#i am supposed to just let it go and move on but goddamn im upset. but im not allowed to be. supposed to just move on

[piplupod]

oh i think I'm going to throw myself into a ravine actually

#i need to . do something. idk what. everything is bad #boy i hate the feeling leading up to a meltdown #and then when it never happens u get to just edge on this feeling basically for days until u finally break #tonight was supposed to be so good. I was so set. i had my dinner plan and i was gonna watch aew #and then parents happened and the second spider of the day and i just want to tear all my skin off or something #im. so frustrated. missed all the wrestling. and my dinner is all skewed bc my routine is so fucked now. hate this #this all sounds so trivial and those parts of it are but theres other shit i dont want to mention bc i Can't Think About It rn #i just. god. fuck!!! #idk what to do lmao i am so tired i am so so tired. this is all hell #i am supposed to just let it go and move on but goddamn im upset. but im not allowed to be. supposed to just move on #not productive to be upset. cbt and everything says ur just supposed to let it all go and be fine w everything #change your thoughts :) i am not being abused i am not being fucked over :) i am fine and all i need to do is eat :) #my feelings dont matter and i have no wants :) my needs dont matter past basic survival things and even then those are flexible :) #i just need to try harder bc obviously im not trying hard enough so ignore the body and just push thru :) this is how its supposed to work!! #you got your plans you've been looking forward to for several days fucked over well too bad just move on :) #no being upset because you can just think past it :) you have to control your feelings :) #i just want to go to bed #vent /

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Can I request HSP + depression reader (who thinks they are just weak and being crybaby) x Bucky, please? I understand you are super busy right now and I didn’t mean to rush you or anything but I'm just struggling with both HSP and depression and couldn’t help but send it right now. No need to hurry, just when you are free and maybe when you had nothing to write. Thank you and I love you!

Thank you for the request, I’m sorry it’s been a difficult time for you! I’m here if you need me and I hope that this helps!!! 

It’s called empathy

Bucky x reader

Word count: 1981

Warnings: depression, HSP (highly sensitive person), low self worth, negative self talk, swearing (that’s normal for me but this one’s a little extra), angst (more so internal idk if that needs a warning), fluff/comfort

Taglist: @buckys2thicc @babydaddy-buckybarnes @barnesplums @peggycarter-steverogers @mardema @abitgryffindorky @buckys-blue-eyes @strawberrimae @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @bucks-bunny @broadwaybabe18 @im-sick-of-failing

Taglist     Masterlist

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

Breathe in

Breathe out

In 

Out 

...in…

You felt a tear escape your eyes

Goddamn it

You didn’t want to cry, you couldn’t let yourself. It was stupid, it was just some shitty remark from someone when they were in a shitty mood, it wasn’t your fault, all that bullshit you tried to tell yourself. It never worked.

You were trying to control your breathing, looking up at the ceiling trying to will the tears away, biting your lip. You would not cry, not over this. Not over something that wasn’t worth your tears

Not when you didn’t even know what exactly you were crying over. 

Yet here you were, gripping the edge of the bathroom sink with white knuckles, looking up at the ceiling trying to keep the tears at bay. And it wasn’t working.

Weak sensitive piece of shit. 

What good were you to the team if you cry in the bathroom like a baby every time something remotely stressful happens? People usually cry when they're in pain or when they’re grieving - the only excuse you had was you were stressed or sad. 

You felt another few tears escape and you angrily swiped them away, cursing yourself for being so weak. 

You hated this, you hated yourself. You were so numb most of the time, especially when you were alone. You found yourself alone in your room with racing thoughts feeling like you were falling apart. Yet when you were alone you could only stare at the ceiling wondering if it would get any worse. 

The answer was usually yes.

Whenever you would go on missions with the team, you were able to push aside your stress. You had a job to do and you would do it. But when the mission was over and you were walking back through the rubble - seeing all the blood, destruction, fear - then it would start to get to you. You would panic, you would feel tears cloud your vision. Tears for those you were leaving behind, and those who had nowhere to go, those who lost someone. That was understandable. 

It seemed to affect you more than the others though. It was understandable to be moved by so much destruction. But for you everyone felt like someone you had known and loved. 

You could feel the grief in those left behind, feel the sadness and pain that they were going through. 

The same was true when you weren’t on missions. When those who were on them would come back. Whether they were injured or their eyes were saddened - you knew when a mission was rough. You would listen, you would be there for people. It was easy to talk to you, and you were very wise. 

But it still overwhelmed you. You couldn’t say no, you didn’t want to. You wanted to help but it would be so emotionally taxing for you. So behind closed doors, you would break. Be there for others, listen when they need to talk, others come first - you took their emotional pain onto yourself. 

You were grateful that you could help - but in the process it was hurting you. 

You allowed yourself to feel sad when you were alone in your room. No one could see you be weak in the dark of your room. But you never cried much just from the pure exhaustion of your thoughts. Sometimes you wanted to, just feeling so incredibly empty that you just wanted to have an ugly crying session curled up in bed.

But you didn’t get to make that choice.

The crying wouldn’t come until the absolute worst times. If you had messed up on a mission, if Tony said something a little too harshly because to him everything was a joke, seeing something gruesome on a mission- whenever it came to someone else getting involved, the tears would come. Hell sometimes even being overwhelmed in public would be enough to start the waterworks. 

You always felt so fucking weak for it. The slightest environmental stressor could stress you out too much and move you to tears. You had no reason to be upset most of the time. But you would get angry at yourself for being upset, which would make you more upset that you couldn’t control it, making it harder to control.

It was a vicious cycle.

Lately it had been popping up more and more recently. Smaller things were upsetting you more than usual. You were becoming more sensitive to external stimuli and as a result, you spent as much time as you could in your room. You were embarrassed by yourself. Both by your emotions and by your inability to control them. 

This time you were just upset that you were upset. It had been a long night the day prior, just a lot of paperwork to do. There had been a mission earlier this week that you hadn’t been assigned to, but it had been brutal for everyone who had gone. So far today had been a normal day by anyone’s terms, an emotionally exhausting one for you. One of those where you woke up tired and the thoughts of another day were enough to draw you to tears. Nothing had even happened, but apparently nothing needed to happen. 

Your emotions came and went without your consent. 

You knew deep down it was probably some sort of emotional build up - that whole quote about bottling things up until they got to be too much - it happened every time but you still thought you could handle yourself better than that. You didn’t want to vent or be a problem to anyone. But when you are the emotional support for most of the team and you haven’t been able to get enough sleep or take time for yourself - you didn’t have much of a say as to when the bottle overflows.

A few more tears fell and you slammed your hand on the counter, wiping your tears angrily once more. “God fucking damn it why can’t you just stop fucking crying!” you exclaimed, feeling a few more tears falling “Weak piece of shit!” 

There was knocking on the door, pulling you out of your self deprecating thoughts. You gasped lightly, wiping your face again. 

Knock knock

You jumped a little, gasping slightly. No one was supposed to be here, it was the middle of the night. 

“Y/n? What’s going on in there? Are you alright?”

You took a shaky breath. Of course it would be Bucky who heard you. Why would it be anyone else?

“I’m fine Bucky, it’s late, you should go to sleep.”

