#and once she does it's like opening the floodgates of everything she's kept bottled up since meeting the caretaker

[thresholdbb]

Clearly bringing Voyager home and debriefing their time in the Delta Quadrant as an admiral was a traumatic experience for Janeway. Prodigy is set 5 years after Endgame – Janeway is rapidly going grey and Chakotay has peaced out back to the Delta Quadrant

[scoopsohboi]

cheers, my dear (robin buckley imagine)

pairing: Robin Buckley/Reader

wc: 1759

warnings: alcohol, smut

read on ao3

The shrill sound of the landline made your skin crawl and you groaned loudly as Robin turned the dial on the stereo to drown out the insistent ringing.

“Why does he keep calling?” you whined as your best friend danced to the music while walking back to the kitchen table you two had been seated at.

It was Friday night, which meant Robin was sleeping over and the two of you had free range of the house since your mom worked late on Fridays. You watched as she swayed her hips rhythmically and your cheeks grew hot as she flipped her hair.

“Because he misses you, babe,” Robin replied nonchalantly while she grabbed the bottle of brown liquor left near two dirty shot glasses and you forced yourself to look away.

You let out a groan. You’d only been dating Greg for a couple months, and since you weren’t really interested in him, you’d broken up with him earlier after school. You thought he’d taken it well, but he’d been calling non-stop for the past hour. You felt bad ignoring the calls, but you really didn’t know what else there was to be said.

“Here,” Robin said and slid you a full shot glass.

You took the glass gratefully and, once Robin had hers in her hand, clinked it against hers.

“Cheers, my dear,” you said and tossed back the drink, now only slightly feeling the burn down your throat.

xxXXXXXxx

You didn’t remember how you’d ended up sitting on the floor in the middle of your bedroom with Robin, but you knew it had been funny. After drinking one too many shots, the two of you had run up to your room and were now laughing uncontrollably, but why it was funny was beyond you. You just liked the sound of Robin’s laugh and you’d be damned if you were the reason it ended.

You swayed a little and leaned into Robin’s shoulder as you giggled. The alcohol was fuzzing your brain, thoughts bubbling up to the surface just to pop before you could realize them. You felt good, though, that was clear enough.

Robin threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh as her body softly shook in rhythm to the sweet sound. You felt it again, that churn in your stomach and burn in your chest. You tried to fight it back, the usual routine, but the feel of Robin against you and the warmth from the whisky made it impossible.

And, if you were being honest, you just didn’t feel like pushing back the feelings.

You always had to be on your best behavior. Don’t let anyone know. Don’t say that. Don’t stare too long. Don’t touch her arm like that. Laugh so she doesn’t know how true it is. Lie. Hide.

Moments alone with Robin always felt so fragile. One wrong step and everything could shatter.

But what if she felt the same way?

You’d caught her staring, too, over the years. You’d seen the look in her eye when the two of you would stay up late during sleepovers, lay in bed inches from each other, sometimes talking and sometimes just silently being together.

Robin leaned back a little too far, fell on her back, and laughed harder as you fell back beside her.

“You’re drunk,” you laughed.

“And whose fault is that?” she retorted, a little louder than intended, and you snorted.

“Yours ‘cause you’re a lightweight,” you slurred. Robin rolled her eyes but smiled brightly.

“Shut up, I’m perfect.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” you replied as you rolled onto your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows. “My perfect, lightweight, Robin,” you cooed as you reached out and cupped her cheek playfully.

Robin’s gaze shifted to your lips briefly and something inside you flared up. It was subtle, but unmistakable. A flame that was always lit simple turned up, fed by Robin’s breath as it softly hit your arm.

You leaned in easily as a surge of confidence coursed through your veins like a shot of adrenaline. You pressed your lips against hers, slightly messily at first and you thought maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to do this for the first time when you were both a bit inebriated.

But then you felt Robin kiss you back. Her hands went to your waist and her soft lips began to move with yours and fuck it if this wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You moved closer so you were better positioned on top of her, one leg between her thighs as one of her hands moved to your ass and her tongue slid along your bottom lip. You parted your lips as you ground your hips down and gave much needed friction to you both while her tongue swirled around yours.

Robin let out a soft moan and encouraged you to keep moving your hips, and you were more than happy to oblige. She bit your lip and you kissed her hungrily. Robin squeezed your ass as she tried to pull you closer to her. You began to move faster and ground roughly against her, rode her thigh harder as you both grew more frantic, years of yearning and lust finally breaking free.

You broke away from Robin’s lips to kiss a trail down her neck and relished every sound she made as you nibbled the soft skin or flicked your tongue.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” you nearly growled.

You were beginning to feel lightheaded and gripped her hips for stability as you continued to ride her, her soft breathy moans made your head swim. Forget the whisky, you were drunk on Robin now.

You felt her hands tug on your hem of your shirt and you sat up more so she could lift it over your head. Robin tossed the shirt to the side before unclasping your bra with quick precision. You felt your cheeks flush uncontrollably as she looked up at you, pupils blown and lips swollen.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” she said, voice low as she cupped your breast and thumbed over the nipple.

A chill ran down your spine and you hummed softly as you bucked your hips.

“Fuck, Robin,” you muttered, and she softly pinched your nipple as she rolled her hips and urged you to keep moving.

Your breath hitched. You worked yourself against Robin’s leg and could feel your body grow hotter as soft moans escaped your lips. You’d been intimate with other people, but not like this. Never like this. This was raw, and honest, and felt more real than anything else. You wanted more. You needed more.

You moved your hands to Robin’s jeans and let your fingertips run along the skin below her bellybutton. Her hand still on your breast tightened and you bit you lip. You watched Robin’s face as you undid her button and zipper, and sucked on two of your fingers before you slipped them in below the elastic of her underwear.

If Robin had looked lustful before, she now looked like she would burst. Her lips parted and chest heaved as she drew a ragged breath, eyes wide and trained on yours as your fingers began to rub around her clit. You realized you hadn’t even needed to use any spit because Robin was already soaking wet, your fingers sliding in the slick heat.

Robin let out a louder, longer moan than the ones previously elicited, and you made sure to pay close attention to her body movements. You swirled and stayed where her hips bucked and slid inside when her fingers dug into your hips. You kept one hand between her thighs and the other under her shirt as you played with her breasts and unwaveringly rubbed yourself against her thigh.

“Fuck, y/n,” she moaned, and you could tell she was close.

You worked harder and unrelented as her back arched under you. Her moans turned frustrated as she climbed toward her climax and you leaned forward to kiss her. As her tongue touched yours, her hips bucked, and she moaned into your mouth.

You could feel her whole body tremble as you worked her through her orgasm, and you kept your fingers moving until she was done. Watching her put you over the edge as well, and it took you a moment to catch your breath.

Once you were able to form coherent thoughts again, you slid your slick fingers out from between Robin’s thighs and licked Robin off them, the flavor making you wish you hadn’t used your fingers.

“I want to taste you next time,” you admitted aloud and Robin looked speechless.

Robin leaned up and pressed her lips to yours. You kissed her back, hand on either side of her face as she led you back down with her, mouth open and tongues dancing deliciously. She cupped your ass with one hand and tangled the other in your hair, holding you firmly against her lips. You stayed that way for a moment and enjoyed the way it felt to have Robin’s body flush against yours.

“You have no idea,” Robin began before breaking as you kiss her again, unable to stop now that the floodgates had been broken, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

You kissed Robin’s lips softly before looking in her deep blue eyes. No idea? Did she really think you hadn’t been dreaming of this moment, too?

“I think I might,” you said as thoughts of longing stares and chest aches flashed through your mind.

“But Greg-”

“Was a distraction. And a poor one at that.” Robin’s brows furrowed and you couldn’t help but place a soft peck between them. “I only went out with him to... to try and get you off my mind. I’d hoped being with someone would make me stop thinking about you all the time.”

Robin bit the inside of her cheek as she watched you carefully.

“And?”

“And, turns out that’s fucking impossible. I mean damn, Robin, have you met you? I never stood a chance.”

Robin blinked as a soft smile grew on her lips and you couldn’t calm the butterflies that flitted about in your stomach.

“We’re dumb,” she said simply.

You laughed a little and nodded your head.

“Oh, yeah. Very.”

Robin grinned.

“I really like you, dingus,” she said sweetly as she cupped your cheek to bring you back in.

“I really like you, too, dummy,” you whispered against her lips before she kissed you, and you felt her smile.

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #30: Ominous

A sharp and bitter autumn day, the kind that made you glad of the classroom's warmth.  Danielle Corbeau and Belle Resone walked down the street to the Okusanya house, with a bookbag floating behind Resone, trailing her like a patient pet.  Ayumi had stayed home today, ostensibly due to illness, but they both knew better. Ayumi couldn't get sick.  Most likely her father had kept her home to help him with something.

"He could have asked us," Danielle groused.  "I'd have been glad to stay home."

"So'd Ayumi.  And Dr. Okusanya's not our father, much as we might like."  Resone was uncharacteristically cheerful-- not that she was normally depressed; normally Resone was an emotional cipher, showing about as much emotion as your typical android.  Today she walked with a spring in her step and a faint, almost imperceptible smile on her lips, which for Resone was what skipping down the street singing would have been for anyone else.

"I wish," Danielle muttered.  "What are you so happy about?"

"Am I?" Resone frowned slightly. "I suppose so.  Look, Danielle."  She turned and gestured at the patiently floating bookbag.  "I can control it."

"Wow." Danielle was not impressed.  "You've been able to control the teek ever since I met you.  You just need to be in the right mood."

"No, I--" Resone stopped in some confusion.  "This is the first time, isn't it?"

"You don't remember?"

"Oh, right." She had lost the faint smile, though, her face reverting to its usual expressionlessness. The only way Danielle and Ayumi knew she wasn't an android was the few times the floodgates had opened, and Resone had gotten violently emotional. Andys did have emotions, but they didn’t have hormones, so that kind of behavior was not a thing they’d do. She never admitted to these episodes afterward, but they were enough to prove that she wasn't an andy.  That, and the fact that andys didn't have psi, according to Dr. Okusanya, and he was the world's top cyberneticist, so he'd know.

They turned a corner and passed a group of guys.  "Woo-oh!" Danielle turned her head to watch them as they passed, leering. "Check out the buns on the blond there!"

"Danielle, you're almost as obnoxious when you do that as the guys are when they do it."

"Come off it, Resone. Either I'm every bit as obnoxious or no one is.  Hidden sexism, you know. Oh, wow!"  Resone followed Danielle's gaze to a stunning redheaded girl.  "Excuse me."

"She's got a boyfriend," offered Resone as advice.  "And she doesn't like you."

"Who asked you?" Danielle slid into an alleyway and transformed, taking male form. Resone had seen this scene before-- she didn't need her precog to tell her how it would come out.  Daniel, now, would attempt to charm the girl, and either get into her pants or get hit.  Most likely get hit.  Resone had already divined the girl's opinion of Daniel.  She didn't need to watch.

//don't you?//

Resone lifted her head slightly.  Someone had spoken.

Who's there?

No answer.

Something was happening. Resone tried to analyze it, but it was no more yet than a prickling at the edge of consciousness.  She'd have to wait for it to come.  Perhaps it had something to do with Ayumi.  She continued on a path for the Okusanya house.

Once there, she paused at the threshold.  She's not here.

`Something was happening. An electric current in the air. Something she hadn't seen, yet. From somewhere inside, Resone felt the first faint uneasy stirrings of fear.  She liked things predictable.  If she saw it ahead of time, she could compensate.  Predictable and safe.  The other way was nightmare.

mommy please don't i'm sorry

No.  The fear went away, like that.  Like a circuit breaker in her mind, shutting off emotion.  She pushed open the door-- and turned, startled, as with a thud her bookbag fell to the porch.

Wasn't controlling.  I must be more careful.  Resone picked it up, brushed it off and went into the Okusanya house.

Dr. Seye Okusanya was working on something.  Resone waited patiently outside his door for ten minutes before realizing that he was far too distracted to notice her when her whole field projected a don't-notice-me aura.  "Excuse me.  Dr. Okusanya?"

He turned his head. "Ah, Resone.  Is Ayumi in detention again?"

"No..." Resone was esper.  More than simply meaning she had psi, it meant she had perceptions outside the sensory realms, and she integrated faster than most.  It occurred to her, now, that Dr. Okusanya had not kept Ayumi home. Therefore, something else had kept her from school.  Due to Ayumi's desire to be a Peacekeeper, that something was more than likely trouble.

"I think she's in danger," Resone said.  "She and Danielle both."

"What?" Dr. Okusanya turned all the way around.  "Why do you say that?"  He then remembered that "why" was a nonsensical question when dealing with Resone. "What sort of danger?"

"When did you last see Ayumi?"

"Why... last night. She said good night to me."

"She was abducted between here last night and the school this morning," Resone said. "Or perhaps enticed.  It's hard to say.  I left Danielle behind on the way here, but I shouldn't have.  I didn't sense the danger."

"What's the danger?"

"I don't know."

"Well, let's have you do a psychometric location, see if you can find her.  And Danielle.  Does the danger know what the three of you are?  Is it targeting you three in particular, or is it going after the population in general?"

"I don't know." The fear was beginning to stir again.  That wasn't right.  Resone was never afraid, not of anything.  But then, she always knew how it would come out.

Ayumi's scarf, from her bedroom.  Ayumi loved that scarf, wore it whenever they were going on a job.  It had to be something with emotional resonances. Resone picked it up and wound it around her tiny hands, picturing Ayumi.

Ayumi Okusanya-- tall, with deep brown skin, the flawless body of an African goddess, Japanese features that might have been delicately beautiful if they weren't pulled into a scowl all the time, and frizzy pink hair.  Everything about her screamed "attitude."  Teachers hated her, and she returned the favor with interest-- unless they were that rare breed of teacher that could see through the tough-girl pose to the wounded child inside.  Ayumi was a full-body cyborg, made so at the age of 5 by an accident that had killed her mother, and now very little of her was still organic, as of course she'd had to transfer bodies every two or three years to accomodate her growth.  The body she wore now was a state-of-the-art android with an interface to her human brain and actual hormonal glands to enable a full range of emotional experience, since unlike an andy Ayumi had a brain that could interpret emotional inputs. It looked, felt, and smelled fully human, and had been designed by her father to Ayumi's own specifications.  

But it was the first body she'd had that couldn't be pegged as a cybe.  The first body she'd had, as a small child, had been crude and robotlike, matching the then-current android technology, and though each new body had been cutting edge, the edge hadn't reached humaniform until now.  

In fact it could be argued that Ayumi's pain at being a freak had been part of what had driven android bodies to improve so rapidly, as her father was the leader in the field and was probably so because he'd been personally driven to make his daughter the best bodies possible.  But having a fully humaniform body now didn't erase ten years of being a freak.  Ayumi couldn't quite believe that people were no longer laughing at her clumsy metal body, and it made her lash out.

At the same time, despite her reputation as a JD, Ayumi was truly committed to helping people.  She wasn't a school nark or a monitor, because she couldn't handle toadying to the Establishment.  But she had, for the past schoolyear and change, used her rep to get the lowdown on the gangs and the deals, and reported to her father, who reported to the police.  Tifaret High was a lot cleaner now than it'd been this time last year.  Ayumi wanted to be a Peacekeeper, and she didn't want to wait the three years until she'd be 18 and it'd be legal, she wanted it now.  She wanted to prove that teens could be effective Peacekeepers too.

When Resone had first detected the dimension warp and recruited Ayumi and Danielle against it, it had been Ayumi who gave the group its strength.  Resone was the brains and Danielle was the guile, but Ayumi was the heart of the three, her passion driving the other two.  Since that time, the three had actually become best friends, despite their differences.  It would hurt, if Ayumi was suffering.  It would hurt, and Resone pulled back, not wanting to see what she would see.

But of course, she saw it. The ice came down, freezing her in perfect control, blocking away the pain, as she saw Ayumi trapped in a genie bottle, shouting curses.  Resone couldn't see Ayumi's body, but could tell where it was likely to be-- hooked into a virtual reality simulator.  Ayumi was inside a computer, and didn't know it.  She was no linerider like Danielle-- she would be totally unable to alter her surroundings, even if she knew it wasn't real.

