps it'd be best if you can make the last years of his life the best they can be."

Sanzo rolled his eyes and pivoted on one heel until his shoulders hit the brick wall again. "Yeah. Sure. Empty platitudes like that always put a smile on my face."

"I'm serious." Hakkai walked past Sanzo only to stand against the wall directly at his side. "Take him to places he likes, indulge him. Spoil your father. It'll make both of you happier for it, and with luck, when his time does come, you'll be able to remember him smiling."

Sanzo snorted. "Yeah. Well. I guess there's stuff that still makes him smile."

"Ah." Hakkai found himself smiling again. "I imagine he's happy to see you happy."

"In the stupidest way. The old goat thinks the world of Goku. He and Koumyou both put him on a stupid pedestal just because he's dating me."

"I assure you, that's normal when it comes to doting parents like yours." Hakkai paused, letting the chill March air sit. "They treated me very kindly, too."

"Don't remind me." Sanzo plucked out and lit up a fresh cigarette. "But they like him, and he makes them laugh." He took a long drag and exhaled it out slowly, clouding the air around him and wordlessly convincing Hakkai to take a few small sidesteps away. "So, I bring him around sometimes. It does brighten them both up."

"That's good." Hakkai covered his mouth and nose, but Sanzo basked briefly in the satisfaction at bringing a little of Hakkai's annoyance into his voice.

"Was that all you wanted?"

"Mostly. You don't talk about your family where others can hear; I'd hoped to have a full update."

"There's little to tell." Sanzo shrugged his shoulders. It was the honest truth, but the deep set in Hakkai's lips told him Hakkai didn't believe him. "I'll tell you if shit gets bad, but don't bite your fingernails off over it.” He finished his cigarette and faced Hakkai. “It's just as well you're here. I need a favor.”

“Anything.” Hakkai observed as Sanzo fidgeted a moment longer. “What is it?”

Sanzo hesitated again, then turned his gaze down to his feet. “I'd like to list you as a reference on my bank for a credit application.”

“Oh, of course!” Hakkai laughed with relief. “Certainly, I can attest to your salary here and your work history. May I ask what you're applying for? A new car, perhaps?”

“You got a problem with my car?”

“No, no; I'm just curious.” Hakkai stifled a giggle, and Sanzo scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Never mind.”

“Sanzo.”

“Hakkai.” Sanzo faced him again. “You... moved Gojyo in.”

Hakkai seemed taken aback, but shook his head. “Er, he hasn't moved in formally. He stays over most nights, but he's more like a stray cat. He's welcome at any time, but he comes and goes as he pleases. I don't hold on too tight. I'm not certain he's ready for more.”

“Smartest thing you've said about him,” Sanzo grumbled.

“Ah.” Hakkai dodged Sanzo's gaze and looked down to the floor, his disappointment subtle, but obvious enough to Sanzo. Sanzo rolled his eyes again.

“Except it's obvious he wants more, and I'm almost entirely sure you do, too. Just ask him.”

“I suppose I could say the same about you.” Hakkai turned back towards Sanzo, accusation in his stiff smile. “How has Goku been? He still adores you just the same, yes?”

“Tch!” Sanzo's face took heat, and he turned away. “Finish one conversation before you start another.”

“You didn't say I was wrong, did you?” Hakkai crossed his arms, and Sanzo knew that smile and posture well. Hakkai was walling off the previous topic, and now he would demand an answer on this one. Sanzo sealed his lips, until Hakkai prodded again, gentler, “You've been seeing him nearly six months, the same as I've been seeing Gojyo. Were you considering your next steps with him?”

“It's only been six months. My parents corresponded for five years before they even had their first date.”

“That's very different.”

“It is.” Sanzo exhaled, as if the next words took an immense effort: “I'm considering moving him in. To my own home.”

“Oh! You're moving out? Congratulations!” Hakkai clasped his hands with excitement, but Sanzo waved it off.

“It's not like we're getting married. And... I'm still debating.” Sanzo reached for his cigarettes again. “I haven't had a reason to move out, and at this point...” He trailed off, but Hakkai filled in the rest.

“You're worried about leaving Koumyou alone.”

“Fuck off,” Sanzo grumbled, and Hakkai cleared his throat. “It's not that. It's just a big decision. I plan to get a house I can afford on my own, but even so, if I commit to getting a place with him...”

“It'll feel real, won't it?” Hakkai's words touched a nerve, and Sanzo felt his very spine shake. “Ah, well. For what my opinion is worth, you two are a good couple. I've never seen you so content as I do when he's hanging off your arm and trying to make you laugh. It's your decision, and I'm behind you on taking things to the next step.” Hakkai paused. “My opinion may not be worth much, of course, but you have to do what's best for you.” A church bell rang in the distance, striking noon, and Hakkai turned back as if he could see the bells and gasped. “Ah! It's that late already? Excuse me.” Sanzo scowled after Hakkai as he passed him and slipped back through the kitchen door.

“Don't think I don't hear you pretending he's the problem between you two,” he grumbled, and finally lit his third cigarette.

