#nobody has ever recognized my mechanisms shirt before.

[continuousmeowing]

i just had the most wonderful evening of my life. family dinners can actually be fun sometimes.

[happyselves]

Pacify Him { Daniel Ricciardo x reader } /// WARNING EXPLICIT ///

Chapter : One shot Rating : Mature / Explicit / NSFW Words : 3,622 words

“Pacify her, she is getting on my nerves, hold your bitch before I push her away. You’re free to bring anyone here as long as they are behaving, but her … I don’t judge the person you are seeing, obviously I could give two shits about it but please tell her to calm herself down … This isn’t professional.”

You were fuming as you entered Daniel’s driver room,as his PR assistante you never interfere in his frequentation, but when it was impacting the reputation of the team and bugging people visiting the motorhome you had to step him. You calm yourself after a few breaths, stepping aside from Daniel a bit before looking at him again.

“ I didn’t mean to come that hard on you Daniel, but please you know how this is important right. You always ask for my honest opinion and there it is, I didn’t mean it for it to step out this hard on you but I can’t apologize for my words when I was thinking about them. She is toxic for you, she brings the bad in you when you are someone adorable usually. What is happening to you that you don’t trust me enough anymore to tell me when something is going wrong ? And before you are shushing me off, you know I am right, you and I are a package deal. “

He was defeated, not even looking at you, his whole body was shutting down and his legs were giving up on him. He takes the closest seat near him, almost falling and barely able to sit gracefully like he used to do.

“ I don’t know … I am so lost, I keep doing stuff wrong, I can’t find my soul anymore, I’m not very myself recently, I can’t even find my smile being genuine in the morning when I wake up in the morning. I’m putting a mask for people to see, but I’m like an empty shell. This bitch as you call her is only here to distract me and try to make me feel alive. She is nothing and it was a mistake to bring her… “

You were very concerned about Daniel’s attitude, it was the first time since you have known him that he worries about you right now. You were kneeling in front of him, trying your best not to invade his personal space. It’s something new for you, not invading it, you never ever thought he needed one but he looked so fragile, then you were under the impression that if you were touching him he would vanish into dust.

“ You are scaring me, what’s happening, is it the team ? Something personal ? You know you can tell me everything … “ A long silence got installed, your eyes were starting to water by all the pain you were seeing in him. You thought he wouldn’t open up, he was shutting you out by the way his body was curling up and turning to avoid your gaze on him. He was protecting himself like a kid that was terrified of a big stormy night.

You wanted to be the one to reassure one, but you were practically sure you were part of the problem. You stand quietly, ready to leave him alone in his driver room because there was nothing you could do if he wasn’t letting you.

His reaction was imminent, the driver inside of him was popping up and his muscles memories acting for him as it was his turn to get up and close the space between you, shutting the opened door. You yelped out of surprise before feeling his pressing body against you. You were stuck between the wooden door and his warm torso. Feeling his heretic heartbeat pounding in his chest. You couldn’t speak, you were too shocked for that. You and him were friends, close friends but not that physically close. You never cross that boundaries, but today was different, you felt it was.

The seconds looked like hours waiting for the confirmation of your assumption. Daniel seems to be as surprised as you to have acted the way he did, it was too late to back away now.

“ Don’t leave … don’t walk out that door “ His forehead was now resting on the back of your head, slightly not to hurt you and put weight on it. You wanted to ignore all the fuzzy feelings flooding in your whole body, but you couldn’t. Having him so close to you awakens a deep feeling hidden in you. “ The bitch will go away I promise, I am sorry “

Why was he apologizing to you, he didn’t disappoint anyone, yet. You weren’t even mad, you learn better to not judge someone's fucked up attitude when you could recognize the coping mechanics of someone keeping a secret and trying to turn the attention away from himself for nobody to catch the true meaning behind these actions. Does that make it acceptable ? It was each individual to have their own opinion. It was annoying you, that Daniel was suffering but preferred to distract himself and run away from his problem instead of talking to you or anyone else.

You close your eyes, your own forehead finds the cold surface of the door, his own head following yours not breaking the contact. HIs hands find the side of your hip.

“ The bitch isn’t the problem isn’t it ? “ You asked without any certainty he will give you a proper answer to that. His thumbs were caressing the skin of your hips through the tissues of your teamwear shirt, drawing a circle. You were sure he didn’t even notice he was doing it, his body was only responding to one mood and it was the auto-pilot one.

You were searching for breath and the driver’s room was starting to get tighter by the meanings, you were about to suffocate if the situation in which you both were wasn’t going to change fast enough.

“ You are the only one that can take away my pain … “ It could pass for a simple sentence if it wasn’t so Daniel, you had learned the code of conduct of Daniel Ricciardo and that … that was a declaration. “ It was you and I before, remember ? “

You were missing a piece of puzzle here, what was he talking about, is he drunk ? You never act differently around him, nothing changes, it never does. Yes it was him and you, always have been.

“ What are you talking about Daniel, you are confusing me “

“ Why did it change, the two of us … “ He was responding to your question by another one, like he was having his own conversation in his head, you were tempted to let him speak his mind to discover the bottom of the problem.

“ It didn’t change Daniel … “ You were trying as much as you could to put everything together, in vain.

“ It did change, I can’t look at you the same way as before … “ There it was, a little clue. If only he knew that it has been a long time since you have been able to look at him the way he used to when you meet him the first time. It was more than annoying you that he had brought someone with him for the weekend, more than it should. You were fuming when you saw the unknown name on the list of guests and asked someone to lighten it for you.

“ I know you are lying, why would you react the way you just did before if you weren’t “ You wanted to look at him, but his body was still pressing you against the cold wood. You had so much to say and him as well, all this unspoken tension you both tried to make yourself believe was a liar. You were both frauds, your friendship switched into something more months ago after a drunk night. Nothing happened that night, only looks were exchanged. The battle you both had as a joke at first turned into something way more deeper than you both were expecting and when you both tried to pull out of it, the damage had been done. That night was an epiphany moment for you, awaking the true desire between you. Your bodies couldn’t lie, the need for them to touch, the flaming sensation of his skin against yours like it was happening right now. Everything happened before and since that night, it never was the same thing for Daniel and everything went downhill.

You move your hand, posting on the door and Daniel understands the message and detaches himself from you. You slowly turn, god he was a mess and you bet you weren’t better.

“ You bewitched me that night, seduced me with your eyes. It was a game at first and now look at us, where is the game now ? “ He wasn’t accusing you of anything, it was a simple statement, an understanding between you. Two people were playing the game and two people ended up losing.

“ That wasn’t my intention, I tried to pull away, it was too late “ Who sounds defeated now, the tables have turned and he brings you down with him to the bottom of his misery. A couple bruises on your heart that he created was all you needed to have the proof that at least you two had shared a moment. It had to stay professional, but as his face was closing up the gap, all your convictions were being erased one by one.

You didn’t wait for him, you joined him in the middle, your lips connected quicker than he had anticipated, your eyes shut down in synchronisation. You didn’t who reacted first and kissed the other one back. That lip was perfect, far from it, it was messy just like him, but it was passionate. His teeth were teasing your bottom lips, asking permission to tear the flesh of it apart. You moaned when his tongue was inviting you to open your mouth. The taste of your two saliva was so intoxicated that you almost fell and he had to catch you with both of his arms, supporting you from your lower back. His smile came back to life against your mouth, letting out a childish giggle and you hit his arm to make him stop making fun of your lack of stability.

HIs reaction was quick, if you couldn’t stand up anymore he would use that door to help you. He pushes you toward it and your back gets lean on it, his arms unlocking themselves to explore your body, finding where they were before except this style the hem of your shirt came loose, letting the palm of his hand directly enter in contact with your skin, sending you shivers.

You had forgotten your environnement, too busy burying your own hands in his dark curls, bringing him closer as much as possible. Your teeth were still clenching and air was starting to lack in your lounge. You didn’t want to let go, scared for the reality to be brought back. You have been dreaming for months about this. Having the fantasy in your head when the night was setting and the moon shining.

DSaniel didn’t let you think for another second as he used this little moment of rest when you stop kissing him for a second, to lift you up, grabbing your ass, his palm firmly around it. He moves you and remembered to lock the door before turning back his focus on you as he finally break the kiss to look at you. Lust could be seen all over your two faces. His face was not showing any sadness anymore, only mischievousness and happiness. If you knew that all you needed to do to bring back the Daniel you knew was to let your own desire take over you, you would have done it sooner.

He took the direction of the massage table beside him, putting you on the edge before finding your neck and kissing the soft skin. You let a snort escape when his scruff tickles a sensitive spot behind your ear. He laughs against the skin and the vibration changes the snort into a whining complaint. He traveled all the way down to your clavicle but the fabric of your shirt was stopping him. He didn’t wait for your approval to remove it, the force of the removal making you lift your arm automatically. They fall back on his neck when he throws the piece of tissue somewhere you will have a hard time finding back.

That was extremely hot from him and by your legs starting to spread a little bit and the heat you were starting to feel between them, he noticed acknowledge the effect he had on you and smirk, visibly proud of himself. It was not the time to hide yourself even if you could feel embarrassed, this man in front of you was everything you had dreamt of and it had the talent to make you feel confident of your body, just by the way he looks at every detail of your body.

You were eager to let him take the situation under his control and only his, not doing anything and just being the prize he was working on to have for so long. All the torment, the torture and the conviction he will never have you, he deserved it. You will get your prize another time … it was only the beginning for you.

He was taking his time with you,no matter how much his desire was waking up, he had one mission and one mission only; your pleasure. You could see the forming bulge in his pants and felt for him, imagining how inconfortable it must be for him.

It all went to dust when his hands found their way under your bra cupping your breast and his lips traveled your chest as he was kissing his way down. He was leaving wet kisses and blowing air on it, goosebumps started to appear quickly, head being jolted back.

You wish you knew what to do with your hands but they were gripping the leather of the massage table so hard your knuckles were getting white by the second. He didn’t seem to care as his hands found your pants, he pushed you a bit behind, making unspeakable demands for you to lift your ass so he could slide the piece of clothes down for it to join your shirt somewhere in the room.

You could barely keep your eyes open as you witnessed the extremely hot scene in front of you. Daniel between your legs, keeping the same pace with you, kissing his way up toward the inner of your thighs. You sensed his teeth nibbling your skin, licking every spot afterward, like he was trying to heal the pain he just caused you. Little did he know that pain you were feeling was arousing you even more, your panty was starting to visibly licked your excitement. It was feeling like torture, you thougth that Daniel would be like the others partner you had, your skin would get used to the touch after a moment and the horniness would stop at a certain level, thinking you had reach the maximal of his possibility. How wrong were you when you were on the verge to cum without him actually pleasuring you in this area. You knew it was coming, Daniel kisses were more hungry, teasing the flesh of your thigh turning red by the bite and the kisses.

His lips were swallowing, getting bigger by the unusual exercise they were carrying on, his tongue would feel numb if it was for the desire he had to taste you, letting it survive for a couple minutes still. You watch him, leaving a kiss on the wet fabric of your underwear, your eyes were blurrying by the anticipation of him finally finding your clit. His teeth end up moving the piece of dentelle that was the last barrier between you and him.

It was like he was home and belonged there, here with you, right in this instance, it was you and him against the world. Forgetting your environnement you let a cry escape a little bit too loud as soon his thick tongue was licking arousal. You thought that seeing the start was a legend, a fantasy, but Daniel had made you become reality as your head was banged back, finding the cold wall, your neck was stretching so hard that the blood was lacking in your brain making you see some sparkling spot. He needed you to stay quiet and as he tried to put one of his hands on your mouth he ended up finding the neck instead, squeezing it enough for you to moan his name as he was continuing his exploration of your pussy.

Your hands finally leave the grip of the massage table to find their new place around Daniel's arm. You were stretched out in front of him, so vulnerable, just for him and you were unable to give a proper reaction to being buried in the pleasure he was giving you. His tongue was teasing your entrance, making it hardening, pushing himself in you as you will. The thumb of his free hand was moving in a slow circle around your clit. He didn’t know the dilemma you were encountering, keeping your eyes shut and your head back or fighting his firm hand on your neck for you to see him eating you alive. You sure had to make a decision quickly because you were soon to arrive at the edge before you will let the orgasm consume your whole body.

By the sound you were making, Daniel had the confirmation he was doing everything in the right way for you. He never experienced such joy to make someone lose their composure due to his actions. He was feeling proud that he was finding it out with you. Every woman he had been with didn’t sound or look as beautiful and real as you spread in front of him right now. He could spend hours tasting you, how good you were for him, how reactive and sensitive your skin was becoming after being torn apart by him. How the thought of fucking you with his tongue had haunt his dream for the past couples of month now, but the reality of this was surpassing all his expectations. He wanted to be rough with you, all the dirty thoughts came back rushing into his brain, overwhelming him and sending twitch to his dick. Rather than being dominant, it was all about showing you how much he had wanted you and how willing he was to give you anything you wanted, because you deserved it. You deserved for him to make you forget every man you had sex with. Replacing all the bad and good memories with his own. Changing all the faces in your dream, planting his own in the own DNA of your imagination.

He could feel that you were holding it together for it to last longer, even if that meant losing the self-control you had in you. Your wall was tightening around his fat tongue. You were completely losing your mind at the foreword of sensation throwing at you at the same time. You were sure it was too much for one person and you could care less about the verbal explosion you might have in a couple of seconds. Daniel however, foreseeing your release, put two fingers in your mouth holding your jaw from your mouth, your lips closed themself around them and your tongue was soon relaxing on them. You bite his knuckles when his tongue replaces his thumb in one flick of the tongue, finally letting cum. Your legs were shaking and Daniel had to hold you for you not to hurt yourself, your eyes were rolling back as your orgasm hit you in small waves, sending you jolts of electricity around your body. Your brain was shutting down, the stifled moan never reaching the exterior of your mouth, dying down on Daniel’s fingers in sensual vibration that made his bulge react, begging to be taken care of.

It tooks you minutes to come back to the open world, Daniel’s eyes not leaving you for a second, admiring his work. You slowly come back to reality and automatically search for him, missing his touch already. Your eyes were still not open when you found the collar of his shirt and pulled him rather violently, crashing your lips together, taking a taste of your own juice still lingering on his lips. You sigh in the kiss, reassured that what just happened wasn’t just a dream and that you were far needing to wake up from it.You rest your forehead on his, the wave of pleasure was still leaving some after effects on you including dizziness.

You had to clear your throat as you realised no sound was coming it out the first time you tried to speak.

“ That bitch needs to go, tell her you replace her with a more living version. “

You couldn’t help but laugh at your own words and Daniel was smiling at the way you just described yourself.

“ She’s already gone, she was already gone before you burst into my room.

You didn’t know how to respond to that, but one thing for sure is that you will have a hard time making people outside of this room say that nothing happened between the two of you. At least you would not pissed them off and you were able to pacify him at any time.

MASTERLIST

[fandom-strumpet]

Game Night Confession Part 3

Summary: You and Kai are ready to take your relationship a step further. Turning over a new leaf comes with some consequences though and trouble strikes the town.

Word Count: 3,364 (Its a long one folks)

Warnings: Swearing, temporary character deaths, angst, basic TVD violence

You and Kai had been dating for a few months now and you were ready to ask him the question. You both were close enough now in your relationship anyway with the apartment so there were no more noise complaints from Elena or the Salvatores. Not that they had much room to judge. Kai was in the kitchen making breakfast and he greeted you over his shoulder when you made the floorboards creak in the hallway.

"Morning baby girl, I made breakfast. Figured I'd surprise you and let you sleep in."

"Awww thanks, it smells delicious," you gave him a hug from behind and snatched a piece of bacon off the plate. "Mmmm," you moaned, bacon was truly a gift from heaven.

Kai looked over at you and grinned, "I'm glad you like it."

Kai absolutely loved making you happy. Knowing this gave you confidence in asking him for things and having heavy conversations. You loved him more than anything and he, you.

"Kai?" he raised his eyebrows, encouraging you to continue your question.

"Will you turn me?"

"You know I already love turning you, but maybe not with pancakes on the stove," he winked playfully.

"That's not what I meant," you giggled and ran your hand up his arm onto his bare chest, "Will you turn me?"

Kai froze, the pancake sizzling after just being turned over.

"Pleeeeease," you stuck your lip out, batting your puppy eyes at him.

He stood for a moment, his lips pursed. "Yes."

"EEEEK!" You squealed.

"But-"

You stopped squealing, you knew there would be something he demanded in return and you were ready to give him whatever he wanted.

"I want to surprise you when I kill you. I'll give you my blood but I won't tell you when or where, it'll be fun. I promise it won't be anything too painful. It will be quick." You felt nervous for a second but pure euphoria overtook the feeling in a heartbeat as you realized just how close you were to spending eternity with the love of your life.

"So for almost 24 hours you're going to let me live with the anxiety and suspense of dying unexpectedly?"

"Yep," he tilted his head studying your reaction to his proposal.

"Alright." you stood on your tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips.

"Mmmmmmm" he hummed against your lips, breaking the kiss with a smile, "Is my baby ready for breakfast?"

You bit your lip trying to contain the joy screaming through your veins, "Yes! And thank you babe, for breakfast and for saying yes."

"Anything for my baby girl," he winked and set the plates of food down on the table. You blushed, hearing him call you baby girl always sent butterflies into your stomach. The nickname would never get old and you absolutely loved it. There was an excellent mood in the atmosphere as you both finished off breakfast. He cut his hand open and squeezed blood into a glass cup for you. The fluid looked so beautiful in the sunlight ad you grabbed the cup slowly, taking in what was about to happen. Raising the glass to your lips you squeezed your eyes shut, letting the iron flavored drink enter your body. Kai admired how fragile and beautiful you looked sitting there drinking his blood. It was weirdly attractive to see you like this. Standing up you head over to the bedroom doorway and look back with a devious smile.

"I'm going to shower, care to join?"

"Love to." Kai grinned back with lustful eyes.

--------Later at Lunch--------

"Y/N you can't be serious! This is not a life you want." Elena harshly whispered in the restaurant.

"I think it would be interesting to see you as a vampire," Damon said cooly but changed his tone and sat up when Elena shot him a glare, "Elena has a point though." He pulled her closer with his arm around her shoulder as a make-shift apology.

"Come on Damon, weren't you the least bit excited when Elena became a vampire so you could spend eternity together?" The couple looked at each other but remained silent.

"I think it's a good idea and I support you," Caroline stated. Elena's jaw dropped upon hearing Caroline of all people support you on this decision.

"Thank you Care! Thank you!" you leaned over and wrapped your arms around her in a hug. Caroline rested her chin on your head, "But Y/N?"

You looked up as she continued, "Just be careful okay?"

"I am, I know what I'm doing. Now all of you know not to be surprised if Kai kills me while I'm with you."

"Whatever." Elena mumbled and shook her head sliding out of the booth. Damon followed her lead but gave you a quick thumbs up and wink before disappearing. You were so excited, nobody could or should ever feel this way about being killed but to you it meant something different. Dear god, am I a psychopath for wanting this?

Stepping out of the grill, an arm wrapped around your throat and pulled you back. Instinct kicking in, your hands flew to grip the arm. You recognized the fabric and felt relief knowing what would soon be happening. Caroline looked on with a look of concern and possibly disgust on her face. With one swift movement his hand was on the side of your head and the world went black.

You woke up on the sofa in your apartment. Your head pounded, your lips felt cracked and your throat hurt like you hadn't drank anything in days.

"Good Morning sunshine," Kai grinned hopping off the barstool. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a couple blood bags. "Here, drink up. You need it."

You fumbled and opened the blood bag as swiftly as you could. You could feel the black veins on your face appear. Downing the first bag in a minute you ripped open the second one and wolfed it down as well. You gave a sigh of relief as the headache and pain faded away. You must have been out for a couple hours, based on the amount of sunlight making its way in. It was almost sunset.

"Better?"

"Much." You smiled, everything felt so much more heightened. Tears started to fall down your face, "Oh Kai..."

Kai's face scrunched up in concern, "What is it baby girl?"

"I love you so much," you sobbed.

Relief crossed his face as he understood what was happening. "Your emotions are heightened right now with the change but soon you'll have them under control."

You nodded and leaned forward to hug Kai's waist who was now standing over you. His arms wrapped around you and he rubbed your back which he knew always helped calm you down. His hand traveled to your chin to tilt it up so you were looking at him.

"Baby?" he wiped the last tear off your cheek/

"Yes?" you whimpered.

"How about we go out and celebrate tonight?" your brows furrowed at his proposal. Kai noticing your look continued, "I don't mean let's go and feed off people, I mean let's celebrate and go out to eat." He tilted his head waiting for your reaction.