Resone couldn't see Danielle, even when she held Danielle's mojo stone, but that wasn't surprising. Danielle was quicksilver, a water elemental, flowing and changing shape, with little constant enough to make a firm psychometric imprint.  She did, however, get a very distinct impression from touching the stone. Words, symbols, resolving into a phrase.

OUR LADY OF MERCY HOSPITAL.

"The hospital," Resone said.  "Mercy Hospital.  A virtual reality, and a hospital..."

"What's happened to them?" Dr. Okusanya asked.

"They were lured. Tricked into going to the hospital, separated from the rest of us.  Each of us, one by one.  Dani, they used sex, of course.  Ayumi, they presented with one in need of rescue."

"And you?  How will they go after you?"

"Oh, they already have. Obligation and loyalty.  I'm going in after them."

Dr. Okusanya considered. "They'll be prepared for you, if they're luring you.  I think you need some kind of equalizer."

Resone stood behind ice, insulated, and watched herself say, "Don't worry, Dr. Okusanya.  They don't know me well enough to prepare for me."

***

Resone was a tiny, albino female of fifteen, still not quite 5 feet tall, with a mane of fluffy white hair, watery blue eyes she generally concealed behind extremely dark prescription sunglasses, and a girlish, undeveloped body.  One would think she would be very difficult to disguise.

One would think.

With hair braided and hidden under a short, dark blonde wig in a boy's cut, with dark contacts replacing dark glasses and makeup to make eyelashes and eyebrows look brownish-blond and not white, with tape wrapped around her tiny breasts and a boy's school uniform on, she felt very masculine in a boyish way.  Not Resone anymore.  This was Jason.  Jason turned this way and that, surveying his appearance in the mirror.  He wasn't very objective, of course-- he always saw himself as male, since that was what he was-- but Resone could be objective, and objectively she looked like Jason.  So let it be.  She let herself be Jason, and strode off purposefully, heading for the hospital.

//Something's happening, and you don't know what it is, do you, Belle Resone?//

Nobody here by that name. Sorry.

He walked to the hospital, sensing dimly a gathering storm.  The warp was active.  This was another stage of the strange war the intruders waged.  The hospital was not the hospital.  The street was not the street.  Like traveling between air and water, he stepped onto the street and everything was different.  Yet he couldn't tell exactly how it had changed.  Everything looked the same.  Change of refractory index-- inside, it was the same. It was the outside that was different.

Jason was afraid.

He wanted to be Resone again.  Resone was sheltered under ice, cold and insulated from fear.  But Resone couldn't do this.  They were looking for Resone, so she could never walk in directly under the eyes of the receptionist.

"Young man, where are you going?"

The receptionist was a pinched and dusty old lady with piercing glasses and the smell of moldy fish, not quite drowned by antiseptic chemicals.  "I'm visiting someone," he said.

"It's not visiting hours," the turtle-mouth snapped.

A stained clockface on the wall read a dreary four o'clock.  "When are visiting hours?"

"Not until five."

Hands of the clock spun, aged and rusty things responding to Jason's will.  He was dominating, not like passive Resone.  He was free to act, to control.  "But it is five," he said.

"It's only--" The receptionist glanced up.  Jason worked the same alchemy on her watch as she looked away, so it confirmed the lie. "That's strange.  Where does the time go?"

"The time eaters get it," a tall black man said, and laughed at his own joke.

"Who are you here to see?" the receptionist asked.

The lobby was filled with people, loud and chaotic.  Old smelly women with bulging black handbags as weapons against the world.  Young women in loose t-shirts with huge breasts and screaming dirty children clinging to them.  Snot-nosed brats of 11 or so flinging slingshot spitballs at each other. Dirty unshaven men in undershirts with beer bellies.  And the black man with the spiked dreadlocks, the mishmash mismatched clothing that covered plaid, solids, spots, in bright and loud colors, a ridiculous leisure suit and a ridiculous bowtie, askew, over a Day-Glo yellow shirt.  The man with the piercing grin.

//Something is happening, but you don't know what it is-- do you, Belle Resone?//

Jason pulled a name and a number out of the air.  "Room 23B," he said.  "Rachel Buscaglia.  I'm her brother."

"You have to be over 14."

"I'm 15.  I'm short."

//You're also a girl, girl-child.//

Shut up.  I'm a boy.  "Can I see her?"

Unable to find another reason to prevent him, the receptionist muttered, "I suppose so. Elevators are back that way."  She gestured vaguely.

Jason lost it as he left the waiting room.  The man in the mismatched clothes was following him, and a surge of fear swamped him. Be Resone, cold, controlled. Resone turned to face the man, safe behind a thin but strong layer of ice.  "Excuse me, why are you following me?"

"We're going to the same place," the man said cheerily.  "I'm Rachel's brother, too."

Resone frowned. "Rachel who?"

"Rachel Buscaglia. You remember, girl-- or maybe you don't, oh well.  But we're going to the same place.  You're gonna need help."

"I don't need help. I don't know you."

"I'm the March Hare."  He grinned broadly.  "Also known as the Cat Who Walks Through Walls.  That was a book by Heinlein, long time ago.  Good book."

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"Resone.  I'm Resone."

"I like your first name better."

"What?"

"Belle. Bella.  Beautiful.  Vous erez La Belle Dame Sans Merci, n'est-ce pas?  The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy.  Ah, Bella."

Resone stiffened. "Don't call me Belle.  I don't go by it."

"Somebody does."

"What?"

"For someone who's supposed to be such a hot esper and have so much on the ball, you can be dense, chère Belle."

"Don't call me that! I'm Resone!"

A white heat threatening to crack the ice.

my belle my beautiful belle come to daddy belle

The ice engulfed.  The anger drained out into the encroaching dark. Why should I care what he calls me?  "I have things to do."

"So do I.  By some strange trick of fate, many of them are the exact same thing as yours.  How's that for coincidence?"

"Hmm.  You're an esper, I take it."

"You know all about me, Bella.  All you have to do is think."

"Perhaps I don't care to."

She headed for the staircase.  Danielle should be found first, because she could hook into the line and find Ayumi. Resone might be esper, but she wasn't a linerider.

"Perhaps not. Where to?"

"Find Danielle."

"Could be rough. I think our friends are about to find you."

"Really." Resone didn't sense any danger-- but then, her senses seemed to be somewhat dulled here. “What am I expected to do about that?”

“Well. You in the mood for a fight, or you wanna hide and keep your powder dry?”

“I think I should hide,” Resone said, looking around. The elevators were coming. 6, 5, 4, on one elevator. 5, 4, 3 on the other. Her eyes fell on a set of double doors that she wasn’t supposed to go through. There.

The March Hare, or the Cat Who Walks Through Walls, or whatever his name was, followed her. “Interesting choice.”

As soon as she was through the doors, she whispered to him. “You are too distinctive. There’s no way I can not be here with you beside me. Go away.”

“Mm, no.” The Hare opened the nearest door. It was an empty examination room, darkened. “I don’t see any reason why we can’t join forces. Hide in here.”

Resone raised an eyebrow. “A fifteen year old girl hides in an empty hospital room with a grown adult, probably in his forties at least, that she doesn’t know. What’s wrong with this picture?”

He sighed explosively. “Bella. Such a correct and careful girl you are. Do it or don’t, but I can’t help you if I can’t talk to you, and we can hardly talk while you’re not here.”

“I think you can talk to me when I’m not here,” Resone said. “I think you’ve done that a few times today.”

A broad grin split his face. “Guilty as charged, but there’s can do the thing, and then there’s can do the thing and still have the juice left to run a mile or jump a fence. C’mon, Belle, I gotta save it for the parkour.”

Resone was used to knowing everything she needed to know. Remain passive, remain quiet, but look at everything. She was legally blind, and her mother couldn’t afford to get her cybeyes – Dr. Okusanya had offered, but for some strange reason her mother hadn’t been willing to entrust the father of a random school friend of Resone’s with doing surgery on her child, even if he was well regarded in a field she knew absolutely nothing about. Imagine that. But she watched everything, and she listened to everything, and if she held still, knowledge just came to her.

This man was an incomprehensible black hole. He was a singularity where knowledge went to die. Resone wouldn’t tolerate that.

With the faintest sag of her shoulders that on anyone else would be an explosive sigh, perhaps with eye roll, Resone went into the hospital room and let the March Hare shut the door.

“I’m going to begin by saying you’re an asshole,” Resone said. “And extremely creepy.”

“Oh, now ‘asshole’ I’ll own to, but when you say ‘creepy’ it sounds less eldritch horror and more Uncle Grabbyhands. If that’s what you’re picturing there then you got it all wrong.”

“You keep calling me by a name that’s not mine. You’ve referred to me as ‘beautiful’ and ‘the beautiful lady without mercy.’”

“A man can’t make a play on words about your name? I was joking, child. Have I touched you? Looked at you anyplace below the chin? But I’ll admit, I’m not used to dealing with kids, and I’ve been around a long time. Was a time they’d have strung me up for talking to you, white girl… if they could catch me. I’m gonna talk the way I know how, but I don’t mean nothing creepy about it. Unless you mean creepy like Slenderman or the man hook door hand story. In which case I absolutely mean it.” He grinned.

“Are you going to call me by my name?”

He sighed. “I suppose. You know, a fellow has as many names as I do, he doesn’t get so hung up on them. And you’ve got a lot of names, too, but then again… I’m guessing you don’t. Can’t read you as well as I’d like, to tell the truth.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” Indefinable pressure. Time, pushing at her, and a sense that space was congealing around her. If she didn’t move soon she never would. “Who are the enemy?”

“Well, chère, thereby hangs a tale.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is all I have on a story called “Welcome to the House of Fun”. It’s quite old; I had to revise a good bit, mostly for cultural reasons (Ayumi’s dad, for instance, originally had a name that was African, but it was an African woman’s first name and the last name is a word but not a name, mostly because in the 90′s and early 00′s we did not have the resources for research that we do now.)

The time stamp on the file before I started working on it claimed I started this in 2001. I’m pretty sure it’s older. Ayumi, Danielle and Resone are a trio of teenage heroes (do not call them magical girls) who are essentially a mishmosh of elements from other stories. In Ayumi I’m counting Asamiya Saki from Sukeban Deka, Cyborg from Teen Titans and The Major from Ghost in the Shell, at least.

There is some stuff in here that is very, very 90′s, DC Vertigo-inspired, that I am likely to pull back on. I may rethink what’s going on with Resone, or maybe not. 

[radiosteve]

Need Your Loving Tonight Ch. 13

Summary: As the party continues, things with John and Roger may take an unexpected turn.

 Note: Hi everyone! Sorry for any grammar issues or anything but I have a really bad cold and I’m half asleep while writing this. Hope you enjoy! As always, the italicized part is the reader’s thoughts. This photo is one that I found on google. I do not own any rights to it. If youwant to be added to the taglist send me a message or an ask and I’ll add you!  

Warnings: Language, slight sexual content

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader, John Deacon x Reader

Words: 3.4k+

  December 20, 1972

 Your eyes fell onto John’s as a blush formed on your cheeks. He mirrored a similar look as he gazed at from across the circle. Sally reached over slightly to squeeze your leg as an excited smile crept onto her face. Your stomach flipped with each passing moment before you began to move in John’s direction. It wasn’t until you had already started crawling towards him that you realized that John was moving too. You both met in the middle as your bare knees brushed against the fabric of his jeans. He flashed you a small smile before reaching up to tuck his long waves behind his ears. He leaned in ever so slightly, whispering as his breath smelled of vodka and spearmint.

 “Are you-” he began before you grabbed for his hand and cut him off.

 “Yes,” you spoke gently, confidence radiating off of you as John’s smile grew wider. He raised his hands to cup your cheeks, brushing his thumb against them as he did so. His index finger slightly pulled your hair back, exposing more of your face as you melted into his touch. Your hands, following their own agenda, moved to wrap around his neck. John leaned in, then you leaned in. And you both kept moving closer until it finally happened. Your lips collided and the world faded to black. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that existed was your hands in John’s hair and the soft kiss that you shared. Your lips parted and his tongue slipped past, matching the same pace as yours. The kiss felt like pure bliss, as if every happy memory from your life occurred all at once. All the months of tension and emotion shared between the two of you finally released and it couldn’t have been any better. 

 That is until you remembered where you were. When you realized that not only were you kissing John, but that you were kissing John in front of a bunch of your friends, including Roger. You pulled back lightly only to see John’s hooded eyes focused solely on you. He slowly started moving back to his spot in the circle as his smile returned to his lips. You crawled back to your place next to Sally and she gave your hand excited pinch. Your eyes darted around the circle towards the faces of your friends. Freddie had a large grin plastered across his face while Brian looked slightly taken aback, but still enthused. Finally, your gaze fell on Roger and guilt flooded your body. Not only did Roger look completely heartbroken, but you also saw the water fill his eyes and slowly run down his cheeks.     

 “Johnny, it’s your turn to spin,” Freddie chimed in, pulling your attention from Roger back down to the bottle in front of you. 

 “No, I think I’m ok,” John spoke quietly, folding his hands in his lap as he peeked at look over at you. You tried your best to flash him a genuine smile, but your head was swarmed with too much at once. 

 “But you’re next,” some girl protested, twirling her hair on her finger as she clearly tried to get John’s undivided attention. 

 “I think I’m done playing,” John patted his legs gently before standing up and walking back to the table covered in alcohol with a beaming smile stretched across his lips. 

 “Yeah, I’m over this game too,” Roger spoke quietly, wiping the tears from his eyes as he stood up, heading towards the door.

 “Rog, wait,” you called out, following him through the front door as he stomped outside. “We need to talk please,” you said when you finally caught up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket.

 “No, we don’t. I already know everything I need,” he tugged his arm from your grasp and trudged further down the front steps. 

 “Come on Roger, please. It’s been over a month since you last talked to me. Like, really talked to me,” you voice was desperate as you managed to trail behind him. He turned around abruptly, nearly causing you to run into him in the process.

 “What do you want me to say? Huh? You want me to tell you that I’m in love with you? That I’ve always been in love with you? Because I have, and it sucks. And it sucks to see you all lovey dovey with John, it really does. But it’s not my place and we both know it. So go on and be with him or whatever it is that you want, because it’s your choice. Just try not to flaunt it around in my face when you finally do decide what to do over your little thing for Johnny,” Roger yelled at you before turning back towards the street.

 “Roger, wait,” you pleaded trying to make amends and calm him down.

 “I’m sick of waiting, Y/n. All I ever do is wait for you and I’m over it. So go on and have a nice life. Just try to keep me out of it,” Roger turned on his heels, before unlocking his car and sliding into the front seat. He drove off at lightning speed as you stood dumbfounded and shivering in the front yard. 

 ---------------------------

 You came back into the house, quickly wiping at your tears as the loud music drowned out everything that just happened. Your thoughts raced as you worked your way through the swarm of people, pressed against each other in the dingy room. Finally, you managed to get to the back of the room, spotting Sally talking to a girl as a smile curled up her cheeks. 

 “Sally,” you rested your hand on her shoulder to get her attention, but she brushed it off.

 “Not now, Y/n. I’m a little busy,” she spoke never breaking eye contact with the girl once. A flood of frustration filled your body as you let out a small moan.

 “Sally, I want to go home now,” you whined, not caring about how needy you sounded. Sally finally looked over at you, noticing your puffy, red eyes and the slight shiver that raked through you.

 “Alright love just give me a minute,” she said sincerely and grabbed your hand reassuringly before dropping it and turning back to the girl in front of her to say goodbye.

 “That’s ok Sal. I’ll take her home,” Brian spoke up, appearing out of nowhere. He came up to stand between you and Sally and rested a hand on each of your shoulders. 

 “Are you sure?” Sally looked up at Brian and he shot her a soft nod, causing his big curls to bounce. “Alright, I’ll see you at home love,” Sally leaned over to kiss your cheek and then focused her attention back on the girl.