He could admit he was somewhat using Hakkai as a meter-stick, a measuring point by which he could compare his whatever-this-is he had with Goku. After all, he told himself, Hakkai was his only real friend his age, and Hakkai had never been in (what Sanzo could now admit was) a good relationship before Gojyo, and despite Gojyo's (glaring) flaws, his lewd forwardness, his annoyingly cocksure attitude, his paper-tiger self-confidence, he and Hakkai were a good couple.

And for whatever reason, Hakkai wasn't taking that next step. Here, he should have been the one telling him to wait, be patient, not to rush in, but the two of them, in their weird way, worked, and Hakkai should be moving forward. He'd seen Hakkai in a bad relationship. It wasn't pretty, but he hadn't held back then. It made sense that his bad experience might be putting concrete in his shoes this time, but Gojyo was nothing like Nii.

He wouldn't let the fact that Hakkai was hesitating on the next step hold him back.

He drew the cigarette from his mouth and blew a smoke ring, then sighed, "For such a smart guy, he can be such a fucking idiot."

Something rattled at the end of the alley. Sanzo spun on his heel, certain he felt eyes on him, but he saw nothing there but an emptied oil tin rolling on its side. He took a step closer to it, then approached and tucked it back into the recycling bin. The air was breezeless; had someone been here?

Just as he moved to investigate the back street, his phone buzzed, and Goku's face popped up in the alert window. Sanzo blinked with surprise -- Goku had taken a selfie with his phone and set it to appear as his contact picture. "Clever monkey with grabby little fingers." He smirked to himself and opened Goku's message, to see him asking about his day, asking if he could come and see him after work.

Sanzo, still smiling without really being able to control it, typed back, "Only so I can yank your ear for getting into my phone and setting your photo up. When did you do that?" He sent the message, then tapped and swiped to get back to what he'd been looking at before Hakkai had come to join him.

A home. There were plenty of little houses on the outskirts of town, quiet places where Sanzo could be alone and still have everything he needed to be content. He got the feeling Goku wanted nothing more than a home to come back to, a place to belong. Someone to belong to. Sanzo knew that if he could just worry a little less about everything that could go wrong, he might be able to be that for Goku. He could be that future that Goku couldn't grab yet, that light in the distance, and maybe it could be much closer than either of them had thought.

He could look at himself and admit he was gun-shy. No, he'd correct himself – he was being responsibly cautious. He knew too well how cruel the world could be. He knew that the second one grabbed on to something and held tight was the very same second it could be ripped away: muichimotsu, the one Buddhist precept Koumyou had taught him that he remembered by name. To hold nothing. And yet, Koumyou had sometimes, reminded him, just because one’s not holding on so tight doesn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the things he has until they’re gone. Sanzo had watched plenty of things vanish from his life, but Goku was different. Goku was like absolutely nobody else who had ever been in his world, unique. He knew the second he opened the door, Goku would likely jump in feet first, he’d grab on tight, and he’d never let go. If Sanzo could just get past his doubts, it'd be worth it.

The smile that popped up with Goku's next message would shine in his life every day, keeping those last swirling clouds back.

[godsandvillainsrpg-blog]

Congratulations, LEAH! You have been accepted as SALVATORE GIORDANO.

Note from Admin Jade: From the first few sentences of your application, I was sold — and from then on, every word was an absolute delight. I can’t even express how thrilled I am about your personification of Sal — the way you showed just how easy it would be for him to be the son his parents always wanted, if he was willing to sacrifice his morality. But he isn’t, and therein lies his turmoil. Just as you said, he’s a man driven by fear and morality, and you did such a wonderful job showing the delicate balance between the two that I still have goosebumps. The internal monologue you gave us had me absolutely torn up, showing just how strongly his anxieties rule him — and then you hit me with his dark side, showing how naturally this really does come to him. I’m absolutely in awe. Your rendition of Sal is nothing short of a masterpiece, and I can’t wait to see which direction you take his story in.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Leah Age: 24 Preferred Pronouns: Female, she/her Timezone: EST Activity Level: I would rate it at a seven. Most if not all evenings and most of the weekends. Triggers: REMOVED Anything Else? I’d really appreciate if you read my extras portion before the paras. I feel like Sal is a really complex creature and the headcanons I’ve developed will help frame the paras and help them make more sense. Thank you!

IN CHARACTER

Desired Character: Salvatore Giordano

Describe this character in your own words:

(I wanted to focus more on things outside the bio than a bio recap and yikes it got out of control, I’m sorry…)

If asked to choose a story that describes his own life, Salvatore Giordano would answer Plato’s The Cave every time. The characters in the allegory are raised in a cave believing that shadows and darkness are the undeniable extent of life and reality. Until, of course one leaves, and comes back speaking of the real world—of earth and sky and grass and light. No one believes him. Instead they all want him dead. That’s how Sal has always felt. He sees the world, not for the shadows his family make it out to be, but for the reality of the situation. He sees the violence and manipulation they act on day in and day out, year after year and it churns his stomach. He doesn’t understand why he’s the only one who can see it—but if you know voicing such things would mean your ostracism or your death… would you voice them?