You stood and wrapped your arms around his neck, "Yes! Yes I would love that!"

"Good," Kai smacked your butt, "Now go get ready princess."

Kai watched you skip off to the bedroom and smiled, his heart soaring at being able to spend forever with you.

-----------Later that Night-------------

You were so angry, you could hear the bartender's heart pounding and her blood, delicious blood coursing through her veins as she continued to beam at Kai. You glared and cleared your throat, catching the blonde's attention. Upon catching your look she huffed and turned away to check on another attractive brunet down the row. Kai turned and studied your face bemusedly.

"What?" you tried to shake off the look but it was too late.

"Are you- jealous?" he smirked.

"Ugh, I- I am not jealous. I just need some air."

Kai cocked an eyebrow, "O-kay."

Stepping into the alleyway you took a big swallow of the cool night air. It was only 8 but it already felt so late. You started to pace, taking your frustration out on the trash.

"I am not jealous, especially of some stupid blonde," you grunted and kicked a bottle hard sending it smashing against a brick wall. The back door of the bar opened and you jumped, expecting someone to come out yelling about the racket. Instead the blonde bartender stepped out a little too coolly, moving almost mechanically.

"What are you doing here?" you snapped.

"I don't know. This guy told me to come out here and for some reason I listened." She looked puzzled and your curiosity started to grow.

"Was it the guy I was with?"

"No. It was some other guy."

"What else did this guy say?" You inquired, allowing yourself to walk closer and closer to her.

"He told me not to scream." The girls voice trembled with this sentence.

Dear god. She had the most beautiful throat, you don't know how you missed it before. If only you could have a taste. No. You promised Caroline to be careful, you were a new vampire with limited restraint. You wanted to kill her. With every fiber of your being you wanted to drink her body dry. Almost as if she were reading your mind she tilted her head, moving her hair and exposing her neck more. Slowly she took a knife out of her apron and brought it to her throat.

"No! Don-"

But your plea was cut short when you saw the bright red liquid start to dribble down. You could feel your eyes change and teeth pop out. With a hiss you lunged toward her, sinking your fangs into her warm beating flesh. After drinking for so long, you entered an almost drunk like state. Stumbling back to your apartment, you manage to shower and clean yourself up, tossing the dirty clothes in the trash before finally passing out in bed.

Meanwhile back in the alleyway, Kai storms out looking for you.

"Y/N?" He stops walking when his shoes squelch. "Oh shit..." He looks down to see the dead blonde bartender from earlier, blood surrounding her neck which looked like it had been sloppily torn open. Black veins appear under his eyes and he looks up fast, taking a sharp breath in. After gaining control of himself, he covers his mouth and nose with his shirt diving in to clean up the mess you made.

"They're going to freak when they hear about this," he muttered, dragging the girl backwards down the alleyway.

You woke up with sunlight streaming onto your face making you groan and pull the sheets up.

"Good morning sleepy head." A husky voice drawled.

You froze, afraid to look at the guest in your home. "What are you doing here?" You asked, blanket muffling your question.

"Heard you had a wild one last night, just wanted to stop by and uhh ya know, check on my buddy."

Smiling painfully you pulled the blanket down to see Damon sitting on a chair across your room.

"I don't know what you mean."

Damon's fake smile disappeared and he frowned.

"Kai called last night after you 'stepped out for air' and he found a dead blonde in the alleyway."

You stifled a groan and he continued, "But that wasn't all, nooooo you had to go and continue the party of one around town."

"What?" Your nose wrinkled. You remembered drinking from the bartender and coming home, not going around town. "I did not do that Damon, you have to believe me."

"I don't." He snapped, "I believe your bloody clothes you half ass attempted to shove down the garbage disposal." He shook his head in disbelief.

You groaned and plopped your head back down onto the pillow.

"Alright, I drank blood from the blonde but I didn't hurt anyone else, I swear! I came right home and tried to clean up."

"You killed her, Y/N. There are three other dead people around town and you don't think that looks a little suspicious considering the circumstances?"

You paused, a look of grief sat on your face. The bedroom door opened and Stefan peered in, Kai leaning over his shoulder,

"Knock knock." Stefan called.

"Just go in Steven. Geez." Kai said exasperated, making you chuckle.

Damon's stern face cut your laugh short.

Stefan stepped in and turned to glare at Kai, "I don't know what Kai was thinking taking you out when you've just turned and still need to learn to control your bloodlust."

"I didn't kill all those people, you know." You cut in gravely.

Just then it dawned on you, the girl. You sat up quickly and grabbed your head in pain. It was like having a hangover with booze and blood. Ugh.

"Guys the bartender last night, she was acting weird."

"Yeah because death by vampire is a little weird." Damon rolled his eyes.

"No, I'm serious. The way she came out into the alleyway. Someone compelled her to come out, she said she wasn't allowed to scream and then she cut her own throat to get me to feed from her."

The Salvatore brothers stiffened and looked at each other.

"What? Do you two know something?" You looked between them frantically.

Stefan looked down and asked, "Did she say who compelled her?"

"Some guy in the bar but nothing else."

Damon ran his hand through his hair and blew out air, "I think we need to have a talk with someone."

Stefan nodded in agreement and in a flash, the Salvatore brothers had left your apartment. You looked pointedly at Kai who was now standing in the middle of your shared room. He shrugged his shoulder signaling to you that he had no idea what was going on. Huffing, you pushed yourself out of bed and walked past him to the kitchen. You needed a strong coffee for a day like this.

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

"ENZO!" Damon bellowed,

Stefan followed Damon into the boarding house, ready to acknowledge the guest who had been staying with them recently.

"Hello there." Enzo stepped out from the kitchen wiping his bloody hands.

Stefan raised his eyebrows at the sight and Damon cleared his throat.

"Oh- sorry about the mess I was just prepping dinner." He smiled innocently.

"Cut the crap Enzo." Damon snapped, Enzo's smile remained plastered on unnaturally.

"What's the matter, Damon? You look like you've had a very busy night."

Stefan stepped forward, "Come on, we know what you did. Stop stalling."

Throwing the towel down the vampire sped over to Stefan, "You know what I did huh?" He sneered.

"You lot have known how I feel about Y/N. Since the beginning and I thought by now you would have gotten rid of the Parker bastard. So what did you do mate?" He spit out.

Damon put his hand between Enzo's and Stefan's chests to calm them down. Enzo had been Damon's friend long ago and he was still willing to stick up for Enzo and give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay, but why frame Y/N for this?" Damon shook his head in question.

"If I can't have her, then Parker shouldn't either. She'll leave him when she realizes he can't help her. I'll just keep going until she breaks."

"We can't let you do this," Stefan started to grab Enzo's shirt when Enzo vampire sped behind him and snapped his neck.

"Now what? Are you going to try and stop me too?"

Damon bit his lip and grimaced at his words. Enzo had been in love with Y/N's doppelganger long ago. This fact that she was a doppelganger was unknown to her and the Salvatores had hoped to keep it that way. But with Enzo's new fury and determination to have her, things could be taking a turn for the worst. Without another word, Enzo stormed out of the house leaving a dead Stefan and a conflicted Damon. A few hours later Stefan woke up to find Damon sitting by the fireplace in his chair drinking his favorite bourbon.

"Augh" Stefan groaned, "Did you stop him?"

Damon remained stoic for a minute before responding, "No. I froze. He used to be my only friend." He swirled his drink looking down into it for answers.

"I get that he used to be your friend, I do. But we can't let him do this to Kai and Y/N. It's not fair. So you need to help me and our friends come up with a plan to stop him."

Damon furrowed his eyebrows and looked up, "Okay."

--------------At your apartment-----------

Enzo had been watching your apartment for a while now. Waiting for the man he so despised to leave and give you two time alone. At long last, Kai stepped out into the crisp night and headed off into the darkness. Waiting until he was clear out of sight, Enzo stepped out of his car adjusting his shirt and pulling the lively bouquet of flowers out.

"Ding dong," Enzo called out, knocking on your front door.

You creaked the door open slightly to see who it was, the door chain stopping you from opening it much further.

"Who are you?" You raised your eyebrow. Kai had told you not to let anyone in while he was out getting more blood bags.

"My name is Lorenzo St. John but you can call me Enzo." He smiled.

"Okay Enzo...And what brings you to my apartment?"

"Well darling, I thought it was time we were properly introduced. Do you mind if I come in?"

"Okay..." you said hesitantly. You closed the door to slide the latch over and opening it slowly, allowed Enzo to stride in like a gentleman.

"I brought you flowers," he held them out for you to grab.

You smiled at him with a curious look in your eyes, "Thanks. I'll go put these in a vase."

He followed you to the kitchen, looking around and taking in all that was your apartment. Digging around under the sink you finally found the curvy glass vase that you always wanted to use. Your anxiety started to build. Why is Kai taking so long? He should be back by now. Something about Enzo seemed off to you and you prayed that Kai would be home soon to help you deal with the charming stranger. You were itching to reach for you phone on the side table but knew that if Enzo suspected something was up then he might do something rash. Turning to face him you crossed your arms to find him seated comfortably at your table. A little too comfortably.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"Do you have any blood bags, love?"

"No, sorry." You smiled weakly, "My boyfriend went out to get some more."

Enzo raised his eyebrows begrudgingly, of course you would mention your boyfriend. "I'll take a beer then."

"Sure thing." He rolled his eye as you turned to the fridge.

Speeding up behind you, he grabbed you around the throat and whispered, "Sorry about this, love." All went black.

When Kai arrived home he found the front door open. Panic rose in his chest as he yelled out for you.

"Y/N! Y/N?! Princess this isn't funny, where are you?"

Walking into the kitchen he found the fridge door wide open. He shoved the grocery bag full of blood bags in a shut it quickly. Speeding around, he checked the entire house but you were no where to be found. He ran his hands through his hair and that's when the vase caught his eye. A vase full of fresh flowers and a note attached.

For the most beautiful of all flowers and with much adoration,

Love, Enzo

Growling, Kai crumpled the note in his hand. He was going to rip this man to shreds when he found him. No one gets to take you from him. You were his and his alone.

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

@ellaoleck @rome5683 @sxturn-stars @1-800-khaleesii @imagine-that @genevivetaylor

[creepypocky]

Hello dear! May I have a romantic and Nsfw creepypasta match-up please? Feel free to ignore this if they are closed but if you do choose to do this then thank you so much! I hope you have a great day/night!

Zodiac sign: Leo sun, Aries moon, Leo rising

Personality Type: ENTP

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Straight (For now might be bi but i'm going with straight)

I'm 5'4 and I have a very tiny body frame so i'm extremely petite and pretty small. I'm not very curvy and I literally have the body of a cereal box...lol but its fine because I have nice hips and thighs. I have thick brown hair that goes down to my back and it gets tangled pretty easily but its kinda fluffy. I have brown eyes and tiny freckles all over my face and body. I also have a very strong grunge style, like Flannels, band t-shirts, combat boots, leather jackets etc. But i'd also always enjoy a nice oversized sweatshirt or hoodie with a pair of skinny, ripped jeans and some converses or something along those lines.

For my personality.....this is where things get interesting. At first people find me very intimidating due to my resting bitch face and cold exterior but I promise i'm not like that ALL the time. When you get to know me, i'm a big extrovert, goofy and about everything that comes out of my mouth is sarcasm or some dry humored joke. I'm also that one friend in a group where they literally will do the stupidest shit ever like for an example one time it was super dark outside and my other friend was there, while I was trying to climb a tree and I failed and fell out of the tree, and landed on my back. I got straight up after that somehow it didn't hurt.....like at all? But yeah i'm super reckless and sometimes people have to save me from myself if you get what I mean. I also have a very strong "I don't give a fuck" attitude and I will not hesitate to stick up for myself or my friends....like i'm the type of person where if someone glares at me, i'll glare right back. I can have bad anxiety and I can be very self destructive. This is where my feisty, stubborn, hardheaded side comes in. If I want something then i'll fight for it even if it hurts me and i'll get into a bad cycle of putting myself down and trying to do better even if I did great the first time but I always push myself too far and other people have to stop me because I usually can't see it when its happening. I also cover my emotions up and I have a lot of trouble talking about whats bothering me or what problems i'm having emotionally so I put up a wall and I act tough, or happy and sometimes i'll be the exact opposite but I try to hide it.

Weird things about me: I've grown up in the south all my life so sometimes when I talk a few words they'll come out sounding WAYYY more country and southern then I wanted, I don't have an accent but sometimes my words just come out that way. I also love the smell of cigarette smoke....let me explain. When I was a kid my parents smoked a lot and I was used to smelling it and now it reminds me of home and is sort of comforting.

Things I like: I love swimming (I was on a swim team for about 9 years), I love horror movies, I like rain and the sounds of thunderstorms because its calming to me, I also love the smell of rain, I like cloudy days, cooking, listening to 80's and 90's rock but mainly 90's because 90's is the best, My favorite bands are Bush, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linkoln Park, Pearl jam but i'm pretty open to anything. Things I dislike: Spiders.......I will scream if I see a spider.

So for the nsfw part.....I'm very shy and i'd like it if someone guided me. But i'm 100% a Bottom and I love praise and maybe a tiny bit of degradation. I also have a big ownership kink like if someone tells me that i'm their's....then I might die. Also if they told me that they "Needed" me I would also die on the spot...in a good way. I'm also a sucker for marking like lovebites and hickies? Yes please. But please tease me and edge me because I prefer not having control so someone else being in control is just...lovely. Also pet names! Like Sunshine, Babygirl, Doll....AHHhh I might melt. Things I don't like are impact play or the whole "Daddy kink" It kinda just makes me cringe

I also don't think I really have a type but.....I do tend to love people who are brooding, and intimidating on the outside but a big teddy bear on the inside because that's how I am sometimes. I hate people who are fake or just passive aggressive because they are super annoying to deal with and honestly if you have something to say then just say it to my face rather than behind my back.

Hello :)

|| I enjoyed reading through this. I'll definitely work on it now. ||

I match you with ~ Jeff The Killer!

First off, he really likes your size and style, he has a think for small girls that can still be tough and that’s something he loves showing off when you get together lmfao, he’s like, “Yeah, my girls strong. Fuck you gonna do about it?”

Now, Jeff is a really unstable, violent guy. A lot of people (even me) don’t even see him ever being interested in being in a relationship, so when the creeps saw Jeff with his arm around you, they were immediately baffled by it.

The truth is, though, this man totally wants to have someone by his side, someone that accepts him even though he’s a killer. Someone that’s open to his feelings and is willing to look past all of the horrible shit he’s done.

You’re like that to him, it took him a very long time to get used to how he felt for you at first. At first he thought his brain was just being stupid, but Jeff isn’t dumb. He knows what these feelings feel like, and he recognized them almost immediately after that.

Jeff is really insane, and he constantly leans on you for support and depends on you to keep him leveled at times. It can get pressuring, but despite it all he always makes sure to not blame you if he ends up doing something dumb because he knows it’s not your fault.

He finds your clothing style pretty hot, he really loves badass kind of outfits with leather and band names, because as I said, he loves to show off that his girl is “cool” or something.

He thinks your resting bitch-face and cold exterior is really badass too, being around you always gives him so much confidence and its a great change from the usual fake confidence he has around everyone that he keeps up as a defense mechanism when in reality he was always pretty insecure.

I honestly think Jeff is an extrovert too, like he loves being around people and interacting with them (When they’re not normal people and don’t think he’s hideous, that is). I canon this mostly because when hes alone, then he’s also alone with his thoughts and his thoughts always end up wandering to his insecurities and what he hates about himself, but you often catch him during these times and you reassure him that everything will be okay and that you still love him.

He totally relates to being the friend that says stupidest shit, you two will often just go up to one of the creeps and just start spouting random shit. He honestly fucking loves being goofy with you, and you two are always creating awesome memories together when you prank the other creeps and sometimes each other and he honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.

When you do stupid shit that gets you in trouble or puts you in danger, he’s always quick to get to you and make sure you’re okay, he would probably panic a lot though. Like, “What the fuck, dumbass?” “How the HELL did you do that???“ as he’s frantically trying to solve the situation. Will most definitely sit there and laugh at you for a good 5-10 minutes once the whole thing is dealt with though.

You being able to stick up for your friends is one of the great qualities about you that he absolutely adores, especially since before he became a killer he would always get bullied and nobody would ever stick up for him, so one day when you defend him against a bunch of assholes it just warms his heart up and makes him feel so loved, but he most likely wont admit that.

He’d let it slip eventually though.

When you’re feeling self-destructive, he is 100% there for you. Although he’s not really the best at giving advice, he’ll still sit there with you and let you talk your heart out and will listen to every single word because he wants to show that same contribution towards you that you’ve shown him. He’ll constantly reassure you that not everything is your fault and that you’re strong, and he’ll make little promises to you.

If it was a person in particular making you feel that way though, he’d definitely make sure to pay a visit to the motherfucker.

He admires your determination to fight for the things you want, but to an extent. He hates it when you overwork yourself or push beyond your limits to the point where it destroys you, and he wants you to know that you’re not alone and you can ask for help, you don’t have to destroy yourself. He’s more than willing to stay right there, by your side.

He understands hiding your true emotions, because well, he’s had to do it a lot around the other creeps and around his family when they were still alive. So he won’t ever push you to talk about somehting if you don’t want to, but he doesn’t want you to pretend to be okay either. He’s more than willing to just lay with you and do whatever you want if it would make you feel better.

He honestly likes how you have a southern accent at times, when he’s feeling upset or like his sanity is draining, your accent really soothes him so sometimes he’ll ask you to lay it on thick because he could honestly listen to you talk to him and listen to your accent all day if he wanted to.

It’s good that you like cigarette smoke because I canon this man smokes very often.

When it storms at night, he’ll always hold you close to him with a blanket and just listen to the storm sounds with you because it soothes him too. This man is really pent up from feeling driven to constantly murder and just sitting with you listening to the rain and thunder is one of the main things that level him.

He’s really not the best.... at cooking.... but, this means you can cook often for him since he won’t for himself. B)

He will just put you in a car and drive for hours to no destination and blast that 80s and 90s music just to see that smile on your face.

This man will 100000000000% destroy any spider within a 10 mile radius of you.

He understands not liking people who are fake because there were a lot of people who talked shit about him when he went to school, and when he has a problem with someone he will always say it to their face and make them understand that they’re a piece of shit to him.

NSFW:

You like being dominated and guided? Good, because this man is at least 95% a top. He thinks it’s adorable that you’re shy and will most definitely be willing to guide you through the whole thing and tell you exactly what to do for him.

Jeff is really possessive tbh, so when he’s fucking you he will constantly say shit like,

“Fucking mine”

“You’re nobody elses“

“You belong to me, only”

This man will definitely bite you everywhere, he lives to just throw you down onto the bed and start biting everywhere on your body and making sure to leave marks just so you know exactly who owns you.

Don’t worry honey, he will spend hours just filling you with his cock and telling you that you cant cum unless you beg more, or he’ll just pull out right when you’re about to cum on him and just slap your folds with his fingers as a way to make fun of you.

He’ll call you things like, “baby” “dollface” “darling” when he’s feeling passionate but oh boy if he’s feeling angry or he’s punishing you? Be prepared to be degraded all night.

There we go <3

Sorry if this is too long lmfao, I just think that Jeff is a really misunderstood piece of shit. I hope you’re having a great day and taking care of yourself, and I hope you enjoyed this matchup. :)

[laequiem]

She kills my self control - Chapter 14

After what I assume was two days, the excitement of the coronation starts dying down. The wine I drink barely has an effect on me and I snapped more than once at people trying to suck up to me.

At first, I blamed it on the wine being bad. When my favorite honey wine did not improve my mood, I blamed the lack of sleep. But my eyes kept searching the crowd, desperately looking for a glimpse of brown hair and the curve of a human ear.

cw: unhealthy coping mechanisms (alcohol, sex); physical abuse; nsfw

read on ao3  • previous chapter • next chapter • all chapters

Chapter 14 - Oh, to love me ‘stead of passing by

In typical Elfhame fashion, the party lasts through the night and will likely last for a few more days. When the first rays of sunshine appear through the windows, I call for the revel to be moved to the palace. I retreat from the main room of Hollow Hall and make my way to my old room, eager to rid myself of the drab outfit I am wearing. I am vaguely aware of the guards following me, but I pay them no mind.

I shrug off my clothes as I make my way towards my closet. I pick a frilly shirt, whose gauzy fabric shifts from blue to purple depending on the lighting, a pair of simple black pants and a long cape made of thousands of raven feathers. I walk to my vanity and look at myself in the mirror. My tail is out, and I think about tucking it in but… no. After all, with my newfound magic, it's not the only thing that can betray my mood.