 “Thank you, Brian” you said quietly as the two of you pushed your way through the party. He just threw one arm over your shoulder and kept walking. You’d nearly managed to walk out without saying goodbye to John, but he saw you and turned away from Freddie to call your name.

 “Where are you going?” he asked as you and Brian came closer. John’s hands rested on his hips as a close-lipped smile covered his face.

 “I, uh, wasn’t feeling too well so Brian offered to drive me back to my flat,” you tried your best to muster up a smile as you spoke, but your heart wasn’t in it. 

 “Oh, well I could drive you home so Brian could stay here a little longer,” John suggested hopefully, wanting to spend more time with you and talk about the kiss you shared. 

 “That’s alright, mate. I’m all partied out. I don’t mind,” Brian spoke up, saving you from making up some lame excuse. You made a mental note to thank him later. 

 “Ok, well I’ll see you guys later then,” John leaned over and pressed his lips to your forehead gently. When he pulled back, he looked just as giggly and dazed as he had during the spin the bottle. It took everything within you to drag yourself away from him and head towards the car. You head swirled with the sensation of John’s lips smoothing over every inch of your body as his hands rubbed up and down your thighs. What is wrong with me? I just got into a huge fight with one of my closest friends and all I can think about is John.

 You followed Brian as he pushed through the front door, walking to his car parked a little further down the street. He unlocked the car and you pulled the door open as your emotions began boiling up inside. You had barely closed the door behind you when you heard Brian speak up from the driver’s seat.

 “You want to talk about it?” his words were comforting but also completely unnerving. 

 “Was it really that obvious that something is wrong?” you turned your head in his direction and his eyes met yours. 

 “No, but you’re my best friend. I can tell when something is wrong with you,” a small smile graced his lips before quickly slipping off as his expression became serious once more.

 “It’s Roger,” you began, feeling the tears prick in your eyes. “He said that he loves me,” you let out a shaky breath as Brian began driving.

 “But you already knew that. I told you that a month or so ago,” Brian said as confusion etched across his face.

 “Yes, but it’s very different for someone to tell you that they love you in person rather than through a friend,” you shot Brian a cheeky smile, still holding back the tears that threatened to spill.

 “Yeah, yeah I guess so. But you seemed pretty distraught. That couldn’t have been the only thing that you guys talked about,” Brian’s words seemed to trigger the floodgate within you and hot tears began to stream down your cheeks.

 “He also told me,” you gasped for breath a little, trying to sound as normal as possible. “He told me that he doesn’t want me in his life anymore,” sobs flooded the car and Brian pulled over to the side of the road. “Wha- what are you doing,” you gulped for air as your nose filled with snot.

 “Comforting my friend,” Brian threw the stick shift in park and leaned over, engulfing you in his arms as you cried. Your tears dripped onto his jacket sleeve as Brian pulled you closer to him. 

 “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” you heaved in between cries. Your lungs struggled to keep up with the amount of air that escaped from your lips.

 “Well,” Brian pulled back slightly so he could see your tear streaked face. “It’s going to be damn near impossible for him to avoid you at rehearsals and shows,” he brushed the loose strands of hair out of your face, giving you a warm smile as he looked down at you. 

 “I guess you’re right,” you sniffled, peering up at your best friend through your clumpy, tear-ridded eyelashes. “That would be rather difficult,” you rested your hand on Brian’s as he pressed his palm against your cheek. A small smile formed on your lips, mirroring his.

 “Trust me, love,” Brian began, leaning back over to his side of the car as you sat yourself upright against the seat. He pulled off onto the street once more, looking back over at you as he did so. “This definitely isn’t the end for you and Roger Taylor.” 

 December 21, 1972

 After Brian dropped you off the night before, you went inside and stripped off all of your layers. Your tight knit ball of emotions unraveling like the fabric resting against your skin. You quickly found yourself naked and shivering in your bedroom as the moonlight peaked in beyond your curtains. Everything felt wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. So many things about tonight were wonderful and exciting, but your thoughts kept shifting back to Roger. The hurt on his face. The tears on his cheeks. The pain in his eyes. All of it. The feeling, deep in the pit of your stomach, eating away at you. Remorse. Guilt. Shame. Everything at once. A swirl of fire colliding with a wall of ice. An impasse. Unmovable. Static. 

 Your limbs folded into each other as your body curled into a ball. The weight of the world, the memories of the night, pressing down on you as you tried to breathe. The sobs falling from your lips as the air pushed back from your lungs. You didn’t realize that you were screaming until Sally burst through your bedroom door. 

 “Y/n?” she called out, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked down upon your weak, shaking figure on the ground. She grabbed a blanket from your bed and picked you up off the floor. Sally draped the blanket over your shoulders, covering your body with it as she embraced you. “Shhh, it’s ok,” Sally brushed her hand over your hair as you sobbed against her. “Come on,” she said, gently pulling away from you and guiding you towards the bathroom. She sat you down on the toilet as she plugged the bathtub drain and started to run the water. After a few minutes the tub had filled up. Sally sprinkled in bath salts and poured in some bubble bath. 

 Your body sank slowly into the tub, feeling the water rush over your skin and the steam hit your face. Sally turned away, moving towards the door as if to leave.

 “Stay,” you lifted your hand from the water, splashing bubbles over the side of the tub. She turned around and nodded, sitting in the space between the toilet and the tub. You were facing each other, and you could see the worry in her eyes. “Why’d you leave? The party I mean. I thought you were having fun,” your words were quiet, but you couldn’t convince yourself to talk any louder. 

 “I was, but it’s a little hard to have fun when you’re worried about your best friend,” Sally spoke quietly as a sad smile stretched over her lips.

 “I didn’t mean to ruin it for you,” you looked down at the bubbles covering your body and took a deep breath. Sally’s head snapped up and she almost looked offended.

 “Hey,” she scooted closer to you, reaching out for your bubble covered fingers. “You didn’t ruin it. Don’t blame yourself. For me, for Roger, for anything,” her gentle words were reassuring and sweet, but you still felt that ugliness in the pit of your stomach.

 “So, I’m guessing that you talked to Brian,” you gave her a small smile and she returned it before moving back to where she sat before. 

 “I just wanted to make sure that you were ok,” Sally looked genuine. “I left about twenty minutes after you guys did, and I called him as soon as I got home. He told me most of what happened, but I hung up on him when I heard you in your room,” she looked sad as she continued talking but she kept going. “I’m sorry. About everything. I shouldn’t have encouraged you to play that stupid game. That’s not how your first kiss with John should have happened. That’s not how Roger should’ve found out. I’m sorry,” now Sally was the one crying as you leaned forward. Your hand stretched out and you tried to wipe away the tears that had fallen on her cheeks. However, instead of drying her face, your wet fingers only made it worse and she let out a small giggle.

 “It’s not your fault, Sally. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions. I don’t blame you. And you shouldn’t blame yourself,” you spoke gently, and she stopped crying. 

 “Ok,” she said almost in a whisper, her eyes holding yours. You leaned back in the tub, letting the bubbles consume you. The two of you stayed in the bathroom, talking quietly until the bath water turned cold. You felt warm and loved. It almost made you feel better. Almost.

 When you woke up the next morning, you noticed the fresh snow falling outside your window. Your sock-clad feet wandered from your bed into the kitchen. You’d just set a kettle on the stovetop when you noticed a note on the counter. 

 Gone to the store to get some food for the snowstorm, Be back later - love Sal  

 You smiled slightly at the note before looking back towards the window. It felt so childish to feel excited about the snow, but you didn’t care. It made you think back to winter break in your freshman year of high school. 

 Your parents were snowed in and couldn’t go to work. So, in order to pass the time, they started to fight. You threw on two sweaters over your t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants over your jeans, a soft hat, and a fluffy pair of socks. You stuck your arms in your big winter coat, grabbed some gloves, and took off out the back door. You walked all the way to the beach because the snow was too deep to ride your bike in. The snow was still barely falling but you didn’t feel cold. Your boots sunk into the white covered sand as you marched across the beach. You climbed into the lifeguard tower, glad to see that the inside wasn’t covered in snow, and just watched the waves. There wasn’t a seagull in sight, but you could still hear them somewhere in the distance. It still smelled like the beach. The soft crash of waves on the cold, yellow sand. Everything was the same, but it also wasn’t. It was different, being there in December when the water is far too cold to swim in. But it was the beach. Your safe space. The only place that felt like home. 

 Your lips curled at the memory and you heard the whistle of the kettle in the back of your head, you just didn’t realize that it was real. At least not until the phone rang as well. You snapped from your thoughts and ran over to the stove, turning off the boiling water before moving towards the couch to grab the phone. 

 “Hello?” you brought the phone to your ear and let out a labored breath.

 “Y/n, hi,” you heard John voice crackle through the speaker. “I just wanted to check up on you,” his voice was so gentle, and you felt your body relax. “You said that you weren’t feeling well last night. Just wanted to see if you felt any better.”

 “I’m ok John, thank you,” you let out a breath as you responded, and it made your voice sound shaky. 

 “Are you sure? The storm isn’t too bad yet. I can come over and take care of you if you want,” he offered, and a smile formed on your lips.

 “You’re too sweet John Deacon,” you laughed breathily, and you could tell that he was smiling on the other end of the line.

 “Only for you, love.”

 “John,” you spoke quietly, almost scared to ask your next question. “About our kiss last night.”

 “Right. The kiss,” he paused, trying to gather his words the best he could. “I meant to bring that up. It got me thinking. And I’ve been thinking this for a while now. But I’d like to take you out on a date. A real, proper date. Just me and you,” he sounded nervous and bashful as he spoke. You took a second, mulling over everything in your head. The phone call from Roger. Brian telling you that Roger’s in love with you. Last night. Your kiss with Roger. Your kiss with John. Roger storming out. Your fight. Roger saying that he’s in love with you. John calling to check up on you.

 It all seemed like so much in such a little amount of time. Like the days blended to hours and hours fell to minutes as the seconds ticked by. Your heart raced in your chest, trying to decide on what to say next. Should I go out with John? Will that just piss Roger off more? But what if this is my only chance with him?

 A deep breath escaped your lips before you tightened your grip on the phone. You inhaled once more before giving John a proper answer.

 “I’d love that.”

Taglist: @retromusicsalad @bohemiansweede @deaconsroger @queen-crue @ohtheseboysilove @queeniesteiins @kemeryyyy @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ixchel-9275 @rogmeddows @ziggymay @deakysmisfire @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @briarrose26 @greatdinosaursalad @queendeakyy

[shuttershocky]

do you have more ideas for makoto as the protag of p5? :eyes:

You shouldn’t have asked that anon. You’ve opened the floodgates.Do I have more ideas for Makoto as the protag of P5? Hell yeah I do.

Some spoilers for Persona 5 below!

The challenge with having Makoto for the protagonist is that it’s harder to recreate the absolutely stellar introduction that Persona 5 did with Kamoshida’s palace and Morgana as Joker’s guide to the supernatural. But here’s what I’ve come up with. So I think a Persona 5 with Makoto as the protag would start with Makoto discovering the Metaverse the way Joker and Ryuji did, through Kamoshida’s palace. But instead of awakening, she hides from the guards and Kamoshida’s Shadow and doesn’t get caught before managing to flee home. She wonders if she’s finally gone mad after endless work from both the faculty dumping their workload on her to calming down the students of Shujin panicking that a supposed criminal transfer student was soon going to be their schoolmate, but a wound she sustained during her escape convinces her what she saw was real.Sae, hearing that her sister just played hooky, brings home work that night so she could keep up on her load while scolding her younger sister. She’s furious at Makoto’s bullshit story about a castle filled with these strange monsters, before taking it down a notch and concluding Makoto’s simply breaking under the stress and scolds her about needing to be tougher than that to make it in the real world. But bringing home work also means bringing home her assistant to help her work out her cases, an assistant who is most intrigued by what he hears...Enter our guide, Goro Akechi.The two are not on friendly terms, with Makoto seeing him as her rival for Sae’s attention, but after Sae’s done belittling her, Akechi’s takes her aside and believes her story. He asks her if she would like to know more, because if she managed to step into the Metaverse on her own, it would mean she has the potential.Understanding literally nothing about what he just said, Makoto reluctantly agrees then heads off to bed exhausted, and we have her first visit to the Velvet Room.The next day Akechi meets her at the front of Shujin and shows her the Meta-Nav, asking her for the name of the person that ran the place and if what she saw really was a castle. With Kamoshida’s name and castle stated to the Nav, the Metaverse opens up to them... and Akechi fires his gun into the air and flees.Makoto is quickly caught by the guards and imprisoned, before being met with Kamoshida’s shadow. He’s not interested in her like he is with Ann, but he does take the time to mock her as the faculty’s incompetent slave before she’s executed. All the suppressed anger and indignity comes out at once, fueling her awakening and summoning Johanna. She gets busy ripping the shadows in two, and gets so drunk on the violence she barely hears Kamoshida muttering “Not again...” as he flees.It’s then that Akechi reappears, and after recovering from getting his deserved punch to the face, he explains that it would have been useless to show her around until she has had her awakening. He then navigates the castle with her, teaching her about shadows and combat, before watching her claim her first new mask from a shadow and being genuinely shocked.The two don’t have much time to process what just happened however, as the sounds of a fight ring out from the distance. Makoto and Akechi head to the opposite wing, and find two boys and a cat-like thing in the middle of a brawl in the lower floors. The boy with messy black hair and a black trenchcoat wields a knife and a gun with deadly ease, ripping through a hallway of guards like a whirlwind.The two continue to watch from their hidden position as the cat-monster explains to the two boys about what a cognitive being is and how the classmates they just saw weren’t real, before they head deeper into the castle.“Oh dear.” Akechi exclaims. “This has gotten quite interesting.”_______________________________________________Other things I would love in a Makoto-led P5 and general thoughts:- Haru would be the third character to join after Akechi and Makoto, introducing her far earlier than in the original game. She would have approached Makoto in the student council room, complaining about headaches and short visions of the school as a castle. Makoto is concerned and ropes her in, although she will not get her full awakening until she confronts her father specifically. Instead, her surprisingly strong sense of justice and her thirst for rebellion inspire a partial awakening in her, allowing her to fight and use Milady’s weaker abilities.- Instead of immediately skipping to after school, there would be two extra time slots, lunch time and late night, available for Makoto. However, she will also receive work from the faculty and the student council that she MUST complete weekly or suffer a heavy penalty. Since a lot of this work can only be done in the school library, this is where she meets the supposedly dangerous transfer student: an unassuming underclassman with glasses and a mild-mannered attitude, the only person in the school unafraid to share a table with her.- It’s still a (hypothetical) Persona game so obviously you can’t force a Shumako pairing, but just like with the actual game the two would still end up close friends, closer than her other bonds. This is necessary to give impact to both the twist of him turning out to be the Phantom Thief she keeps chasing through the palaces (this happens earlier on, but then we get a sizable period of “does he know that I know” stress when they study together), and the second twist that he’s only been helping people and would like her to join him.- A Makoto-led P5 would give a bigger emphasis to her repressed rage issues. See, Ryuji’s temper is nothing. The guy has no self control and flares up with righteous anger at everything, but he’s never gotten physical and he’s never truly gone berserk. Makoto however, is different. She’s bottled up and when she blows she gets very violent. I didn’t like that P5 never explored that again after her awakening and kept her dangerous temper to battle quotes and some idle Mementos dialogue with a terrified Ryuji. If Makoto is the protagonist, we would definitely see more of it. It would explore how that anger helped her by awakening her powers, and how dangerous it would be for her to keep indulging in it, to the point where she goes full berserker even. I think a few scenes of her going way too far and having to be physically restrained by her teammates, her brass knuckles running red all the while, would be great for that.