Rather than risk threat of death like the man in The Cave, Sal has always kept quiet, always kept his truths to himself, but it eats away at him. How can he let his family go on living this way? How can they stand to? How can they ask him to be a part of it? He tries his best to fit it, to pretend he’s one of them, but he’s just not. Instead, the weight of being the lone spark of light in a family drowning in blood’s darkness crushes him. Because what if they are right? What if the earth and sky and grass were just in his imagination and the shadows are real? But then, he’s seen the outside world. He knows life and goodness and love. Yet he’s trapped in this world he’s never wanted to be a part of, caged like a canary in a mine. And yet these villains that surround him—they’re all he’s got.

He sees the sins of each family member, and it’s not that he doesn’t hold it against them. He does. Infuriatingly so at times. But he wants to be a part of them. He wants to be accepted. He wants to be loved. So he’ll do as he’s asked. He’ll swallow the poison for the sake of just not having everyone hate him. In a family where superiority is everything, he has always been a letdown. Just once he’d like to be the one who wins the crown, the one his parents smile at, the brother Franco wants to spend time with and Aurora and Alessia can look up to. The one who blends seamlessly into the centuries long tale of the Giordano family. And he’s not. Yet just like every other Giordano before him, he was born with hot blood and a hard head. His family may be fine riding into hell in a burning chariot, but that’s not what Sal wants. For the sake of his morality—for the sake of his sanity—for as much as he wants to be one of them, he’ll stay out of their dirty work as much as he can just so he can sleep a few hours each night. It’s not exactly rebellion, but hell if it isn’t damn close. In spite of his family of vengeful gods, he’ll stand apart as an angel.

But when people speak of angels and demons they always forget one thing: Lucifer, King of Hell himself, was once an angel. For as much as his mind cries out with each sin he commits, Salvatore’s body knows just what to do when he gets his marching orders. It doesn’t just frighten him, it terrifies him. When he gives in to his family’s desires he gives in. And god can it be a work of art to watch. His parents—sometimes in whispers, sometimes in yells—tell him so time and again. If only he gave in, he could be the best without ever really trying. And of all the things in his life, perhaps that’s what scares him the most; that if he gave up his morality, he could have everything his parents ever wanted for him, that he could have their love in an instant, that he could be a King of Rome. But the cost would be his soul and his sanity and he’s not sure it’s a price he’s willing to pay.

So instead, he continues to keep it all inside. He stuffs down every last emotion he’s ever felt for the sake of being able to breathe. He gives into carnal vices rather than violent ones. And somehow he’s driven himself in the arms of a man he can never have. One more thing in his life that he could have if only he were willing to pay the price. But as Cassius has always said, he’s far too cowardly for that. He used to only be torn between two worlds, his morality and his family, but now he’s being torn in three—his morality, his family, or his love. And when fate eventually makes him choose… will there be anything of himself left?

What are this character’s motives?

In my view, Sal is an extremely complex character whose motives can be broken down into two things: Fear and morality.

His morality is perhaps what most people see when they look at him. They see the boy who’s too soft to be a Giordano. The boy who goes to Catholic mass and confessional. The boy who doesn’t want to do his family’s bidding and give in to the darkness that surrounds them. His morality is only able to be a driving force due to a very Giordano trait. Hard-headedness. He’s found his (metaphorical) guns and he’s sticking to them. He’ll do as he’s asked, but no more. He won’t feed the demon inside of him. He’ll keep fighting the isolation and the anxiety and the voices that scream at him non-stop because he’s too damn stubborn to give in. He fought for years of his childhood not sure what was right and what was wrong because his family’s take on it and the general world’s morality were so different, but going away to school, meeting Bernardo, that solidified things for him and he doesn’t want to turn back. He can’t leave his family, not entirely (both from the fear of losing them and the lack of morality it would show to turn his back on his own DNA, particularly after Giuliana has just done the same thing—he knows the kind of blow losing both of them would be to his family), but he doesn’t have it in himself to give in. So he’ll find his little forms of rebellion—even if that’s nothing more than sleeping with a Lefevre, going to church, and not volunteering for the jobs his mother insists he could excel at. Because his heart, soul, and mind couldn’t take it if he gave in to the darkness just below the surface.

Now within the Giordano ring, he’s known as the soft one. But no one really knows how much of his life is driven completely from fear. It fills so much of his life in so many ways he can’t imagine what life would be like without it. He’s afraid he’ll disappoint his family and they’ll turn his back on them. If Giuliana could just walk away, then the family that’s always cast shadows on him easily could as well.  They’re not much and they’re not good, but they’re his. His family, his blood. And even if only financially, they’ve provided for him well. He’s afraid of the demon that lurks just underneath his skin. He doesn’t want to be a Giordano, he doesn’t want to pull off the few jobs he does with such ease, skill, and efficiency. But there it is, lurking below the surface and he’s terrified if he doesn’t watch it close enough, doesn’t do enough good, doesn’t keep the family he’s afraid of losing at arm’s length, that it’ll take over. He’s afraid of Zaine. Of loving him. Of losing him. Of the emotions he stirs in him that he’s never felt before. Of who he may become if he loses him now. Of the massive hurricane of disaster that’s bound to hit their peaceful beach sooner or later. Salvatore may try to play it cool and but the truth is he is so fucking scared all the time.