“Then why are you still awake?” Bucky responded. You heard him sigh a little outside the door. “Come out here and tell me you’re okay.”

“Really Bucky?”

“Unless you want me to come in there, but I don’t think Stark would appreciate me breaking your door.”

You took a small breath and walked over to the door, opening it. You crossed your arms and met Bucky’s concerned eyes. “I’m fine, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed, taking in your appearance. Red eyes, flushed face, your hair was messy - you were definitely crying. He hated when you wouldn’t admit that you weren’t ok. “You know you don’t have to be, right?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep fresh tears from clouding your vision. “What?”

“You say you’re fine, you always say that you’re fine until you break. I heard you crying, I can see that you’re not feeling okay yet still you try to keep a brave face. And I just want you to know that you don’t have to always be okay.”

You let out a breath. “I - i…” you looked down and shook your head, lost for words. 

“Y/n, I’m not here to judge you. Can you try to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you said looking up at him “It’s literally so stupid, Bucky.”

“Y/n, nothing you say right now is going to sound stupid. 

You shrugged your shoulders, still not quite meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, I just get so worked up sometimes, but it’s stupid. I tell myself I’m not going to be bothered and then I freak out again. The smallest things bother me and I get stressed out and then I cry like some stupid weak bitch. People have it worse than me, God, you have it worse than me. Everyone here has some sort of traumatic awful thing happen to them and then there’s me and I get sad because I see other people sad,” you were crying again and you wiped at your face, covering your eyes. “God Im so fucking stupid I -”

Bucky pulled you into his chest as you let out a sob. “You’re not stupid, y/n.”

“YES I AM. I get worked up over the smallest shit, I don’t listen when people tell me to take breaks, I take everything too personally and I can’t stop fucking crying when I don’t even know what the fuck is wrong!” you exclaimed, trying to push yourself away, ashamed.

Bucky held you tightly, not letting you go. “That’s not your fault. It’s not up to you how your feelings show up.”

“But I cry at the most stupid shit and I can’t control it.”

“You’re not supposed to know how to control it,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Emotions can’t be controlled. They just happen and it’s rarely convenient.”

“Then why do I feel so weak? If this,” you gestured to yourself “is so goddamn normal then why isn’t everyone else breaking down every other day?” 

Bucky brushed some hair out of your face. “Your emotions are yours, no one else’s. No one has the right to tell you how to feel. Think of it this way - you can’t expect everyone to have the same amount of strength or stamina - no one has the same emotional response either. And that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you you.”

You shook your head. “I just feel so weak all the time.” 

“And I’m here to remind you that crying isn’t weak. You are not a weak person, you are not a bad person, you’re not any of those things your mind tells you. You’re a kind and thoughtful person. You put your heart into everything you do. You help everyone you can. Mourning someone else’s loss isn’t weakness. It’s called empathy.”

You took a small breath. “Then why does it hurt so goddamn much?”

“”I don’t know. And I can’t say for certain that you won’t always feel that way. But I know I can tell you that you aren’t weak, and I’ll be here every time you feel that you are.” 

You nodded your head slightly. “You don’t think I’m weak?” you asked quietly.

He pulled you back into a hug. “Not in the slightest, y/n.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes comfort #comfort #fanfiction #MCU #MCU fanfiction #MCU fic #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #writingrequests #bucky #james buchanan barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes imagine

[zaikaglow]

Umbrageous Part 4

Pairing: Hange x Reader, Eren x Reader, Erwin x Reader (soon to be Levi x Reader)

Summary: Erwin is out and leaves you under Eren’s watchful eye to keep you out of trouble but when he gets called into the office on a Saturday what is a girl to do to entertain herself while plotting her next move of her office conquest

Content Warnings: Step dad! Erwin, alcoholism mention, size kink, cheating, pseudoincest

This chapter is the longest yet but I decided not to break it up for cohesiveness (if its to hard to read I may break it up if I get that request)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You were laying in bed wrapped under the covers when you felt a hand touch your foot, Erwin you assume. A smile spreads across your face even while it's buried into the pillow, you feel happy knowing Erwin couldn't resist you so badly he was sneaking into your room while your mother slept off her hangover upstairs. But it's still only 7am and you're tired so you just tug open the covers as an invitation to slide in next to you. Instead of feeling a warm Erwin sliding in next to you to wrap you up in his big arms you're jolted as someone jumps into the bed and a nose starts to nuzzle behind your ear and under your jaw. “Eren”??? You exclaim as you sit up in bed looking bewildered that somehow this boy had gotten into your room. He’s laying down, head propped up on one hand, his elbow digging into the pillow next to yours. “Your dad told me to come and wake you” he says smiling ear to ear “uhh what are you doing here? On a saturday?” you reply still confused as to why he’s here. His eyebrows raised a little, seeming almost a little hurt that you seemed more confused than excited, the poor boy was so down bad for you at times you almost felt a little bad that he was a pawn in your deprived incestous game. “Mr.Smith told me he had an event to go to today and that I should come hand out to keep you company today, he’s making breakfast downstairs”. You place a hand onto his cheek rubbing your thumb in circles in an attempt to placate the saddened look on his face. It works and his smile returns and he takes your hand in his “let's go downstairs”. 

Erwin is at the stove wearing a white tee shirt and his old plaid pajama bottoms, so simple and yet he looks oh so handsome especially when he turns around and smiles “Thanks for getting y/n out of bed Eren”. You both take a seat at the table Erwin places plates of pancakes in front of you and Eren and the dark haired boy slides his hand onto your thigh. “So are you and mom going out tonight or something” you say, still confused as to why Erwin would have invited the “Jaeger boy” into your house and then sending him into your bedroom. Erwin now sits down with the two of you at the table “Yes we have an engagement for her work this evening but we’ll be leaving soon. I figured your friend Eren here could keep you company while we're gone. Keep you out of trouble” He says with a wink. “I'll do my best Mr.Smith” Eren says mouth full, he’s lucky he’s hot otherwise that would have been utterly repulsive. 

A few hours later and your mom and Erwin had left, they were probably going to be staying the night at some Inn since the event was so far away but Erwin had made sure to tell Eren that while he was to keep you company today he shouldn't be staying the night and that he’d be checking in. You and Eren were sitting on your bed, you laying down feet propped up against the headboard scrolling through your phone ignoring a text from Jean asking how you were doing over break and asking if you wanted to hang out once the break ended and that he missed you.. Like he missed his other friends of course (him trying to cover up his feelings only making them more obvious. Eren is sitting at the foot of the bed rattling off things that you could be doing. He wanted to prove to you that he could show you a good time, hopeful that after you both went back to school that you’d still want to see him. You two had been at the same campus this past year and you had never even known he existed; he worried about how easy it would be to forget him after the winter break ended. “Well we could go sledding? I have some old ones back at my place and there's this hill right in town I think that will be fun? Would you think that would be fun?” Eren was rambling when suddenly his phone went off and his eyes went wide “Mr.Ackermen? No it's okay, yeah I can help. Uh actually I was supposed to watch Mr.Smith's daughter today can I bring her? Oh really? Okay I guess that works out” he hangs up the phone. The words coming out of his mouth are so fast they almost blur together “Uhh y/n Im really sorry but Mr.Ackerman’s client had a problem come up and I know it's saturday but I have to come in a help but also the client is there and they're pretty cool i've met them so do you want to come with me? You could hang out with Hange or something. I'm sorry” he looks so nervous that you're about to get mad or upset but his face relaxes as you turn your head and just say “sure” right as you send a text saying the exact same thing to Jean.