- Futaba’s palace would serve as the turning point of the story. Makoto would see that Joker’s quite serious about only helping people, and she begins to really doubt if he’s the man in black who has been causing all the mental shutdowns. She reluctantly helps him out in curing Futaba behind Akechi’s back and discovers how Futaba’s mother was assassinated for researching the Metaverse, deepening her doubts about everything she knows. - Akechi’s more prominent role in the story means we learn more about him and his back story earlier as opposed to getting infodumped. Since he’ll be Mako’s first teammate, the player will have a much longer time to get used to him too. - Akechi and Makoto’s relationship will improve somewhat and she does eventually trust him, but I don’t think they should ever truly see eye to eye. Makoto is simply too bitter about Akechi getting more time with Sae than she does, and she’s willing to go behind his back if she thinks its the right call. Meanwhile, Akechi and Joker’s relationship develops like it does in the original game, down to their meeting in the TV station.

- For the first few palaces, Makoto’s group ends up fighting the boss who stops them from chasing the Thieves  while Joker uses them as distractions and steals the treasure. The two groups continue and develop this cat and mouse dynamic until Futaba’s palace. - I really want Joker to actually earn his name of ‘Trickster’. He’s sly, cunning, and ridiculously fast on his feet and his wits. He should get really close to getting caught in the first three palaces and squirm out each time. - I am aware that this story format somewhat messes with the pacing of introducing one new party member per palace, since Joker still has his own Phantom Thieves with Ryuji, Morgana, and Ann and combining the two groups would pull a Persona 3 on the player.  I’m not quite sure how to fix this.- This also removes the narrative device of having most of the game be told by Joker to Sae in the interrogation room. I’m.... actually ok with this. I know this might make some people mad though. It will obviously still keep Joker being interrogated by Sae since it’s such a huge part of the story. Now though,  since he’s no longer the protag Sae won’t interrupt the game every few moments to ask how the grandma Joker said hi to aided the Phantom Thieves.- The Casino would be one big OOF moment.- Joker’s social link gets ranked up automatically for the first few ranks (like Futaba’s Hermit 1 in the game), but the rest of it is up to the player. His social link would be around how caged up he feels from his unfair sentencing (which he reveals to you in private in the higher ranks), and his bad reputation in school making it harder than it should be for him to adjust. You help him accept that while what happened was unjust, he does actually have friends he can count on now, and the social link ends with Makoto vowing to help him find justice and nabbing the guy who sued him on false charges. Also he asks you if you would like to come by for coffee more often at Rank 8 or 9 to start his romance.  - TL;DR = I want Haru and Akechi to get way more screentime and development than they did in P5, while also further exploring Makoto’s violent temper that we only get hints of in P5. I also feel that putting Makoto as the protagonist further helps segue into Yaldabaoth’s explanation that his game was pitting two wildcards against each other. It didn’t make that much sense to me in the original because the battle of wits ended up being between Akechi and Makoto (it was her plan after all) rather than between him and Joker (who, to his credit, could have totally died going along with this plan). 

[ktwrites]

Genre: Modern AU Pairing: Jonerys (of course). Rating: Still T for now. Summary: Dany finds herself confiding in Sansa and Arya while Jon reaches a potential breakthrough with the help of Bran and Sam.

 “Did you change your hair?” Sansa asked as Dany unzipped her coat. She was walking through the godswood near the house with Jon’s sisters and beloved dog, Ghost. It had been cool and gray when they left, but as the sun began to seep through the tree branches the forest floor warmed and their coats were no longer necessary.

 “Since I last saw you? Hmmmm I don’t think so, why?”

 “You just look a little different.”

 “I probably just look tired, that’s all.”

 “No,” the redhead clarified. “Not different in a bad way.”

 “Just different,” Arya added.

 Dany stopped in her tracks and stared at the two Stark sisters. It took them a moment to realize she was no longer walking in stride between them and they both stopped a few feet away and turned to face her. Sansa and Arya were as different as two sisters could be and yet, they were also incredibly similar, but Dany knew better than to tell either one of them that. Sansa’s long red hair was braided neatly over her shoulder while Arya’s brown hair was cropped short, just long enough to be pulled back halfway. Sansa was tall and elegant, but Arya was short and quick. Both sisters were fiercely loyal to Jon. Despite being in an open wood, Dany felt cornered.

 “Thanks,” she said, ducking her head and avoiding their eyes. “But I really don’t know what you’re getting on about.”

 “Arya heard you throwing up in the bathroom this morning,” Sansa blurted out.

 “And?”

 “And you barely pretended to eat anything this morning,” Arya added.

 “Like I told Jon, I wasn’t feeling well this morning. It must’ve been something I ate last night,” Dany said, perpetuating the excuse she had used with her fiance.

 “We all had the same thing to eat last night. Sansa made it. If it had been the food don’t you think more than one of us would have been sick.”

 Normally calm and collected under pressure, Dany felt like she was running out of options quickly. Jon’s sisters clearly suspected something or else they wouldn’t have continued their interrogation level of questioning. She weighed her options.      If     she was pregnant, stress wasn’t good for a baby. Keeping the truth all to herself was nearly impossible. Had they been back in King’s Landing she had no doubt that she would have already confided in Missandei. As it was, Dany had tried to compose a text to her best friend nearly a dozen times but couldn’t find the right words to convey something so personal. What was more, she had scarcely been away from Jon since they left for their trip to the North and she knew Missandei would have called her the moment she read a text. So she kept everything bottled up tight within her. She looked down at the ground and collected herself before looking back up and Sansa and then Arya.

 “Alright,” she sighed. “The thing is...you see, there’s a chance that I might be...pregnant.”

 And then the floodgates opened.

 Dany did not give herself over to tears easily. Years of enduring her brother’s cruelty had steeled her nerves and emotions.      Stop crying    , he would say.      We are the blood of the dragon    . Whatever that meant. He said this whenever they would have to pack up their things and move from one house to another. When she was little, Viserys would tell her that they had to move because one of their father’s business adversaries had convinced their foster homes to give them up. As she grew older, Dany realized that it was Viserys’s erratic and sometimes volatile behavior that was the cause.

 “Seven hells,” Arya cursed. “Look what you’ve gone and done now.”

 “Me?” Sansa argued. “You’re the one who told me she was throwing up!”

 Ghost ambled over to Dany and nudged her hand, as if willing her to stop crying. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and then ruffled his fur. He had taken to Dany surprisingly well when they first met. Jon had told her that Ghost didn’t like many people. He had been a rescue and Jon had taken him in when he was just a puppy. He was small and an albino so the animal shelter told him that the breeders probably didn’t think anyone would want him. Since that day, Ghost and Jon were nearly inseparable.

 And then along came Dany. Ghost didn’t take well to strangers, except for Dany and right from the beginning, too. It was something Jon had never seen before.

 “How about we head back to the house,” Dany suggested, bringing a halt to the sister’s squabblings. “Then I can explain more.”

 XXXXX

 “Here,” Sansa said, handing Dany a cup of tea. “Drink this.”

 “Thanks.”

 When they had returned to the house Jon, Sam, and Bran were all still mercifully gone but Dany, Sansa, and Arya had still retreated to Sansa’s large bedroom. Since the death of her parents and older brother, Sansa had moved into the master suite of Winterfell. Really, it was only fair. As the oldest surviving child of Ned and Cat she had inherited the house and because she went to college nearby she lived at home and oversaw everything. While Dany and Arya tucked themselves into the soft sofa and chair, Sansa went down to the kitchen to prepare tea for them.

 “Does Jon know?” Arya asked.

 “No,” Dany replied, thumbing the handle of her mug. “I’ve only just admitted to myself that it’s a possibility.”

 “How did this happen?” Sansa asked. “I mean...I know      how     but you said-.”

 “I know, I know. I don’t know how other than I thought that it wasn’t something we had to worry about and so we weren’t ever careful.

 “You need to tell Jon,” Arya said softly. “He deserves to know.”

 “I know he does,” Dany admitted. “But I can’t. Until I’m certain I don’t want to tell him and get his hopes up.”

 “You’ve not taken a test yet?” Sansa asked.

 Dany shook her head and took a sip of tea. She had come close not long before they left King’s Landing. She had run to the store to pick up some last minute things for their trip and had wandered down the aisle with the pregnancy tests. It was overwhelming. The multitude of brands and types of tests had left her flustered and fleeing the aisle. And what if she had run into someone she knew? What if the cashier checking her out somehow knew her? What if it didn’t ring up correctly and they needed to do a price check? Instead, Dany bought what she came for and left the store without another thought.

 “Well then you      need     to take a test.”

 “I know.”

 Dany felt like a broken record. Of course she      knew    that all of this seemed improbable, impossible even. She      knew    that Jon should be told, and she most definitely      knew    that she needed to take a test to confirm what she suspected. And yet...and yet a fear held her heart gripped so tightly in a vise that it nearly took her breath away every time she tried to think about any one of those circumstances.

 “Are you scared?” Arya asked.

 “Honestly? Terrified.”

 “Scared that it’ll be positive or scared that it’ll be negative?”

 “That’s just it. I don’t know.”

 XXXXX

 “Are you sure about this?” Dany asked as she watched Arya unbuckle her seatbelt.

 “Absolutely. Look, we drove all the way to Hornwood for this. We might as well get what we came for.”

 Once Dany had gotten word from Jon that he and Bran wouldn’t be back from their afternoon with Sam until later that night she was convinced by Arya and Sansa to buy and take an at home pregnancy test. They’d agreed that it would be better to drive out of town and when Dany still seemed hesitant about going in to buy the test herself, Arya had willingly volunteered.

 “I’ll be swift like a Faceless Man,” she had said.

 “Those don’t actually exists,” Sansa protested.        

 “I mean that I’ll be in and out before anyone even knows I’m there.”

 That made Dany feel slightly better. Simply being with Arya and Sansa seemed to put her at ease. It was as if a small bit of weight had been lifted off of her shoulders now that someone else knew about her situation.

 “Take this,” Dany said, handing Arya a few bills from her wallet.

 “Gods, how expensive are those things?” Arya asked.

 “Buy more than one, idiot,” Sansa explained with a roll of her eyes. “Buy more than one brand.”

 “Gotcha, I’ll be back!”

 Within seven minutes- not that Dany was watching the clock- Arya was back in the car, brown paper bag sitting next to her in the back seat and Sansa started the engine and began driving back to Winterfell. Dany began drinking the bottle of water she had brought along with her. Within forty-five minutes they were back at the house, following each other back into Sansa’s room and closing the door behind them. Within fifty minutes they were all anxiously waiting for the time on Dany’s phone to tell them that three minutes had passed since she came out of the master bathroom.

 “I feel like I need a glass of wine,” Sansa said.

 “Or a cigarette,” Arya replied.

 “You don’t even smoke.”

 “Exactly, that’s how nervous I am.”

 “You’re nervous?” Dany chimed in. “It’s      my     test. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

DING. DING. DING. DING.

 The three young women fell silent and merely stared at Dany’s phone until she turned off the alarm.

 “I can’t look,” she practically whined.

 “Everything will be fine,” Sansa assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “No matter what.”

 “I’m still not ready.”

 Neither Dany nor Sansa had seen Arya get up from her spot on the end of Sansa’s bed and stalk towards the bathroom. She came out holding the test in a piece of tissue in her hand.

 “It’s negative,” Arya said evenly, almost definitively.

 “Oh,” Dany heard herself reply. She felt like someone had ripped a bandage off, leaving her with a throbbing pained feeling.  She knew she should have been relieved, but instead she felt empty. She should have felt like a weight had further been lifted off her shoulders, instead she felt like she had been crushed under an immovable rock. “Wow... I mean that’s good news, right? I mean it’s what I expected, to be honest. I definitely didn’t get my hopes up thinking I might actually be pregnant, that the doctors had been wrong all along. I didn’t lie in bed and think about what our baby might look like or how we’d decorate a nursery or anything like that. It’s for the best anyway. Now we can just go right along with the plan like we always wanted to.”

 “Dany, if you’re disappointed it’s natural,” Sansa offered.

 “I was terrified. Terrified that for once I might actually get something I wanted so badly. Something I know Jon wants and it just kills me that I can’t give it to him.”

 “Well you can,” Arya murmured and Dany’s head snapped up.

 “What?”

 “You can give Jon that. The test is positive.”

 “But you said it was negative,” Sansa said.

 “I know. I saw it on a TV show one time.”

 “Seven hells, Arya! Give it to me,” Dany stood and snatched the test from Arya so she could see with her own eyes that the two lines indicated that she was indeed pregnant.

 Thirty minutes, two bottles of water, a glass of wine for Sansa, and two more positive pregnancy tests later, Dany sat in stunned silence. Her mind spun in thousands of different directions. Part of it dwelled on the impossibility of it all. Another part on how this would change every part of their lives. Still another part on what she was going to say to Jon.

 “What are you going to tell him?” Sansa asked, sensing Dany’s thoughts as only someone as close as family could do.

 “I don’t know yet,” Dany admitted. “I don’t know how to tell him.”

 “But you      are     going to tell him, right?” Arya asked.

 “Of course. Besides, he’s bound to notice it eventually anyway.”

 “Why wait?” Sansa wondered aloud. “I don’t get it. You know he’ll be happy about it.”

 “I know he’ll be happy about the baby,” Dany said. “I’m worried he’ll be upset with      me    . What if he thinks I lied to him? What if he’s mad about the timing? What if I lose-.”

 “Stop right there. Nothing is going to happen.”

 “You don’t know that.”

 Sansa started to protest but seemingly changed her mind. “Do you have any idea how far along you might be?” she asked instead.

 Dany let out a puff of air and tried to reckon the days in her head.

 “Not exactly,” she admitted. “I missed last month altogether. It would be due to come again next week so I guess I’m nearly two months late…”

 “I could see if you feel like you need to wait until you see a doctor before telling Jon,” Arya said. “That’s fair. But then you need to tell Jon.”

 “You two won’t tell him?”

 “It’s not our news to tell,” Sansa agreed.

 “I’m glad the two of you know. I’m glad      someone     else knows. It was eating away at me.”

 “Your secret is safe with us for now. What are sisters for?”

 XXXXX

 “There you are,” Dany smiled at Jon as he walked through his bedroom door. It was late and despite being wiped out from the events of the day she had wanted to stay up and wait for him. “You’re later than I expected.”

 After saying goodnight to Sansa and Arya she retreated back to Jon’s room, changed into his black Night’s Watch shirt, and climbed under the covers. She tried to read one of the books she brought with her, but found that her mind kept wandering towards whether or not she should share her news with her fiance.      It’s our news    , she reasoned.      He’ll be excited about it. He’ll want to go to the doctor with you. Just tell him    .

 “Sorry,” Jon replied, a glimmer shining in his grey eyes. “A lot to catch up on with Sam and with Bran.”

 “Don’t apologize. You look happy. Did Bran find something out?”

 “Not exactly, not yet anyway, but there is some good news.”

 Dany set her book on the nightstand and watched Jon as he moved about the room getting ready for bed. He pulled off his shirt and jeans, removed his contacts, and crawled into bed next to her. Leaning over he kissed her soundly until she pulled away.

 “Well hello to you, too. I have news, too.”

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah, but you first.”

 “It’s all a bit complicated, but the gist of it is that Bran thinks he may be able to track down who my mother is by hacking into hospital databases.”

 “Is that legal?”

 “Not at all,” Jon laughed. “Sam and I will have to pretend it’s not illegal.”

 “How does it work? What is he looking for?”

 “He’s going to try to search for my name to start with and then narrow it down by area based on what we know.”

 “Which isn’t a lot to go off of,” Dany pointed out.

 “No,” Jon agreed. “It’s not, but it’s a start. Even if we can get it narrowed down to a reasonable number we have something more to go off of.”

 “You’ll have a starting point at the very least.”  

 “My mother might be out there somewhere. She might be alive. I might get to meet her.”

 “That’s amazing,” Dany said, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. “Really, I’m so happy for you.”

 “Your turn. What were you going to tell me, love?”

 Dany wasn’t sure what changed from the time Jon walked into the room so full of hope for the future, but she could no longer bring herself to tell him about the results of the three pregnancy tests she took earlier that evening. He was so excited about potentially finding his mother and she felt her throat tighten at the mere idea of telling him the truth right then and there. Despite what Sansa and Arya had assured her of, she still worried about what his reaction would be. She couldn’t bring herself to potentially ruin the day he had with her news.

 “Oh…” Dany said, shaking her head. “Nothing nearly as exciting. We picked out bridesmaid dresses. That’s all.”