Every action he takes is led by one of two things—standing the ground of his morality or running desperately from all he fears.

As for his goals? Well the only one he’s got is graduating law school. What will he do after he graduates? He’s not really sure. But then he’s never really been sure. As a Giordano, he was supposed to accept his marching orders as a small child. He was supposed to have a path created for him all his life. But he refuses to go down it. Yet at the same time, taking another one could mean meandering too far away from his family to find his way back. The truth is, other than being a good person who doesn’t instantly burst into flames upon his arrival at the pearly gates, Salvatore doesn’t know what he wants. He’d like to be happy, but long ago he accepted that isn’t in the cards

What potential plots do you foresee for this character? REMOVED

Would you be open to this character’s death? REMOVED

PARA SAMPLES

Para 1:

Sal stared out at the little patch of grass outside his window. It was quiet and peaceful here. He didn’t want to leave, not really. Every object he’d packed away had felt like a needle being pushed into him, breaking his heart. He liked this place; it had helped him find himself. But there was nothing left for him here. The whole point of boarding school had been to get away from his family for a bit to see if their way of life was normal or not. Once at school it couldn’t deny that his family’s life was far too dark and it only sickened him more. After he’d accepted that reality, he’d mostly stayed for Bernardo. He was sweet and empathetic and attractive. And now he was gone.

Several weeks ago, Bernardo had burst into his room in tears. His father had been impressed by a new accounting firm that had convinced him to change all his investments around. They were losing everything and the firm has somehow vanished. Bernardo had to be out before the end of the week so his parents could avoid having to pay for the full semester. They may even lose their home. While Bernie lay there weeping into his shoulder, Sal had teared up too. His spine prickled; everything about it sounded far too familiar. Once again the fears of his family’s actions seeped into him. Bernardo’s entire life was ruined and he was terrified his family had caused it.

But with all his fears about his family confirmed and Bernardo no longer there, Salvatore just didn’t see the sense in staying. His bags were packed. He was going home for Christmas vacation and not coming back after. He’d done so well here—he’d kept up wonderful grades, made new friends, finally felt normal. But there was no point. It would just feel empty and lonely without Bernardo. He’d see him in every corner along with a reminder that it could very well be his family that ruined him.

“Mr. Giordano, the car to the station is ready.” Sal tore his eyes away from the window giving a soft smile to the student ambassador. His family had scoffed at the idea of Sal taking public transportation home, but he needed it. He needed the feeling of being surrounded by normal people for a bit longer before returning to his life alone. Being trapped in the back of an all black SUV by himself wasn’t going to help anything. He nodded to the man and grabbed his bags walking out to the car, his heart breaking with each step.

He tipped him and the driver both at the train station. The hustle and bustle of the station felt claustrophobic and welcome at the same time. There were so many people. So many people with so many lives, the kind he would never get to have. Soon enough he would be home, where he was alone in a house full of people who, despite their similar DNA, were as good as strangers to him. There would be no more Bernardo to confide in. There would be no more class outings to shops and restaurants. There would be no more teachers patting him on the back and saying how good he was doing. There would be only quiet silence from the guilt and fear that came with being a Roman Giordano. His stomach churned just at the idea of it.

He strode over to the departure board, one bag slung over his shoulder, the other trailing behind him. Train 1605, Prague, CR, Departure: 9:45. He took a deep breath, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. His family had vacationed there once when he was a child. He’d loved it. The Charles Bridge covered in beautiful sculptures. The astronomical clock that become more fascinating to watch with each chime. A city square where people simply sat to enjoy their day. Dozens of little cafes with wonderful food. The best gelato shop he’d been to outside of Italy. It departed in half an hour, not long before the train to Rome was meant to leave. Plenty of time to get a ticket. He didn’t want to go home to Rome. Maybe he didn’t have to.

He went up to the counter and bought a ticket. His time away had helped him see the evil in his family and he couldn’t go back to that now, could he? He made his way over to the platform and sat with his bags. That’s when it happened. He felt it rolling in like the first sign of a fever, one little tell at a time. A shiver went up his spine. His shoulders tightened. One leg started bouncing. His thumbs moved ceaselessly, brushing against one another. His teeth pulled and ground at his lower lip. His breath shook, knowing there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. The fears that had turn to whispers during his time away was coming back.

You can’t do this.

No. No this couldn’t be happening it couldn’t be.

You can’t just run off. And you act like they can’t find you. You’re under age and bought the ticket on Daddy’s MasterCard. Even if the station doesn’t hand over the information, Cassius’s men will dig it up in moments. Prague can’t be the final destination; you’ll have to keep running. You’ll have to live on cash alone and you’ve only got a couple hundred on you. And how much can a sixteen-year-old pull out of the bank without drawing attention? You won’t last on your own.

His leg bounced faster, his breathing becoming more ragged. He’d had a nice few months where his biggest anxiety was school work but now it was all crashing back down on him and harder than ever. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want the life his family led. How could he go back to that? He felt like his skin was getting too tight, like he’d tried slipping into skin he’d shed years ago. And what if the voice was right? What if he couldn’t manage?