It feels strange being back at the office on a saturday the normal bustle of people gone but also you were excited this felt like a way to get your foot in the door or zipper? Of Mr.Ackermans pants. You still knew that this would be the best way to get under Erwin’s skin and force his hand, but you hoped you could do it without Eren finding out it would break the poor boy's heart and he was a pretty good lay in the meantime besides you’ve never even seen Mr.Ackerman for all you knew he was an ugly old guy. You werent even sure if he’d be someone you could tolerate fucking for pure revenge yet.

But that fear was quelled when you saw him, surprised a little by his height he was tiny and you’d have to look down to meet his eye but he was beautiful. His undercut raven hair makes his stealy eyes look exceptionally blue. He was so perfect and little it was almost like he was a doll. And you were surprised at yourself, you mean you had laughed at the jokes about short guys before using the word “manlet” but you couldn't help but notice the tingling in between your thighs thinking about how hot it would be to be towering over him tilting up his perfect little chin to look you in the eyes as you pinned him down with your thighs.

“Eren, when you said you had to watch someone I figured it be a child” Mr.Ackerman said raising an eyebrow

“Yeah well my dad seems to think I’m one” you replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. The corners of Mr.Ackerman’s lips lifted and he let out a small chuckle “I’m Levi, you dad's business partner” he says extending his hand. You give it a slight squeeze to his hand shake admiring how delicate his hands were. “Im y/n it’s nice to finally meet you”. Eren steps out from behind you “So does this mean I can call you Levi now?” Eren chimes in “No” Levi replys rather flatly. It looks like he’s about to say something else when suddenly you see someone emerge from Levi’s office “Leeeeviiii is that your little friend whos here to help? Oh Eren it's nice to see you again!” you're a little surprised how this stranger is also very attractive, you were so used to messing with boys that you were a little caught off guard by just how attractive this feminine  presenting person was. What the fuck was in the water in this town. Instead of walking around the couch that was placed by the office door they clamored over it, Levi wincing as their feet touched the cushions. “Hi, I’m y/n” you say extending your hand the stranger grabs it with both of their hands “I'm Hange Zoe, it's nice to meet you” they say with the most endearing smile. “Hange I told you to keep your goddamn feet off my couch!” Levi exclaims, still holding onto your hands Hange replies ``oh relax, you're so uptight I know you’d make everyone take their shoes off in here if you could”.

“Absolutely I would. Eren we have work to do, Hange try not to bore y/n to death” Levi says before closing the office door behind him. Hange pulls you back onto the cough they had previously just climbed over and asked you how you felt about science. “I like it, I'm actually majoring in biology right now” you say Hange’s eyes light up. They tell you about how they owned a small biotech company that was undergoing a merger and that was what brought them to Levi and Erwin’s business. They went on for a few hours about the intricacies of what they did when suddenly they stopped noticing you staring “Im sorry am I boring you? I’m told I have a habit of droning on” they say apologetic looks in their eyes. “No you're not boring me, I just noticed how beautiful your eyes are”. That's when they invited you back to their hotel, you had both been there so long, Eren and Levi were still working and it would be a while so why not? They popped in to tell the men they’d be giving you a ride home and that when you found yourself sitting on a queen sized bed drink in hand when Hange tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’ve never done this before, had sex with someone who’s not a man” you say shly Hange is kissing up your neck when they make it to your ear they whisper “youre a scientist” they nip at your earlobe “consider it a sort of experiment” they kiss you tasting sweet tang of their drink on your mouth. You bite your bottom lip sliding your hand up their thighs “will you teach me?” Hange bends down to kiss your ribs over your shirt their hands starting to move towards the button of your jeans when you place your hands over their harms running them up till you meet their jaw and pull their face back up to meet yours “you first” you mutter before dropping to your knees your head now between theirs. Your fingers make quick work of Hange’s button down and when you get to their chest you notice they weren't wearing a bra under their shirt. You kiss by their navel dragging your tongue up till you reach their nipple swirling your tongue around it before latching your lips to it. With how soft they felt in your hand and the way they moaned, threw their head back and gripped at the bed sheet you could feel your own panties getting soaked. You start to move your head back down kissing along their stomach until you get to their waistband you look up at Hange while your delicate fingers start to unbutton their slacks ``you're going to tell me what to do right?” their hand brushes your hair back, their fingers massaging through your scalp “of course my dear”. 

Hange’s hands are pressed to both sides of your face “hhmm thats it, keep circling just like that” you have 2 fingers inside their tight cunt moving in and out making sure to use your knuckles to hit that sweet spot at the top just like Erwin does for you. You keep your pointed tongue moving in quick circles around their clit pausing every few strokes to wrap your lips around it and suck, until finally the fist your hair in their hands as you feel them start to clench around your fingers “good girl, now your turn”. They take your arms pulling you up as they lay down bringing your core right above their mouth kissing your slit over your panties hand running down your thigh, trailing their finger down the crease of your thigh and and core until they reach around the fabric pulling it to the side before dipping their tongue inside you. Your thighs squeeze around Hange’s face as they drag their tongue out of you and up around your clit. Fingers starting to run up your body making their way to your bra. Instead of unclasping it they pull down the cups letting your breasts spill out, fingers tweaking your nipples. It's all too much as you reach back to undo the rest of the bra you feel yourself getting closer as their tongue is back and forward from your dripping slit to your clit and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you ride out your orgasm on their thick tongue.

Laying back in bed Hange has their hands folded behind their head while your sitting cross legged blankets are pulled up to your wrist but your chest is still bare “hey Hange this may not be the best time for this.. But uh is that Levi guy single?” you say playing with fabric between your two fingers too embarrassed to look at the person who just fucked you into oblivion about another. A smile breaks across Hange’s face as they sit up and prop their head up under their fist “Levi?? You're interested really?” you look over at them trying to contain the nervous smile you feel tugging at your lips “yeah I think I am”. They laugh “That little hardass he seems tough but I know he’s lonely he’d appreciate attention from someone as delectable as you”, they tilt their head to the side “I'll introduce you to him again, I know how to warm him up”

Tag List: @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag​

#hange x reader #hange zoë #eren x reader #erwin x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot smut

[mrs-han]

Hello!! I see your request is open, so i was wondering could you write about jumin finding out that mc has a self harm scars? And she’s been trying not to relapse into her old habit but she’s having a hard time so it’s the only thing she can think of? Im sorry for my bad english 😅 and if you don’t want to do it, it’s okay! Don’t force yourself to write it. Thank you, oh and also i like your writings a lot! Have a good day :)

~~~

You’re too sweet, thank you so much for your request! This deals with some fairly upsetting topics!

~~~

The delicate georgette sheen from your onyx long-sleeved dress rubbed harshly against your slashed arms. Of all times to relapse, this was the worst - Jumin was a guest of honor at a new hotel inauguration, and of course, he brought you along.