 “Well that’s great,” Jon smiled. “What color are they? You actually got Sansa and Arya to agree on something?”

 “Lavender, just like we talked about before.” she easily lied. “Sort of. They’re wearing the same dress in different style. Missandei, Sansa, and Arya get to pick out whatever style they want.”

 “I suppose the gents should start looking at suits.”

 “There’s still plenty of time. You’ve had other things on your mind.”

 “I was thinking...maybe tomorrow...you, me, and the hot springs,” Jon suggested. “How does that sound?”

 “Absolutely lovely,” Dany smiled, at ease once more.

 Later that night while Jon was sound asleep Dany lie awake staring through the darkness up at the ceiling. His breathing was soothing, yet sleep still evaded her. Slowly, she slid her hand over her still flat stomach, something she hadn’t allowed herself to do until that moment. It was real now. Beneath her fingertips was a miracle, a child she and Jon had created, whether intentionally or not. She would tell Jon soon, she decided. When the time was right.

[ladylilithprime]

Kiss prompt 73 Sastiel?

73. Height Difference Kisses Where One Person Has To Bend Down And The Other Is On Their Tippy Toes 

Read Parts 1-6 Here

NO ONE OBJECTED when Sam and Castiel politely but firmly bowed out of any further rounds of Spin the Bottle. Dean pouted briefly that it was Sam’s turn to spin, but quickly changed the subject when Sam shot him a speaking look that Castiel wasn’t quite sure how to interpret. Meg, at least, waved them off with a rueful little smile that belied her put-upon sigh, so Castiel figured she wasn’t too irritated with them for not sticking with the “plan”.

As tempting as it was to stick close to Sam’s side and anchor himself in the younger Winchester’s familiar presence, Castiel was starting to get more than a little overwhelmed. Everything he had felt for Sam over the last two years felt magnified, unbound, churning beneath the surface of his skin like water boiling over. It was as if the simple knowledge that his feelings were returned, that Sam loved him back, had opened the floodgates to all those messy, physical sensations he’d heard described but never actually felt for himself until Meg’s stupid dare had set things into unrelenting motion. It felt like drowning. It felt like flying.

It was that feeling that had Castiel tilt his head up towards Sam and say, as casually as he could manage, “I’m going to go get another drink. Would you like anything?”

And Sam, bless his pure soul and kind heart, looked into his eyes and practically seemed to read his mind. “I might get some water a little later,” he said, giving Castiel’s hand a gentle squeeze before releasing him. “Last thing I should probably be doing right now is putting any more inhibition-lowering chemicals in my system.”

It was a fair point, and one Castiel himself might have considered under different circumstances. Right now, though, he felt off-kilter enough that the prospect of the depressant chemicals of alcohol dampening his anxiety enough to get him through the rest of this Hell of a party at the side of his own personal Heaven was too tempting to pass up. With a murmured “be right back”, he reluctantly broke away from Sam and headed into the kitchen.

There were only a few people loitering in the spacious kitchen, thankfully, most of his classmates having been pulled towards the living room to either join or spectate the newest round of Spin the Bottle. Castiel moved surely with purpose towards the icebox where he knew Meg’s brother Tom kept a few cans of imported Czech dark ale. The stuff was sweeter than Castiel usually liked, but it was also thirteen percent alcohol by volume. He dug one out from the back, popped the tab, and downed half the can in four long gulps before he had to come up for air with a huff that was more irritation than satisfaction.

“That shit any better than this shit?” a voice asked from over by the counter where Castiel knew whatever was left of the PBR cases was standing.

“Not really,” Castiel said rather flatly and lifted the can again, hoping to discourage conversation. The alcohol burned a little, but not much, and the can was empty in three more swallows. It was tempting to grab one of Ezra Masters’s bottles of Arrogant Bastard next, but he still had enough sense to know the difference between an easily disguised can and a large, obvious brown bottle twice the size of the bottles of Corona a couple of the art department darlings had brought.

“Surprised to see you drinking so much, Einsam,” the voice continued, either missing or just blithely ignoring Castiel’s hint to leave him alone, even though the sound of footsteps told him that others in the room had gotten the hint. “But then, you’re sure surprising a lot of people tonight, you and the Winchester kid.”

That made Castiel shoot a narrow look in the direction of the voice. The speaker turned out to be Luke Gottesschwert, Michael’s rebellious younger brother, a Sophomore and technically not supposed to be at this party despite hitching a ride with his older brother. He was decked out in ripped jeans and a Led Zeppelin shirt that looked too sharp to be more than a few weeks off the racks and a beaten up leather jacket that looked a lot like Dean’s but Castiel would bet his GPA had less personal history. When he saw he had Castiel’s attention, Luke grinned. “How drunk was he before you got to take him upstairs?”

“Excuse me?” Castiel said, slowly and deliberately. He couldn’t have heard that right, there was no way this kid was implying what it sounded like.

“Gotta say,” Luke went on, casting a leer in the direction of the living room, “if I’d known all it took to get that tight ass to drop trou was a beer or three and just grabbing him and planting one on him, he wouldn’t have had to settle for just fifteen minutes!”

Crunch!

Luke stilled, turning to stare at Castiel, who continued to systematically crush the beer can he was holding with one hand as he slowly drew himself up to his full six feet of height and turned to face the other boy. With the unerring accuracy born of practice and familiarity, Castiel snapped his hand across his body, sending the can - now crushed down to the size and shape of a hockey puck - directly at the right spot on the kitchen wall to ricochet off into the recycling bin, all without moving his piercing gaze from the wanna be punk in front of him.

“You are not touching Sam Winchester,” Castiel growled, staring the taller boy down.

“Oh yeah?” Luke sneered, looking Castiel up and down with disdain. “What’s gonna stop me? A little nerd like you?”

“Maybe,” Castiel said, more calmly than the thundering in his ears would suggest, not giving an inch. “Or maybe it’ll be his brother. Or even your brother. Or maybe,” he added, ice sliding into his voice, “you should remember that Sam Winchester took down Gordon Walker, and no one touches him without his consent. Not you. Not me. No one.”

Whatever was in his eyes was enough to make Luke step back, his own eyes widening a little. He recovered quickly, drawing himself up and leaning forward, attempting to loom over Castiel as he snarled, “Big talk from someone everyone here saw manhandling the kid earlier before you disappeared upstairs–”

“Oh, please!” a familiar and sarcastic voice broke in from beside them. Luke and Castiel turned their heads to look at Gabriel Gullvaengur, editor of Shurley High’s school newspaper, holding an unopened can of Mountain Dew. Seeing that he had their attention, Gabriel went on, “Have you seen Sam?” He gave an impressed whistle, using the hand not holding the can to sketch out Sam’s height (well above Gabriel’s own) and then his broad shoulders that weren’t quite on the same level as Michael’s but weren’t too far off considering Sam was three years younger than all his classmates. “No one can manhandle him unless the man wants to be handled, you get me? And from the angle I had, it looked like he was manhandling Cassie here right back!” he finished with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Yes, thank you, Gabriel,” Castiel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Because that was exactly the sort of thing he wanted Luke Gottesschwert to know while he was telling him off for wanting to molest his… Sam.

Gabriel looked from one to the other, then shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Here, let’s settle this,” he said, turning towards the living room and cupped a hand around his mouth. “Hey, Winchester the Younger!”

There was a moment of silence, then Sam poked his head into the kitchen. His eyes swept over Luke’s aggressive posture and Castiel’s ramrod straight back and flushed cheeks, then looked at Gabriel and raised an eyebrow. “You bellowed, shortstack?”

“Settle something for us,” Gabriel requested, waving him into the kitchen. Bemused, Sam came further in, detouring to the counter to grab a bottle of water and circling around the kitchen island to stand at Castiel’s side, drawing a scowl from Luke and a slight smirk from Gabriel. “Okay! So, answer this for us. If Cassie here wanted to take you upstairs for some hot and heavy action, would he get anywhere without your consent?”

Sam blinked, both eyebrows climbing into his hairline. “Not sure what you want me to say here since Cas already has my consent to do whatever he wants with me.”

“He does?” Gabriel asked interestedly even as Castiel blurted out a startled, “I do?”

“Of course, Cas,” Sam said matter of factly, turning to smile softly at Castiel in that way he had which caused his dimples to show most strongly. Castiel flushed and glanced down at the floor with a shy, pleased smile as Sam explained, most likely for Luke and Gabriel’s benefit, “I trust you not to do anything I wouldn’t be enthusiastic about and to stop if I ask you to, just like I would for you.”

“Okaaay… Then say Luke here,” Gabriel gestured to Luke, who was still scowling, “made the same proposition, you would say…?”

“Absolutely not,” Sam said firmly, eyes narrowing in suspicion at Luke, who now looked like he might have been thinking of edging towards the door. Gabriel hummed consideringly.

“And if he didn’t respect that?” Gabriel asked, sounding like he could guess what the answer was going to be.

“I’d break his face,” Sam obliged him in a calmly conversational tone. Castiel snuck a glance back up as Sam twisted the cap off his bottle of water, arm muscles flexing rather pointedly. “And once Dean heard about it he’d break everything else.”

“There you go!” Gabriel said cheerfully, popping open his soda can and taking a big gulp of the sugary caffeine-laden liquid. Luke scowled, flushed and shifty and clearly realizing he was probably more out of his depth than he’d thought, but too prideful to back down just yet.

“And your nerd boyfriend?” he sneered, more bluster and bark than substance, but still reaching. Castiel felt his spine stiffening as Luke went on, goading, “He seemed to think he can do something.”

“I have access to liquid nitrogen,” Castiel said in a deceptively mild tone, turning to stare flatly at Luke as his voice dropped several degrees in timbre and temperature. “And a healthy respect for its destructive properties when applied to… soft tissue.” The pointed glance downwards was probably not necessary, but the way Luke went pale and sickly was incredibly satisfying, as was the way he all but scurried out of the kitchen.

“And on that horrifying thought,” Gabriel drawled, giving Castiel a look of impressed respect, “I’m gonna go see if Kali wants to go participate in one of those ill-advised make-outs I heard Dean-o talking about.” He saluted them both with his Mountain Dew and sauntered away.

“Just so you know,” Sam said in a low voice as Castiel turned to look up at him, catching the full force of Sam’s radiant smile. “You are one scary badass when you want to be, and I’m both terrified and turned on right now. I’m also kind of interested in seeing how many people Dean ends up kissing before someone finally calls game over. You in?”

“I have imbibed sufficient quantities of inhibition-lowering chemicals,” Castiel said, stretching up on his tiptoes to press a quick kiss to the corner of that smile, imagining that this must be what kissing actual sunshine felt like. “Do with me what you will.”

[myotishia]

Time hopping part three

Fandom: Torchwood. Trigger warnings: None I don't think but tell me if I've missed anything. Characters: Owen Harper (Past and present), Toshiko Sato, Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper, Elise Carter (oc) Rating: Teen and up Tropes: We’re fixing things right over here.

Blurb: Sometimes trust has to go both ways and knowing the whole story can go a long way to facilitate that. It also means that Elise can’t stay out of Torchwood’s reach much longer. But will she survive long enough for it to matter?

The archives were an odd place. A mix of Victorian decor and modern shelving, everything sorted and labelled clearly but no real signage. They didn’t go too far in, which Elise appreciated. She never wanted to return to the room where the cyberwoman had lived. Owen pointed to two boxes that sat next to each other.

“Grab them. They shouldn’t be too heavy.”

She pulled them down and heard something clank into the side. As she carried them she got more and more curious as to what they were. Still she followed until they stood in the autopsy bay, Owen tapping at a screen.

“Soooo…” She began.

“The fist box is a knife. The second is a gauntlet. Both need to be melted down.”

“What do they do.”

“Knives cut things and the gauntlet protects your hand.”

“I know that much smartarse. Why are they here?”

“The glove brings people back from the dead but only for a few minutes. If they’re killed with the knife it’s easier to bring them back.”

“Right, and why are we destroying them?”

One of the doors unlatched and the draw slid out slightly to show a dead body. The sight made Elise jump back in shock.

“This is Suzie. She used to work with us.”

“And someone shot her in the head?”

“Obviously. She was using that knife to kill people so she could use the glove.”

“Shit.”

“I wish that was the worst of it. She actually conditioned a man to kill whenever he heard the word Torchwood.”

“Why?!”

“So we’d bring her back. She was going to set off a lockdown and try and kill all of us. It didn’t work but I don’t want to give her the chance with the timelines changing as much as they have. Put the boxes with her.”

Elise picked up the boxes but she did not want to go anywhere near a dead body.

“She’s not going to bite.”

“That isn’t the problem. She’s dead.”

“I fucking hope so.”

“I’ve never seen a dead body before.”

“And now you have. Just put the boxes in the draw with her.”

She bit her lip and approached the corpse, dropping the boxes in the draw then skittering away as if she’d touched something disgusting.

“And close the door.” Owen sighed in exasperation.

She returned and pushed the door until the latch clicked. “Gross, gross, gross.”

Shaking his head Owen pressed a few more buttons and mechanical clanging emanated from the wall of draws.

“What did you do?”

“I sent her down to the furnace.”

“So that’s everything then.”

“You wish. I’ve still got to teach you how to fire a gun.”

“Why?”

“This thing isn’t going to get any easier and you need to be able to protect yourself. I can’t do shit like this. If you die then we’re both fucked.”

“Can’t you find someone else to help you?”

“No. You’re it.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?” He asked, getting frustrated.

“Yes! Why out of every person in all of space and time did you choose me?”

“Fine! You and I share the same blood type so that mark on your hand won’t start rotting. On top of that you are the one in a million who is completely immune to one of Torchwoods strongest weapons. It’s called retcon. It’s a little pill that can erase memories completely after knocking you out. And the further from my original time you are the more likely our connection is to reject. Do you understand what that means? You are my one and only chance to fix everything. I’ve spent eons trying to find a way to stop everything happening like it did. I’ve seen so many generations of people die. Wars! Sickness! Pain! Day after fucking day! I can’t sleep! Can’t have contact with anyone! Have to concentrate just to hold myself together!” He began to pace, hands on his head as if he felt his brain was about to explode. “Do you know what that’s like?! Alone! Forever! Even at the heat death of the universe still out there-”

Elise stopped his rant by pulling him into a tight embrace letting him scream millenia worth of pain into her shoulder. He felt as if a floodgate had opened and he just couldn’t stop every single thing he’d bottled up spilling out. They sank down to the floor and sat there for over an hour until he’d calmed down enough.

“Feel better?” Elise asked softly.

He nodded a little in reply.

“I understand now. Whatever you need me to do I’ll do.”

“I can’t force you.” He sounded so exhausted.

“You’re not. We’re in this together now, right until the end.”

Elise had just recovered from another time jump. The nausea was settling but it still made her a little dizzy.

“So this time you can’t help me.”

“Not without causing a paradox.” Owen said, considering their next move.

“We just need to stop you getting to work , right?”

“Exactly. It’s a whole chain of events I don’t want to talk about right now.”

“Will it cause a paradox if I meet past you?”

“I’ve never tried but I think that should be fine.”

“Can we time jump when we aren’t together?”

Owen smiled “We can test it out. Are you thinking of kidnapping me?”

“Past you doesn’t even have to know. He can be asleep as long as I have contact. My clothes jump with me even though I didn’t have them when we first connected so it makes sense.”

“It only works if we can jump while apart. It’ll have to be just a time jump so you don’t end up as part of a wall. When you get to the next street over I’ll time jump an hour.”

Elise nodded before running off. She’d tried so hard to keep up after their trip to the hub, even learning a little self defence. Not much but some. It had been an enlightening experience if nothing else.

“Ready?” Owens voice seemed to echo through her head.

“Go for it.”

The dizzy feeling swept through her again, making her stagger a little. Anyone watching would think she was drunk.

“Are you with me?”

“I am. This could work.”

“Come back and we can relax until tonight. I think if we jump again I’ll have to buy you new shoes.”

“I’m getting-” She was cut off by her stomach lurching. “Better.”