If? If you can’t make it. There’s no way. Your family has always supported you. They gave you a lavish lifestyle. Even if you pulled money out of the bank, you couldn’t keep that up. And could you really give that up? And what about the girls? Rora and Lessia are still young enough that they need to be protected, they can be shielded from the family. And what about the family’s youngest? Only eight and already brave enough to admit she feels like a girl. She’s kind and sweet, has been since the first time you held her in your arms. They need you. You can’t just leave them.

You couldn’t do it. What’s your plan after you get on that train? Go to Prague and then what? You’re sixteen. Where will you live? What will you do? What kind of job will you get? Your family will fall to the complete darkness, give in to every sin without you there to keep an eye out. Besides if you do this, you’re just proving them all right. You’re just showing them you’re a coward with no backbone who doesn’t deserve the Giordano name. You run now and there’s no going back. They’ll never have you again. You’ve already lost Bernardo, do this and you’ll lose your entire family. You’ll have no one. You can’t live without anyone Salvatore. You can’t do it.

Train 1605 to Prague now boarding, set to depart in fifteen minutes.

Sal jumped at the announcement over the loudspeakers. His heart felt so constricted he was half afraid he was having a heart attack. There was an energy rolling through his body that made it feel like if he moved just wrong he was going to burst into flames. He could barely breathe and his lip was bleeding from chewing on it too much just within the last few minutes. It felt like if someone were to just tap him on the shoulder he’d crumble into a pile of ashes.

All aboard for train 1605 to Prague.

Sal stared at the train on the tracks in front of him and was on his feet before he could even think about it. The bag strung over his shoulder flopped against his side, the wheeled luggage turning sideways as he drug it behind him as he raced across the platforms. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to go home, but he knew he couldn’t run. He couldn’t live without his family. He needed them, he always had, no matter how much he wished it weren’t true. By the time he made it to the platform, his chest was heaving and tears were starting to trace down his cheeks. An older man stared at him as he wiped the salty liquid off his face.

Train 2117 to Rome is now boarding, set to depart in fifteen minutes.

Para 2:

Wednesday, December 21, 2016, 6:03 pm

“Laura Rosetti. She tried to hop off without paying up. We’re gonna need the money.” Stavros hadn’t bothered with an introduction, just walked into his room where he was studying and started laying out the order. “And we want to leave a mark to tell her and everyone else that that better not happen again. Lucky you, Cassius wants you on the job.”

“Then why isn’t he telling me?” Sal felt the tangle of nerves bunching up into a spring as he looked up at the dark-haired man’s eyes.

“I shouldn’t need to tell you that your father’s a very busy man. And so am I, so I’m not going to stand here and argue.” He slapped a file down on the desk right on top of Sal’s text book. “Everything you should need should be in there. Tech boys already did some digging.”

Sal flipped it open. Laura Rosetti. Thirty-seven. Female. Mother of two. His stomach twisted into a knot. “But—”

“There’s always a but with you, isn’t there Salvatore? Are you going to do the goddamned job or not?”

He stared up at his father’s right-hand-man for several moments longer than Stavros would have allowed anyone else to pause. He was breaking his own heart and he knew it. “Fine. But I’ve got an exam tomorrow, so don’t expect it done before Friday.”

Friday, December 23, 2016, 6:00 pm

“As you can see from the lobby below, this is an extremely exclusive apartment complex. Very good safety too. There’s a doorman at all times and someone at the front desk from 7 am to 9 pm. They have a private security company as well, twenty-four hour, will respond to any concern you may have. I’ve heard from other clients they’re extremely friendly and helpful, even though the crime rate here is virtually non-existent.”

The hackers had found apartment searches in Laura’s online history. She was looking to move away from Rome—a more than wise choice after stiffing his family. So easily enough, Sal had made a few phone calls, printed a few business cards, donned one of his suits and became a listing agent who was so very excited to help Laura find her new home in Capri. She didn’t suspect a thing and was happy to take the help of someone who knew their way around the unfamiliar city and the right people to talk to. The darkness in Sal’s mind whispered that she should have been suspicious when things came so easily.

“So this is a three bedroom, unfortunately no ocean view, but believe me, some things are worth the sacrifice. Besides, it’s still a short walk to see water and you’re much closer to good grocery stores and cafes, so if you ask me, this is a much better spot. You’d be paying triple or more if you were at the water’s edge. Another big perk, you’ve got a wonderful public school system here as well as two options for top-rate private schools if you’d rather go that way. One Catholic, one just your standard private prep school. You said you have two girls, right? Sasha and…?” he stopped, feigning forgetfulness.

“Maria. Eight and twelve.” She nodded, a soft smile on her face. It must have been a long time since someone was so helpful to the single-mother. She seemed sweet. It was a wonder how she had wound up entangled with his family.

“Maria, that’s right! Sasha and Maria. Two beautiful names for two beautiful girls. And,” he grinned at her, turning the key to the apartment and opening the door, “a beautiful new home for all three lovely ladies.”

“Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous,” she said, stepping inside and looking around.