Palms sweating, you pasted a friendly smile towards every patron in attendance. Frankly, you were overjoyed with your husband’s success. But with you having issues of your own... it was difficult to be in a celebratory mood.

“Mrs. Han!” A sponsor quickly made his way towards you, bringing with him several other philanthropists. Anxious, you tugged the hem of your sleeve down, experiencing a sharp pain and a subtle ooze of liquid.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you,” the older gentleman beamed, hand extended towards you. “I am Tanaka Sato, a close partner of your husband.”

Again, you plastered a fake smile across your mouth. You reached over to shake his hand and shuddered as pain radiated through your right arm. Unconsciously, you tugged at your sleeve. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tanaka.”

“It seems he has chosen a new aesthetic, entirely separate of C&R’s minimalistic design. Are you the inspiration behind this?” A chirpy young woman chimed in.

“I always consult with my wife before making any major decisions,” Jumin spoke affectionately, resting his hand on your waist and lightly tugging you close to him. “This project has been hers as much as it has been mine.”

Several of the woman blushed and whispered amongst themselves as the men took a subtle step back, aware of the power both you and Jumin exuded.

If only you felt as powerful as you looked.

“Jumin?” You flashed him a subtle look of desperation. “I need to freshen up, where’s the restroom?”

“Come with me, my love. Excuse us,” he smiled, his eyes bright and full of fondness for you, ignoring everyone else.

It still confused you, how he could look at you with so much love in his eyes. A whirlwind of emotion ravaged your stomach and chest every time he did it. Were you deserving? Certainly not. But he continued to gaze at you with more tenderness than Cupid’s gaze upon Psyche.

“Are you well?” He asked, the strong acoustic voice that overpowered the venue twenty minutes ago now a low, effete tone.

“I’m okay,” you lied. “I couldn’t find the bathroom, but I’ll be out in a minute or two! Go back to your guests!”

A lie was difficult to get past Han Jumin. But he kissed your temple and squeezed your arm - and you held back a mighty yelp.

There was a first time for everything.

“I’ll be waiting for you by the grand piano,” he hummed. “Take your time.”

After watching his withdrawing figure, you pushed the door to the ladies’ room open, flew to a stall and caught your breath before slowly unbuttoning the diamond buttons on your sleeves. Pain greeted you instantly as the cuts on your wrists throbbed unbearably, each laceration making up a heartbeat on their own.

Easing the sleeves up further, you winced. Dull maroon meshed with bright red, old droplets of blood met new. Unforgiving gashes punished you mercilessly, each slice reminding you of how stupid it was to relapse now, when things were so good. Why now? You were so beloved. So cherished. You had no goddamn reason to do this to yourself.

Choking back sobs, you recklessly pushed the stall door open and turned the faucet on. The water cold, you shoved your arms under and bit your lip, desperate to keep from crying out. Determined to keep your scars from discharging anymore blood, you scrubbed with the flat of your hand. The white of the porcelain sink and marble countertops, illuminated by the overhead lights, was now stained with red hues. You had to hurry before someone else came in - everyone knew your face. Anyone could report what they saw to Jumin, especially...

“MC?”

Jaehee.

Tears blurring your vision, you looked towards the door. Her eyes wide, she stood there, processing the scene before her. Hands shaking, you turned the faucet off and, trembling, faced her with what little courage you had left.

She continued to stand there, speechless. You had presented a fairly complicated situation to her, no doubt. Finally, she pressed her hand to the door. “There you are... I will let Mr. Han know.”

“No!” You bellowed. “Please, don’t!”

Conflicted, Jaehee hesitated. “Those cuts... they look serious. It’s best that I —”

“Jaehee,” you pleaded, tears falling down your chin. “Please. I’m begging you, don’t tell Jumin.”

Jaehee’s brows creased. “But MC... he’s worried about you. He’s been standing by the piano for over twenty minutes and now he is sending others to look for you... myself included.”

Overwhelmed and angry as more blood leaked from your opened gashes, you shouted at her. “He can’t see me like this!! Look at me!! Look!!”

Jaehee blinked and flinched slightly.

“I look disgusting!! My arms hurt, I... I can’t face him like this, Jaehee... please —”

“Have you found her, Assistant Kang?”

You didn’t have time to shield yourself. Jumin stepped through the threshold and froze in place. Completely exposed and frozen with fear, you stood before your husband like a deer in headlights.

A single drop of water falling into the ceramic of the sink was the only sound that could be heard.

“Leave us,” Jumin spoke to Jaehee, his voice trembling ever so slightly - his power slipping from him.

Obedient to the end, Jaehee agreed - leaving you stranded.

“What is this,” Jumin demanded, power seeping back to his voice.

You trembled. “Jumin...”

He moved closer to you. “Who did this to you?”

What did he mean...? His eyes trembled, moving back and forth between your arms and your eyes. Did he... not believe you could have done this to yourself? Did he not want to...?

You hung your head shamefully. There was no going back from this, no more hiding from him anymore. You felt mortified, embarrassed that he could see you like this. If only you could turn back time and...

“Give me your arm.”

You flinched - he was already so close to you and you didn’t hear him move. Refusing to look at him, you limply lifted your arm - his hand took hold, making you wince.

He turned the faucet on and ran his hand through the water, checking it’s temperature. “Come closer to the sink,” he hummed, easing you closer to the sink with his other hand on your lower back.

You shuddered as your husband cupped cool water over your wounds. His fingers stroked your burning cuts, making you wince and twitch - but he remained kind and gentle throughout.

What bothered you more than anything was his silence.

He remained focused - but quiet. Hot tears flooded your vision - he would think of you differently now. He could think you were crazy, or he would put you away in a mental ward. He wouldn’t want you anymore, not after this.

The silence dragged, second to second, minute to minute. Jumin patted your arm dry, still saying nothing.

“Jumin...” your voice trembled. “I... I —”

“Give me your other arm,” he spoke, a commanding yet tender tone overtaking his voice.

“Jumin...”

His eyes met with yours and you trembled under the weight of his sorrow. “Talk to me, darling. Please talk to me.”

You moved your hand over your mouth. What were you supposed to say...?

Jumin swallowed thickly. “Are you... are you unhappy with me?”

“No, no Jumin, not at all...!”

“Then...” he took a step toward you, cradling your elbows in the palms of his hand. “... talk to me. Dearest, these wounds look fresh... days old.”

“I...” you leaned against the sink, your legs wobbling. “There are days when... when I’m the happiest person in the world because I have a wonderful life... and I have you, you who loves me more than life itself... and yet... there are days when I’m so sad, so miserable with my own existence that I... I take my misery out on myself.”

Jumin’s thumbs stroked your abrasions, his touch so gentle that you lost any will to contain your tears. You leaned into him, hands close to your chest, and you wept.

“Come here,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around you and holding you firmly against him. “I’m here, darling. I’m here.”

“Of course you are,” you whispered. “You’ve always been here...”

He cradled your face in his hands, wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I want to help you, darling.” His blinked and you gasped as tears rolled down his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Jumin...”

He clutched your hands desperately, as if you would disappear without a moment’s notice. “I’ll do anything for you. I’ll sit with you and we can come up with a plan for you to stop hurting yourself. I’ll shorten my schedule at work just to hear your troubles, my love. I’ll do anything, so please. Don’t leave me. Whatever is plaguing you, we can fight it together... I won’t ever leave you to fight on your own, so please. Please.”