That night they followed past Owen back from his usual night of drinking himself into a stupor and present Owen kept the doorman distracted so Elise could slip past. Clutched in her marked hand was a key that threatened to turn to dust at any moment. Her Owens old apartment key that he’d never taken off the ring of keys he carried. It was pure luck and she hoped that luck continued. It did not. Past owen took the lift, meaning Elise would have to take the stairs. Thankfully she wasn’t too out of shape but by the time she hit the sixth floor she was cursing gravity and the creator of multi story buildings. By the time she arrived at her intended location her legs were burning along with her lungs. She sat outside of the door and listened carefully. It was quiet. No light emanated from under the door so she slowly slipped the key into the lock and turned it as carefully as she could. She had to be silent. Get in and out like a ghost. Easier said than done. Owens boots were discarded beside the door and though his jacket had been thrown towards the sofa it hadn’t quite made it. Abandoned on the floor. Elise stayed low and pulled up her hood as she made her way towards the bedroom hearing quiet breathing over the silence. Through the doorway she had to press herself to the floor as Owen rolled over in his sleep, keeping as still as the dead just in case he’d woken up. The sound of snoring confirmed that he hadn’t.

Elise had been warned that he kept a gun under his pillow when alone so that had to be moved before anything else. She slipped her hand under the pillow he wasn’t actively resting on and slowly pulled back the weapon, holding her breath as she did. Once it was safely placed down the far side of the night stand it was time for the risky part.

“Get ready to jump on my mark.” She thought as hard as she could.

“Remember what I told you.”

“I know, I know.”

She reached over for past Owens hand. He began to stir.

“Now!”

The world seemed to lurch and spin, throwing her to the floor. Thankfully past Owen seemed just as disorientated as he fell from the bed on the other side, legs wrapped in the sheets. World still spinning she scrambled towards the door with past Owen shouting after her. She sprinted for the front door, wrenching it open and barrelling through a figure standing outside. Now she had to deal with two figures chasing her. She couldn’t afford to look back. She threw herself down two flights of stairs, hitting the wall at the bottom of each. She looked up to see the lift just closing after a woman had stepped out. She took a chance and crashed inside, repeatedly beating the ground floor button. The door closed and she paused to catch her breath, coughing and holding her ribs.

“Owen. The second I step out of this lift you need to jump. They’re right behind me and I can’t keep running.”

“If he’s following you I can’t get close.”

“I’ll tell you when!”

Floor 3, floor 2, floor 1. She pulled herself up and braced to get out of the door the moment it opened. Ground floor. Elise fell forward.

“Now!”

The world span once more and then went black.

“What the hell was that?!” Jack asked Owen, who had been missing for three days and had just seen a hooded figure disappear right in front of his eyes.

“You know as much as I do!” He replied, barely awake and still feeling drunk but a little thankful he hadn’t gotten undressed before going to sleep. “I woke up to whoever that was holding my fucking hand! What are you doing here anyway?”

“Where have you been?”

“Asleep.”

“For three days?” Jack looked furious but it seemed to melt away when Owen looked a mixture of confused and terrified.

His hand felt like electricity where it had been held and there was a slowly fading imprint of fingers left behind.

“Owen I came here because there was a spike in rift activity. Every camera in this building had the same electromagnetic interference the night you disappeared and I’d bet it’s just happened again.”

“Like the footage from the day those notes were left on mine and Gwens computers.”

“And when Suzies body was sent to the incinerator.”

“Shit. Let me get some shoes and I’ll be with you.”

Back floating in the dark. The huge footsteps were sounding louder. Getting closer. It was cold, so cold it burned. Elise tried to take a breath but this time instead of air it felt like her lungs filled with the burning cold water. She thrashed, trying to surface but she had no sense of which way was up. Finally she awoke with a desperate gasp, clawing at her throat before collapsing into a painful coughing fit. Owen, her Owen, held her hands to stop her hurting herself.

“Hey, hey, you’re ok. Elise. Look at me, you’re safe. Deep breaths.” He coached, staying calm and trying to bring her back to reality.

She was shivering but she slowly calmed down, appreciating the air. When she looked around she was back at the hotel.

“What happened?” She asked, her voice sounding like she was gargling  gravel.

“You collapsed just as we jumped. I had to jump again to get us here. You’ve been out since then. We should take a break.”

“No… It’s just because we jumped with someone else. I’m sure that’s all. The running didn’t help. I was just exhausted.”

He gave her a sceptical look but he couldn’t argue too much. He’d never time jumped with someone this much, let alone pulling another person along with them.

“I’m ok.”

“As soon as this is over I’m taking you to get checked over.”  

“Elise. I told you about her.” Tosh began, feeling like she was the only one thinking that this being causing the interference wasn’t malevolent. “She said she was helping Torchwood. It explains why they were able to enter the hub so easily.”

“Why the fuck would they just move me forward a few days?” Asked Owen, nursing a strong cup of coffee and an even stronger hangover.

“Maybe something happened to you in that time that they were trying to stop.”

Jack stepped in. “You’re assuming she was telling the truth.”

“Nothing she’s done has been harmful.”

“On the surface, no. We need to bring her in and find out what she’s planning.”

“How? We had her cornered and she just disappeared.” Grumbled Owen.

“We could track the camera interference… Or I could just ask her.” She continued.

“On another date.”

“It wasn’t a date.”

Elise sat waiting quietly, watching a weevil fighting ring get raided. The weevils had already been rounded up and extracted but Owen had insisted on seeing every last one of the bastards that set it up being dragged out. He pulled his shirt collar aside.

“Is the scar still there?” he asked.

“It’s gone. So it worked?”

He replied with a wide grin.

“Wait… What happens when you stop yourself from dying?”

“I don’t know. Two of me can’t exist in the same time so I’ll just have to go.”

“Will you still be able to?”

His smile faded. “Whatever happens. I’ll accept it. I’ve come too far to stop now.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“If you want to. When this is over you could start your life again. Go on another date with Tosh.”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“It was… I’m not sure how to face our next job.”

“Oh?”

“There’s a dance hall that Jack and Tosh went to investigate. The rift did what the rift does and threw them back in time. They would have been trapped there but in my fucked up state I opened the rift to get them back.”

“So we just stop them before they get there.”

“That’s the thing. I’ve tried. No matter what I do it still ends the same way. It’s a time manipulator called Billis. Bastard used to own the place in the forties. He manipulated all of us to release a demon. Abbadon. Absorbs life wherever its shadow hits.”

“So if we stop Billis then we stop Abbadon.”

“There’s one way to stop him but I’m not going to make you do that.”

Elise felt the gun hidden in the back of her belt. “I told you. I’m with you until the end. No matter what.”

“Even so the rift still gets ripped open.”

“Then we jump.”

Owen looked over sharply. “No. Jumping with one extra person nearly fucking killed you. We can’t risk that. I won’t risk that.”

“It’s better than the rift being torn open. Owen…” She took his hand and squeezed it gently. “I can do this.”

“Not alone.”

“Then this time we won’t be alone.”

Gwen couldn’t believe what she was seeing as she looked through the black and white photographs spread across the table showing, among the groups, two familiar faces.  A feeling of dread descended on the room but was broken by the sharp scream on the siren for the cog door. Past Owen was the first to investigate. A figure entered, hands in the air in a pose of surrender.

“My name is Elise. I’m no threat to you and I’m here to help.” She looked up to see three guns pointed in her direction. “Jack and Tosh are trapped in the forties and I can bring them back but I need your help.”

“How the fuck did you get in here?!” Owen asked, not taking his eyes off her.

“By using your codes.”

“How?”

“You gave them to me. A version of you that saw all of this happen already. He doesn’t like that I’m talking to you right now but I didn’t see a way of doing this without opening the rift. Or more, you opening the rift.”

“I wouldn’t…”

“You did. And you will again unless you help me. You know I can move through time and bring someone with me. I just don’t know what kind of shape I’ll be in when I get back. You have nothing to lose.”

They looked at each other and slowly lowered their weapons.

The owner of the dance hall listened to the chatter and music from his office, rather proud that everything was going to plan. Setting a perfect path through time, ripples through water. Though he’d been a little annoyed at someone else tampering with time. He just couldn’t locate them, but at least they couldn’t stop what he had set in motion this time. A smug smile spread across his face.

Behind him Elise closed her eyes, a pillow held at the front of her gun between it and the Back of Billis’ skull. A bang and a plume of feathers and blood later Billis’ body slumped forward onto his desk, head covered by the partially destroyed pillow. It had been too easy and that’s what made her shudder. She didn’t have time to think about it, she had work to do.

“Billis is dead. I’m heading into the party.” She thought, informing her spectral guardian.

“Jack’s dancing with his namesake and making a scene. Hurry before he causes a riot.”

“And here I was trying to keep this quiet.”

She marched towards the main ballroom, looking around for anyone she recognised, having to push through the crowd.

“Excuse me… Sorry… Pardon me… Excuse me…” She said as she made her way through the sea of people transfixed on the scene. Finally she spotted a familiar figure and rushed over. “Tosh.”

“Elise?! How? What are you doing here?”

“I came to rescue you. We haven’t got long so let’s get Jack and go.”

They looked up to see a passionate kiss taking place.

Elise rushed forward. “Sorry to interrupt this romantic moment but I need to escort this good gentleman home.”

“Jack this is Elise.” Tosh smiled.

Elise took both of their hands. “Hold on tight and try not to throw up.”

Suddenly the world seemed to flip upside down, electricity buzzing through the air. Tosh staggered a little as she landed, adrenalin keeping her going and on her feet. Her hand buzzed like static but it was empty.

Jack knelt on the pavement supporting Elise who had collapsed. She seemed conscious but unfocused, laying limply in Jack's arms.

He lifted her up as Owen, Gwen and Ianto sprinted towards them.

“It worked! You’re back. Are you ok?” Asked Gwen as she slowed to a stop.

“We’re fine but…” Tosh began, turning back to look at Elise. Owen was trying his best to evaluate her.

He didn’t look optimistic but it was always hard to tell when he was working.

“Elise? Can you hear me?” He tried to get any sort of response from her but received nothing. “Right, Jack, get her inside.”

Jack didn’t say a word but did sprint towards the hub. That reaction was nothing good.

The footsteps in the dark were deafening now, too close to escape from. Still drifting Elise looked up to see a giant eye staring at her.

“Abbadon.” She breathed, bubbles rising from her mouth. A roar rattled her to her core in way of reply. The beast was suddenly dragged down, churning up the water and throwing her around. She tried her best to hold the last bit of air in her lungs but the pressure of the water knocked it out of her in a spiral of bubbles. The burning cold returned along with the sharp pain in her chest and as the water finally stopped moving she turned to see a hooded figure, a mist of golden light having been kicked up to softly illuminate the area. The robed entity reached out a boney hand towards her and the burn intensified. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. She awoke with a screech, coughing and gasping, struggling against the world around her. An erratic beeping further adding to the chaos.

“Elise! It’s ok. It’s me. It’s me.” Tosh soothed and Owen came skittering into the room.

Elise stopped and caught her breath, eyes adjusting to the light of the room as a warm hand rested on her shoulder trying to get her to lay back down. He pulled the oxygen mask back up over her mouth and nose as she’d thrown it off in her panic.

“Where… Wha…” Elise began, her throat feeling like she’d been swallowing broken glass.

“When we got back you collapsed. You stopped breathing.”

“Twice.” Owen interjected.

“Sorry.” The brown haired woman rasped, finally relaxing a little and letting her heart rate return to normal.

“Less talking more breathing.” Owen read through the diagnostics on a screen beside the bed, seeming relieved at the results he was getting.  

Tosh gave a soft smile. “I’ll let you rest.”

In a quiet moment Elise thought hard, trying to reach her Owen. “Can you hear me?”

“You scared me. We’re never doing that again!” She heard in reply.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m dead.”

“You know what i mean.”

“I’ve been through worse. Sorry about my bedside manner.”

“He’s not so bad. What next then?”

“You recover. We’ll talk about it when you’re back to 100%. And try not to punch me. People I treat do that.”

“That’s because you are what’s known as a snarky git.”

“It’s rubbing off on you.”

Past Owen pulled over a chair. “Nice to see you smiling.”

“You can tell?”

“It’s in your eyes. Was that a nightmare then?”

“I think so. It happens every time I’m not conscious.” She coughed softly and Owen grabbed a small cup of water for her.

“Go slow. I don’t need you choking.”

She pulled down her mask and sipped at the water. “I wake up in the dark, underwater. It’s cold and something huge was walking towards me. I think it was the demon in the rift.  I get a sharp pain in my chest and start breathing in water… This time Abbadon was dragged down and something else was there. It had skeletal hands. I felt like I was burning. I know it’s just a dream but…”

“Your brain was reacting like you were on fire when you woke up. Plus you were throwing off radiation.”

“Then why aren’t you wearing a hazmat suit?”

He held up a small object. “Radiation sponge. Been to any nuclear plants recently?”

“No. Is Tosh ok?”

“She’s fine. It wasn’t the time travel… You’re not worried about Jack? Nice.”

“Well, he’s immortal so-”

“What?”

“You don’t know? Of course, you didn’t shoot him this time. Gwen knows.”

Owen looked up at the door then back at his patient before heading up to stand in the doorway.

“Gwen” He called.

“What is it?”

“I need you down here.”

“Me? I’m not going to be any h- and he’s gone.” She sighed, putting her bag back down. As soon as she walked in he closed the door behind her.

“Owen? What’s going on?”

“So there’s something I haven’t been told. Something your resident medic should know. Something about Jack that only you know.”

“Stop messing around Owen I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Elise was telling me something interesting and I need to know if it’s true. I don’t want to walk up to Jack and make a fool of myself so…”

“You’re already making a fool of yourself.”

“For fucks sake Gwen! Is Jack immortal?”

“What? … I … Well…”

“Yes or no?”

Gwen couldn’t seem to find the words.

Elise looked up. “Sorry. Everyone already knows in the timeline I’m working with.”

Finally she stopped opening and closing her mouth like a fish. “Yes… Jack is immortal bu-”

Owen pulled the door back open and marched out.

“Jack! When were you planning on revealing your big fucking secret eh? All your stories and that the one thing you choose to keep quiet on.”

Jack looked as if he’d just been blindsided. “What are you-”

“You’re immortal.”

“Owen-”

“No! You fucking listen to me Harkness! We go through all this crap and watch out for each other because the life expectancy around here is shit at best and you act like one of us. I’ve been watching your fucking back, putting myself in the line of fire and you could just walk away as if nothing happened!”

Gwen tried to step in, “Owen that’s enough.”

“Oh here comes miss holier than thou.”

“Enough!”

“No, Gwen. Let him speak.” Jack said, walking over to Owen looking more serious than his usual relaxed demeanour.

“In another time I tore open the fucking rift for you! I probably would have done it again this time if Elise failed to bring you back.” His voice seemed to crack giving him away. He wasn’t angry, he was scared.

“I should have told you.”

“You’re damn right you should have. Why didn’t you?”

“Not everyone reacts well. I didn’t want to take that risk.”

“We’re not children for fucks sake!”

“I don’t think you are. Owen the last team that knew spiralled. Our section head killed them all and then himself. He waited for me. Said he couldn’t take it. He didn’t want to face what was coming and I stood for everything he was scared of. I’m still human. I didn’t choose to be this.”

All the aggression had faded from Owens stance. Jack had been unshakable for so long and for just a moment he seemed more human and fragile than he ever had before. Owen leant back against a desk and ran his hands over his face.

“No more surprises. Got that?” he said, but his heart really wasn’t in it.

“No more surprises.”

“Do you think you can distract Jack for a while?” A voice echoed through Elise’s mind.

“I think I accidently already did. Why?”

“Remember the hand we hid in the fountain? Jacks little early warning system for The Doctor.”

“Yes.”

“It’s being picked up by its original owner. Did they hear anything?”

“I think past you was shouting too loud to hear anything.”

“Good. This time Jack doesn’t just get to disappear.”

“If The Doctor is here already then how long was I out?”

“Only a few hours. The changes we’ve made probably shifted the timeline. Just try and keep them busy for a while.”