I remove the boring earring I was wearing, replacing it with many silver hoops and studs. I don a handful of rings on both hands before smearing silvery glitter on my cheeks and kohl around my eyes. Finally, I look like myself—well, myself with a crown. I tilt the crown on my head until it sits askew and… there. Perfect.

When I leave my room, I ask the nearest servant to call for a carriage, then make my way towards Balekin’s office. There are two guards planted in front of the door and two more following me when I go in. My brother is sitting with his boots on his desk, an empty bottle of whisky knocked over next to him. Scarlet moths are fluttering around him in the dim light.

"Cardan, what a surprise,” Balekin says, his tone bored.

"I believe it's High King Cardan now," I point at the crown on my head with a grin. 

He snorts and removes his legs from his desk. 

"I must admit, I underestimated you,” he leans over and rests his chin on a fist, “Or maybe it was all your mortal whore's doing?"

I close the distance between me and the desk in two long strides. I slam my hands on the desk as a bolt of thunder cracks outside, near the window. 

"Don't you fucking dare talk about her that way."

Balekin grins wide, and I realize I bit the bait. He is trying—and succeeding—to get under my skin.

"You know Elfhame needs a strong ruler. Let us duel for the crown."

"Now, why would I do that? I already have the crown."

He snarls and gets up, slamming his hands on the desk the same way I did. 

"You can't truly believe you would make a good king, you know about the—”

"I don't,” I cut in before he can start ranting about prophecies and curses and whatnot.

"Then why?,” he throws his hands up, “Don't you want the best for this kingdom? You never cared about anything."

"Perhaps I want to take everyone down with me,” I turn my back to him, then look back over my shoulder, “Or perhaps I just want to smite you.”

“Cardan, I will get that crown.”

I roll my eyes, even if he can’t see my face.

“Enough,” I say, then turn my attention to the guards, “Throw him in the Tower of Forgetting.”

----

When the carriage drops me at the palace, the dallying crowd parts, making a straight path to the throne room.

To the throne itself.

During the time I spent watching the people—my people—revelling back at Hollow Hall, my thoughts kept going back to it.

The ruination of the throne.

Perhaps the prophecy is not meant to be taken so literally. Still, I don't think I would ever get over the humiliation if I were to fall on my ass because the throne broke as I sat upon it.

The crowd kneels as I walk to the throne. Most of the lower lords and ladies are long gone, but I recognize a few familiar faces: Locke, Nicasia and many of Balekin's entourage. No trace of the Duarte family.

When I reach the throne, I turn towards the kneeling folk with an overly dramatic flip of my cape. I take a deep breath, hoping nobody will notice, and sit down.

I realize with utter relief that nothing happens. The throne did not collapse, the palace is not on fire and nobody has tried to kill me… yet. I grin widely as I look down at all who doubted me, all who rejected me.

"Rise."

-------

I partake in the revel for a few days. Servants bring me wine aplenty, girls hover around me like the flies in the stables where I grew up.

After what I assume was two days, the excitement of the coronation starts dying down. The wine I drink barely has an effect on me and I snapped more than once at people trying to suck up to me. 

At first, I blamed it on the wine being bad. When my favorite honey wine did not improve my mood, I blamed the lack of sleep. But my eyes kept searching the crowd, desperately looking for a glimpse of brown hair and the curve of a human ear. Jude did not attend the revel, only vanished after the toast. I did not expect her to gloat, but I thought she would at least be around to ensure I don't make a fool out of myself—and out of her.

She will be around, won't she? I need her to be around. Not only do I not want the responsibility of a kingdom on my shoulders, I also don't know the first thing about running one. My hands start shaking as I think of her abandoning me like this, like everyone else ever did. Use me to prevent Balekin from being King or Madoc from ruling as regent, then disappear to let me figure things out on my own.

I can't do this on my own. She should know that.

I need to find a reason to keep Jude around.

[haloud]

day 7- uranus

Michael rolls his head over the back of the lawn chair, closing his eyes, letting all the tension out of his neck and shoulders. Then he blinks his eyes open, staring up at the stars. They’re faint, light pollution from the nearby town, his eyes too unadjusted thanks to the crackling fire at his feet. He’d have to stare straight up for a long time to pick out most of his favorite stars, but the Big Dipper is an old friend, so he’s content.

A car pulls up, and then there are footsteps on the gravel approaching him. He takes a second before looking up. He likes it, that people know they can find him here in the early night. Likes that people do.

“Hey, uh…Michael?”

Michael sits up so fast he cricks his neck at the sound of Max’s voice. Wincing, he rubs it and says, “Well look what the Chupacabra dragged in.”

“Um, yeah,” Max says, doing that awkward thing he does where he rubs the knuckles of both hands together, a nervous habit he’s had most of his life. Michael kicks the chair next to him.

“Sit down, stop hovering.”

Max sits. His long legs sprawl a little too close to the fire, but Michael doesn’t say anything that might get mistaken for nagging, for taking too much care. Anything that might start a fight.

“So I’m guessing you noticed I’ve, uh, not been around a lot lately.”

Michael gropes for a beer from the sixer at his feet and pops it with his brain, taking a deep swig. If Max wants one, he can ask for it, he thinks mulishly, then hands him one anyway.

“You could say that,” Michael says shortly.

“I’m…sorry. I…learned something about our history that I don’t know how to…”

“Oh yeah?” Michael drawls. “’Bout six foot one, beard oil connoisseur, really shitty accent he thinks no one can tell is fake?”

“No, not him. This is something a little closer to home. And I didn’t know how to talk to you about it, so I…but that wasn’t fair to you. Trust me, I’ve heard that plenty from Isobel and Maria. Even Alex dropped by the Pony to give me a piece of his mind.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael says, keeping his voice impressively level. The idea that anyone would stick up for him over Max ignoring him is…not something he knows what to do with.

“Yeah, man. Scary stuff.”

Max laughs without a shred of humor, chugging half his beer at once.

“Okay, now I’m worried,” Michael says. “Just spit it out, man. I’m sure it’s nothing worse than any other shit we’ve dealt with. I am numb to bombshells at this point.”

It’s a long time before Max says anything else. Michael finishes his beer, doesn’t grab another one, just watches the leaping flames in Max’s eyes.

“A few months back when Sheriff Valenti was after me for killing Noah, she sat me down to talk about all the ways I fit the profile. Y’know, uh, white male, 18-40, anger issues...One of those ways was, uh. Troubled childhood. Tried to tell her my childhood was fine, but she pointed out that wandering the desert naked at seven years old isn’t exactly a lack of trouble. Turns out she was the deputy on our case, back then.”

“Huh.”

Explains a few things about the way she used to look at him every time he got hauled in, before she just got used to it.

“She told me that she came to see us in the group home the day Isobel and I were adopted.” Max takes a deep breath.

Stop. Michael wants to tell him to stop. Doesn’t want, doesn’t need to hear what comes next. Doesn’t remember that day, doesn’t have to. He knows, enough, from what people have told him. Can hear the screams, see the red on the walls.

“Good for her,” he grunts.

“She told me that—fuck, Michael, there’s no good way to say this—she said that. That I was the one screaming and drawing on the walls, that you…you calmed me down, but…it was too late, and the Evanses had the wrong idea, and that’s why you were left...” Max chokes off, puts a hand over his eyes. Michael doesn’t have to have his and Isobel’s connection to recognize the awful emotion crushing him.

Michael opens another beer.

“Say something,” Max almost begs.

“Why.”

Michael has to swallow around the lump in his throat, his rabbiting heartbeat.

“Why even tell me this? What fucking good does it do? I can’t—you can’t—nobody can change what happened, even if I believe you—”

“You deserved to know.”

“I wish you hadn’t told me. Since when does the world give a fuck about what I deserve?”

Max flinches. It doesn’t make Michael feel any better. Just like putting a fist in his face wouldn’t make him feel better, and neither would screaming at the world for not being fair. He did a lot of that when he was a child and still believed in a few things that might be listening.

He doesn’t take another beer, if only because only something stronger would put a dent in the feelings he wants to drown, and he doesn’t keep any of that shit around.

“Whatever. It all worked out in the end, yeah? The guy who doesn’t murder people with his hands got the short end of the stick and was therefore responsible for disposin’ of a few less bodies. Highlight of my fuckin’ life, that one. You’re welcome.”

His mind doesn’t go easy on him, whirling with images and thoughts from Max tied to the bed, Max exploding and killing Father Davis to, absurdly, would Alex have ever noticed me if I was preppy Michael Evans. He laughs just to do something with his mouth that isn’t screaming, clenching his left hand into a fist and squeezing the knuckles, though it isn’t as much of a distraction now as it used to be, without the pain.

“Hey, you wanna thank me, make me some business cards—Michael Guerin, mechanic, gravedigger, and total fuckin’ mug—”

He breaks off into more laughter, until he’s bent double, clutching his knees and wheezing.

Max hasn’t said a fuckin’ word.

“Well?” Michael demands, straightening up, looking Max in the eye.

“I don’t know, Michael, I don’t know! I don’t know what to do with any of it, I don’t know what to do with, with you, with everything you’ve sacrificed for Isobel and for me, I don’t know how to be worthy of it, I don’t know how to thank you, I don’t, I don’t know.”

Michael rocks back in his chair, face pointed up at the sky again, drinking in the constellations until he covers his eyes with his hands and lets out a shout of frustration. Everything around them not bolted down lifts and inch and slams back down for emphasis.

Calmer, then, Michael says, “We were seven year old newborns. I’m pretty sure I didn’t do it for gratitude.”

“No, you couldn’t have. Which means you just did it on instinct. It’s just who you are. You protect us, and we, and we…”

“Don’t,” Michael cuts him off, wearily. He doesn’t need to hear any self-recriminations.

“No, Michael, come on. The things you’ve done, the ways you’ve been hurt, you…there aren’t words to describe the gratitude, I just...Thank you, Michael.”

The only sound after that is the crackling fire, and in that silence, Michael floats Max over another beer.

It would be easier if Michael could resent him. If he could want to go back and do it all over again without knowing in a place deep enough in him it could be his cells or a sickness that he’d do the exact same thing, go through all that hell a second time, a third.

“Nobody can change the past,” he says eventually. It’s something Sanders used to say to him any time he made a mistake, when he was just a kid and learning and not a certified ace mechanic who ought to know better. It’s weird, to Michael, right here and right now, having the wisdom of somebody else in his mouth.

This life hasn’t had all bad things.

“But we can try and change the future,” Max says. “I know I’ve done a hell of a job of it these past weeks, but I don’t want to pretend like we don’t know this. I want things to be better between us. I want to be a better brother.”

“Oh yeah? Like how?” Michael’s voice slips into mockery; he doesn’t try to prevent it. “Find me a job that you don’t want? Toss me a hand me down phone when you get an upgrade? Biweekly pity parties? Been there, done that, was given the t-shirt against my will.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe! Just not like that, man, we’re not kids anymore. Maybe we could, I don’t know, try to figure out what being better means together? No more sacrifices. No more charity.”

Michael picks at the label of his latest empty bottle. 

Voice quiet, almost inaudible over the crackle of the fire, Max says, “Dude, my heart only beats because of what you did for me. I came back to life knowing that. This just puts it into perspective.”

“I didn’t do that alone. Liz and Valenti were just as important. More. Rosa kickstarted you. I was just the assist.”

“Michael.” 

“What?”

“What do you need from me? What will help you understand how much you mean to Isobel and me. It’s not charity, man. It’s family. We keep saying that, but I think we need to do a better job defining it, you know?”

What does he need. It’s such a rare question he doesn’t know the answer.

“Free drinks at the Pony for life, a nice, cozy alibi, and your head on a pike instead of mine when Maria finds out.” he says.

Max laughs, the sound strained but genuine, his head thrown back to face the stars.

[sidecarghost]

Spn 12x11 “Regarding Dean” Canon Divergent Destiel Fic

Suptober20 - Day 26 Walk of Shame

Notes: Dean and Castiel both get a chance to ride the mechanical bull in this canon div fic.

Dean feels a cool breeze and reaches for a blanket to wrap himself in. But his hand finds nothing but... grass? His head pounds and his eyes protest as he wills them open. So, at some point his latest escapades got him passed out in a field. He pushes himself up into a seated position. The feral bunny that had been nuzzled into his side gives him a look of reproach.

“Hey little buddy,” Dean tells the bunny. “Do you know how I got here?”

The bunny hops away. Dean realizes he is missing some things like his phone, car keys, and clothes. He just has his brown bear boxer-briefs on. So last night either went really well or really bad. Sam would know. Just gotta give him a call. Dean walks in a random direction hoping to find someone for help.

Dean doesn’t have to look long, as he almost trips over a dude sleeping along the trail. This guy is following Dean’s trend of wearing underwear as sleepwear for the great outdoors. “Hey,” Dean reaches a foot out to tap the sleeping dude.

“Hey yourself,” a deep voice groggily answers.

“Cas?” Dean questions.

The not quite awake Castiel rolls over and squints at Dean. “Hello Dean,” he says. “You aren’t wearing any pants.” Castiel informs his friend.

“Yeah Cas,” Dean responds. “I’m not the only one.”

“So it would seem. Let me know when you solve the mystery of our wayward clothes.” Castiel yawns and begins to nod off again.

***

“Cas, what are you doing? You don’t sleep remember?”

“That does sound like something I’ve said,” Castiel admits.

“Come on buddy. Let’s try to find someone that can help us.” Dean tells the nearly comatose angel.

Castiel moans in a way that Dean decides is unfairly pornographic. Dean then finds himself staring as Castiel performs a full body stretch by reaching his arms back behind his head and stretching his feet out in the opposite direction. This maneuver causes all the well toned muscles on Castiel’s body to flex. Damn, Dean thinks, walking with Castiel in his underwear just got way more awkward.

“I’m going up the trail. Catch up when you can,” Dean tells Castiel as he hastily retreats away from his friend.

After a few minutes, Castiel has caught up to Dean on the trail and they see a park up ahead. Dean would rather not get arrested for public indecency, so he tries to think of a plan to somehow get a phone without exposing himself.

“Cas we can’t just walk into a park in our skivvies,” Dean says. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Um... if Sam was an angel we could pray to him to bring us clothes.”

“Do we know any angels that aren’t dicks and could help us?” Dean asks.

“No,” Castiel admits. “Networking has always been a challenge for me.“

“No worries Cas, nobody’s perfect.” Dean responds. As Dean considers their next move, he notices a runner in the park. The runner is the size of a small giant, and he has his trademark long, flowing hair partially covered by a beanie. “Hey Cas, look we are saved!” Dean shouts, “SAMMY!”

Sam turns at the sound of his name and runs up to Dean and Castiel. “Uh, why are you guys wearing nothing but your underwear in the woods?”

“I don’t know Sammy. Cas and I just woke up here. I can’t remember anything from yesterday.” Dean tells his brother.

“I know what happened. Apparently the memory curse doesn’t affect angels.” Castiel tells the brothers. “Dean and I went to a bar last night, and the bar had a mechanical bull.”

“Oh, wow a mechanical bull! How awesome is that?” Dean says excitedly.

“Yeah, you said the same thing last night, Dean. Anyway, Dean dared me to ride the bull. I knew if my vessel had full range of motion I would have more success at riding through the bucks.

“So I removed my trench coat, suit jacket, tie, and shirt. I still had my wifebeater on to preserve my vessel’s decency. I also removed my shoes and socks and hiked up my pants to help with gripping the bull between my legs. Dean must have been impressed with my performance because I could feel his eyes fixed on me while I rolled my hips through every buck that bull took me on.

“After my turn, I asked Dean what he thought of my riding. He responded with some unintelligible swear words. I went to grab my shirt, but Dean grabbed me by the arm before I could put it back on. I turned to look at him, and Dean fixed his eyes on mine.

“Dean had lowered his voice to barely a whisper when he told me I made him jealous of the bull. I have heard trillions of romantic declarations during my existence, but Dean’s utterance was easily the most romantic thing ever said by your species. So I kissed Dean. I haven’t kissed a lot but I thought the kiss was good, and that I would like to keep kissing Dean for the next several eons until the Sun consumed the Earth and we both became stardust.

“I was relieved to find out Dean seemed to also have a good opinion on the kiss, because we kept on kissing. We let our tongues lazily discover the sensation of slowly tracing out each other’s mouths. The sensation was very enjoyable.”

“That’s nice, Cas. But I think we should focus on the part of your memories that deals with you guys getting cursed,” Sam tells Castiel.

Dean gives Sam a bitchface and then tells Castiel, “Just ignore Sammy, Cas. I want to hear more about the things we did last night,” Dean says with something that sounds like longing in his voice.

“So eventually,” Castiel continues, “Dean wanted a turn at the bull too. He decided to follow my method and also stripped down to his undershirt. Dean hopped onto the bull and then waved me over asking me to join him.”

“Um... is this really relevant to getting cursed?” Sam asks.

“Shhh, don’t interrupt Sammy,” Dean says. “How did things go with the two of us on the bull Cas?”

“It was a little different from riding the bull solo,” Castiel reflects. “I got in position in front of you. And we leaned into each other in rhythm with the mechanical bucks. Our legs tangled together as we thrust through the motion. Dean wrapped one arm around my waist, and I gripped his arm back with one of mine.”

“My vessel began getting aroused from the whole experience. And I could feel evidence of Dean’s arousal each time he rolled his hips behind me. Dean suggested we go to the Impala at this point.”

“Holy shit Cas! I do not want to hear about you and my brother having sex in the Impala,” Sam complains.

“Well, then you are in luck Sam because we did not get that far. We had stripped off everything left but our underwear. I hadn’t realized what a brilliant construction the human somatosensory system was before last night. Every nerve receptor was set on fire from the feel of Dean’s finger tips touching my skin. Dean asked if his touches felt good, and I tried to make the most eloquent response possible with a ragged moan. I had once thought soulmates spending eternity in Heaven with just each other for company probably got boring. But last night I felt like spending forever in the Impala with Dean would be the most wonderful thing imaginable. And that forever wouldn’t be nearly enough time.

“But then this drunk guy stumbled and bumped into the Impala. I recognized him as the witch we were hunting. Dean and I burst out of the backseat to run the witch down. We ended up chasing him into these woods, but we both ran a little slower than usual because we didn’t have any footwear protecting our feet.

“Our delay gave the witch ahead of us enough time to cast a spell. The effects of the spell caused us both to go unconscious, and apparently also caused Dean to lose his memories. But I know all the witch’s info, so we should go to his family’s home to break the curse. Then Dean will get his memories back, and we can pick up where we left off.”

“Fuck yeah, let’s go already,” Dean agrees.

“Okay, okay just meet me by the road up 1/4 mile where it stays close to the woods. You can jump in the back seat of my rental car without being seen by anyone.” Sam says.

“Awesome, Sammy we will see you in a few minutes then.” Dean tells his brother. Sam nods and turns away to walk over to the parking lot on the far end of the park.

Dean and Castiel begin to walk further into the woods in the direction Sam pointed to them. Dean looks over at his friend and smiles at Castiel, and Castiel can feel the heat rushing to his vessel’s face. Dean reaches a hand out, and Castiel smiles softly back to Dean as he tenderly entwines their fingers together.

Dean thought about how he had been wanting to kiss Castiel ever since he had met him, and now he was pissed that some asshole witch had taken that away from him. But holding Castiel’s hand helped simmer the rage building in his blood. Castiel always helped ground him when everything else seemed to spiral out of control. He wished he could remember the feel of Castiel’s lips on his own.

Dean pauses on the trail, and he looks at Castiel and says almost shyly, “Cas, I was thinking we could try another first kiss before I get my memories back.”

“I would like that, Dean,” Castiel says with a smile.

“Only thing is, I should have asked Sam for a mint because I’m sure I got some wicked morning breath,” Dean laments.

“I’m an angel of the lord, Dean. I can fix morning breath,” Castiel says. Castiel continues to hold Dean’s hand with one of his own, and reaches his other hand towards Dean’s face. He then traces a finger over Dean’s lips. Dean playfully catches Castiel’s finger with his mouth and sucks down on it. Dean is rewarded with a sexy moan from Castiel, and the feeling of clean, minty freshness on his teeth and tongue. Castiel’s finger is let free from Dean’s mouth, and Dean resolutely determines to give Castiel a kiss that an immortal being would remember for the rest of their existence.

~~

Sam has been waiting on the side of the road for the past 45 minutes. He figures he knows exactly what is happening in the woods, and although he is happy that his brother and best friend found love, having to wait while they are hooking up is not how he wants to spend his morning. He considers driving back to the motel and leaving Dean and Castiel to walk back on their own.