His knuckled whitened. His hands trembled. For the first time since you met him, you witnessed your husband so desperate to keep you by his side... and you realized that you weren’t alone anymore. For the first time in a long time, you felt a link in the chains that subdued you break and shatter... all because he loved you and wanted to help you.

No he couldn’t banish your demons all together. You didn’t expect him to. But at least this time... you weren’t alone.

“Thank you,” you pipped. “I only wish you found this out later, rather than... here, now, at this very moment. I’m afraid I ruined a really important night for you...”

Jumin carefully kissed your scarred wrist. “No businessman nor any proposition will take precedent over you, my love. Now... let’s finish cleaning you up, mm?”

Through tears, you cracked your first genuine smile of the evening. “Okay.”

#mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin x mc #Thank you for your request! #Lilac blooms remind me of the scent of your perfume ~

[viostormcaller]

Thinking about it, it kinda sucks just how little new horizons has.

Like... I love the game to pieces and maybe this is just bc im in a shitty mood (which i am) but like... god this is gonna be long and ranty and I'm sorry in advance that mobile tumblr doesnt have the read more feature

For starters, holidays are all scheduled on the company's terms, meaning in 7+ years or so there will be no more in-game holidays because by then they'll probably be thinking about/getting ready to release the next installment of the series on whatever console is out at the time and they won't want to update new horizons anymore. And adding onto this, you need the internet to download the updates. What happens to the players who don't have internet?? Can they just never experience the holidays like bunny day and toy day and turkey day? That takes a HUGE part of the fun of the series out right off the bat. Sometimes making everything rely on the internet is a bad idea. Idk if anyone can like tell me if having no internet means you can't take part in the holidays, but like... god if that's true thats really sad.

They recently took out the hybrid flower and big fish islands, which makes no sense whatsoever why they would do that to a game that has so little, but ok?? It's not like that feature was hindering the gameplay any

There's a lot of furniture but Not a Lot of Furniture, you get me? They took out EVERY set except the classic set (renamed "antique") that you can buy for an insanely high price, and the log and wooden block sets that you can craft, but other that that it's all unrelated items that aren't part of any set, aside from the cute set and diner and throwback sets which as far as I can remember are the only other sets you can buy in the game. No alpine, no ranch, no minimalist, no princess or gracie, no modern or sleek, none of that. And 90% of all the buy-only furniture in the game is just the color variants. You can't even customize them! And it's hard as fuck to find the color variants you want, much less for completing a furniture set

And speaking of which, your starting villagers don't get their default house interiors. Your first three + your two starters from the tutorial days have the same generic layouts. You NEVER see what their houses are supposed to look like, and even if you give them the wallpaper and flooring they're supposed to have (if you figure that out online somewhere), their house doesn't change (I tested this with Sherb and was kinda disappointed).

And stuff is so EXPENSIVE. I know it adds a challenge but my final loan was NEVER 1 mil+ bells in New Leaf. And you can't even expand the extra first floor rooms you get. I'm literally getting less for WAY more. The biggest rooms you get are the basement and upstairs rooms. The first floor rooms aside from the main room really don't have a lot of space and with the different furniture they DO offer, I don't have a lot of room to put things in. But it's not like I can even afford it anyway -- just a freaking air conditioner was 63,000 bells. In New Leaf it was 2500. That's a MASSIVE jump. And the kitchen items are so freaking expensive, as well.

And speaking of houses, for someone who was literally in the real estate industry in the last game, tom nook adds very few house exterior options. And the even more shitty thing is that a lot of the colors straight up don't match. They couldn't even add a plain white roof.

God and the fucking DIY recipes. I know I've said this before on my other tumblr but the RNG for this game is the worst I've ever fucking seen. There is no reason why, two months into the game, I can be given a recipe for a simple DIY bench, which EVERYONE LEARNS IN THE TUTORIAL. Who the fuck am I giving it to?! No one, because literally every player knows it already, and you can't gift diy recipes to villagers! And I keep getting repeats of recipes. My villagers give me fruit DIYs all the time, it's so rare for me to get any new ones. And two days in a row I've gotten the recipe for the deer head mount thing from the same villager. New recipes should 100% take the priority before repeats. This game is slow paced, sure, but that's just frustrating. It doesn't make me excited to learn more recipes, it makes me feel like I'm never gonna learn any new ones because I'll get the same fruit DIYs for a week straight.

And speaking of which, you can't put trees, bushes, or flowers in your storage, which to me makes literally no sense. I can fit a giant ass fountain in my storage but I can't put a flower plant? Really? And speaking of storage, for a game that added 300 whole slots for mail instead of the usual 10, I will never understand why they decided to halve the amount of items a player can order a day from the nook shopping, AND make it so that it takes a whole day to get there instead of making deliveries at 9 am and 5 pm like in New Leaf.

And the fact that they made it so hard to get non native fruit and flowers and shit??? Like they at LEAST added Lief so flowers aren't as much of an issue anymore, but you actually have to travel to other people's islands just to get all the fruits?? I know you have to do the same thing in New Leaf but the reason why this is an issue for me is because you have to pay for online access, meaning most of those nook miles for planting all the fruits are locked behind a paywall unless your villagers can gift them to you. And your mom, when you first start the game, has a chance of giving you the one fruit that's on the non-native fruit mystery island, meaning you'll only get ONE new fruit and not two separate ones (for example, my sis got pears from mom but her non native fruit islands have cherries i believe. I got pears from mom and my fruit islands also have pears. Doesnt help that that's the one fruit i hate lmao). They also took OUT a bunch of fruits, like mangoes, durians, lemons, bananas, lychees, persimmons...

And the fact that your nook miles rewards are ISLAND LOCKED. That is the WORST SHIT. Not everyone has the ability to play with others, bc no internet or no money for the subscription every month. Not everyone WANTS to play with others bc maybe they get social anxiety (like me, which is why i havent asked for things that are impossible for me to get even though i want them for my island or house), or maybe they simply just don't want to. But the fact that each island has their own color variants of the same goddamn rewards that CANNOT BE CHANGED makes me so upset. I do not want nor should I have to rely on others to get the items I want because my game doesn't have my preferred color variations. And it's not like I'm far enough in the game to have anything worth trading for said items, nor do I have the bells.

And Isabelle does next to fucking nothing and I'm really irked about how they made her character in this game. Yeah she's cute, but that's ALL she is. She became more ditzy than anything else. She doesn't let you know about visitors in the town or the plaza or if a bridge or incline was built bc of a completed donation goal. Like really useful info to know would be if Flick or CJ is in town or who is selling stuff in the plaza. Flavor text is nice but if that's all you say 24/7 it loses its charm. In New Leaf she was helpful and hardworking and super focused and on top of things. Idk why they changed that aspect of her. I know her role in New Horizons isn't as big as it was in New Leaf, but still.

And then there's glitches that STILL haven't been patched (as far as I know anyway), like the game-breaking villager corruption glitch (which you'd think nintendo would have made a priority but they're too busy removing other features it seems) or the house exterior glitch.