“How?”

“Improvise.”

“I heard you were the one who gave me away.” A voice from the railing pulled her from the telepathic conversation. Jack lent on the rail and gave a gentle smile. “I think it’s time you told me the whole story.”

[miggy-figgy]

THE FIRST LADY

By: Miguel Figueroa

Forget everything you know. Jackie O who? Come again, I beg your pardon, but I don’t know who this Carla Bruni-Sarkozy is. Michelle Obama is so early 2009 and frankly, my dear I don’t give an Iberic Ham about Sonsoles Espinosa. Forget about the Pill Box Hats, the supermodels-cum-wife of the President, the Mugler ensembles worn by the new Mrs. O and First Wife’s who choose to live a life of secrecy. To us at Candy, our First Lady is Ms. Christine Jorgensen, the first female transsexual from the United States. Christine did it all…Original Socialite, Pop Singer, Cabaret Performer, Photographer and Filmmaker who became an instant sensation when she got the good ol’ U. S. of A. all shook up after her Botticellean transformation from a woman trapped in a man’s body into a lady with impeccable taste, a sharp tongue and a groundbreaking fresh as a lettuce attitude whom was able to turn notoriety into such a cult icon status that not even Chantal Biya can come close to her. Honey, she even played Dior to Judy!

            Christine Jorgensen’s came into the world on May 30th 1926 at the Community Hospital in Manhattan when George Jorgesen Jr., son of George Jorgensen and Florence Davis Hansen, brother of Dorothy Florence Jorgensen was conceived. Mrs. Jorgensen raised her tight knit children in the booming pre-Depression era of the 1920’s on Dudley Avenue in the Bronx. Even though George Jr. and Dorothy were inseparable and her paternal grandmother, whom George enjoyed picking violets for, played a key element of her upbringing, Christine does not blame her female surroundings with the fact that she was a woman trapped in a man’s body. At age four he made it clear that something was suspicious when he asked her mother, “Mom, why didn’t God makes us alike?”, about the physical differences between him and his sister his mother replied, “You see Brud [Christine’s nickname], it’s one of God’s surprises.” George Jr. just said, “Well, I don’t like the kind of surprise God made me!”

Growing up, Christine admits that in order to follow the normal pattern of development she needed help, not ridicule. Fortunately, her personal world embraced little Brud, his shyness and awkward stances towards boys of his age. His grandmother never pushed him to be a man and when a teacher discovered that George kept hidden on his school desk one of his grandmother’s needlepoint’s which he treasured, and called his mother to ridicule him in front of the class, he received nothing but love and support. His sister, as a college student, used him as a college subject experiment on the influence women have over Children, in this case boys, while growing up and their feminization. Although there were some pebbles on the way that were easily passed by, growing up as a child all the way to his teens non-fiction fairy tales always surrounded Christine’s life. Her paternal grandfather came from Odense, Denmark birthplace of Hans Christian Andersen, meanwhile his maternal grandfather, John Kreogh Hansen was a painter who’s greatest assignment was assisting the French painter Paul César Helleu in the creation of Grand Central Station’s original ceiling. Also, according to Jorgensen’s autobiography, her Father, in his teens, was obsessed with the birth of radio communication and heard the “Titanic” distress signal on 1912 in his transistor radio, while she was witness of the Hindenburg passing a top of her house moments before meeting its fate. 

At the age of 16 George Jr. lands his first job as a librarian. A string of odd jobs as news editor for RKO Pathé News, a driver and even a supermarket clerk followed, moving along New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco and Minneapolis. After finishing High School, he enrolls in New York’s Institute of Photography, a passion that was bestowed upon him by his father, a photo aficionado, hoping that in the future he could lead the life of a glamorous photographer, immortalizing the likes of Greta Garbo, Barbara Stanwyck and Bette Davis. After finishing photography school and in between odd jobs, George Jr. in his search to belong somewhere and to make his parents proud joined the Armed Forces in 1945, at age 19, landing a clerical job in Fort Dix, New Jersey. Due to his thin, and delicate 98-pound (about 45 kilos) frame, after 14 months, he was discharged.

During his brief stay in Los Angeles, George begins to discuss his anatomical conundrums, confiding in two girl friends that something is different about him. He “comes out” admitting that he has the body of an underdeveloped male yet his emotions are female. His friends, dumbfounded by this news, support George but tell him to seek medical attention. Upon his return to the East Coast he enrolls in the Progressive School of Photography in New Haven, Connecticut to continue his photographic preparation and begins to research on Endocrinology by reading news that a Doctor in that city was experimenting with hormones turning chickens into roosters. George figures that he’s got nothing (and never had anything) to lose and pays him a visit. After telling Dr. Harold Grayson his “problem”, the visit halts to a complete screeching stop. Dr. Grayson sends George to visit Dr. Reznick, a psychiatrist who recommends an evasive treatment to drive inclinations. Let’s not forget that at this time in the late 40’s we still had a long, long way to go before today’s sexual panacea and lobotomies were as common as Botox nowadays.

These two encounters didn’t deter George’s search to find a solution to whom he really was. He continued looking for answers and on one of his numerous visits to the library stumbled upon Paul de Kruif’s book The Male Hormone that served as opened floodgates to his research. This groundbreaking book established that both males and females indeed have genetic traits from each other’s sex. The investigation continued and led him to medical journals from France and Germany that analyzed cases of hermaphrodism, pseudo-hermpahrodism and other “sexual abnormalities”. After he finished photography school his determination led him to continue his studies, not in Visual Arts, but in the field of Medicine. George Jorgensen Jr. was a man on a mission and thus, on 1949 he enrolled at the Manhattan Medical and Dental Assistant’s School where he learned X-ray and laboratory technician courses letting him know how the body and its internal chemical contents worked. All the while, he continued reading and re-reading de Kruif’s book where he discovered that the author of the book talked about the female hormone estradiol, a prominent sex hormone present in females and in very small percentages amongst males, which was available in hormone supplement for women. George decided he needed to get his hand on this medicine so the next day he drove to a pharmacy, ordered the usual medication and 100 tablets of high-potency Ethinyl estradiol. Unbeknown to the situation and after George said he was a medical student who needed the medicine to run some tests, the pharmacist simply handed him exactly what George wanted. He went to his car, opened the bottle, ignored the warning label that stated NOT TO BE TAKEN WITHOUT THE ADVICE OF A DOCTOR and washed down a single pill with water. On the next day, he felt nothing, yet continued taking a single pill each night. On the eight day, he woke up feeling sensitivity and development around his breasts, also, his usual fatigue and languidness was gone. It may have taken God six days to create Eve, but it took George and additional 48 hours to start becoming Christine Jorgensen.

After realizing that the pills would do up to so much, Christine relied on a good friend he met in medical school by the name of Genevive Angelo whose husband was a doctor. Gen, as Christine calls her, was aware of George’s differences and put him in contact with her husband immediately who after a consultation discussed with him sexual transformations done by doctors overseas, which started in the 1930’s. What sets Christine’s case apart prior to hers is that homosexuality or hermaphrodism was involved. Christine was neither nor the other. During her life as a man, she had been propositioned twice for gay sex and the situations abominated her to the point in which in one occasion she vomited. Christine Jorgensen was a heterosexual woman born in a man’s body and she needed to go to Europe to work on herself. After exchanging correspondence with Dr. Grayson and confirming this information from him as well, the decision was clear. George Jorgensen saved up a couple hundred of dollars, told his family that he was going to reconnect with his European family and on May 11th, 1950 arrived in Denmark on a one-way ticket to his new life.

Christine settled in with Helen, her friend and confidant from Los Angeles, and her family a few weeks later, she’d check in the at the Seruminstitut where she would meet her future doctor and friend Dr. Christian Hamburger whom was recommended to her by Helen’s doctors. Once the consultation had ended, Dr. Hamburger offered Christine the chance of a lifetime. If she would acknowledge becoming a guinea pig for hormone research, the operation would be free of charge. On a letter to Dr. Joe and Gen back home she told them “Just refer to me as guinea pig 0000!” The George Jorgensen to Christine Jorgensen transformation had now officially begun. 

Tests begun in August and George started carrying around on a daily basis what he jokingly called a yor mor taske , Dutch for “midwife’s bag”, containing daily urine samples to test her hormone levels. Christine’s medical dream team would be rounded up with Dr. Georg Stürup who would deal with the psychological aspect of the transformation. Right before she was set to go under the knife, the Danish Government tried to stop the initial operation due to the fact that Mr. Jorgersen was not a Danish citizen. After Dr. Stürup advocated to Justice Minisitry and Denmark’s Attorney General, Helga Pedersen, a women’s right activist, the veto was revoked and the operation continued it’s steer course. After paying a $30 fee, on September 24th, 1951 the first of three operations, the removal of George’s testicles, was conducted. Days prior his 26th birthday, George visited the American Embassy to change the name on his passport and in honor of Dr. Christian Hamburger, on May 1952 Christine Jorgensen, 5’7”, 120 pounds was born. For her first ensemble as a woman she chose an elegant green skirt, pale brown jacket and brown suede shoes and headed to the Beauty Parlor. She continued her work as amateur photographer and filmmaker documenting Denmark and on June of that year broke the news to her parents in a heartfelt letter, which included photos taken of her transformation “You have lost a son, but gained somebody new.” As soon as they received the letter they replied immediately via cablegram: LETTER AND PICTURES RECEIVED. WE LOVE YOU MORE THAN EVER, MOM AND DAD.  Her mother and sister could not hold on to their excitement and indulged on reckless shopping sprees for their new daughter and sister.

Her second operation, the removal of any remaining “maleness”, performed by Dr. Paul Fogh-Andersen and Erlig Dahl-Iversen occurred in November 20th, 1952, 13 months after the initial operation. Even though she was operated in a public hospital that lacked private bedrooms, accommodations were made for Christine to have a suite all to her own. While recuperating, news of her transformation reached US Shores. Her father wrongfully confided in one of his friend who sold the news to the New York Daily News for $200 and on December 7th, 1952 the newspaper’s headline read BRONX GI BECOMES A WOMAN. DEAR MOM AND DAD SON WROTE, I HAVE NOW BECOME YOUR DAUGHTER. A cablegram was hand delivered by a journalist from the Information, a Danish newspaper, looking for a quick interview. Obviously, her plan backfired. Christine could feel nothing but remorse, resentment and rage. At the same moment, another cablegram is sent to Ms. Jorgensen. This time it was her mother, to tell her that her beloved Aunt Edie has passed away. Years later, in her audio memoirs, Christine Jorgensen Reveals, she tells us that her psychiatrist feared that this moment would’ve been her breaking point. She was aware of what she had become and as any serious and smart woman under pressure; she kept her posture absolutely calm.

Up to this point Christine lived a frugal life in Denmark. Besides her life savings, her mother sent her $10 a week as well as film equipment for the documentary she was making about Denmark which would end up becoming the first color film about the country. The penny picking was soon about to change. Immediately after the news arrived, offers started pouring in via telegram (for you kids out there…it was our grandparents alternative to e-mail). Everybody wanted Christine – Warner Brothers in Hollywood, The Copa Club in Pittsburgh, The 46th Street Theatre and The New York Press Photographers at the Big Apple. Offers even came from New Orleans Strip Club performances at $500 a night. Dr. Hamburger also received a deluge of requests from around the world for sex change operations. Journalists, who camped out the Jorgensen’s residence, blackmailed her parents, who would finally reunite with Christine on Christmas 1952 at Denmark, if they did not cooperate with them. Christine caused sexual revolution that such journalistic raucous not been seen until Betty Ford’s family intervention or Monica’s little blue Gap dress.

Christine Jorgensen would not stay mum for much longer. She accepted to publish her tell-all story on six installments in American Weekly magazine for a cool $20,000 dollars. The feature would coincide with Christine’s arrival on New York’s JFK Airport then known as Idlewild Airport on February 13th, 1953. Her departure from Denmark was cause of a grand celebration amongst friends, so big that she almost missed her flight. Reporters documented every bit of her life, including her choice of travel luggage. One journalist mentioned that one of her cases that contained almost 3 and half years of her life in Denmark was a box of petal soft toilet tissue to which Christine said in her autobiography, “I’ve always traveled in a grand manner.” On a press junket with international members of the press, a British Journalists asked her if she was worried about her reception in the U.S. hence all the media frenzy; her response “Why should I be?” Once she boarded the plane, and a few hours prior her arrival, it hit her: the anonymous life she’d wanted as a woman would not happen. “In my long, painful search for a normal life, I had created a paradox: a life that was to be, for me, abnormal and unconventional.” She was now on the road, or shall we say up in the air, to become a bona fide household name.

When the Scandinavian Airlines flight landed she was received by total and utter pandemonium that wouldn’t be matched until 10 years later when 4 Britons stepped off a Pan Am flight arriving from the United Kingdom. Reporters were everywhere, flashes were ablazin’, everybody wanted a piece of Christine. She felt she had stepped of into a scene from Dante’s Inferno and panicked; she thought “Pull yourself together. This, as everything else, must pass”. Countess Alexandra of Rosenberg, who was on the flight with her, a relative of the King of Denmark was subdued to mere coach status. Christine tittered and tattered through the chaos, holding on to her books, purse and train case while keeping her outfit, including her mink coat, hat with diamante broach, and gloves intact. Once inside, she gave an instant press conference; as everyone wanted a reaction she simply replied to all "I am very happy to be back and I don't have any plans at the moment and I thank you all for coming but I think it's too much."

Her arrival was skyrocketing. The American Weekly story was translated into 14 languages and published in 70 countries. With the money she earned she was able to build her parents their dream house where she settled in with them. Christine received over 20,000 letters from around the globe, some even postmarked “Christine Jorgensen, United States”. Of all the fan mail, only a handful was derogatory, while the rest of tens of thousands were congratulatory notes to her and her parents. Even when she went to renew her drivers license, she was followed everywhere by the paparazzi. The press continued for weeks to have her as a Cover Girl. The In-Crowd lauded Christine’s presence; Ladies Luncheons with original Perez Hilton, Elsa Maxwell, Elaine Carrington and Margaret Case, Vogue Magazine’s Society Editor with special appearance by an impressed Cole Porter and a one to one with Truman Capote. On March 7th, in front of 5,000 guests, including Mr. and Mrs. Jorgensen, the Scandinavian Societies of Greater New York named her Woman of the Year. She reluctantly hired an agent, Charlie Yates, who would handle all the Jorgensenmania for two years until his sudden death in 1955. Her original ambiguity towards a life of sing, dance and pizzazz came because all she really wanted to be was a photographer. Years later, on a TV interview she’d  set the records straight on her fame, “Making a living of life is cashing in on it. Then I did, and I suppose I don’t regret it”.

On her first visit to LA, she was bashed by the Californian city, because they believed (and oh, how they have changed) that you couldn’t simply sell an act by its name. After this incident, Christine travels back to England to film the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth. Back in the states, on August 9th, at the Copa Club in Pittsburgh she, alongside her performance partner Myles Bell, gives her first song and dance act. She receives an invitation from Dr. Alfred Kinsey to be interviewed at the Institute for Sex Research at Indiana University. She’s banned from performing for the Army and in Boston, the Sahara Hotel in Las Vegas refused to let her perform until she could present proof that she was a woman, yet, after her shows at the Copa, the offers started pouring in and they were officially in business. Critics were courteous with her saying that “She sings like an off-key Garbo” and “Nobody expected anything and all they got was Gravy.” Christine became a fashion icon, she was a vivacious woman draped in the latest 50's fashions: ball gowns with mink stoles, silk cocktail dresses, full skirts, swing skirts, tea dresses, tiaras, kimonos, her hair, coiffed in a permanent wave, apron styled swimsuits, and lets not forget...hats, gloves and estate jewlery to match. Lest not forget: red lips. She even sparked her first impersonator and instead of suing her, she settled for a gentlewoman’s apology and when in Miami, a deranged woman tried to pull her hair off, thinking it was a wig, she simply walked away and had people take care of it. She traveled to perform in Philadelphia, Washington DC, Cuba, Miami, New York and Dallas. She had a pop hit in Cuba called “Christine of Denmark” and finally, the owners and showgirls of the Sahara Hotel had to shut their trap, issuing an apology, when they saw that Christine Jorgensen was a gold mine.