And Sam chuckles at the thought of a billion year old angel doing the walk of shame with his brother. Fighting the supernatural takes a lot more away from the brothers, than it ever gives. But sometimes the universe conspires to make everything fun and ridiculous again. Sam checks the trunk for a duffle bag with a couple sets of spare clothes. He drops the bag and a burner phone in a place where it seems obvious from the woods, but isn’t visible to passing motorists.

Sam gets back in the driver seat and starts the car. As he drives back to the motel, he enjoys laughing to himself every time he thinks of Dean’s face when he realizes he’ll be walking back to the motel.

[dweetwise]

day 21: i don’t feel so well

prompt from: whumptober pairing: felix x ace notes: the hanahaki au nobody asked for. i’m still a little confused about the trope but i tried <3 warnings: descriptions of illness, injury and blood, temporary character death word count: 3130

“That was awesome! She didn't stand a chance!” Steve cheers.

“That's what she gets for camping. What a bitch!” Nea laughs

Ace grins despite the pain, steadying himself against Jeff's sturdy form while the four of them are making their way back to the campfire after a successful trial.

His head is swimming and there's blood staining his teeth, his back stinging from numerous bloody gashes from the killer's katana. But he's alive, even if he had to crawl out through the exit, his teammates not letting the Spirit secure the kill on him.

When they get back to camp, Steve and Nea are off to spin the tale of their rescue to the others, and Ace can't help but smile when they generously color the experience; just like he would.

Jeff supports him to sit down against one of the logs, offering a somewhat awkward "There you go, buddy" in encouragement.

Ace sees Quentin hand Claudette one of his med-kits and then the group's resident healer approaches him with determined steps.

“Hey, sweetheart—” Ace starts with a grin.

“Stalling isn't going to work,” Claudette shoots him down quickly, seeing right through his act. So Ace sighs dramatically and shrugs off his jacket, and the girl immediately hikes up his shirt to start cleaning the wounds on his back.

Ace hisses from the sting of some kind of alcohol, turning his attention back to the others to try to distract himself from the pain.

Most of the others are listening to to Steve's and Nea's story while the rest are scattered around camp, doing their own things. Kate is tuning her guitar, Jake is stocking one of his toolboxes, and Cheryl seems to be practicing the card trick Ace taught her a couple of days ago.

And then there's Felix.

Finally giving himself permission to look at the handsome German, Ace's heart immediately starts beating faster. He's not even doing anything, just sitting by the fire engrossed in a conversation with Zarina, but Ace is so infatuated even just Felix breathing is almost enough to make him blush.

He thought he was too old for schoolboy crushes like these, but then again how could he not fancy Felix? The guy has some absolutely god-tier genes, a chiseled face and ice blue eyes and a body to die for. He’s also smart, and sophisticated, and filthy rich.

And god knows none of those qualities had ever been Ace's strong suit.

At first Ace had thought his hyperfixation on the man was jealousy, but then his body showed him that was definitely not the case; he didn't want to be Felix, he wanted to be in Felix. The realization didn't phase him as much as it maybe should have, because even the straight-as-a-board Ash had commented on Felix's good looks. And Ace sure as hell wasn't even straight to begin with.

No, his panic had come from when he'd caught himself looking at couples like Jeff and Adam being mushy together and imagined himself and Felix in their place.

Ace had a healthy amount of confidence, though the others might not describe it that kindly, but he wasn't blind. Felix was younger than him, maybe not by an impossible amount but still enough to be noticeable. He was also model-tier gorgeous with a body to match, and while Ace wasn't bad-looking he also had a crooked nose and a build solely used for drinking and gambling.

All in all, he recognized when someone was out of his league, and even though he couldn't resist a cheeky flirt ever now and then, he knew his feelings would never be returned.

But he still allowed himself to look; sue him.

He's in the middle of an indulgent daydream about laying his head on Felix's lap like Kate is doing to Yui on the other side of camp, all the while effortlessly keeping up small talk with Claudette tending to his wounds.

And then he starts coughing.

It's not a normal dry cough, it wracks his entire body and keeps going, and he curls in on himself because damn it’s making his throat hurts and his lungs ache something fierce.

“Ace, what's wrong?” Claudette's worried voice cuts through the attack. He tries to reply but it just makes him cough more, and it's not stopping—

Something slimy lands in the palm he's using to cover his mouth and then he can breathe again, taking sharp gasps of air while his throat tingles from the abuse.

He looks at whatever piece of his organs he managed to cough up, the Spirit's blade probably having rearranged some of his guts. He opens his hand and sees—

A flower?

It's absolute covered in blood, but there's no mistaking it, a single flower sitting in the palm of his hand with some loose petals surrounding it.

Why did he cough up a flower? Where did he even get it? It looks like some sort of cherry blossom, a far cry from the Entity's pustulas or the forest bouquets they pick and use for offerings.

“Are you okay?" Claudette asks, moving to kneel beside him in worry. When she sees the flower, she gasps in surprise.

“What happened?” Meg is quick to join her friend, coming up behind Ace to peer over his shoulder. “Uh… did that flower come out of you?”

“I… guess so?” Ace says, his voice raspy and throat protesting being used.

“So you just, like… ate it? Before?” Steve cocks his head in confusion.

“Come on now, I'm not that stupid,” Ace snorts, some of his worry giving way to amusement over the incredulous situation.

“Then what the hell was that?” Meg asks, scrunching her face up in thought while poking at the gross flower.

“I’m pretty sure I know what’s wrong,” Adam raises his voice from across camp, straightening his back when all eyes turn to him. “It’s an illness, I recognize the symptoms."

“Can't say I've ever heard of a disease that makes you barf petals,” Ash offers, clearly skeptical, and Ace shares the sentiment.

“Shh, hear him out!” Laurie scolds.

"It's a Japanese folk story,” Adam explains. “Flowers start growing in a person's lungs, causing coughing and bleeding and..." he hesitates.

“Well?” Meg demands.

"And ultimately resulting in death, unless the condition is cured," Adam says grimly.

“Are you talking about hanahaki?” Yui pipes up before anyone can question the weird statement. “You know that's just a shojo manga trope, right?”

“It's also mentioned in historical literature,” Adam argues, though from the way he refuses to meet Yui's gaze, he seems to be embarrassed over the subject.

“Dude, nobody cares if you read girl comics, just tell us what the cure is,” Feng snorts, and that's probably the most concern Ace has ever seen her display over his well-being.

“It's—” Adam starts, before faltering, awkwardly scratching at his neck while looking at the ground. “Supposedly caused by unrequited love.”

There's dead silence in the camp.

And then Nea bursts out laughing.

“Jesus, what a story!” the tagger snickers. “Can you imagine Ace as a fairytale princess?”

“Honey, I think you might have gotten some myths mixed up,” Jeff says diplomatically, patting Adam's knee affectionately.

“Yeah, you probably just inhaled a flower in your sleep or something,” Steve encourages Ace.

“I'm pretty sure this is just a practical joke from our dear spidery overlord,” Ace chuckles and pointedly doesn't look Felix's way. Come next trial, his injuries will have healed anyway, including the weird burn in his lungs.

But they don’t.

Trial after trial, the Entity resurrects him and heals all of his wounds but the coughing persists, more and more flowers following.

Even the others are getting worried.

“That's it, bud,” Ash offers, patting his back while Ace is wheezing for breath after coughing up some more petals. “It's just a weird flu, you'll be good as new soon.”

“At least the flowers go with my shirt,” Ace jokes, voice reduced to a rasp, clearing his throat. “Pink was always my color.”

He's trying to keep his and the others' spirits high, since there doesn't seem to be anything they can do to fix the situation.

“We need to do something,” Ace hears Laurie hiss to Dwight, apparently disagreeing with his sentiment.

“B-but how can we even help him?” their leader, bless his heart, looks genuinely upset over Ace's condition.

“Maybe we should try Adam's suggestion," Laurie says.

“Yeah, except you know he wouldn’t tell us even if he did like someone,” Yui huffs from beside them. “Good luck getting an answer out of a compulsive liar.”

Ouch, but also fair. Ace sure as hell isn't going to reveal his dumb little crush, especially since Felix has avoided him since this entire goddamn flower thing started. He knows there's only a slim chance that Felix realizes what's really going on, but it still feels like rejection nonetheless.

He can deal with this. Even if it kills him, the Entity will just bring him back anyway. It's not even that bad.

But then it gets so much worse.

After a week, Ace is laying on his side while black spots dance around in his vision and he struggles to draw enough wheezy breaths into his lungs. His chest hurts, and his throat is so sore even just the air passing through burns like fire. He hasn't been able to speak in days, and that's almost worse than the pain, not being able to use his only coping mechanism of running his mouth until something sticks to lighten the mood.

His head is cushioned on Kate's thigh and he gets a tiny bit of satisfaction from the knowledge that at least he managed to lay in one pretty blonde's lap before dying, even if it’s the wrong one. The touch is comforting nonetheless, though the fact that it’s accompanied by Kate's girlfriend practically screaming in his ear kind of puts a damper on the whole thing.

“I swear to god, I will make every single person in this camp kiss you, do not test me,” Yui threatens, one of the few who haven't given up on curing him. “Is it Jane? Bill?”

If Ace had the energy, he'd probably laugh about her choices, curious as to why those two were the ones she picked. As it stands, he merely stares at her, wondering if his eyes look as dull and lifeless as he feels.

“He's going to die,” Jake says from somewhere to his side, but Ace doesn't even bother turning his head or denying the statement. Hurried voices shush the saboteur while Kate starts humming a melody to distract him, Yui glaring absolute daggers in Jake’s general direction.

His next trial, Jake's prediction comes true.

Ace collapses to the ground in the midst of a coughing fit. The flowers are growing even bigger now, he can feel them tearing at his throat and vocal cords, retching when they trigger his gag reflex on their way out. His vision blurs and then goes black, body finally giving up as the illness consumes him.

He's not even injured from the killer, but the pool of blood he falls into is big enough to cover the entire side of his face. He lays there, not sure if he's even breathing, just thankful that the awful coughing has stopped for at least a moment.

When he comes to, he expects the small comfort of the campfire before he has to go through the same thing again. Instead, he doesn't have enough energy to even open his eyes, slowly realizing he's still in the trial.

It takes him even longer to realize he's being held partly off of the ground, his body hanging limply in someone’s grasp. He idly wonders if a killer is going to mercy hook him, but then he hears something.

Crying.

Focusing on the sound, Ace realizes he's not just being lifted, he's being held in someone's arms. Someone is holding his near-dead body and crying.

With both his mind and body broken from suffering for so long, he allows himself to imagine it's Felix, even though he knows it's not true. Felix has shown he doesn't care, not talking to him and being so grossed out by his symptoms he’s barely even looked at him—

“Das tut mir leid,” is whispered against his hair, and Ace wonders if he's hallucinating or if his brain has given up on speech comprehension, because that sounded an awful lot like German.

Suddenly, he gains some of his strength back, his chest not feeling nearly as tight as it has for the past few days.

“Felix?” Ace asks, and even though it comes out as a raspy whisper, it's impossible to miss in the stillness of the quiet moment. The surprised hitch of breath he gets in response sounds impossibly loud, and he manages to blink awake just enough to see the tear-streaked, wide-eyed face of the person he never thought he could have.

And that's when the Entity decides he's bled on the ground long enough and he blacks out from blood loss.

When Ace comes to, he's no longer in pain. He can breathe. And he wants nothing more than to get back to camp and be reassured that he wasn't imagining Felix being there for him in his final moments.

He runs to the campfire, panting from exertion once he's illuminated by the familiar glow and shocked faces turn to look at him.

“What the—did you run here!?” Meg exclaims incredulously.

“Yeah,” Ace says, eyes scanning the small crowd of familiar faces, so focused on finding a particular one he doesn't even realize the implications of managing to speak without issue.

“Your voice!” Kate exclaims happily, and Ace pauses to collect some of his thoughts.

“Shit, you're right,” he says, a smile tugging on his lips for the first time in what feels like weeks.

“Welcome back, you bastard!” Nea cheers and flings herself at him in a sideways hug, and Ace stumbles to catch himself from falling, chuckling at her antics.

Claudette is sobbing, looking impossibly relieved, and the others are cheering among themselves, though Ace can't make out the contents because he sees a familiar figure making its way to camp and his entire world zones in on that person.

Felix looks up at the sound of the commotion, and Ace's heart breaks a little over how puffy his eyes still look, but then their eyes meet and Felix looks so hopeful—

“Hey,” Ace says, and it probably gets drowned out by the others, but Felix's eyes widen in recognition and he starts walking faster.

“Are you…?” Felix asks, close enough for Ace to hear him over the others shouting.

“He's fixed!” Nea answers for him, finally letting go of the almost painful hug in favor of smacking Ace on the back encouragingly.

Felix glances at Nea but quickly looks back at Ace, waiting for confirmation.

“Yeah, I… guess I'm cured,” Ace says, and it almost feels weird to hear his own voice again. “Or... You know, I hope so.”

Because he's still not sure about Felix's feelings, and he has no idea where they're going to go from here.

But he doesn't need to worry, because Felix's face lights up in a way he's never seen before, letting out a disbelieving, genuine laugh. And then he's stepping forward and cupping his cheek and Ace only has time to blink in confusion before his head is tilted up into a kiss.

“Woah,” Ace hears Nea exclaim, her hand leaving his back like burned. “This, uh… this is new.”

Ace smiles into the kiss and tunes out the rest of her and the others’ surprised babbling, grabbing Felix by the collar of his dress shirt and pulling him deeper into the kiss.

When neither of them are making a move to pull away, their friends seem to be getting fidgety from the show.

“Why don’t we go for a stroll in the woods?” Kate suggests, and the chorus of “Sure!” “Great idea!” and “Oh fuck yes get me out of here” that follow are enough for a laugh to bubble up in Ace’s throat and get swallowed by Felix’s mouth.

When the last pair of footsteps have hurried away, Felix deems it appropriate to finally break away from the kiss. Though he doesn’t go far, burying his head into the crook of Ace’s neck and shoulder and wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug.

“Welcome back,” Felix murmurs against his skin, and the warm affection spreading through Ace’s chest is a welcome change from the constant pain he’s been in for way too long.

“Didn’t expect such a thorough welcome,” Ace can’t resist flirting, hands sneaking up to rest on Felix’s incredibly firm back. The chuckle he gets in return reverberates through both of their bodies due to how close they are, and Ace wonders if Felix can hear his heart frantically beating in excitement.

“I’m… shit,” Felix eventually sighs, lifting his head to meet Ace’s eyes. “I don’t know how to make up for being an idiot. I just watched you suffer and didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” Ace says, but now he’s curious. “Why did you avoid me?”

“Because I was afraid that I'd get the illness too,” Felix says, looking at the ground in shame. “I thought any one of us could get it, and because of how I feel about you… I was scared I was next.”

The confirmation that Felix had feelings for him even before this whole clusterfuck started is enough to make more butterflies dance in Ace’s gut, a flush creeping up his neck over how the other is openly spilling his heart.

“If I’d have known I was the one causing it, I would have done something sooner. I’m so sorry," Felix murmurs, looking at him with sad puppy eyes.

“Hey, it's not like I was being very cooperative,” Ace points out, giving his most encouraging smile. “It's not your fault, it's the dumb flower sickness.”

“I'm sorry you had to go through that, regardless,” Felix frowns. “But… I'm glad it lead us here,” he adds with a bashful smile that makes Ace’s heart do a couple leaps.

“Figures the best and worst things of my life would happen simultaneously,” Ace flirts, and apparently Felix enjoys being called the best thing in his life, because his sappy smile widens even further.

Ace can’t resist diving in for another taste, capturing smiling lips in a kiss that lasts even longer than the first one and makes their friends groan and complain about “Geez, you’re still going?” when they rejoin them at the campfire.

[cheekina]

ISLAMOFASCIST

It can be quite tough to recognise the emergence and symptoms of fascism in this country.

There are neither cadres of malay wearing brown, black, red or putting on scarfs of chequered patterns nor the sound of jackboots marching here and there. Yes, there are those malay kids wearing punk gear and hairstyles wandering confused around Ipoh town and getting mistakenly branded as black metal acolytes and devil worshippers but those guys are really harmless. A little odd but harmless. It is encouraging that the past week has seen Malaysia sounding the call for the formation of a Global Movement of Moderates. The world is very much in need of moderation in more ways than one. But here in Malaysia, if the call is to mean something more than a public relations exercise, we will need to do some self-reflection and soul searching to see whether we ourselves have passed the test of moderation, particularly when it comes to religion. I stated that Malaysia is on the verge of religious fascism. It seems that when it comes to religion in this country, we are unable to say NO, to argue reasonably and rationally, or to even use common sense. What is even more alarming is the use of religion to intimidate, repress and stifle discourse. More than ever before, the line between public and private religion has become thinner and in some cases has disappeared altogether. Aspects of religion, specifically Islam, has begun to dominate and dictate various previously secular aspects of life in this country to the point that it is now erroneous and misleading to state that issues pertaining to Muslim affairs do not affect or impact on non-Muslims. We have seen some movement which allow for Islamic religious authorities to raid the places of worship of other religions. We have heard and experienced blatant unsubstantiated statements intended to create fear and whip up hysteria by accusing others of proselytisation and conversion.   It took 29 years before a church could be established in Ipoh due to the unwillingness and resistance put up by local authorities who felt that their own aqidah would be threatened for allowing a place of workships belonging to another faith to be established. Nobody told them that their personal faith should not be a factor in their decision making. The list is longer when we include what is being inflicted upon the Muslim community itself. Infants are judged illegitimate as a result of being born prematurely. The parents are married? Doesn’t matter. If the kid was born less than six months from the date of nikah, he or she is considered illegitimate. The Majlis Agama Islam Perak(MAIP) is more known and infamous for its numerous vice raids around Ipoh City than its acts of welfare and good work helping those in need and poverty. Pergi kerja untuk menangkap orang tengah kongkek lagi best dari tolong orang islam yang sangat sangat sangat memerlukan. What a shame! If you are a Malay woman, Muslim, a civil servant or a local university student, there is an unspoken rule that you are expected to wear only the baju kurung, loose shirt and if you are not wearing the tudung or headscarf, sooner or later you will be peer pressured into wearing it. Wear any other professional attire such as a pantsuit and you will be quietly spoken to. Wear a pant or jeans to attend classes and people will assume you as “disturbing” or “perempuan sundal”. Like many others, I have long been concerned about the religionization of secular mechanisms and frameworks. Have you taken a look at the e-Fatwa website recently? It boggles the mind to see the degree of influence, control and intervention into our lives which has been granted to religious authorities who are largely unelected persons who are unaccountable to the public.

My opinion : It seems that syariah matters nowdays are no longer limited to personal law matters as originally underlined and envisaged under the Federal Constitution. It is disturbing to note that involvement of Islamic religious bodies such as the National Fatwa Council appears to be required and even have the final word on perspectives involving such things as electoral reform (i.e. the use of indelible ink), Mat Rempits, poco-poco dancing, public health policy and even the use of scanners at airports. In recent days, religious authorities have even acted as book critics and declared books haram such as “Breaking the Silences: Voices of Moderating Islam in a Constitutional Democracy”. But the reason why this is all happening is because we are allowing it to happen. There are many who lay the blame of the religious excessiveness seen of late at the doorstep of Malay-speaking rural communities. But you know what? I believe the problem lies instead among those of the middle class living in the cities, particularly in the enclaves which exist in Shah Alam, Kuala Lumpur, Putrajaya, Malacca and Johor Baru. In these almost ghetto-like Malay communities spring the many insecurities, intolerance, bigotry and racism which have manifested themselves on the national agenda and championed by persons such as Papagomo, Hadi Awang, Fynn Jamal and the boys and girls of the PPGM brigade. SCREW THEM! The “ideas” originate from people who are not economically challenged, deprived or impoverished rather they are more likely to be the privileged, well-educated, well-travelled and moneyed. They are more likely to have been educated abroad. Yet, these are the ones who are most rabid about the alleged threats to the Islamic faith. Many of them are in their retirement years, consider themselves devout and recently renewed in their faith. They are influencing the younger generation with their views and values. Trust me, those holier-than-thou pakciks or makciks are much more worst than us when they were younger. Yet among them, religious piety co-exists with superstitious practices. Consider the current trend of enrolling your kids in tahfiz classes. Parents are racing to get their very young kids into these classes where they are taught to read and memorize the entire Quran. They aren’t taught what the individual words mean or the historical context. Just memorize. So, your son can recite whole chapters but has no idea what the story is about. These kids have become the latest show and tell of parents and the latter’s store for good deeds for the hereafter. In the meantime, daughters are taught that it is necessary to thoroughly wash sanitary napkins to prevent the Devil feeding on menstruation blood and gaining access to one’s soul. Bomohs (shamans) are used for a myriad of purposes from weather control to dealing with business rivals. These are all symptomatic of a strangeness currently inflicting the Malay community. It seems that there are many who appear to be gripped in some sort of religious rapture. A race to see who can be seen and demonstrate themselves to be the most pious. The extreme manifestations of this have been the loud militant religious rhetoric, threats towards those of other faiths and the enforcement of a single interpretation or religious worldview. If a person is not a Malay and not a Muslim, that person is deemed as having no right to comment on things affecting Muslims. If a person is non-Malay and a Muslim, we say things are done differently here in Malaysia compared to other countries. If a person is a Malay Muslim, this person is deemed to not know enough about Islam. If a person is a Malay Muslim with the right credentials, he or she could get censored, condemned and even accused of sedition.  The loudest voices (and those who often get their way) are those belonging to the people who are less tolerant and accepting of others, who feel the need to dominate others in the name of religion and ethnicity, and who claim to be champions of the faith. Taken together, many of these are the budding signs of fascism which are no longer confined to fringe groups and have in fact become mainstream. Religious fascism is a tapeworm in the gut of modern Malaysia. It is time we recognize it for what it is.