And it's bad enough that your game saves to your fucking system a la Fantasy Life. But even WORSE, no one can have separate islands on one console. It's not enough to own two copies of New Horizons. Each player has to own one copy of the game and a whole new Switch just so they can play on their own islands. Parents can't usually afford that (aka $360 for each kid give or take) so for a game marketed towards kids, I don't know why they thought that was a smart move (well, I DO know, and that's because money, but still). And to top it all off, cloud saves are not supported normally. If you lose your game or your switch and aren't subscribed to nintendo online, well, it looks like all your progress is gone! And there's nothing you can do about it. And they directly claimed that they did this just so people can't manipulate the game because it's supposed to be played in real time. But people can still fucking time travel by setting the system's clock! They achieved nothing except to make the players frustrated!!! If you make a game you need to accept that the player is going to play how THEY want to. You shouldn't try to make everyone conform to the way YOU want them to play. That just makes you a controlling asshole and the game loses a lot of its fun.

This game was 60 bucks and they took so long to make it and we ended up with less than we got in New Leaf. The main thing they gave us was a shit ton more clothing items (which I really like). Like I said, I love this game to pieces and it's actually one of my favorite games right now. There's so much I love about it -- I certainly don't hate it or anything. But this game has SO MANY flaws, a lot of which are needless. And I think the kid in me just misses the days where you can pay for a game and get the whole game right away. No updates in tiny batches, no content locked behind paywalls, no day one patches, no reliance on internet connection and multiplayer... mainstream companies have all gone really downhill with that shit and it just disappoints me to no end. But because Nintendo is kid-oriented, I think that's where it hurts the most. It was supposed to be accessible, family friendly fun like back during the days of the Wii and the DS. But companies get so wrapped up in competing with each other and trying to make the most money that they forget about all that. I dunno. It just sucks.

If you read all this, god damn I'm surprised XD I got super ranty and I apologize. But I'm in a sad mood and I after learning about features they've taken out I just had to get all this off my chest. It's been weighing on me since the game released, especially since for months prior this game was all I could think about and I was really looking forward to it. It just let me down in a lot of ways, I guess.

#long post #rant #animal crossing new horizons #acnh #vio stormcaller

[xsixxx]

Bad Influence - Chapter 11

Word Count - 5.4K

Authors Note - It's been a while! 👋🏻 About 4 months I think 😬 If there are any Bad Influence fans actually left out there, I'm so sorry & I love you. I had a really fuckin shitty last few months of 2019 & because of that, I kinda stopped doing the stuff I enjoy, writing this fanfic & using this blog being one of them.

Then I tried to come back before I was ready 😂 I wrote this chapter out about 2 months ago, but never bothered to post it bcos I didn't care enough about it. But I've recently returned to it, rewrote it & remembered why I fuckin love writing this fanfic. So I'm super excited to post this chapter & I hope you don't all hate it after how long it's been 😂 It's a bit rough bcos I'm getting back into it & I'm kinda rusty!

I love you guys for baring with me, I can't wait to get back into writing this fic for you 🖤

Warnings - Um, the f word is used in like every sentence oops, some implied smut when Nikki is remembering (choking trigger warning), I guess 'violence' but not really violence???, a whole lot of angst & a teeny bit of fluff at the end

Tags - @cruecifymesixx @freddiessmallnipples @queen-crue @scarecrowmax @lovesick-heart0 @littlesunnymoon @80sheart-strings @cranberrirolls @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @versnatasha @zoenicolesetser @crazysaladchopshop @ggorehorror @lunamadhatter99 @justtryingtoovercome @chaoticvybe @you-know-im-a-dreamer @eightiesrockbaby @valentines-in-london @xrosegoldwolfx @fupatroopaa @lilypetite88 @this-blog-must-be-the-place @ashleecrue @lauravic @dark-princess99 @unknownoblivion @mgkobsessed @antheasnow @rockaholi @nassauartist @sparxx27

(there's one bit where Nikki is glaring across the bar at a character & this gif is spot on)

*Nikkis POV*

I drummed my fingers to the sound of a guitar as I watched Mick do his thing through the glass of the recording booth, his fingers working magic as he played the riff to Looks That Kill.

Fuck, that weird little guy could play.

“Nikki, this song is gonna fucking kill!” Tommy yelled enthusiastically, beating his drumsticks on the arm of the battered couch his was lounging on.

I smiled weakly back at him, my nerves keeping me from matching his excitement. “I hope so,” I mumbled. I look around the studio, basking in the enormity of where we were right now. Mötley was recording their second album & my nerves were shot. It had to be perfect. It had to do well.

“Stop stressing man, everyone’s gonna fucking freak over this album, I just know it!” He replied, smiling encouragingly, his usual Tommy level of positivity feeling sickeningly sweet, but still, I nodded at him gratefully. “So we hitting up The Whisky or what tonight boys?” He continued, addressing Vince as well as me, who was pouting on the couch next to him.

I chuckled without amusement, shaking my head. “Fuck no, not a chance I’m going in there yet.”

Tommy scowled at me. “Sixx, come on dude, you cant avoid the place forever. Plus, she might not even be working tonight!”

“I’m not risking it! I’m not gonna be able to enjoy the night if she’s there, judging my every fucking move, you know how she is.” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“So you’ve still not talked to her since..” Tommy trailed off, awkwardly. But Vince happily picked up from where he’d left off.

“Since you lead her on, fucked her & then blew her off?” He snapped arrogantly, instantly causing my jaw to tense.

“Don’t fucking start with me, Vinny. I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, you mean you don't wanna hear about what a dick you were? What a surprise.” The sarcasm thick in his voice.

I slammed my hand down on the recording table & stood up sharply. “The fuck is your problem, man?” I snarled, his attitude & the mounting stress from the album mixing together to create a dangerous cocktail of anger & belligerence.

“My problem?” He questioned, standing up to meet my stare. “My problem is you Sixx. Beths a good fucking girl, what you did was real messed up, I should fucking floor you again for how you treated her. You owe the chick an apology at the goddamn least.” He spat, his anger in Beths defence honourable, but fucking irritating.

I chuckled arrogantly at his misplaced valiance. “Give it up the knight in shining armour act Vinny, I didn’t see you rushing to commit to her when she was getting your dick wet.”

I saw the danger flash in his eyes as he took a warning step towards me. “I didn’t fuck her & leave either.” He hissed, the venom in his voice palpable.

“Aw, did I upset your girlfriend?” I joked patronisingly, very aware that I was pushing it too far, but yet I couldn’t help myself, Vince acting all high & mighty was really starting to piss me off.

Vinces eyes narrowed sharply & I saw his hands ball into fists at his side. “Like I said, she’s a good girl. She didn’t deserve that.” He said through his teeth, the strain to keep calm evident in his voice.

I smirked at him amused, looking him up & down. “Whatcha gonna do Vince? Hit me again? Defend her honour? She’s a chick dude & a stuck up one at that. And she ditched your ass if you remember, you should be thanking me.” I laughed, shrugging.

“You know what Sixx, you’re an asshole. You know as well as I do that Beth isn’t another fucking groupie to this band. Nah, I didn’t wanna date her, but I like her- We all like her.” He corrected himself quickly.

“Vinny’s right man, I’m not taking sides, but Beths cool & I kinda do like having her around!” Tommy piped up, nodding.