Did I mention that all of this happened in 1953?

Christine took a small break in the early summer of 1954 for her third and final operation, a vaginoplasy performed in a small hospital in New Jersey. Christine now had the body of a woman who’d have a hysterectomy and was at peace with the fact that she could not bear children. She was as complete a person as she’d dream of being emotionally and physically. After she was ready to get back on track, she went off to Sweden where her fans waited for her anxiously and with such candor that she ended up staying an extra 3 weeks for an unscheduled cabaret show. Her fame instigated the rumor mil full speed on, bogus affairs with Vanderbilt and Woolworth heirs. Had she lived today these dangerous liaisons would’ve been with a Casiraghi or an heir to PPR. Muy CANDY Caliente! 

Just as Christine was to act in her first role as an actress on the play “To Dorothy, A Son”, Charlie Yates died playing golf with Bob Hope in Palm Springs on January 9th, 1955. Christine was devastated, she thought of not continuing with the play but solid as a rock, she continued and delivered a great performance. It was a year of big changes. Her manager died, she gained a new show partner, Mr. Lee Wyler, after breaking up her career with Myles Bell and during a trip to Venezuela she faced heavy interrogation by the Police in order to enter the country. She was even accused of being a Communist for making a quote on quote “non-American” comment at the time of her return from Denmark. All the while, she perfected her impersonations of Tallulah Bankhead and Marlene Dietrich, whom she would to homage all the way into her death. Christine also found herself amongst the religious ones. She was invited to appear in Jewish and Masonic centers, leaving the latter aghast when she told them that as a young George Jr. she was a member of the Demolay International, a Massonic group for teenage MEN whose hall of fame included Walt Disney and Bill Clinton.

The last years of the 50’s saw her shuffling through agents and having troubles with the IRS. She was $30,000 in debt with her taxes and agreed to record the LP, Christine Jorgensen Reveals, thinking it would be a success, yet it flopped in sales. Looking back on it and listening to it more than 50 years it was recorded, the album is a masterpiece. Christine battled out aggravating questions about her sexuality, being a woman and banal questions on body hair, dating, cruising and the army. She came out a winner while she KO’d telling him that if she had not changed, she wouldn’t have adapted, but rather receded into the world and when she was lauded for making Denmark a household name she told Mr. Russell;  “Denmark did not need me to be famous. It had blue cheese before me.”

The subject of love was always one of a delicate manner. Cupid and Christine weren’t exactly BFF’s. As George, she had a handful of platonic lovers that never consummated beyond wishful thinking. Then on 1959 her friend Howard Knox proposes marriage. Christine says yes. Once they got to City Hall with all the necessary papers, the lawyers found a legal loophole. Christine’s birth certificate still had male as the specified gender. Even though her Passport, Drivers License and NYPD Cabaret Card enlisted her as female, the fact that she never changed her sex in her birth certificate vetoed any possibilities of marriage. She was even recognized as a female by the World Health Organization; yet, down at City Hall they simply did not budge an inch to help. Christine and Howard took to the media, seeking their support, yet, it dug them a deeper grave with Howard losing his job as a labor-union worker. Eventually, they would break up. She had a 2nd engagement years later that also faded into thin air. “I was never in love with the men I was engaged to and I was never engaged to the men I was in love with.” She was as stern when it came to her love-induced-independence as much as she wanted to become a photographer. In the 1984 documentary Paradise Not for Sale, 58 year-old Christine states: "Loving is wonderful, but falling in love is very stupid. I don't think I'd like to marry. I'm free. I do exactly what I want. I live in a manner to which I prefer. I've had men in my life, but I've never let a man move into my house. I'm very selfish; I don't have to bargain with anybody to do what I want. I play hard, I drink hard, I smoke hard and I do everything to a point of excess." For Ms. Belanger, organizer of christinejorgensen.org, Christine’s resentment towards real relationship was due to her surgery setbacks, performed at a time when sex changes were at a premature stage. She says; “if she had been able to have had the quality of MTF surgery that is offered today, her life would not have been so guarded. She's very much a heterosexual woman, but not really being able to fully experience that was a disappointment."

Ending the decade with a bang, Christine gave Los Angeles a second try and they welcomed her with open arms. She settled into a bungalow at the notorious Chateau Marmont, moving door to door with Eroll Flynn’s recent widow (as fresh as the day prior to her arrival!) and soon became good friends. All the biggest stars wanted to rub elbows with Christine, Natalie Wood, Esther Williams, Robert Wagner, Betty Garble, Ann Miller and Judy Garland just to name a humble few. The night she met Judy she was advised not to talk about Ms. Garland’s weight problems, telling her people “What do you think I’m going to say? ‘Hello, Fat Lady?!’” Tensions disappeared once they met; Judy asked Christine for fashion advise after admiring Christine’s look, she told her that women of her frame should not wear such tight-fitting clothes rather a black velvet toreador pant, a stiff, stand-out jacket with a mandarin collar encrusted with jewels, and adding the comfort of flat shoes. “That means no girdles!” Judy said. Needless to say, a couple of weeks later, Christine felt like a modern day Formichetti when she saw Ms. Garland wearing exactly what she had told her!

            In the early sixties she took her show on the road to Australia, Honolulu, Hong Kong and Manila deciding then to settle on the West Coast as her new base. She was lauded for her work on the other side of the Pacific; the Philippines proclaimed her as “the best Goodwill Ambassador America has sent us in years!” Although living a life of money, fame, success and glamour Christine was flat out broke. On her final trip to Manila she returned home with only $5 to her name. The rest of the decade she’d live a frugal life back in New York, settling in for the Theatre and shows here and there, as Cabaret acts were becoming a distant and dated memory. In 1963 her father would pass away, 5 years later so would her mother after a long battle with Cancer. In 1967 her tell-all autobiography, Christine Jorgensen A Personal Autobiography, would sell 500,000 copies on its first hardcover edition. After the death of her mother she moved permanently to California, becoming an advisor on the movie, the Christine Jorgensen Story, released in 1970. The movie is beyond bogus camp. Christine is loosely portrayed, including absurd and untrue stories like that of a cross-dressing George Jr. and visits to prostitutes while in the Service. On set she met an actress you may have heard of called Mae West who was working in the next lot starring in Myra Breckinridge becoming good friends, she also befriended 1962 Playboy Playmate June Wilkinson who thought when they met that Christine prettier than her! The rest of the decade she became a fixture in universities across the country giving lectures on transgender issues. 

            Christine attempted a comeback in the 80’s with a cabaret act entitled “I enjoy Being a Girl!” after Flower Drum Song’s signature song. She strutted and trotted around comedy clubs in over the top costumes and headpieces, belting out show tunes like “Falling in Love Again”, “Welcome to My World” and her act’s title. This new Christine had no qualms about anything; she voiced her comedic resentment towards Hollywood “they took everything” and “this Raquel Welch woman” who apparently was not in Ms. Jorgensen’s best graces. She also talked about working on a new autobiography, and I quote “suggested title ‘After the Ball’”. If you’ve turned into a bona fide Christine Jorgensen fan (which you should be if you’ve come this far) I recommend downloading this recording, available in Itunes. In 1984 Christine returned to Denmark to work on the documentary Paradise Not For Sale, reuniting Christine with her beloved Dr. Hamburger and Dr.Stürup, hoping it would be picked up by Northamerican Cable Television, two clips from this very hard to find documentary can be found in Youtube. Upon her return from Denmark she took nude photos and shopped them to Playboy. Hugh Hefner declined the offer, yet Christine was unstoppable. Or so she thought; three years later she was diagnosed with bladder and lung cancer. During her chemotherapy sessions she didn’t change her lifestyle continuing to smoke and drink her vodka rocks. On May 3rd 1989 she died. For this article, I got in touch with Ms. Brenda Lane Smith, Christine’s flat-mate for the last six months of her life. When I requested a statement she declined to comment on Ms. Jorgenen.

            Christine’s legacy lives on to this day. If it weren’t for her courage and strength to become adversity and be happy for whom she really was, all while wearing mink, the transgender community would not have its First Lady. For Ms. Belanger, "Christine was a real pioneer for what she needed to do. She had no support group or peers for information. She was able to find a needle in a haystack in her trip to Denmark and the world for so many is better for it." Christine kicked ignorance by the balls and she says she gave the sexual revolution “a good quick swift in the pants”. Her living family remembers her dearly, her nieces and cousins remember fondly playing dress-up at Auntie Chris’. Now who wouldn’t want to go home to their aunt and get to wear fabulous heels, jewelry and fur coats? I would most certainly do. Christine said that there were three things she would have until the day she died: laughter and hope and a good sock in the eye. For her funeral, she didn’t want a somber remembrance, she had carefully organized a party for all her friends to laugh and remember her. When it was time for the toast, they all lifted their vodka on the rocks for Christine. Even at home, every day was a holiday; she kept a Christmas tree year round to remind herself of her good life. Christine Jorgensen, first Lady of Candy Magazine, I raise my Stoli on the Rocks for you. Originally published in the second issue of Candy Magazine - The First Transversal Style Magazine - Fall/Winter 2010-2011  

[abdlbdsmstories]

Doing it for a friend

Story centres around 2 late teenage boys on holiday in nappies.

PART 1

It was the day before Mum and I were heading off for a week away with Lynne and Jamie. Jamie was best friend, we had gone through Primary School together, Secondary School and a year at college. But after this little holiday with our Mums, I was taking a year out before University to backpack it around Australia, but due to a recent accident, Jamie wouldn’t be joining me. A couple of months ago whilst we were being boys and freerunning, Jamie fell and hurt his back. But it wasn’t just his back he hurt, he suffered internal injuries mainly to his bladder. He basically lost control and would wet himself uncontrollably. I never interfered or judged him by it, I still kept our friendship strong. But, via my mother, I was about to find out that I was involved just as deep as he was.

Mum was packing her suitcase and surprisingly my suitcase for our trip aboard. She told me to make myself scarce for the afternoon so I wasn’t in the way. I went into town, popped for a coffee with a few friends and picked up a couple of t-shirts for holiday. At the age of 17 I always thought I was too old to be going on a holiday with my Mum, but this was the last time she would spend good time with me and after my Dad passed away a few years ago I really didn’t mind. This was like her present to me. And as I was to find out, it was a huge present.

I got home and as I entered the hallway there was a couple of suitcases sat waiting there. And surprisingly I could smell pizza. As I passed through the living room and into the dining room Mum was sat at the table with a pizza waiting for me. She asked me to sit down as there was something she wanted to discuss with me.

“Ryan, this is a really sensitive issue I want to discuss with you. Well, you know since the accident Jamie had, he has had to wear nappies. Well I spoke with Lynne earlier and he is going to have to wear nappies 24/7 whilst we are on holiday.” She said.

“That’s fine Mum. I totally understand. I know he suffered an injury thanks to our own stupidity.” I replied.

“Well, there is something I want you to do for me. You aren’t going to like this but there is a condition attached to this. If you want me to pay for your gap year then you have to do this one thing for me.”

“What?” I asked confused.

“I spoke with Lynne earlier and she’s said that Jamie will be in his nappies 24/7 for this holiday and bar when he’s swimming in the pool or sea, she has told him he has to wear just his nappy. And I want you to do the same.”

“What? Are you for real? Why is she making him do that?” I asked. I couldn’t believe what my ears were hearing.

“Yes it is for real. However, your break in Australia is for 6 months. If you agree to this I will extend your stay financially for another 6 months. So now you’ll have guaranteed money to travel onto Thailand. She’s told him that he needs to feel comfortable with people seeing him in his nappy. Potentially he’s got the rest of his life wearing a nappy and sooner or later Lynne has decided people will know about it. And as we will be in a foreign country with strangers she has told him it’s now or never.” Mum explained.

“So, what does this involve for me?” I asked confusedly.

Mum left the room for a minute and I sat there to contemplate the offer on the table. I desperately wanted to go to Thailand. But it would mean I would have to wear a nappy for 4 days. I had seen Jamie in his nappy and they were pretty bulky and noisy. They weren’t the usual baby style Pampers, these were big white things.

My confusion was distracted by my Mum coming back into the room carrying a bag of nappies. She proceeded to tear the bag open and pull a nappy out. She laid it out on the table, it was huge. There was no confusing that with underwear.

“You’ve seen them before, but here’s a reminder. I suggest you take a good, long hard look at it and then decide. I also suggest you go shower, and i’ll put this on you tonight. Just so you can get used to them.”

“What? You’re going to put them on me? But i’m not a baby.” I pleaded.

“Again, there’s no arguing about it. Lynne changes Jamie’s nappies and i’ll do the same for you. You will be expected to use them for everything just like he does. But think of yourself as doing a good deed for a friend. He’s deeply embarrassed by all this but i’m sure having his best friend be just like him will make him feel better. Go take a shower and think about it. Come down and let me know.” She ordered.

I trudged off upstairs with the constant image of the nappy in my mind.And the words ringing in my ears of having to actually use the nappy for their intended purpose. I hopped in the shower and relaxed under the stream of water. I was picturing in my head how stupid I was going to look, wandering around in just a nappy. What would other people think? I couldn’t imagine us seeing anybody we knew so that was one small consolation. From all these subconscious thoughts, I guessed in my mind that my decision was made up. I was going to sacrifice my pride and dignity for the trip of a lifetime. A couple of friends I was travelling with were heading to Thailand afterwards and the partying was supposed to be amazing. How bad could it be, 4 days in a nappy, maybe a few comments and teasing from others. I’m sure it’d be fine. As I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off, I slipped on my dressing gown, took a huge deep breath for confidence and headed downstairs.

Mum must have thought that I would come to my senses, as when I entered the front room the nappy was already laid out on the floor and she was pacing about waiting for me.

“I see you have chosen to take up my offer. I hope you understand why we are doing this. It’ for Jamie’s sake. There’s no need to feel embarrassed about me changing you. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Take that gown off and lay on the nappy. But remember, once those tapes go on, that’s it until we land back here on Monday.”

I tentatively dropped my gown to the floor and stood naked in front of my Mum for the first time in years. I sat my bum down on the nappy and closed my eyes. I flinched a little as she seemed to sprinkle a generous amount of powder onto my balls and legs. She gripped my ankles and lifted my butt slightly from the nappy so she could powder that and adjust the nappy. As she released my legs she spread them apart to pull the nappy up. Taping 2 tabs either side, she then helped me to my fight and admire her handiwork.

“Not so bad is it. It’ll take a few hours to get used too. Just stay like that for a bit. I’ve ordered us Pizza. Then it’s bedtime for the both of us as we have an early flight.”

She pulled me close and hugged me. It was very surreal, stood in a nappy whilst hugging my mum. I sat down and watched TV for a bit, constantly fiddling with the bulk between my legs. I looked down at it, it had the letters S M L on it with the M circled along with 8 blue water drops on it. Decorated with columns of purple dots and the word ‘Tena’ on the little tapes, I felt such a baby. The rest of the night was pretty much trivial. We sat and ate pizza, mum checked and rechecked the packing to make sure she had everything and then it was bedtime. It felt weird brushing my teeth and staring at the toilet knowing that I wouldn’t be using it for a few days. But I really needed to use it, that bottle of coke had worked it’s way through my system. I paced about my room trying to force my bladder to pee but initially it was pretty difficult. I managed to force out a little drop, then a drop became a trickle and soon enough the floodgates opened. I watched in the mirror as the nappy went from a glistening white to a yellowy colour. As I continued to pee I was genuinely worried the nappy wouldn’t hold but like a sponge it soaked it up. Too be far I had spent a lot of time with Jamie over the last few weeks since the accident and I knew he was always peeing and never leaked anywhere. Once I was finished the nappy had considerably drooped between my legs. I contemplated going into Mums room but I knew she hated being woken and I felt stupid asking her if I could have a nappy change. So I just laid on my bed, set the alarm and stuck the TV on and tried to sleep. If I was on my side the bulk between my legs was annoying, so I had to resort to lying on my front.