[mikenips]

Pinheads

“What the fuck are you doing back here?  You aren’t even working tonight.”  One of the other managers at Bowlero, the new bowling alley and venue, says to me.

“I’m playin’ tonight.”  We all wish we had known the Stools were doin’ a live album recording down at OLL tonight before we booked it though.  Rae said Chuck told her before I picked her up that they don’t play till midnight.  So the goal is to rush the sets so we can get there in time for their set.

“That explains the war paint on the eyes.”  Chip, the mechanic that once got fired as a carny, says as he spits dip into a coffee cup.  “Ya know ya got some jeans with those holes though Mike?”  Damn.  That’s pretty clever.

My mom’s side of the family is down at lane one.  And my dad’s side is hangin’ in the lounge.  Even my uncle from New Mexico is in town for the holidays.  Jordan is setting up the kit.  Sound checkin’ the violin.  Drew walks into the storage room that doubles as a green room for gigs.  Me and Greg the bartender are hittin’ a vaporizer before I get on stage.  We play first.  “You see how Drew walked in here man?  He walked up like he owns this bitch!”

And the scene really does own this bitch.  I’m the bar manager at twenty one.  Drew just started training to bartend.  Dom works the front desk here and there.  Everyone else askin’ if we can pull some strings to get them hired or booked.  Just waitin’ on Sugar Tradition.  Gotta make sure they don’t get carded.  The kids are still in high school.  And we’re eighteen up.  Like the owners would really care though.  They got history too.  One of ‘em owning the Garden Bowl.  The other is one of the top lawyers in Oakland County.  Used to own the Falcon Club in Hamtramck in the nineties.  Actually even was Johnny’s lawyer to get Outer Limits their liquor license.

We open with “Haunted House.”  I’m fuckin’ baked.  And already forgettin’ the lyrics.  That shot of jezy Greg fed me probably didn’t help.  Nobody is here yet besides my family.  A few members of the Hand.  And some Royal Oakies waitin’ on lanes that don’t understand what the fuck is happening.  We’re botchin’ even our classics.  At least the Oakies are gettin’ a real weird show.

Yelp into a drone cover of “Real Cool Time” as Jordan saws away at his violin behind me.  Antonio rollin’ across the stage in front of me.  Glad they got in alright.

Fuck it.  We got a show to get to tonight.  “This is gonna be our last one.”  A piece of glitter falls into the corner of my eye.  “It’s about when it’s five am.  You’re blacked out.  Shirtless.  Pissin’ on the side of a 7-11.  Smokin’ a spliff.  Shotgunnin’ a tall boi.  If you could all raise your drinks.”  Rip through “Miller High Life” before boltin’ for a cig while Sugar Tradition sets up.

“Dude!”  Jordan says to me as we load some gear into the car.  “I think that was the worst set we ever played.”

Dee comes up behind us.  “What are you talkin’ about?  That’s the best part about Just Guys Being Dudes.  There’s no bad sets.  Every set is it’s own experience.  I really dug it.  The owner was behind me and Rae vibin’ too.”

Take a drag.  “Thanks Dee.  That means a lot to me.”

Walk back inside.  Didn’t even realize how many people had showed up.  Sean’s dad, my old high school film teacher, is here.  Still doesn’t know he showed my dick at the student film show at the end of the year.  Even fuckin’ Ian Ruhala showed his bitch ass.  There’s no way that was coincidental.  Not when his girlfriend’s sister is performing with Zilched at the Stools show.  Joey’s gonna lose his shit when he gets here from the wedding.

“That was sick Michael!”  My coworker Reagan says to me.  “Wanna celebrate by doin’ a shot of Jager with me?  You don’t even gotta give me a drink ticket.”  I’m about to be trashed tonight.  What am I talkin’ about?  I already am.

“Why not?  I’m gonna need seven shots of jezy too though.”

“Wakin’ up I got a nothin’ to do!”  Sugar T kicks into one of their many rippers.

Cy, my GM, walks over to me.  “These guys are really good.”  I can barely make out her words over Kevin’s spastic style of jazz drumming.  “They’re like a psychedelic Mudhoney.”

“Yeah.  They’re also only seventeen too.  Don’t tell the managers though I booked some minors.”

She laughs.  “Nobody should be that good at that young of an age.  Do they have a CD?”

“Nah.  We put out their debut album on the cassette label I’m helping run though.”

“What the fuck are you kids doing making cassettes again?”

“Cause they’re fuckin’ sick!  You wanna hear this fuzz on something just as fuzzy.  We don’t wanna clean this noise up!”

Walk back to center stage.  Jake is in the corner with Evan.  Owen layin’ on the floor in front of the couch.  Crossed the border for this night.  On the couch next to Rae is Joey Molloy goin’ hard to Sugar Tradition’s set.  Gotta love Joey.  Nobody goes as hard at a show as good ol’ Joey Molloy.  Bleached tufts of hair whippin’ through the air the same way their brain whips back and forth in the skull.  Everyone takes the Polish, purple nectar.  Jeżynówka.  A Hamtramck staple.  A little piece of home all the way out here.

Joey walks in, still in his suit, and helps Drew wheel three cabs into the crammed lounge as I meet Antonio at the merch table.  They spent over a mill on this remodel.  And the Hand is about to shatter all the windows here when they hit their first note.  This will be the first and last time they let a stoner metal band in here.  TJ stoned as fuck on the floor testin’ out the Juno.  Sean, equally as baked, clicks open the briefcase synth he made.

“Yoo Antonio.  Whenever you guys are ready I’ll take you to the office so the manager can cut you a check.  You just gotta fill out some tax forms.”

“Shit…  This is like a legit gig then?”

We weave through the overfilled lounge.  Drunks and stoners attempt to file towards the stage.  BO and fuzz forcin’ the yuppies to wait for their lanes elsewhere.  Tonight, this bitch is ours.

Paperclips and loose change vibrate their way off the desk in the office as the Hand strikes their first drone.  “Wait…  Kev,”  Antonio spins in the desk chair.  “What’s my social security number?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

“You guys don’t know your social security numbers?  How?”

“Dude.  We’re in high school.  We’ve never had to use ‘em before.”

“Honestly,” my coworker cuts in.  “We don’t really need the W-9.  If you take it with you and bring it back in a couple days it’s probably fine.  But I really don’t give a shit if you do.”

Head back to the bar.  All the freaks headbang in unison to Joey’s screams before Drew rips into a solo.  Greg hands over two shots before I even flag him down.  “I knew Drew was gonna shred because he never talks about his band.  The quiet ones always shred.  Good job putting this together Mike.  Not a huge drinking crowd.  But I’ll take a chill night.  Gettin’ stoned to some chuggin’ bands whenever it comes.”

Or at least I think that’s what he said.  I can’t hear over the riff.  Hail the fuckin’ riff!  Wrappin’ it just before midnight.  Nobody says goodbye to each other before we all dip.  It’s every man for himself.  Drag racin’ down I-75 to get to OLL.  Somewhere in the night Caveman Woodman is yellin’ about the Stools.  Tellin’ folks to fuck off if they think rock n’ roll is dead.

Walk into Outer Limits greeted by the familiar unbearable humidity of a crowd of familiar faces.  Not a single face you don’t recognize.  Greeted with a free Stroh’s and shot of Hornito’s courtesy of Johnny.  Kid Infinity on the stoop of the stage.  Documenting the entire night on camera.  208.  The Long Stairs.  The rest of the Waterheads.  Everyone from the Bowlero show there too.  Sweat gluing bodies together as flesh meets flesh.  “This one’s about a spooky dream Will had!”  KQ shouts into the mic as Chuck uses his already soaked shirt to wipe sweat from his forehead.  As Will’s screeching guitar bends, cuing “Black Fly Stew.”  Two step tune off their latest seven inch from Third Man Records.  Jack White may be a prick.  But he sure puts out some good ass music.

This time I’m not gonna concuss myself on Joey Molloy’s eye socket.  They speed and slop their way through their discography.  Dig into some tracks Will claims are older than some of us.  Kirk recording every second through the soundboard to be put out on Chuck’s cassette label Painter’s Tapes.  “How does two more sound?”  KQ asks after finishing up a version of “Q-Nails” that’s half the length of the studio version.  But still has all the original notes. Bodies make their way off the concrete ground to their feet.  Stomachs cramp from downin’ Stroh’s.  Lungs attempt to catch their breath.  Jake yells back to ‘em “Eat shit Mike Duggan!”  We don’t need no curfew.  Unplug us and we’ll scream louder.

Mikey of the Waterheads discusses Sigmund Freud on the patio while we all pass joints to each other.  Never give those lungs a break.  Kyle of 208 passes out Remove Records t-shirts.  Tells us none of us need to pay for ‘em.  But we all force money into his hands.  “This is what the scene is about man.”  My words come out half coherent.

“Exactly!  That’s why I’m so glad me and Shelby came here from Florida.  This is what music should be about!  Community.  Doing it for each other.  Fuckin’ being there!  Cause without each other, none of what’s goin’ on is possible.  We’re like one big, happy, chaotic family!”

Jake punches my shoulder at the bar.  Radiating the energy of the Bananas in Pajamas.  A loose and excitable toddler ready to play.  We each get a shot of jezy.  “You here anything yet about HMF Nips?”

“Nah.  I saw they ‘leaked’ some of the lineup.  But it was all like Hala.  Legume.  Who Boy.  The indie bands ya know.”

“See.  And that’s what’s fucked man!  They don’t fuckin’ get it like we do.  We’re out here every fuckin’ night playin’ these joints.  We’re all at every show for each other.  They make one appearance a month.  Half the time not even in Hamtramck.  They don’t support each other.  They’re in it for the clout!  And fuckin’ Who Boy gets picked before any of us?!  That’s fucked up man.”

“It is dude.  But don’t worry so much about it.  I’m sure it’ll all pan out for us.  Cause we get it.  And they don’t.  You wanna come over to my place after?  Make some pancakes or some shit?”

“Oh heeeellll yeah!  Pancakes at Belmont.  I’ll rally the troops.  We gettin’ trashed tonight!”

As if we aren’t already.  Rip through a fifty pack of whip-its in twenty minutes.  Sittin’ around eatin’ pancakes at three in the morning.  Listenin’ to the 13th Floor Elevators as Joey tries persuadin’ everyone into watchin’ Pirates of the Caribbean.  “Dead Man’s Aaaaasssss…” his whipped voice whispers to every single one of us individually.

Jake does his first popper as if he’s huffed it before.  Panicking in the barstool in my living room.  “I’m sweaty.  My head hurts.  And my face is hot, man.  My face is hot!”  Before locking himself in the bathroom with a sealed fifth of tequila.  We continue to chainsmoke in the house I rent.  No mention of not smokin’ in my lease.  Dunkin’ chocolate chip pancakes in a bowl of syrup.  He re-emerges from the bathroom.  Quarter of the bottle now inside him.  Or possibly in my toilet.  “Rae.  You gotta finish this.  I can’t do it.”

Owen spits up on Giovanna while tryin’ to rush to the bathroom.  Attempts to wipe the bile off her knee before returning to the cool tile floor around the toilet to sleep for the night.  Jake arguing with me and Rae about ordering him an Uber home.  “You’d fuckin’ love it if I crashed on your futon Nips.  You’d fuckin’ love ordering me an Uber home wouldn’t you Rae?”

“Jake dude.  I don’t know what you want from me man.  Your car is at Evan’s anyways.”

“I just wanna shit on my toilet!”

So eventually he consents.  Tells Rae he’ll Venmo me the ten bucks she spent on him cause he’s “Venmoed Michael Nipples before.”  Even though I’ve never had one.  Yells back to us with the passenger door open “what’s its name?”  As he struggles to crawl into the whip.

And as Rae and I go to sleep.  My phone buzzes with three texts from the drunk Toehead.  “Uh oh…”

“Help…”

“We listenin’ to Dough Boyz!”

Fuckin’ idiot.  Pinhead.  That’s what we all are though.  Or at least what we pretend to be.

[mirthless-misanthrope]

Scars (Jotaro Kujo Imagine)

A/N: hi sorry writing is. apparently harder than I wanted it to be so I took a break for a few days. but I’m back with prompt #5: Nighttime Routine. sorry if it’s short.

Trigger Warnings: mention of self-harm and the scars it left, definitely ooc jotaro, cheesy af because I can’t write anything else, minor swearing, being self-deprecating

Enjoy!

...

I’m surprised when Jotaro walks into our shared apartment. He hasn’t come home this early in ages… “Jojo,” I murmur, “welcome home.” He’s exhausted, if the grunt I get as a response is any indication. On a typical night, I get ready myself and fall asleep before he comes home (since he spends a lot of time doing school stuff at the university’s library) so this is quite the treat… I don’t mention it, however, since I can tell he isn’t in much of a social mood. Instead, I walk up to him and press a light kiss to his cheek. “Let’s get ready for bed, yeah? It’s a little late.” My eyes glance behind him since I see a flash of purple. Star is just hanging Jotaro’s signature coat on the coat-rack for him, which makes me smile to myself.

A squeak leaves my lips as I feel myself being lifted off my feet and into Jotaro’s arms. “... ‘m tired. We’re going to bed.” His chest rumbles with each word, making my cheeks flush a bit. Somehow, he can always make me flustered with just the slightest bit of affection. As soon as I recognize the light blue walls of our bedroom, I relax, nuzzling my face into his chest. It took me a while to realize it, but I sure am tired too. Setting me down, he wanders into our bathroom to brush his teeth and clean himself up (he seems to be covered in a bit of sand… so his marine bio lab must’ve been outside today). The moment he takes his shirt off, my eyes dart away from where he is, since I’m still a rather shy person and I can never believe that someone that looks that good settled for someone that’s… not as strong or appealing to most people.

Since Jotaro seems to be distracted by getting some sand out of his hair, I slip over to my closet and pull out my pajamas - a pair of flannel shorts and one of Jotaro’s shirts - before starting to strip down to my undergarments. I’m slightly afraid of how Jotaro would react to the scars that puff out from my skin no matter what I do… and thinking that is probably what leads to the next thing that happens: purple fingers trailing over a few of the prominent marks on my upper thigh. The ‘ora’ that comes from the large purple stand before me sounds angry, almost as if he’s asking who did this to me… “S-Star,” my voice shakes, “I-It’s okay. They’re from… long ago, okay? W-Way before I met you and Jojo… I promise. They just… w-won’t go away.” Star refuses to take that as an answer, a booming ‘ora’ coming from him as if he’s ready to beat someone to a pulp.

“Star, for fuck’s sake, calm down,” Jotaro’s voice sounds from behind me, making me stiffen. He’s never seen me this… exposed.  “There’s no threat here…” His words die in his throat as he sees the cause of Star’s anger. As his eyes trace over each mark on my body, I squirm, pulling his shirt over my head as quickly as I can so I can escape his prying eyes. “Who,” he starts, “who did this to you.” It’s clear he’s trying to ask me, but it comes out more like a terse demand. “Tell me, so I can make sure that bastard never touches you again.” Anxiety must be evident in my posture and expression, because he places a hand on my shoulder as lightly as he can. “Yare yare, I’m gonna… protect you. I’ll make sure they never hurt you again. Don’t be afraid.” That would calm me down… if I wasn’t the one that created those scars.

“Jojo, I… don’t think you understand…” Looking down at my feet, I step back from Jotaro to pull on my shorts, covering the last of the visible scars. “Nobody… It was nobody. Nobody did this to me. These… these are from… me.” I hear his sigh, and I tense up again, afraid of the harsh words that are likely about to leave his mouth, but I don’t hear anything. Other than our breathing, the air is dead silent, and full of tension so thick a knife could cut through it. “I… suppose I owe you an explanation… don’t I?” It takes a few moments before I dive into the entire story of my past, Jotaro listening to every word with an unreadable expression.

As soon as I finish my story, I remember what he had opened up to me about - Avdol, Kakyoin, Iggy, Dio - and I regret ever saying a word. “I’m sorry, I… I know, it’s nothing compared to what you went through in Egypt. It’s… stupid, right?” A self-deprecating chuckle leaves my lips, but both of us know this situation isn’t humorous in the slightest. “But… These are from… so long ago. I-I-they just won’t go away, y-y’know?” This entire time, he’s been silent. Not a word has left his lips since he told me I shouldn’t be afraid. The glare on his face seems murderous, so I back up from him. “You were… tired, right? I… well, I’ll just… go sleep on the couch, I don’t want to upset you even more.” With that, I turn to leave the room.

Not even two steps away from Jotaro, I feel arms wrap around me. With one glance I know they belong to Star. His face is contorted in sorrow as he clings to me, not letting me take any more steps away. Each ‘ora’ that leaves him seems to be words of comfort. Once he feels like I won’t step away, he moves down and tugs the shirt up over my stomach, exposing some of the scars. And then my entire mind goes blank as Star’s plush lips press feather-light kisses on each scar. “S-S-Star…? What…?” He simply continues his quest to kiss every single scar he sees, no matter how prominent.

Footsteps pad over to me - footsteps that could only belong to Jotaro - and more arms wrap around me. “Yare yare… Good thing you told me now. Star was about to drag me outta here and hunt down someone that doesn’t even exist…” His strong hands tug me to the bed, pulling me into a tight embrace as he lays down. “I’m… not good at that kinda stuff. But y’know, Star and I will always be here for you.” The words leaving him start to drip with drowsiness, and his strong demeanor starts to slip (as it only does when he’s tired and with me) into the affectionate teddy bear that nobody else knows of. “Don’t compare your life to mine. They were both hard, but in different ways. No need to say you’re a weakling just because you had different coping mechanisms than I did.” I can tell he’s trying to reassure my anxieties, which makes my eyes tear up a tiny bit. “Now c’mon, sleep. We both need it.”

Soon after he says that, Jotaro seems to fall asleep, summoning Star to come up behind me and cuddle up to my back, spooning me as he coos soft ‘ora’s like a lullaby to my ears (and my ears only). And that’s how I fall asleep: snuggled between my boyfriend and his stand, warm, protected, and knowing that I have someone to fall back on whenever things get too tough.

[secretgamergirl]

A Little Fact Checking Primer on Trans People

As a trans woman, I literally can’t go a day without encountering at least a dozen horrible bigots shouting disgusting things directly at me, which I’ve come to accept, but I notice every time it happens there’s this whole crowd of confused people who don’t have that sort of burning hatred for trans people, but do think they raise a couple good points. And people think this because nobody has ever taught them enough basic facts about trans people to recognize the most obvious lies. So let’s work on that a bit.

Trans women are men who wear dresses. - FALSE

This is THE most common lie that gets floated around. Before I even begin to address it, let me just hit you with a few photos of actual trans women to hopefully show just how far off the mark this is.

It should be pretty clear from looking at these photos that these are all plainly women, and as a bonus. I also wouldn’t describe any of these outfits as “a dress.”

So, how is this lie as popular as it is? Well, for a number of reasons I’m going to get into in more detail, it is very rare for the average person to see a trans person and realize that person they are looking at is trans (would you have guessed any of the women above were if I hadn’t said so?) and nearly every time you see a trans person depicted in the media, rather than hire or accurately draw/describe a real trans person, they just take some man and put him in a dress, or take some woman and put her in a suit. Since such portrayals are basically all you ever see when being told you’re looking at a trans person, that’s what you grow up thinking. But, no. Trans women are women, who just look like any other woman, and trans men are men who look like any other man.