“Completely remodeled six months ago. Walls are freshly painted—if you don’t like the colors, we’ll talk to management see if we can get a contract that lets you paint them—brand new carpeting, updated bathroom, all new stainless steel appliances. We’re lucky it’s still available honestly.” As she stepped further in, he closed the door behind him, locking it quietly. He couldn’t risk her getting away. He had her exactly where he wanted her and she was going to stay that way. Locked right here where he could keep his eye on her. “If you’d like, it comes completely furnished, though that’s negotiable when we go in to sign the contract. I’ll let you go ahead and take a look around for yourself. Come back with any questions you have.”

Her eyes had been bright since the moment she walked in the building’s front doors. He had her hook-line-and-sinker. Sometimes they make this too easy, the darkness whispered to him. His eyes darted around the kitchen quickly taking stock of what they’d left him when he requested—and paid a good sum—for a fully furnished unit to view. He had backups, but it was always better to use someone else’s supplies. He was glad to see a full butcher’s block on the kitchen counter and a towel hanging from the stove. They would come in good use. But not until after he had the money in hand.

“So what did you think?”

“It’s perfect. I’d move in tomorrow if I could.”

“I’m glad to hear you like it. But like I said, this place is extremely exclusive and is going to go quick. To have a chance at it, you have to leave a reservation fee, that’s a grand and a half. And if you’re actually serious, it’s going to take a full application—that’s an application fee, a deposit, a full month’s rent in advance. And if you’re really serious, some extra, shall we say, elbow grease, goes a long way with these exclusive types. You want to show them you’re the kind of person who’s not afraid to spend money on what you want. So we’re looking at close to five grand here, maybe more if you’re looking to bump yourself up the list. But like I said on the phone, they want to know they’re getting the best of the best and unless you have a Gold Card, cash is the best option. So did you bring any with you?”

“Yes, yes, I’m very interested,” Laura reached into her purse and counted out a large stack of bills before nodding and handing them over.

“You won’t regret this Ms. Rosetti, it’s a wonderful new place.” He pocketed the cash in his breast pocket and grabbed a knife from the block. “Great for running away from whatever you’re avoiding.”

Fear flashed into her eyes, but Sal moved without a moment’s hesitation, one arm wrapping around her shoulder as he grabbed the towel from the oven and stuffed it into her mouth. “Being a listing agent? May have been a little bit of a tall tale. But all the great things about this place? All true. And we wouldn’t want the neighbors calling security, would we? Now,” he grabbed her hand, forcing it onto the counter and laying it flat, “money isn’t the only thing we want in return. We’ve got to send a message. I mean we can’t let people think it’s okay to make promises and back out on them. And before I forget, we know everything about you. And Sasha and Maria. Don’t worry, they’re safe for now and if you keep quiet, it’ll stay that way. And of course, stay in Rome. We want people to see our little pirate flag of sorts.”

He raised his hand, slamming the knife down with a blistering force. The bones in her thumb joint gave a sickening crack as the knife burst through it. Laura screamed into the rag and as soon as he released her hand, she brought to her torso, wrapping it in her shirt in a clearly desperate move to stop the bleeding. Sal forcefully pulled the towel out of her mouth with a scowl. “Get out of here before you get blood on the carpet.”

Laura fumbled with the door, trying to undo the lock before rushing out. The moment the door closed behind her, Sal was bent over the kitchen sink, vomiting into it. From the first phone call clear up until the moment he’d let her go, he’d been cool and calm. His demons had come out to play just like Cassius had asked for. But the second she was through the door, the real Sal broke back to the surface, literally sickened by what he had just done. The taste of bile clung to his mouth, a reminder of the grotesque actions he’d taken not just today, but in the past as well.

“Hail Mary, full of Grace, the lord is with thee,” the prayer came to his lips instantly. His hand shook so bad he could barely hold onto the rag. He grabbed the detached appendage and stuffed it down the garbage disposal, sobbing as the sound rang out through the kitchen. What have I done? My God, what did I just do? She has children. He felt the money weighing heavily in his pocket as though it were going to pull him down into an ocean to drown. He rinsed the blood from the knife and wiped it of fingerprints before placing it back in the butcher’s block. It took twice, if not three times, the swipes it should have to clear the blood from the counter. Though whether from the shaking hand or the welling tears that made it hard to see, it was impossible to tell. He tossed the cloth in the sick and pulled a box of matches from his jacket, lighting one and tossing it in the sink with the rag. As the towel turned to ash, so too did the the words of the in his mouth.

Why are you even bothering with prayer any more? You’re going to Hell. You’re going straight to the flames of damnation. No God would save you now. Look at the things you do. To a woman who didn’t deserve it. To a mother. How can you? It’s no wonder your family wants nothing to do with you. How could anyone love someone who does such things?

His mind swam among itself, half of him screaming to stop the accusations the other continuing to barrage him with the fact that he just wasn’t good enough. Not good enough for anyone or anything. He had to do something to calm these voices, to calm himself, and there was only one thing that was going to help him. His hand scrambled for his phone, dropping it the first few times as he tried to get the right screen pulled up, barely able to get the text sent off without errors.

WA downtown. 9. Usual room.