“Fuck off T-Bone, you only want her around because you know as soon as she goes, so does your uptight piece of ass.” I shot at him, my frustration with the pair of them growing at a dangerous rate.

“Dude c’mon, there’s no need..”

I cut Tommy off viciously. “What the fuck has happened to this band?!” I shouted, shoving Vince out of my face. “Since when do we give this much of a fuck about chicks?! Look at where we are?!” I gestured around the recording studio. Mick had stopped playing & had casually lit a cigarette as he watched us bickering through the sound-proof glass. “This is what’s important. Now I’m going for a fucking smoke, this conversation is done & when I come back in we’re gonna record a fucking album, got it?!”

I barged out of the studio, flicked open my lighter & sparked up my cigarette, leaning back against the wall as I took in a shaky drag, my anger still surface level. I exhaled & closed my eyes, feeling the May sun warm my face & start to melt my mood away.

What was everyone’s fuckin’ obsession with this girl?!

Yeah she was cool, but she’s still a chick. And chicks = trouble.

I let my mind wander back to the look she gave me as she lay beneath me, my hand around her throat as she came undone & smirked to myself as I lifted the cigarette back to my smug lips. She was so worth the chase.

But Christ, I’m supposed to feel bad because I don’t want all that cutesy shit afterwards? No. Beth knew me, we’d had enough arguments about the kinda guy I am, she did this to herself. Not my fault that she thought she meant anything more to me than any one of those other girls. She was a fuck. A good fuck. But a fuck nonetheless.

I took another drag as the image of Beth sat in her bed with that stung look on her face snuck its way involuntarily into my mind. I could see those hurt tears & hear her bitter words ordering me to leave. I couldn’t help the pang of guilt in my stomach that accompanied the image.

She’s a fuckin’ chick, Nikki. Chicks = trouble, I recited to myself, rubbing my face roughly with my hands, almost in hope that I could scrub away the memory of her pained face. Get over it man, it’s done.

I sharply exhaled the last of my smoke before throwing it aggressively to the floor, somehow more frustrated than I was before.

Time to go record a fuckin’ album.

*Later*

*Beths POV*

I smoothed out the material of the tiny black dress I was wearing as I pouted my lips at my reflection in the mirror, appreciating the sight of myself all dolled up & ready to forget all about Nikki fucking Sixx.

I flashed an all too familiar looking smirk at myself before I spun around of my sky high heels & strutted out of the ladies bathroom & back over to Sophia who was waiting at the bar, two drinks in hand. She winked at me as I got closer, holding out one of the glasses for me to take.

“Girl, you look unreal! If we weren’t here trying to pull for you, I’d take you home right now,” she laughed, nudging me & winking again.

I let out a laugh as I took a swipe at her arm, “I am not here trying to pull!” I insisted, not even managing to fool myself. It’d been a little over a week since I went from the all time high of fucking Nikki to the crashing low of realising I meant nothing to him in a matter of minutes & I’d laid around feeling sorry for myself ever since. Well, not tonight. I was gonna find a guy & I was gonna remind myself what a goddamn catch I am.

“Oh Beth, there’s a reason you’re wearing that dress tonight & girl, it ain’t for the coverage,” she giggled as I took another playful swipe. “Hey, there’s no judgements here! I’d want a good lay after the emotional rollercoaster that has been Nikki Sixx!”

I raised my eyebrows at her as she quickly mimed locking her lips. “Sorry, sorry, we don’t mention that name, my bad.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine, I’m over it,” I lied. “But, if a cute guy wants to buy me a drink & maybe show me a good time, I’m not gonna say no.” I shrugged as we both burst into a fit of giggles, before I took a long sip of the very strong cocktail.

“Well that sounds like my queue.” Came a smooth voice from behind me. I turned to face the handsome stranger who was stood leaning casually against the bar, eyebrow cocked as his eyes scanned up & down my body, drinking in the sight of me. “You have excellent timing.” I blushed, appreciating his good looks right back. He was classically good looking, with blonde hair & a chiselled jaw, dressed smart in a shirt that hugged his toned physique & muscular arms just enough to spark a little intrigue as to what lay underneath. He was the exact opposite to Nikki in every physical way. Where Nikki was unruly & unkept, this guy was clean shaven & well groomed. He wore no leather or studs & his smile was friendly & genuine, not smug & he wasn’t dripping in arrogance.

“I’m Daniel.” He introduced himself, holding out a hand for me to shake. I looked into his electric blue eyes & blushed once again.

“Beth, it’s nice to meet you.” I replied as smoothly as I could.

“& I’m Sophia, but I guess no-one asked,” she piped up mockingly, winking at me. “Now Dan, unless you’ve got a cute, single friend for me, I’m gonna get outta your way & go for a dance.” Soph smirked, grabbing her drinking & flouncing off towards the dance floor, blowing us a kiss as she did.

We both let out a laugh. “She seems great,” Daniel said as I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. “She mentioned something about an emotion rollercoaster though? I hope I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes?” He queried.

I swallowed my drink before letting out a little laugh. “Not at all, there are no toes to be stepping on, don’t worry.”

“Well good, I’m glad. I’m surprised though, a gorgeous girl like you doesn’t have a man. You’re sure there’s no-one, because you seem way too good to be true!” He flirted, as I laughed

“Oh you’re smooth.” I teased, “but no, there’s absolutely no-one.” I answered, pushing any & all thoughts & feelings I might have towards Nikki Sixx out of my mind.

*Little later*

“Wow, so you’re a doctor?” I asked, impressed.

Daniel laughed, shaking his head. “I wish! I’m a med student currently, but that’s the hope one day.”

“What made you wanna get into medicine then?”

He paused for a second, his warm smile faltering for a brief moment & I sensed his hesitation to answer. “I, um, lost my dad when I was younger. Spent a lot of time in hospitals with him when he got sick. I remember watching all these doctors around me taking care of people, helping, curing.. They seemed like superheroes to me back then. After we lost my dad, I knew I wanted to help people, be one of those people that kids could look up to in the same way I did, yanno?”

I nodded, smiling at his compassion & genuineness.

“Sorry, bit heavy for a first meet, I know.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Not at all!” I replied, “I asked the question, you just answered it honestly, I appreciate that.”

As Daniel carried on talking about his studies, I couldn’t help but admire him. THIS was the kinda guy I was supposed to end up with. Smart, hot as hell, a brilliant career ahead of him, goals, aspirations.. He was exactly the kinda man I could take home to my father. Daniel was everything I should want & he was actually interested in me.

And yet, I still felt that unwanted & yet infuriatingly all-to-familiar flame ignite the second I heard his voice drift over from the bar.

“Jack & coke please darlin’.”

Nikkis voice hit me like a slap in the face & rush desire all at once & I immediately froze, my body unsure how to react to my contrasting emotions.

“Are you ok?” Daniel asked, reaching out & touching my arm, concern written across his face. I flinched as his touch, still lost somewhere in Nikkis voice, & snatched my arm away instinctively.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ Started Daniel, his concern look now laced with panic.