Trans women are men who got a bunch of plastic surgery to look like women - FALSE

The photo set used above came from me doing a quick search for trans models, because it’s a lot easier to disprove the “costume” lie if I can show you women wearing clothes skimpy enough to show they aren’t stuffing their bras or concealing big burly hairy arms or anything like that, and I didn’t do any background checks beyond verifying that every woman pictured is in fact trans, so it’s possible some of these women may have had nose jobs or other minor cosmetic surgeries to achieve more idealized faces, but the “bunch of plastic surgery” referred to in this lie refers to some sort of comic book fantasy where you can somehow take someone who looks like Sylvester Stallone or something, bust out a scalpel, and somehow carve away flesh and bone to leave behind some sort of idealized specimen of womanhood like these. That just isn’t how it works. Such surgeries do not exist, and bodies like these women have are all quite attainable without any kind of surgery at all. Just be a woman, eat the right diet get the right sort of exercise and be lucky enough to have a pleasantly symmetrical face, and tada.

I’ve totally seen “before and after” photos of trans women which pretty damn well look like a man and a woman side by side - TRUE

Here’s a truly mind-blowing example from a friend of mine, in fact.

So what’s going on here? Well, the short version is, trans people are people who are actually of one gender, but for some reason, usually a hormone production imbalance or insensitivity, look like another gender until getting that treated.

The effects of this can be pretty damn impressive and dramatic, and some tend to be observable immediately from birth, so what typically happens is our parents attempt to just go off appearances, give us names based on how we look, and do their best to just raise us as that gender, stubbornly ignoring every sign, no matter how obvious the signs that they’re forcing the wrong identity on their child at best, and trying to force us to be what they want in some really messed up ways.

This screws with our heads badly enough that a lot of us go along with it for decades, just being utterly miserable and feeling like fake people for reasons we can’t necessarily articulate. It certainly doesn’t help that society’s overall ignorance about this keeps us from learning all we have to do is take some combination of cheap supplements/blockers for a couple years and everything will just fix itself. Even after hearing that this sort of hormone replacement is possible, and just from off-label usage of extremely well tested and common drugs, normally used for birth control, menopause, and acne treatment, most of us refuse to believe how effective this can be. Which is why I once again have to thank my friend Kiva for permitting me to link that amazing pair of photos showing just how dramatic the effects of fixing this sort of imbalance can be.

Trans people basically walk around in disguise and can make themselves look like men or women at will. - FALSE

I think I already covered this in the first of these, but just to reiterate the point, let me pull another photo off the stack.

Put a woman like this in a man’s suit and you just have what’s clearly a woman in a man’s suit. There’s no weird Cinderella/werewolf thing going on. Trans women look like women (because that’s what we are) all the time. Actually let me do one better. I have a trans woman in a suit right here.

Trans women have penises - SOMETIMES SORT OF TRUE

This is a tricky one to talk about because I try to keep this blog safe for work, and it’s hard to get this across without some sort of visual aid.

Here is a NSFW image in the form of a black and white sketch of human gonadal structure, as far removed and abstracted from looking at someone naked as I can find, but again, hedging my bets, click at your own peril.

You’ll notice, if you click, that this is the same exact structure. So, one of those things that the above-mentioned hormone imbalances tend to do is inflate this structure in women, and shrink it in men, making it appear that most trans women have penises and trans men clitorides (a few other things in that region are affected in similar fashion). This is the main thing that leads to us being miscategorized as babies. And the functionality can even match the size while the hormone issues responsible are untreated.

This too is treatable though. The same hormone replacement leading to Kiva’s shocking before and after photos have a pretty major impact, to the extent that having been on such for years now, if I were to attempt to indulge in self-pleasuring techniques in the fashion a man would, it just plain would not work Structurally, mechanically, texturally, it’s just not on the table. Grabbing a woman’s sex toy and using that accordingly though would work just fine. Now, if I posted a very intimate photo, things would look a bit weird (not manly really, it’s sort of a unique oddity down there), but there’s a surgery that can restructure everything and get it back to the standard factory settings most women have going on, with the exact proper appearance and functionality. It’s expensive, and there’s only like a dozen or two surgeons in the world who perform it (I actually have a full list on my desk somewhere). So some of us can’t do that because we don’t have the money or insurance that will cover it, or surgery is too dangerous, or we can’t reach those couple dozen surgeons, or we can and we’re stuck on waiting lists for years, and some of us don’t care about about standardizing our anatomy enough to want to bother with all that.

The idea that we’re effectively men from the waist down though is a sensationalist exaggeration though, and the notion that those of us who have things corrected have anything “chopped off” is a grotesque lie.

Trans women are fetishists and likely sex offenders - FALSE

I mean, t’s way more common than average for us to be lesbians or bisexual (I think the straight/bi/lesbian ratio is something like 30/40/30), which might qualify as some sort of “sexual deviance” if you’re some weird homophobe from the 1950s or something, but the idea that we get some kind of thrill out of the way we look or the clothes we wear is a total myth. I have a closet full of women’s clothes because I’m a woman. Those are the clothes that fit me best and look good on me. If I tried to put on a pair of men’s jeans or something it’d be really uncomfortable because like most women I carry most of my extra weight on my thighs and butt, and personally I have a good bit of that. If I put a bra on it’s because I need the support and/or don’t want creepy dudes trying to make out the outline of my nipples through my shirt. Nothing particularly sexy about any of that.

And on the predatory front, any stories about trans women being sexually aggressive pretty much just come from hatemongers. This is something they’ve even publicly admitted to. Statistically, trans people are way less likely than anyone else to commit any sort of sex-related criminal offenses, and even in consensual relationships we tend to be real real timid about approaching anyone. A lot of that is because in addition to being orders of magnitude more likely than others to be the VICTIMS of sexual assault, there’s this really horrifying state of affairs where if you aren’t in one of the yellow states, it’s a valid legal defense to murder a trans woman after having sex with her if you decide you aren’t comfortable with that. Or even if you just feel like one of us might be hitting on you.

An overwhelming majority of us just avoid the risk entirely by dating other trans people exclusively.

Trans women have to trick people into dating them - FALSE

This is a basic supply and demand issue really. We are super rare. Depending who you ask, the trans population is somewhere between 1 in 300 people and 1 in 50 people. We tend to look damn good, because years of being mistaken for the wrong gender tends to encourage putting a major effort into presentation to keep it from happening, and again, most of us just hook up with each other because people who decide we’re really exotic and want to hook up have a scary habit of fipping out after the fact (or during, or just before), or have their egos bruised when people bring in the baggage of all the lies covered above an picture them hooking up with men in dresses) and murder us to be sure we don’t tell anyone. And again, like the map above says, the court system buys into us being scary predators enough to give them a pass for that.

So the brave few trans women who put themselves on the market in non-trans dating circles never lack for willing partners.

Men can just self-identify as trans women and barge into women’s restrooms and changing rooms and exploit programs to hire more women - FALSE

Self-identification is a term thrown around in British law regarding trans people in the specific context that trans people are seeking the basic right they have in more enlightened countries to just tell therapists and doctors that they’re trans, and start down the long red-tape filled road towards proper medical treatment and legal recognition, as opposed to going to one specific singular clinic, the only one in the country, and prove that they are trans to the staff thereof. Which in addition to being a decidedly arbitrary barrier. People who aren’t trans don’t have an interest in altering their hormone balance to radically alter their bodies, and even if they did, the effect on their brain chemistry would mess them up severely (meanwhile, one of the most immediate benefits of HRT for trans people is fixing brain chemistry issues that allow us to think more clearly, feel emotions properly, and otherwise end years of feeling like some kind of broken fraudulent zombies, because our brains aren’t getting enough/getting too much of certain chemicals).

It also can’t be stressed enough how this is just the first step of a very long process, with tons of red tape. Here’s the 110 page international manual doctors and lawmakers all over the world follow.for this stuff, when they aren’t adding even more arbitrary hoops on top of this. Before getting that little F on my ID, I had to spend two years “living as a woman” at least a year on HRT, and have multiple medical professionals sign off, who all had their own months or years long requirements to deal with. And that’s in a country where self-identification is the law of the land.

A lot of people also use the term to make disgusting jokes like “I identify as an attack helicopter” or “I identify as black,” in an effort to compare trans people to con artists like Rachel Dolezai or generally paint us as absurd. So, that’s fun.

Trans women completely dominate in sports - FALSE

OK, just pick a sport. Look at the top level competitors and champions in it. None of them are trans. “OK but didn’t I hear about some trans woman running track and just crushing everyone?” No, you didn’t. You’re thinking of Caster Semenya. She isn’t trans. Bigots spread rumors that she is because there’s a long disgusting tradition of racists claiming black women “look like men,” especially black lesbians, and in particular, this one whiny little white supremacist started whining like crazy about how unfair it was that she finished every race behind a bunch of black women, and has been campaigning to have them all kicked out of the sport so she can finish 3rd instead of 6th.

It’s also worth noting that the BS ruling proposed to force Semenya out of her favored event wouldn’t actually affect any trans athletes, as legally qualifying as women already requires us to address hormone balance issues in a way that, if the effects of high testosterone levels weren’t decidedly exaggerated, would put all of us at a severe disadvantage to everyone else in a given sport.

There are actually a good number of trans people involved in various professional sports, none of whom really excel as an additional data point here. The closest thing to an exception is the story of a trans boy on a high school wrestling team who, thanks to poorly thought out rules put in place to preemptively keep trans girls from playing on girls’ teams by ignoring everything but birth certificates, was forced against his will to join the girl’s wrestling team. Something absolutely no one involved, least of all him is happy about.

There are a whole ton of new laws trans women are pushing for that would suddenly mean they were treated as women for purposes of walking into bathrooms and locker rooms and all sorts of other things - FALSE

The existing status quo already has us in such places, as it should, because, again, trans women are women and don’t actually appear to be anything else, and this standard has existed for decades. You’ve been in public restrooms and locker rooms at some point in your life with at least one trans person being present unless you actively avoid ever entering such. You didn’t notice, and there was no reason you should have cared. Because, again, what is there to be upset about exactly?

There’s a scary new trend of diagnosing young children as trans and giving them irreversible surgeries and hormone treatments - FALSE

If you haven’t picked up on it, nobody is proposing any sort of new legislation anywhere to expand the rights of trans people, outside of the aforementoned self-ID thing in England, which is just getting up to speed to where the rest of the world has been for decades.

And again, as previously covered, nobody gets “diagnosed as trans.” Bigots constantly talk up these hypothetical situation where parents who, for some baffling reason, want their children to be trans, take them to specialists for some sort of examination potentially giving them a label as such. Parents like that don’t exist. Specialists like that don’t exist. There’s no trans test. It’s just something you innately know about yourself and have to start twisting arms to get medical help with. And if there were such a test, I’m still not sure how running it on people would be a bad thing. It only makes sense if we’re acknowledging these children really are trans, but want to avoid any sort of official labeling or treatment in the hopes it can somehow be tortured out of them through conversion therapy (which for the record is proven not t work for anything but making those subjected to it suicidal);

Furthermore, we’ve already addressed that radical full body reconstructive surgery is not an actual thing, but even if it were, outside of immediate emergency treatments for failing organs, we generally don’t perform any sort of surgeries on minors. The WPATH standards I linked earlier are pretty clear on all of this as well.

Hormone replacement is also completely off the table for minors. Personally I don’t agree with that, and feel that if a child has worked out that they’re trans before starting puberty, the thing to do would be to start fixing their hormone balance at that age, so they properly develop alongside all their peers, but I’m not out there making a push for it, nor is anyone else I’m aware of.

Instead, the standard we have for such children is to put them on puberty blockers, otherwise typically prescribed for cases of precocious puberty, where children start puberty when they’re like 6 years old and there are potential health risks. These drugs don’t cause any sort of permanent changes. In fact, the entire point is to delay any changes that would otherwise be made by increased hormone levels during puberty, either putting it off until the appropriate age, in the case of the more traditional use, or in the case of trans children, preventing the hormone imbalance rendering them trans in the first place to flood their bodies with the wrong mix, which again, causes really horrible problems with brain chemistry and really undesirable effects like breast/hair growth etc. I lived through it. It was hell. And of course in the hypothetical event that a child was put on puberty blockers until they were 18 who wasn’t trans, the only effect it would have would be them not starting puberty until 18. Really not the end of the world, particularly since no child gets put on such unless they personally request it.

Otherwise the only thing done for trans children is encouraging those around them to use the correct pronouns and not be weird about policing what they wear, so they don’t have to deal with years of abuse, torment, and confusion when they age up to a point to get medical treatment, and get to live a totally normal life, without all their childhood friends having the wrong idea about what gender they were growing up.

Trans people are getting way more common all of the sudden, or only just came into existence recently - FALSE

Trans people have been around literally forever (and this is documented in historical sources should you be curious enough to look), and while, again, different studies disagree on exactly how rare we are, it’s because we’re rare enough that it’s hard to get an accurate count. We make up the same small percentage of the population world wide, with even distribution. We’re not contagious. There’s no “trans gene.” People don’t decide to become trans.

AWARENESS that trans people exist has been on the rise, but that’s just because horrific bigotry towards trans people has been on the rise. And that’s simply because all the people who spent the last couple of decades flipping the hell out over gay marriage have generally conceded defeat on that front, and on the front of keeping gay characters out of the media, preventing gay couples from adopting children, and otherwise keeping gay people out of public life. They felt they needed a new wedge issue to drive down support for LGBT+ people, and figured the total dearth of public awareness about trans people meant they could spread all kinds of scaremongering crap without anyone calling it out as hateful BS, and... yeah they’ve been pretty successful in doing that. Otherwise I’d have had no reason to write up this primer. It also helps that they’ve been so successful in painting a bunch of far-right religious extremists as scholarly left-leaning feminists, so it isn’t as obvious that it’s the same hateful crap coming from the same hateful sources.

But again, BS is what it all is. Hopefully I’ve linked enough reputable sources to make that clear here, and answered at least the bulk of questions you may have had about trans people. There’s one more though.

There are only two genders and the singular they is grammatically incorrect - FALSE

I’ve kept the vast majority of this focused on trans women, because the vast majority of hate and disinformation is focused on women specifically, but not all trans people are women. Trans men also exist. As I did above, I can easily show you a bunch of attractive models who are undeniably men.

I can give you another of those amazing before and after photos too.

And in addition to there being trans men and women, there are people out there who realize that being labeled as boy or a girl when they were wrong was clearly a mistake, but switching to the other label also doesn’t feel right, so they find another option to go with. The English language doesn’t really have any sort of terminology to cover that concept, and for whatever reason, Christian missionaries really did their darnedest to stamp out every culture that has the appropriate language and concepts. Again though, historical records on this go back forever.

Because English sucks for discussing such people, we generally throw them under the catch-all label of “non-binary” (since they don’t fit in with the binary choice of being either a man or a woman, see) and either need to work out new pronouns, or just refer to them as, well, them.

A lot of people who get prickly about this since, well, they’re big ol’ bigots, attempt to rationalize their discomfort with claims that this isn’t grammatically correct, but, it is. The English language has used “they” as a singular pronoun for longer than it’s used “you” as a singular pronoun.

In fact, even the people who raise such objections pretty constantly make use of the very thing they’re complaining about. It is hilariously commonplace for some bigot to get into this big huge speech about how they refuse to use the singular they, get into disparaging a hypothetical person using it, and start rambling about how they were taught to always say ‘he or she’ in such situations, and that they couldn’t possibly adapt, using the word, in that context, about as many times as I just did in this paragraph. It’s so natural nobody ever even realizes they’re doing it unless they’re actively trying to be a jerk about it.

I might edit this if there’s anything big I forgot, but tada. You are now less woefully ignorant about trans people.

[msephy]

Upbringing chap 9/13

The story is done! I’ll post the rest of the chapters one by one in the next few days :)

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Cross-posted to AO3

Earth 53 - Jason Todd

They arrived too late. When Batman and Jason did eventually find the cache where the League of Shadows had settled while in Gotham, not too far from Talia’s sighting, it was empty. It would even have been hard to find traces of their passages if not for Batman’s top-notch technology – and a few things Jason had in his gear that came from having a timeline slightly ahead in time.

Bruce didn’t swear, but the set of his shoulders spoke volumes.

“Robin,” he called in the com. “Open up a map with all known League hideouts.”

“Can you send that to the Batmobile?” Jason asked suddenly. “Our worlds aren’t that different. Maybe there are a few I know that you don’t.”

“Too risky.”

“You mean that we have too many places to check as it is,” Jason translated. “Except most of those will be pointless, because Ra’s probably knows you know about them.”

Bruce pursed his lips. Jason shrugged. “It’s worth a try?”

“Fine. Robin, prepare and send the data. ETA, seven minutes.”

He fired his line without any wasted words. Jason followed, heading back to the Batmobile, frowning slightly. Bruce retreated in himself when he was hurt, or worried. That made him look cold, but it was just a defense mechanism. How had Jason not noticed before?

Because this younger Bruce was easier to read? Or because he was less emotionally involved himself.

They didn’t talk, not to slow down, and landed each on a side of the car. Jason slipped in it and absentmindedly glanced at the time. They did take seven minutes to reach it.

“Robin, status.”

“Hang on. Here, did you get it?”

The batmobile’s built-in computer opened into a world map where several dots appeared.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed while Jason tried to zoom in.

That thing wasn’t up to his standards of technology, but he still managed after a while.

“How do we select a destination?” Jason asked.

“Didn’t you want to add your own?”

“I don’t have a computer in my brain. Talking it out would help.”

Though Jason had a bad feeling about this one. If he was right… Bruce started talking about the closest pits but they both knew Ra’s wouldn’t take Damian there: the ones around Gotham were the ones where the Bat would have the most control. Yet if his body was deteriorating quickly, Bruce thought out loud, he might not have the luxury of a choice.

Then Dick interrupted through the com. “I just received a signal from a plane. Small one, privately owned. It’s already far from the coast, heading East.”

“Can you track it?” Bruce asked.

“No, it only latest thirteen seconds; not long enough for me to use it to hack my way in. Sorry.”

“It’s enough, though,” Jason said. “They’re leaving the continent for sure, and if they are willing to take the time to cross the Atlantic, then I know where they’re going.”

“You’re thinking about their headquarters in Bhutan?”

“No,” Jason shook his head. “The place you’re referring to is their training grounds. They have many more hideouts in the mountains, especially in Tibet.”

Jason could head Bruce frown. “Just drive. We need the plane in any case.”

Thankfully, Bruce didn’t protest, starting the car and accelerating. They’d reached the highway when he talked again. “Tell me more about this place.”

“There is not much to say. The infrastructure is big enough to host Ra’s usually guard of followers and private enough that they won’t be distracted by the League’s internal politics.”

“And you know about it, because…?”

“The League had reasons to trust me the way they don’t trust you. I’m carrying guns, what did you expect?”

Bruce’s disapproval transpired through his every pores. Jason couldn’t care less, especially not when it gave them invaluable intel.

“Are you sure they’re there?”

“Of course no, I’m not sure,” Jason spat. “And you know it. But Talia should find a way to communicate with us again, given the chance. If we’re close enough to act, then we’ll be able to strike. They won’t expect us to know the layout of the place, or even where it is situated at all.”

“Don’t rely on your knowledge of this place in another world too much.”

“Any better ideas?”

Bruce, of course, didn’t answer. The trip continued in silence. Why was Jason even worried? He barely knew the brat. Besides, he’d really brought that on himself, running away like this.

But Damian was a Robin, even if he didn’t bear the name in this world. And a kid, of course.

Then an icon blinked on the monitor, indicating someone was trying to reach Batman – and that that someone was Superman. Bruce took the communication.

“Superman,” Bruce greeted in Batman’s voice. “I’m in the Batmobile with Jason Todd, we’re listening.”

“Hello, Batman, Mr Todd. I have good news. We have found some promising information about the multiverse, from one of Green Lantern’s contacts. We found a Dr Lrvnjrnz who might be able to help us. He’s willing to come on Earth to discuss it further.”

“We don’t have the time for this shit right now,” Jason said without hesitating. “It will have to wait.”

Bruce glanced at him briefly, before concentrating on the road again. For the first time since Jason arrived, he saw his shoulder relax, just so slightly.

“Agreed,” Bruce said. “We’re busy with an emergency, Kal, I’ll call you back.”

“I’m not sure Dr Lrvnjrnz will still be available.” Superman’s tone was interrogative.

Surely, Bruce would be able to save Damian without him. And people on his side were likely not looking to bring him back.

Somehow, it was the easiest decision Jason had ever made.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jason said. “We’ll call you back when we have time, Superman.”

And he cut the communication.