Saturday, December 24, 2016, 4:47 am

Salvatore trailed a soft touch up the middle of the other boy’s abdomen. His fingers brushed around his right peck, looping around it and completing the figure eight by circling the other. He had such a terrific body. Zaine shifted beside, a happy little sigh leaving him as he slept. It was the kind of noise Sal could become addicted to. It was the kind of noise he had become addicted to. The moment things had started spiraling, he’d run to Zay as quickly as he could get there. Only Zay could get him breathing and calm and together again.

They’d fucked, hard and fast, until he couldn’t breathe. At times they had slow, sensual sex, in fact the longer they were together, the more that was the kind of sex they had. But on nights like this when he was running from his demons, only a long, hard fuck could get his mind to shut up long enough to allow him to function. After they’d collapsed into bed, they’d lay there talking for hours. Any topic and every topic other than what he’d been doing this evening that had driven him here. After a while, the pauses between Zay’s words had grown longer, his eyes drooping closed. Sal had kissed him softly and told him to get some rest and he’d fallen asleep not long after.

Which left Sal alone in a darkened, nearly silent room in Waldorf Astoria’s Rome Cavalieri hotel. The voices were quieter than they would be without the boy he’d fallen for at his side, but they were still there. They’d been gone the whole time Zaine had been awake. It had been a welcomed reprieve after such a horrifying day. Time with Zaine always was. It slowed his mind, warmed his heart, made him not feel so alone in the world. Now that they had grown so close he wasn’t quite sure how he had managed all these years without him. Or how he’d do it again.

This can’t last forever. You know that. Romeo and Juliet wind up dead, remember? He was terrified he was going to lose Zay. Whether because of his family or his lover’s or Zaine walking away when he realized just how dark Sal’s mind could be. Would he still care for you if you told him what you did today? Does he care for you as it is? Is he really worth all this? You’re risking everything. Everything that you’ve sold your soul for is on the line for him. You could lose it all.

He gently cupped the side of Zaine’s face. If his family ever found out, he would be ostracized at the very least. In fact, that seemed like the most gentle thing that could happen to him. Reality would likely be much worse. He’d given up so much, given in to so many things just to keep his family. He couldn’t stand the idea of losing them. But then he couldn’t stand to lose Zaine either. It felt like a no-gain situation either way. He’d finally found someone his soul cried out for and they were just out of reach. Everything always was. Everything was always right there in front of him, but sealed away behind bullet-proof glass.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You weren’t supposed to fall for him. This is why you don’t fuck more than once.

It had started as a game. Sal already knew exactly who Zaine was when he made his move. It was supposed to be the ultimate fuck you to his family, even if he’d never had any intentions of telling them about it. He would use every ounce of conning skill that had been born and bred into him to lure the sweet Lefevre boy into his bed. And that was it. Use all his “natural talents” so his mother called them to literally get in bed with the enemy. And then do nothing with it. Pry no secrets from him. Plant no bombs—physical or mental. Break no hearts. Get so close to the enemy it would make the rest of his family drool. And then do nothing. No, he never planned to tell his family about his dastardly little plan, but oh would the tiny little revenge feel good to him.

But as Sal had lay there afterwards recovering, Zay had started speaking. At first, he’d wondered if he were the one getting played, but there was such earnestness to Zaine’s tone. Besides, no one could know how he really felt. He’d never admitted it out loud. And yet here was this beautiful boy giving voice to all his thoughts. Zay was the first person to pry open his heart since Bernardo and even with Bernie he hadn’t been able to be so candid. How could he not start developing feelings for him? Sal had set out to play a game but in the end, he was the fate’s pawn instead.

Though Zaine brought peace with him, he brought just as much fear. Fear of these things he was feeling. Fear of his family finding out. Fear of them turning their backs on him. Fear of losing Zay. Fear of Zaine being hurt because of their tryst. Fear that this is his one chance at happiness and it may not play out. Fear that Zay would turn away if he knew just how deep the fear and darkness ran inside him. Fear that he could never be the despicable son his parents want nor have a soul pure enough for Zay, always stuck in between, never close enough to one to give up the other, but risking them both by trying to balance them. The voices and the demons screamed a million reasons for him to go, but his heart only ever whispered one word. Stay.

He sighed and shook Zaine lightly. Clearly he wasn’t going to get any sleep. And it was best to leave when the lobby would be empty.

“Hmmm?” Zay mumbled, eyes only half opening to look up at him.

“I’m gonna go,” he said softly.

“You should stay,” the boy countered, his eyes opening now, the deep brown of his irises meeting Sal’s pale green.

“You know one of us has to be gone before morning. And you’re enjoying the bed way more than I am.” He ran his hand over Zaine’s head. “Leave the key, same as always. No need for a proper check out, I’ve already paid.”

“Do you think we’ll ever just get to just wake up to each other in the morning?”

“Dunno.” I hope. He sighed again and got out of bed. “I’ll catch you around. You’ve got the number. And remember, no more names in the texts.”

The room fell silent until he got to the doorway and then Zaine whispered behind him, “Sal?”

“Yeah?”

“Good night.”

Sal turned back, smiling softly at the figure in the darkness. “Good night Zay. Sleep well.”

EXTRAS

Here’s a Pinterest board I’ve made for Sal.