###

Earth 1 – Jason Wayne

Was everyone on this Earth old, stern and marked by pain? Jason wondered, when he saw the face of Kal El appear on the Batcomputer’s monitor. Maybe it was just age. Maybe it was just Kal. He’s always been quite apt at putting on the façade of the Man of Steel. Probably a good skill to cultivate, when one faced Lex Luthor regularly.

But still.

“From our readings, it appears an anomaly occurred three days ago. A rift. We couldn’t trace the origin, it might have nothing to do with either of the worlds involved.”

“You mean like that time with Prime.”

“Something like that, though of a much lower order of magnitude. I’ve scanned the area, I see no trace of foreign particles, except in the Cave.”

“That would be me,” Jason mused. Kal looked at him for the first time since the conversation started, and he smiled his most Lutherian smile. “Hello, Kal El, nice meeting another version of you. My apologies if I don’t follow multiverse etiquette, it’s my first encounter with it, I’m afraid.”

Kal nodded. “Nice to meet you too, Mr Wayne.”

Jason grimaced; he even saw Bruce wince. “Jason, please. There is no need to be formal. I’m glad to hear you detected the cause, but does this lack of details mean we won’t be able to reproduce the effects?”

“It won’t be needed,” Kal reassured him. “Inverting the two of you would require a comprehension of the multiverse that we don’t have, but opening a portal to another Earth should be doable.”

Jason let out a breath. He was going to see his little brother again, and his two nephews from hell. He hadn’t intended to stay even if there hadn’t been a way: he would have found one. But still, it was nice to hear that would happen sooner rather than later.

“Thank you, Kal El.  That’s a relief.”

“It’s still a delicate operation, not something we can do every day without causing further instabilities. Especially since we aren’t sure of the cause in the first place.”

“I’m bringing Jason back,” Bruce said, his tone definitive. There was no asking to which Jason he referred. He wasn’t about to leave his adoptive son in another world, however welcoming it might be.

“Two openings should be enough for our system to support. But we can’t make it portable.”

“We can’t leave from the Watchtower, we’d end up in space,” Jason commented.

“No, indeed,” Kal agreed. “We’ll have to move the necessary machinery to our headquarters on Earth. As some of it is delicate, it won’t be ready until tomorrow.”

“That’s a date,” Jason commented absentmindedly, before noticing the absolute shock on Kal’s face. He laughed. “Just an expression, Superman, except if you actually are interested?”

“I’ll have to decline. Batman, Mr… Jason. I’ll keep you updated on the move.”

“Thank you, Kal,” Bruce said, nodding at him.

Kal nodded back then cut the communication. Jason turned to Bruce. “Anything I can help with in the meantime? I’ll need distraction from the wait.”

“You’ve been helping already”, Bruce answered.

“Handling your files is something I can do in my sleep. And it’s probably best if I don’t get too involved in your nightly activities, at least, I shouldn’t go out in person too often. Though accompanying Dick was… interesting.”

“You ran into trouble?”

“You know we didn’t. Nightwing is amazing, as you already know, but it has to be noted.”

Bruce didn’t quite smile, but Jason could see the warmth in the way his shoulders relaxed, his head almost nodding in approbation. His cowl did make it harder to read his expressions, though.

Jason frowned. “You’re not coming in the gear, by the way, are you? We won’t want to Batmen crossing paths, or even just criminal thinking you’re my brother and attack you because of something he did.”

The card which hung above their heads was kind of hard to miss. They also had a Joker around. Maybe he wasn’t as possessive and manipulative in this world than in his? Or maybe this Bruce had been caught in the clown’s parody of a courtship. Either way, he didn’t want them to cross paths.

Bruce’s frown was visible despite his mask.

Jason snorted.

“You can take gear if you insist. But, really, you could just wear jeans and a t-shirt and nobody is going to recognize you. You’re ten years older than Bruce, even if you weren’t a good actor.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“The hell you are. It’s my world we’re going to, and it will be my rules.”

Jason smiled to soften the blow, but his tone was adamant. Bruce grumped, which meant he didn’t want to agree out loud but still would go along.

“Any idea on how to find your Jason Todd when we’re there?” Jason asked. “I mean, if he contacted my brother it will be easy, but otherwise?”

“He’s not the most subtle person,” Bruce sighed. “If he doesn’t actively try to stay hidden, he shouldn’t be hard to pinpoint. There are good chances he went straight to the Cave, though. Despite our differences, he would have known contacting your brother was his best chance of finding his way back.”

That was the most words Jason had heard him say, and he didn’t miss the tension in the last sentence. “You think he might not want to come back?”

Bruce pointedly didn’t answer, removing his cowl to sit at the computer instead. Which was an answer per se. Though, well; a supervillain. Jason would always remember the face of the local Alfred when he’d opened the door to see him standing there.

He shuddered.

Then he pulled through it and joined Bruce, standing at his right hand. “Care to hear about what my Gotham is like? I was up to date with the latest criminal developments when I got here.”

Bruce didn’t answer for a long while, typing in the document he’d opened. Then, finally, he closed it and opened a new, blank page – then nodded, one.

[abeautifulblog]

Oh Mary, my Mary

Since this meta is even more incendiary than usual, I'm prefacing it with the acknowledgment that it's a lot of extrapolation with little in the way of direct canon support. That said, if you accept that (A) Joseph is psychologically abusive (which, at this point, if anyone wants to argue, the burden of proof is on them) and that (B) their marriage followed the typical pattern for abusive relationships, then it's really, really not much of a leap.

[Discussion of various sorts of abuse and dubious-A-F consent behind the cut—because what do you think has been going on in that house?]

So I've theorized before that Mary had a fundie upbringing, the kind where she was raised to be a super-traditional housewife—one who'd be obedient and submissive, who would always put her own needs subordinate to those of her husband, who would never presume to dictate her husband's behavior. It would have seemed like exactly what Joseph wanted in a wife, someone who gave him that veneer of respectability but wasn't going to interfere while he did his thing. (Even though Mary turned out to be made of steel, and he's okay with that these days.)

They get married in their mid-twenties—I imagine there was a lengthy honeymoon period after the wedding, during which Joseph was the absolute model husband: generous, attentive, lavishly affectionate. He hasn't started to stray yet, because he's still enjoying the novelty of having an adoring bride catering to his every whim. He's taking the time to build up her love and trust for him—a surplus that'll last him a good long while even after he starts chipping away at it. And he's establishing a baseline—happy golden days that she'll look back on later, like, remember when everything was perfect, don't you miss those times? Don't you want things to go back to that? If you would just make an effort...

(If you'd like to learn more about the dynamics of abusive relationships, check out Lundy Bancroft's phenomenally good Why Does He DO That? It often starts with the abuser building up a perfect relationship, being a perfect partner, so that when that starts to change, it's easier to convince the woman that she's the reason things are going to shit, not him.)

But eventually Joseph does get bored, of course, and starts to entertain himself with affairs behind her back. I expect the first handful of times he stepped out, he hid it from her, sort of, though he probably didn't try very hard—after all, she was supposed to be the sheltered idiot who wouldn't notice. (And especially not if it was with other men.)

She starts to suspect; he laughs it off, how ridiculous for her to even imagine such a thing. Her suspicions intensify; he is hurt by her lack of trust, it's so hurtful that she's accusing him of this. He gets caught; okay I confess, it's true, but this was the first time it happened, and I'm so remorseful now (although I wouldn't have been pushed to it if you hadn't been so ___ lately), I've learned my lesson, I'll never do it again, I'm committed to being a better husband to you from now on. Cue another round of attentive-perfect-husband behavior, a second honeymoon period, and Mary making a conscious effort to “improve” her behavior, so he won't feel compelled to look elsewhere for companionship.

And then it happens again. And again. And again.

And every time, Joseph keeps moving the goalposts about what she's doing wrong, how she's failing, why she's making him unhappy and driving him to step out. Every time, he gets angrier and more defensive that she's getting upset with him about this, since it's her fault he's cheating, after all, if she would just be a better wife then everything could go back to the way it used to be.

All the while, he's lying to her like a motherfucking rug.*

(* “lied” in the Joseph sense, that is, intentionally misleading her but usually in ways that didn't involve saying anything outright falsifiable. I'm going to shorthand that as lying though, because that's what it fucking is.)

It takes years before Mary can finally recognize and accept the truth: that he was not acting in good faith, and never would be. It was never going to matter what she did or didn't do, it wasn't going to change his behavior. That he lied to her as a matter of course. These weren't misunderstandings or differences in perspective—he straight-up lied to her, all the time, he knew he was lying, with the full intent to deceive and manipulate her, and that didn't bother him.

She was slowly coming to understand that this was the person he truly was, even though it was brain-breaking trying to reconcile him now with the kind and loving man that he used to be, that she'd still catch glimpses of sometimes. They were like two different people altogether, and what happened to the man she'd been in love with?

(This was also the inspiration for the line in Mary's chapter: Sometimes it would be easier if she could think of her life as a horror film—that she lost her lover to the waves and when he came back, he came back wrong. That something malevolent and alien had taken up residence under his skin, not that he'd been a monster all along.)

But now, roughly three years in, she's finally starting to accept that there is no fixing this, no going back to the way things used to be, and she's mustering up the courage to leave him. Keep in mind, she has no means of supporting herself, since all she's ever been groomed for is being someone's wife, and she's not getting any emotional or material support from her (largely religious) social network. The response she's getting from every angle is that she made a commitment, and she should be trying harder to “make it work”—

Nevertheless, she's still found the strength to go, No, I could leave, I should leave, I can do it, I can survive on my o—

And that's when he saw to it that she got knocked up the first time.

Her half-formed escape plans go out the window, now that she suddenly has a baby to account for. It delayed her, let him recoup, gave him the chance to get her back on the hook for a while. The baby's going to change things, honey. We're a family now. I messed up before, but I'm committed to being a husband and a father, this is what I want. Things are going to be better now.

And because that was what she desperately wants to believe, seeing as she had no idea how to support herself and a baby both, she lets herself be convinced to give it another try.

But it doesn't last, of course, because it never does with him. This is when she starts to push back and her rebellion becomes more visible—the drinking, the bar-hopping, the public attitude shift. When she stops trying to keep up appearances of their perfect marriage and starts to flaunt her disrespect, is rude and uncooperative with him, even in public, because she doesn't care anymore if people know that there's something fucky in Christendom.

And eventually she starts to think seriously about leaving again. There are resources, right? There are places that will help women with children escape abusive relationships, right? Places that will help her find her feet, give her something to fall back on while she learns to support herself, it wouldn't be impossible for her raise a child on her own, she could—

And then she gets knocked up with the twins.

(I've said before that I don't think Joseph has ever physically forced himself on anyone, not when he's got better tools than force at his disposal. The caveat, that I usually keep to myself, is:

But if he did, you know it was Mary.)

By the time the twins are born, Joseph has finished cementing public opinion around them—that Mary's the volatile and aggressive one, abusive to him in public, a married woman out drinking and flirting in bars until all hours of the night, and Joseph is a long-suffering saint for honoring his commitment and staying with her anyway.

Now Mary's faced not only with the staggering prospect of having no money and no marketable skills and three babies to take care of on her own, but Joseph can also point out, If you try to leave, they'll take the kids from you and give them to me. Nobody trusts you to take care of them.

I think the twins were the point of no return for Mary, when she finally accepted that there was no running away from this, and turned her energy to survival instead. Crish was just one more nail in the coffin, and not even a necessary one.

*

By the time we meet them in the game, they've reached an equilibrium. “The Zara Shirt” aside, there's little in the way of open hostilities anymore—there's sniping, passive-aggression, and the occasional contest of wills, but mostly they just live and work around each other, go through the mechanics of cohabitation and don't interact more than they have to, certainly not on any meaningful level. Mary's not in love with him (hasn't been for a very, very long time) and doesn't give a fuck what he thinks of her, so he's not really capable of hurting her emotionally anymore. She knows which battles to cede, and how to get what she wants through other means when Joseph's being an obstacle. And she's not afraid of him, not on a day-to-day basis. (Her moment of knee-jerk fear at the end of the Zara shirt chapter is her being instinctively, viscerally afraid of what he is, not afraid of what he'll do.) She knows his M.O. inside and out, knows where she stands with him, knows what he'll do and what he won't.

Which is to say, there are a number of reasons why I don't think Joseph is physically violent. (Joseph-fans, you're welcome.)

For one, violence is unsophisticated and Joseph likes to think of himself as a smooth operator, not a brute. It would be a defeat, really; like admitting he'd been outmaneuvered intellectually, that he had to resort to that.

It's also prone to leaving evidence that could come back to bite him in the ass—not even Joseph's reputation could protect him if Mary had a black eye every other week, and you know that if she could get hard evidence of his abuse, something that would hold up in court, she goddamned would.

But even if it was a form of violence didn't leave marks (“Hair-pulling,” said my BFF, a prosecuting attorney who deals with a lot of domestic violence cases. “Unless a chunk gets pulled out, there's nothing but her word that it happened”), it would still be an inconvenient truth that would be utterly indefensible if it ever got out, and it is demonstrably not Joseph's M.O. to do things he can't spin in his favor. He's not a man who relies on his misdeeds staying secret forever—like the Robert affair, which he fesses up to when pressed—he just makes sure that he can downplay them, shift or share the blame, put them in a context that shows him in a more forgiving light. There is no way to spin “grabbed his wife by the hair and dragged her across the living room” that makes Joseph sound like the good guy.

That said, I think he does occasionally make use of both force (leveraging his superior strength to move her/block her) and the threat of violence. That necklace, the one you find on the floor in Joseph's living room—

I find it very telling that the dadsona knows that's a red flag. The necklace could have been dropped there by accident, after all, the kids could have been playing with it, there could be a perfectly innocent explanation—but that is immediately, instinctively not where his brain goes. (And then he consciously declines to think about it any harder, because of where that train of thought might take him--which pretty much sums up the Joseph romance.)

And it never gets explained, but considering how overtly the devs bring our attention to it—and that even a dadsona-who-wants-to-fuck-Joseph is uneasy about it—I think we can conclude that they were absolutely implying some bad shit.

(My headcanon is that they were arguing, Joseph came forward, looming over her as an intimidation tactic, and when Mary still didn't back down, he grabbed the necklace and tore it off her and threw it aside. (And then she proceeded to leave it pointedly untouched for the next two weeks.) It's not “violence,” after all. He never hurt her, after all. Because he wants to be able to say, with some version of complete honesty, that he doesn't abuse her. But the threat of it was absolutely present, and he knew full well what he was doing with that maneuver.

As one of my beta readers remarked: “My dad only hit me once—because once was all it took.” The efficacy of the threat can render actual violence unnecessary.)

(Alternately, Joseph could have been trying to buy off her anger with an expensive gift and she went “fuck this and fuck you” and threw it at the wall. Though at this point in their marriage, they both know that any apology is pure performance art, and I doubt he bothers unless there's an audience.)

But that's a background threat that only rarely comes to the foreground. On the whole, I think Joseph is careful to keep the status quo on this side of tolerable for Mary, because he doesn't want to force her hand, doesn't want to push her so hard that she snaps and brings hell down on him. Their life together is something she can live with. She's not happy, but it's remarkable how people learn to endure things (even normalize things) that no one should have to deal with, to the point where we stop noticing how horrendously unfair it is. She's used to this shit. Her life is unpleasant, but not unbearable.

I think I conveyed that pretty well in her Zara shirt chapter—that she's not walking around feeling sad and sorry for herself every day, she's getting on with business. That Mary's life isn't miserable so much as fucking exhausting.

*

I did decide, ultimately, that there was no way my fic could spend 100k words guiding Robert to his happy ending and just leave Mary to hang. It's my story, goddamn it, she'll get a happily-ever-after if I say she does.

The tidiest way for her to get a happy ending would obviously be if Joseph fell off the side of his yacht one evening, but that felt a bit too... wish-fulfillment-y? A bit too much like author-ex-machina? I wanted to keep it within the same feel as the game, and murdering people to get what you want is a bit extreme.

But Joseph's content with things the way they are now, and if Mary thought she could leave him (without throwing the kids under the bus), she would have done it already.

So what would effect a change in the status quo?

Well, if Robert blew things open, for one. Mary's certainly considered that possibility: It's not going to last forever. She's absolutely certain that one of these days it's all going to come crashing down and people will learn exactly what Joseph's been doing, exactly what her place in all of this is. One of these days, Robert's finally going to snap, or Joseph's going to miscalculate and fuck with someone who sees no reason to keep his secrets afterward.

If the full scope of Joseph's affairs became public (and it'd have to be a lot of them—if it were just one, he could remorsefully blame it on a moment of weakness/loneliness and get himself exonerated, like he does with the Robert affair), it would change the playing field immeasurably. Mary would suddenly be in a much stronger position, re: custody, and I suppose that's what she's waiting for at this point—for Joseph to get discredited so she's got a better chance of being able to fight him and win.

(On the other hand, if he manages to keep rolling nat-20s on his affairs and that never happens, well. I think the day Crish leaves for college is the day she serves him papers.) (Or maybe not; maybe by that point she'd feel like it's too late to start over, which would be its own tragedy.)

That said, she could also decide to just go for it. I think Mary (and Robert) are in a stronger bargaining position with Joseph than they realize, because his entire charade depends not just on people not-knowing, but not suspecting either. Even if people aren't inclined to believe R&M right off the bat, the idea will have been planted. If people start paying closer attention to Joseph's activities, if they start digging, talking to each other and comparing notes, the truth will out itself and Joseph might as well pick up stakes and move to a new city, because he'll be a ruined man in Maple Bay.

If Mary presented the divorce to Joseph as fait accompli—this is what's going to happen, these are my terms, here's what you get out of it, and you will go along with this or so-help-me-god I will destroy us both—there's a good chance that Joseph would run the numbers and decide that it was in his best interests to cooperate. (That is, if he believed they'd actually do it—he knows that Robert doesn't want to go public about that affair either, and might call that bluff.) (Spoiler, Robert's not bluffing.)

There would still be some small skirmishes, for form's sake and because his pride wouldn't let Mary win on everything, but she could probably (mostly) extricate herself from Joseph. (Though not entirely—because letting him keep face means she's got no grounds to argue that she should be allowed to cut him from the kids' lives entirely, and I expect he'd insist on custody weekends, etc, to keep up his image and to rub it in that he can.) Still though, that's a damn sight better than having to live under the same roof as a sociopath for the rest of your life.

*

Beautiful Day doesn't wrap up Mary's story completely; it's just too complicated to do it justice in a Robert-centric fic. The last chapter introduces change and shows things finally start to move that direction for her, but it's more an upward-looking ending than a tidy happily-ever-after.

(Though I like to think that after the divorce, when Mary's had to cede her social position at the church, she winds up finding real friendship with Joan and her circle of lesbians. Maybe have a lesbian fling. Start getting paid for her work at the pet shelter, go to school to become a vet tech. Let the kids dye their hair blue.

It's a brave new world out there, and Mary deserves to finally get the chance to live in it.)

[thewritewolf]

Rekindle Chapter 29: Werecat

A confrontation a long time in the making.

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@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Marinette watched as Adrien paced in front of her. His hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides, she could see the tension in his jawline and shoulders. She knew that if he was transformed right now, his tail would be flicking back and forth. She reflected that, given the circumstances, his anger was entirely relatable. Even with a cursory glance through the papers, he’d found enough to get him riled up and that was before they’d taken them home and started really digging into them.

It had been a real shock to see what Adrien had uncovered at the mayor’s office. The rest of the night had ended up feeling like a formality - even the discovery of a shard of the peacock miraculous, blackened and pulsing with energy and locked in the mayor’s desk, had only ended up being met with almost business-like indifference. After a certain point, it was hard to muster the energy to get more upset.

Thankfully, the same procedure that worked to cleanse akumas was easily adapted to purify corrupted miraculous. She noticed that the miraculous cure didn’t seem as effective as usual, but considering that all the damage would be primarily in the mayor’s building, they hadn’t been too broken up about it. For both the mayor’s sake and their own, they hadn’t gone back to check on him. Watching Adrien in this state, she couldn’t regret that decision.

She reached out and grabbed the cuff of his shirt, stopped him in his tracks. “Adrien, take a seat. You’re going to wear a hole into the floor.”

“I can’t!” He looked at her with such helpless emotion that was breaking her heart all over again. “Mari, my father blacklisted you from your dream job! And that’s not even touching on all the other horrible things he did to our friends, either directly or by supporting that terrible person!” He crumbled to his knees and rested his head on her legs. “I’m so so so so sorry. I had no idea…”

She lifted his head up to look him in the eye. “Adrien. Listen to me - don’t you dare for one minute think any of this is your fault. It is all on Gabriel and Andre. Not you. Okay?”

“Okay…” With a hesitant nod, he got to his feet. “How can you be so calm about this? You got hit hard by this.”

“Honestly? I’m pissed. But I choose to take it as a compliment. Gabriel Agreste, head of his own fashion empire, thought that I was good enough to ruin him.” She leaned back and crossed her arms at Adrien. “And you know what the best revenge will be? Getting bigger than he ever did on skill alone.” She patted the seat next to her and gestured towards the papers. “Now come on and help me sort through this.”

Adrien seemed to be mulling something over. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I need to go for a run. I’m too angry to think right now.”

“Woah, kid, you sure about that?” Plagg piped up for the first time since they’d gotten home. It hadn’t been the lazy quiet she was used to from Plagg, but a very careful silence. As if he was waiting to see how things would play out.

“I don’t know if it is wise to-” Tikki stopped when she saw Adrien shake his head.

“I can’t help anyone right now. I just… I need some air.”

Marinette stood up and cupped his face. “Then go and get it out of your system. I’ll be right here waiting for you.” She rolled forward to kiss his cheek. “Don’t get lost out there, okay?”

He watched her with a tender expression, unable to do anything but nod. “Claws out.”

Once he was gone, Marinette collapsed into the couch. Tikki landed behind her.

“Are you sure that was a good idea?”

“Adrien is feeling a lot right now. It’s like Hawkmoth’s defeat all over again. I’m here for him, but this is something that he needs to come to grips with before I can do anything to help him. Once he comes back we can talk things out.”

Tikki considered this. “And what about you, Marinette?”

Marinette sighed. “I’ll be happy when I have my kitty back. Until then,” she leaned forward and started working through another set of papers.

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

Chat Noir’s mind was empty of thoughts as he let himself fully sink into the mechanics of running, leaping, and swinging. He had no destination in mind, but ran like a man possessed. As if he’d be able to burn out his anger and frustration with physical exhaustion. For a while, it worked and he was able to outrun his emotions - he became lost in the moment.

Running, however, is only a temporary solution. It took a while, but even his superhuman endurance began to waver and everything hit him all at once. He slowed down, legs becoming tired from more than just physical weariness. His knee hit the metal roof of the building he was standing on and only there and then, alone, did he allow himself to shed tears.

There were plenty of emotions vying for his attention. The most obvious was anger - he was beyond pissed at Mayor Andre, and more especially his father. He had known that Gabriel was not a savory character, even when his mom was alive. It had only worsened over the years, but even at his lowest, Adrien hadn’t expected his father to be capable of such… corruption and vileness. Which lead to frustration. Even in prison, Gabriel was ruining his life and hurting his friends. Shame was hot on its heels - despite Marinette’s reassurances, he knew that if there was anyone that could have noticed this earlier, it would have been him. The money used to torment his loved ones was the same money he’d helped Gabriel make through years of modeling.

Belatedly, Adrien realized where he was standing. The same warehouse that Hawkmoth - his father - had held Marinette in to get at Chat Noir. Like the true coward he was.

His brushed his tears aside and stood tall. There was one stop he needed to make before he went home to help Marinette deliver justice. Gabriel Agreste needed to understand the enormity of his crimes. And who better to do it than him?

So single-minded was Adrien that he failed to notice the white fur taking shape below him and a throaty growl that echoed in the empty space...

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

Gabriel Agreste stared at the wall of his small prison cell. He’d been put into maximum security, solitary confinement as he awaited his no doubt highly publicized trial. There had been no visitors to break up the monotony of his daily routine. Nathalie was gone, likely a victim of the same miraculous that had stolen so much from him already. Adrien hadn’t been seen in months, abducted by his hated enemies. And clearly, all of his business associates were doing their best to divorce themselves from any relationship they had with him. He did not even have Nooroo any more, his one constant companion for the past what? Twenty, thirty years?

Worst of all, he knew that his wife was gone. The machine could not have sustained her for much longer, least of all without his frequent maintenance and care. No, now Gabriel was entirely alone in the world.

...Or at least he was until he noticed the figure in black standing on the other side of his cage, just outside the reach of his pitiful overhead light.

Of course, even in the weak light he would recognize that figure. Even if he hadn’t been spending the last ten years trying to pry jewelry off his body, living or dead, there weren’t many people in Paris who wore cat ears and a leather tail. At least, none that he would allow within twenty meters of him.

His face twisted into a sneer. “Chat Noir. Finally come to gloat at how you defeated the mighty Hawkmoth? How you tore a family apart because of your desperate need to play hero?” He watched Chat Noir flex his claws as his glowing emerald eyes stared back at Gabriel. Despite himself, Gabriel shivered - there was a coldness in that look that he’d never seen in the hero before, no matter what akuma’s eyes he had been looking through.

Instead of a response, Chat Noir said, “Claws in.”

After blinking away the spots from his eyes due to the green light show, he eagerly looked one of his nemeses in the face for the first time. A knot of some unfamiliar emotion knotted in his gut. Despite the suit vanishing, none. "...Son?"

"Hawkmoth."

Gabriel frowned, the much more familiar sense of parental disappointment returning to him. "Still no respect for your father, I see."

"There's no one here by that title. No one here who deserves respect. Let me tell you about some people I DO respect though." Adrien pulls pictures out of his jacket and throws them one by one at Gabriel’s feet.

The first picture was a happy couple dressed in wedding finery that Gabriel could barely remember as one of Adrien’s circle of nobody friends. "This is Alya and Nino. You remember them, right? Well this is their wedding rehearsal dinner. In Venice. Why in Venice, do you ask? Because, as I just learned, they were threatened by Andre Bourgeois to the point that they had to leave this city. They now travel where Alya can report the truth without being blackmailed."

Another picture hit the floor. "This is my former fencing instructor. I'm sure you don't remember him, because you didn't care about how I lived my life as long as I was busy and quiet and cut off from the world. He ran against the mayor several times trying to bring real change and each time he was met with a smear campaign that ruined his reputation and his business. He moved, and last I heard he has a very nice fencing studio in Marseille. He hasn't been back to Paris since."

"Adrien-"

The last picture was tossed directly at his face and Gabriel caught it easily with one hand. He almost wished he hadn’t when he saw his son, smiling wider than he had in years, his arm around a young woman that he definitely recognized.

"And THIS.” His son’s face was a mask of anger. “This is Marienette Dupain-Cheng. The love of my life. And she's still here. DESPITE the horrible competition she endured trying to break into the fashion world. DESPITE the critics who will tear apart anything innovative for ratings. DESPITE the blacklist I found in Mayor Bourgeois's office that had her name on it. The list you gave him."

Long moments passed between them, a silence thick with tension.

“You’ve got nothing to say for yourself.” It wasn’t a question.

“Everything I did was for us, for our family-” Gabriel was cut off by Adrien laughing, a biting, hollow noise.

“You didn’t do it for me,” Adrien spat at him. “You didn’t do it for mom. You did it for your idea of us, some… some fictional version of us that only exists in your head.” He shook his head. “Do you really think mom would have ever wanted you to terrorize Paris for her? Do you think she wanted to spend her last days of life stretched thin in stasis? What the hell would make you think I’d want a supervillain instead of a father?”

Gabriel didn’t have a response to that either and felt his legs give out underneath him as he collapsed onto his hard prison bed. He barely registered the flash of green light as his son - who he realized with dawning horror he had tried to kill many times in the past ten years - left him.

He finally recognized the unfamiliar emotion he was feeling.

Guilt.

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

Marinette took a big sip of her best red wine as her phone rang. She knew they were out of their league with this one, but she knew exactly who to call for help. It was a big enough story to entice her, but if she wanted this to work, she needed to be as honest as possible.

A voice answered on the other end. “Hey, M. What’s up?”

The time for hesitation was over. “Alya, I hope you’ve got a lot of time to spare.”

“For my best friend? I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Good.” Marinette took a deep, fortifying breath. “I’m Ladybug, and I need your help.”

[doomedandstoned]

An Interview with S.C. Atmospheric Doomers Oakskin

~By Shawn Gibson~

Photo by Savannah Juliet Bockus

Continuing our series of interviews of bands in the southern sludge scene, we're now in Columbia, South Carolina visiting with unconventional three-piece OAKSKIN. As they come ever closer to finishing their debut LP, we take a look at the band's origins, inspirations, and aspirations in this one-on-one at last year's Starkfest.

Prey by Oakskin

We are at the Sparrow in North Charleston. You guys played with Mode Low and Midmourner tonight. Damn good show!

Bianca:

Midmourner they just like melt your brain because of how heavy they are!

Yeah, for sure!

Phillip: I'm digging Mode Low, too!

Bianca: Yeah, yeah.

Austin: Kinda krautrock, kinda noisey. I dig it.

Yeah, Paisley Adams the bass player just left, she is in Tripping The Mechanism.

Phillip: Tripping The Mechanism, right. I produced a couple of records of theirs.

Austin: They were supposed to play tonight, but there was something with scheduling.

Yeah, I thought the original flyer said "Tripping The Mechanism." Then it changed and said "to be determined."

Bianca: That was because they had work or something.

The other two guys in the band were here later on in the show.

Phillip: They're a great band, really cool.

The first time I interviewed you guys were at the Radio Room in Greenville, South Carolina, at Starkfest in July. I'd imagine you guys have played a few shows in the span of time since.

Bianca: Only one!

Phillip: Yeah this is our third show.

Wow, third show. Your first show was at Starkfest 2018. Now you have some shirts!

Phillip: Yeah, we're moving up!(laughs)

You got some merch!

Bianca: We've got stickers now!(laughs)

So explain your Oakskin t-shirt.

Bianca: The way our name started was because me and Phil, all three of us were on the porch mulling over what our name would be. We had no fucking idea! It was so difficult. Phil saw an oak tree in my yard and said, "Oak something." I said Oakflesh, because I am a Skyrim nerd. He said that's too brutal because our music isn't that brutal. (laughs) We're not a fucking death metal band! (laughs) Phil said Oakskin. I said, "Fuck yeah!" Later, we found out it was a spell in Dungeons and Dragons. We just winged it with the shirt design. Twenty-sided die on the shirt.

As soon as I saw it, I recognized it was a twenty-sided die.

Phillip: Who didn't play D&D at least once?

Bianca: Or at least knows about it.

Or any role playing game requiring multiple sided dice.

Bianca: D&D is the only game using twenty sided die.

Phillip: I've never seen a shirt with a die on it.

Bianca: The funny thing coming up with the shirt was like, "Let's put people under a spell. Well, why don't we incorporate the whole D&D concept?" It progressed from there.

Austin: It was the easiest decision we've had yet.

Brood by Oakskin

I believe you guys released a song recently. I got the notification from Bandcamp 'cause I'm following you guys and shared it on Facebook.

Phillip: Thank you!

Tell me about this song.

Bianca: The song is called "Brood." The name spawned from my love for cicadas, cause we're from the South. Not to say cicadas aren't from all over the world, really. In the South, in particular, you get used to hearing them. That noise that taunts you!

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHH!!! (laughs)

Bianca: You know it!

Phillip: We open the song with that. That's us sitting on the porch. That song is part of a bunch of songs we are recording for an album. We are taking our time with it. We are not in a rush. We don't have a label or anything.

That's probably the best with no time limits and taking your time.

Phillip: Yeah, no deadlines, so we are going to release it when we are 100% happy.

Organic and letting it flow naturally.

Phillip: We haven't released anything since February because we had these shows. I had that song close to done, mixing it. We decided to put these songs out for these shows. Honestly, what we posted when we first played, they were kind of surprised. They weren't expecting us to be so heavy. So we were like, "Let's put a heavier song out."

Bianca: I love the surprise of us being heavy. (laughs) I do love that, but I think it gives people an idea of where we are going or what we're trying to do.

Phillip: The band has gotten heavier and darker as we've gone along.

I noticed tonight it seemed a little different. There was something like a blast beat in there -- whoa!

Bianca: We all love black metal. We all love death metal. We love different kinds of music. I think over time as we progress, we will incorporate all of our interests in all we do. We all love different kinds of music.

Austin: When we started it was in our kitchen.

Phillip: I don't know if I talked about this last time, but I wrote a keyboard line just for fun. I was thinking about a solo project. Bianca came in and asked, "Do you mind if I sing on this?" Austin came in and said, "Do you mind if I jam to this?" We were all in other bands. I was working on another project.

Bianca: I was in two bands.

Phillip: All of us were working on other projects, but we were like, "This is kind of cool!" The first song we recorded in our kitchen.

Bianca: It literally was recorded in our kitchen.

Austin: I got off work and pulled up to the house and heard the drum machine going. "Damn, someone's partying, someone's jamming! That's some cool shit!" I walked in and it got louder. It's Phillip and Bianca jamming on some stuff.

Bianca: Me and Austin have worked together before in a couple of different projects that really didn't go anywhere, but I knew I wanted to be in a band with him because I love him pretty much.

Phillip: So after that kitchen jam and recording I was like, "That was pretty cool. We'll come out with a name and release it and see if anybody is interested." People were and we are going to jump on this! Now this is her and mine main band. Austin has put 100% in! Since then, we have been writing as a band and it's just naturally gotten heavier and darker. It's just where it's gone we haven't tried to control it.

Bianca: It's darker, but light in some weird way.

Phillip: (laughs)

Bianca: Hear me out!

Phillip: Yeah, I'm going to hear you out on this!

Bianca: The lyrics, if we get them out there, they're not necessarily dark. The lyrical concepts are light and dark, but the music is so fucking heavy!

It is!

Bianca: It's like pushing the concept forward.

Austin: It all sounds like noise to me. (laughs)

Phillip: We haven't focused on a concept. We have focused on writing.

Bianca: Each song has its own entity. When we hear people's input on it, we create its own entity within the song. It makes it unified, to me. We aren't stressed out about it, where it's going. We do what we want to do.

Yellow Light by Oakskin

I think you'll have better songs and a better album when you don't have the pressure or deadlines.

Phillip: I have had to live by deadlines for years, so it's nice to be in a situation where nobody's breathing down my neck about it, you know?

Bianca: Right.

Phillip: It's nice to get it done as it gets done.

Austin: It was two days after Starkfest we had six songs tracked now. We went straight in on the first session and knocked them out -- pow, pow, pow!

Phillip: We have been practicing for months. I was like it's kind of harsh to do that to them, but I was like, "We've been practicing these songs for months, let's go record them after the show! Who knows what work schedules will get in the way? We're tight so let's go knock these out while we're tight." We went in and knocked the songs out. When we get some more, we'll knock those out.

Bianca: We have already started on some other songs, too. I love the direction y'all are going in! I come in after they finalize it, oh it's so good! I fucking love it so much! It's so weird and great. I really love it! I was like, "Can I come in now?" (laughs)

Phillip: (laughs) She was trying to sing over it and we didn't have it done yet!

Bianca: Let me sing on it! (laughs) I get really excited. We all get excited in a really weird way. Mostly we all vibe off each other.

Phillip: I think that most bands get excited about what they're doing or they wouldn't be doing it.

Bianca: Some bands don't get excited, because they get big or whatever reason.

Phillip: I understand that whole second guessing thing. I've been there: "I don't know if anyone else will like this or not?"

Bianca: I feel like bigger bands don't have the time to spend on songs anymore, because they're pushed to put something out. They don't get to enjoy it like they used to.

Austin: Well, if your doing two tours a year...

Bianca: Right.

Phillip: You're touring non-stop. It's hard to even find time to write. Try to write a little bit when you're home. That shit gets really hard! Starting a new band makes it a lot easier.

Bianca: Especially with your connections, it makes it easier for us, genuinely.

Phillip: To a certain degree. In all fairness, we are starting right at the bottom like most bands do. Nobody's been like, "Here ya go!" Play small shows...

...hit the road. Get some merch. Get some gigs.

Phillip: We're starting out like I've started every other band I've started. (laughs) I just love playing music ya know? I love playing at any level. There's certain things like yeah it would be nice to have a budget!(laughs) There are other times it is nice to start fresh and not have any expectations.

Austin: What is interesting to me about this band is Bianca. Oakskin has been together for about a year now.

Phillip: Yeah, about a year.

Austin: Before that, like she said we were rehearsing with some other projects. Until Oakskin she hadn't been in a band. Not trying to...

Bianca: ...no, it's fine. The other two bands I was in didn't play shows. It was just us trying to put music together.

Austin: So we have Bianca who is very new to it.

Bianca: This is my third show ever! Playing live, ever. (laughs)

Austin: I have been doing this fifteen years or so now. Phillip's experienced, he's been doing it for thirty years!

Phillip: I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shushed you. I wanted to see where he was going with this. (laughs)

Austin: Well, for me seeing where you [Bianca] have come from and seeing where you [Phillip] have come from. You [Bianca] are still enthusiastic. Phillip and I get down and shit (laughs), because we are grumpy and run down. You [Bianca] are like, "No, we can do this!"

Phillip: That is true.

Bianca: (laughs)

Phillip: I think one of the funny things is yeah, she is starting fresh and I'm kind of old and grizzled. It's like I see everything ahead of me that's going to go wrong. This is going to wrong! This is going to go wrong! This is going to go wrong!

(laughs)

Bianca: I have bright eyes about everything. Everything is great, ya know? (laughs)

Phillip: It's been fun, I will say that.

Bianca: I love doing music with y'all, for real!

Phillip: It's being done for the right reasons. It's really nice.

Down the road, you guys will release a full-length proper, right?

Phillip: We were going to do an EP and then we were like, "Let's just keep going and make an album."

Bianca: We have at least three more songs to write and we'll have an album.

Nice. Can't wait!

Bianca: It will come out whenever we feel like it!(laughs)

Austin: It will be four gatefold 12" LP's!

It's going to be a double live album! (laughs)

Bianca: (laughs)

Phillip: In reality, it will be a Bandcamp download! (laughs)

It was good catching up with you guys and seeing you live again.

Bianca: Thank you for coming to see us. Genuinely, thank you!

Is there anything that you guys would like to plug or push?

Well it depends on when this comes out!

Bianca: (laughs)

Right on! Fair enough! I still need to put the Starkfest interview out there. Guilty as charged!

Phillip: That was not a dig.

It's fine. I really want to get that one out there.

Austin: We have a show in Atlanta in two days.

Bianca: Yeah we are playing SlaughterQUE.

Hell, yeah. I saw the post for that on Facebook. It's two days right?

Bianca: If you would have liked, commented, and shared you could have won two free tickets!

What? Goddamnit!

Bianca: Only fifteen people did that.

I think I shared it. I saw it.

Phillip: You forgot to like it. (laughs)

Bianca: We had very strict rules about it.

Yeah I was smoking in the boys room when you were talking about the rules! I'll share it, but I'm not going to "like" it. I like those guys and everything! (laughs)

Bianca: (laughs)

Phillip: We have a couple shows coming up.

Austin: Next month.

Bianca: Our video was adorable, because we had a lot of cats. Our cats are very cute, too!

Phillip: If anything it was a statement: "We don't give a fuck!" (laughs)

Bianca: And also we love cats.

Phillip: Love cats, yeah.

Bianca: We love Halloween and cats.

Phillip: That is a true statement. Our house has a ridiculous amount of cats right now.

Oh no!

Bianca: We don't have like thirty or anything. We have four.

If you get over fifteen cats, you have to get the crazy cat lady action figure. (laughs) I'm not sure, I will check the handbook.

Phillip: One of our cats got stuck in a tree.

Bianca: To be fair, this cat's name is Siren. He never shuts up. He is constantly meowing.

Phillip: So Siren gets stuck in a tree. We couldn't find him.

Bianca: The way we found him was because he is so loud, the neighbors behind us heard him.

Phillip: Here's the funny story. The tree the cat got stuck in was at a cat person's house. They had over thirty cats!

Austin: They were rescue cats.

Phillip: Lucky for that cat he was way up there.

Bianca: 25 feet up in the tree!

Phillip: We were calling people to get him out and none of us could afford that.

Bianca: That guy had a tree climbing friend.

Wow!

Bianca: That cat is so lucky! We're so broke. You have to pay the fire department two hundred and fifty dollars to get a cat out of a tree.

Jesus Christ!

Phillip: I had no idea our neighbor had that many cats!

Bianca: That cat does not want to go outside anymore! So anyways we love cats. (laughs)

Well, that will make a great shirt, some Oakskin stickers maybe. Huh?

Phillip: The next shirt will be a cat stuck in an oak tree.

Austin: That's wilder than a cat going up a tree.

Bianca: Austin knows all these southern sayings. Phillip and I are from the south and we don't know what he's saying.

Austin: No one has ever heard all the sayings I know.

I am from the south, as well. I had a book of old southern laws and some of it was ridiculous, some very bizarre. Thanks a lot guys! I appreciate it!

Phillip: Thank you so much!

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