The below are a number of headcanons I have for Sal:

Sex isn’t the only thing that stops the constant whispers of anxiety—it’s just the only one that he’s willing to admit to himself. You see, when he’s on a job, he’s an entirely different person. He flips some switch within himself and the anxious, good-hearted boy goes away, replaced by the twisted, methodical, and effective son his parents always wanted. It’s another way he tries to write off the horrible things he does when working for his parents—it’s not him, it’s like some entirely different person. His empathy becomes an ability to twist people’s desires. His anxiety becomes a chemical high to drive forward his actions. His fear of not being enough becomes a knife to remind others of their same fear. The little voices just shut off until the job is done and the job is done right. But then of course, as soon as it’s over, the voices are back, screaming louder than ever because he’s not willing to stay that person forever.

Though Sal has never felt he fit in with his family, there is one person who shares his blood that he’s always felt a tether to. The problem is, no one in his family has considered Santiago one of their own for years. He sees so much of himself in his uncle—someone with a good heart who wants to leave it all behind and raise a family away from Cassius’s influence. And while it’s nice knowing there’s someone like him out there, it’s also terrifying. Sure, Santiago has a job outside the family, but he lost his first wife for his kindness. Even two of his own children want little to do with him. He sees himself in his uncle. But he’s not willing to accept that his uncle’s fate is his own. In walking away, Santiago lost his family and just the idea of that horrifies Sal.

His family has always claimed they’re gods among men, but Sal has never believed that. The existence of an actual God though, it’s a hope for Salvatore. He doesn’t know exactly that he believes God exists, but he hopes so. There has to be someone, some higher power, that will ultimately make things right and good, even if not in this life. He attends both Sunday and Wednesday masses religiously (no pun intended) and takes confession at least as frequently. He’s smart enough to keep the confessions vague at best. When he first started—after he returned home following Bernardo’s departure from boarding school—he hoped just speaking his sins out loud would help calm the anxiety, the way it had with his first flame. It hasn’t thus far, but that doesn’t keep him from going back time and again.

If you’re ever in need of chap stick, the very first person you should ask is Salvatore. They say biting at your lips is a sure sign of anxiety. For Sal at least, that holds true, but who wants to make out with a guy with chapped lips? He does his best to take care of his peeling lips by constantly having chap stick with him at all times. Wallet, nearly every pair of pants, three in various places in his car, he’s absolutely always got some on him.

Sal gives everyone nicknames. And once he’s assigned you one, you might as well change your birth certificate when it comes to Salvatore. Franco is Frank (Frankie if he feels like pissing him off); Giuliana is Guils (pronounced Jewels of course); Bella is Bells; Samaira is Sammi; Zaine is Zay. The list is endless and he doesn’t much care if you like it or not.

In a way, Sal actually kind of likes when his family dislikes the nicknames he gives them. Sal is a good guy with a good heart, he really is. But he can’t always keep that Giordano blood completely under wraps. In truth, he’s practically a king in microaggressions—tiny little actions that aren’t enough to raise eyebrows but enough to make him feel like he’s protesting the things his family does. Calling family members and loyalists by nicknames he knows they hate, his relationship with Zaine even if it’s secret, being blatant and obvious with his sexuality, studying the very law his family constantly breaks. It’s never anything bad, almost always tiny details, but it’s his own little way of rebelling.

Even before puberty, Sal was a flirt. He’s always known he likes guys and has been trained from a young age to take what he wants and the one place he lives out that ideology is with his lovers. He likes slipping on an easy smile, using soft touches to make heart races. It feels good and he loves it. He’ll flirt with any guy, no matter what. He may not want to bed Jae-Seung again, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t return the flirtation sometimes. He’s made more than a few passes at the Lefevre man Zaine says works in technology for them (even if they’ve all been immediately shot down). And how could he not flirt with Rohan? He’s a formal model for god’s sake. Yes, he’s becoming more and more monogamous with Zaine, but he still enjoys the innocence of flirtation. Besides it makes it easier to keep Zay under wraps.

One thing few people know about Sal is that he’s quite good at art. Painting, sketches, oils, put any artistic tool into his hand and he’ll work magic with it. He first found his love for it at boarding school. It’s a way for him to stay silent but still express himself. Most of his works are dark (or as his art teacher liked to say “troubling”). Whenever asked what they were about by his parents he would slip on a half-confident smile and say, “It’s about how much better we are than the rest of the world. How they fear us and the power we hold over them.” The actual truth though is that most of his art is about the demons residing in his own head. They aren’t depictions of the power his family has over Rome; it’s the power his anxieties have over him.

Living in the family he does and keeping so quiet about what goes on in his head, Salvatore has never really understood his mental health. He’s never gotten to speak with a therapist and the only people he’s ever gotten to talk to at all is Bernardo and Zaine. He’s somewhat ‘named’ the emotions he has rather than having a deeper understanding of it. He calls his anxieties and the doubts that plague him “the voices” and the darkened side of him that comes out on a Giordano job “the demons” or “the darkness.” Though it’s not much, it helps him better grasp the conflicting emotions in his mind and explain them—if only ever to himself.