“N-no, its fine honestly, its not you, its just..” I drifted off, briefly glancing behind me, trying to pin a location on the voice. My eyes caught sight of the four of them standing at the bar, waiting on their drinks. Nikki was dressed in his usual leather trousers, torn at the knees, & combat boots & a torn up shirt. His hair almost appeared messier than usual & he had a cigarette hanging from his lips. He couldn’t have been more different from the sharp, handsome man sat opposite me.

Daniel followed my line of sight & spotted the literal motley crew. Nikki was already hitting on the bar maid, distracting her whilst Tommy & Vince reached over & stole a bottle from behind the bar; all whilst Mick stood by, watching disapprovingly & swigging from his trademark flask.

“You know them?” Daniel asked hesitantly.

“Nope.” I replied bluntly, snapping back to reality & turning back to him. “I fancy getting out of here though, you wanna head back to mine, continue the drinking there?”

Daniel looked a little taken a back at the upfront offer as I stood up & downed the last of my drink, but I was fairly certain he wouldn’t refuse. I didn’t care either way at this point, I just needed out of here.

“Um sure-“

“Great, I’ll go find Sophia..”

“She’s over there, talking to those guys you apparently don’t know.” Dan stated, his tone now flat & a little judgemental as he raised an eyebrow at me.

“Look, Daniel, I don’t wanna get into it, but its better we just leave.” I said, hoping to avoid any questions, but his face was growing more unimpressed by the second. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you Dan, ok? But I can’t be here right now, so I gotta go. I’d, um, I’d like you to join me.. If you want to, of course. I mean, you don’t have to..” I mumbled, suddenly very aware & embarrassed by how he must be viewing me in that moment.

I saw his eyes narrow at my discomfort &, I’m assuming against his better judgement, he nodded & stood up to join me. “I’m not sure what’s happening here, but I’ve enjoyed getting to know you too & maybe you could fill me in on why you’re running away over that drink at yours?” He asked, a little suspicious but friendly. I nodded, giving him a small smile.

We started towards the exit when I felt a pair of hands snake around my waist & lift me excitedly into the air. I squealed in shock & suprise as Tommy span me around before placing me back on my feet.

“Beth! I cant believe you guys are here, what’re the chances? Soph said you came here to avoid us & we came here because Sixx wanted to avoid you! How fuckin’ funny is that?” He said, roaring with laughter, his hand resting on his stomach as he struggled to regain control on his amusement.

“Tommy.” I said sternly, shooting him a look that told him to shut the hell up. He quickly stood up straight, coughing a little to hide his laughter, before glancing over towards Daniel.

“Hey, who’s this? I’m Tommy dude, how ya doing?” He said, offering out his hand enthusiastically.

“Daniel, I’m good man, how’re you?” He answered, accepting the handshake hesitantly.

“I’m good? Hey, you wanna come meet the rest of the guys?” Tommy offered enthusiastically, without a second thought as to why that might not be such a good idea.

“Actually T-Bone, we’re just heading out.” I replied sharply, giving him another warning look.

“Ok, ok,” he laughed, holding his hands up in defeat as he got the hint. “It was nice to meet you man!” Tommy smiled at Dan, who nodded awkwardly back to him before T-Bone practically bounced back over to the bar.

“Don’t know them huh?” Daniel asked, his voice oozing with sarcasm suddenly, making me cringe.

“I’m sorry, they’re just.. A lot, ok?” I tried to explain, frustrated, mainly with myself.

“What’s the deal with this one?” Asked Dan, gesturing towards Nikki, who was leaning against the bar, sipping on his Jack & coke, his eyes fixed coldly on he two of us.

“That’s the, um.. Emotional rollercoaster.” I answered sheepishly, coughing to distract from my amounting discomfort, whilst simultaneously avoiding the eyes of both Nikki & Dan.

“Right.. Well, your rollercoaster is on his way over here.”

Fuck.

I glanced up to see Nikki, in all his arrogance, strolling towards us, his usual smirk fixed in place.

“I’m so sorry for whatever he says.” I quickly whispered to Dan, before Nikki came to a stop in front of us. I watched his eyes scan up & down Daniel, obvious sizing him up without an ounce of subtlety, before he turned his attention to me.

“Leaving without introducing us, Lizzy?” He drawled, the pretension thick in his voice.

“Yes Nikki, I am. So if you’d like to move-“

He cut me off, his focus back on Daniel. “I’m Nikki Sixx,” he stated, without the courtesy of a handshake.

“Daniel,” Dan replied, flatly, seemingly glad there was no extended hand to shake.

“And how do you know the lovely Lizzy here, Dan?” Nikki asked, his smirk never once faltering.

“We just met tonight, but we’re justing heading back to hers, if you don’t mind.” Dan replied simply, taking my hand.

“Oh but you see, I do mind.” Nikki stated bluntly, his smile as wide as it was dark as he side stepped back in front of Dan who had tried to manoeuvre round him. “Lizzy here is what we like to call a groupie & we,” he gestured towards the rest of the band behind him, “don’t particularly like sharing.”

“Oh fuck you, Sixx.” I scoffed, my face growing hot with a mix of anger & embarrassment. I turned to look at Dan, cringing at his raised eyebrow & gave him an apologetic look. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just being an asshole, I’m not a groupie.”

“Really?!” Nikki replied, dragging out the word dramatically as his shit eating grin somehow managed to grow wider. “Because I remember fucking you about a week ago & my boy Vince over there,” he pointed to at the very pissed off looking lead singer, “swears he remembers fucking you not long before that? Or are with both mistaken? I mean, there are a lot of you girls, you do all kinda look the same.. Feel the same too.” He chuckled darkly, shooting me a sly look. I glared at him with an expression so deadly that dared him to carry on. He rose to the challenge. “I tell you what though buddy,” Nikki continued, leaning into Dan so he was speaking into his ear, but just loud enough for me to catch what he was saying, “if you’re heading back to hers you’re in for a treat. She’s got the mouth of a motherfuckin’ Angel.” He finished, glancing over at me & winking. I was prepared to fly at him in a blind rage, fists balled, ready to wipe that smug smile off of his face permanently, when Dan spoke up, in a voice so peaceful & gentle, that it made his words seem somehow harsher.

“You are an arrogant piece of shit. I’ve been sat with this girl for the last hour & I spend a minute in your presence & it’s immediately clear to me that she’s way too good for you. But I’m sure she’ll realise that in her own time.” Daniel turned back to me, his expression stoney & irritated, but I could swear there was a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “If you ever get off of this rollercoaster doll, you know where you can find me.” He said, letting go of my hand as he stepped around the unmoving Nikki.

“Daniel, wait..” I caught him by the arm & quickly stepped in his path, stopping him.

“Beth, you seem like a great girl & I don’t think I’ve ever hit it off so quickly with someone like I have with you. But it’s obvious you have something with that guy & I’m not really interested in competing with him for your attention.”

I nodded slowly, knowing his words were fair. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. And I mean it, if you decide to get off the rollercoaster.. I can probably offer you a slightly calmer ride. A carousel maybe?” Dan winked, laughing as I let out a light giggle. His blue eyes focused on mine, sending a surge of electricity through my body that momentarily extinguished the flame that Nikki somehow always managed to light. I lifted my lips & placed them softly on Daniels for the briefest second, before pulling away.

“Thank you.” I whispered.

His eyes lingered on my lips for a second, silently asking for more, before he came back to reality & gave me a genuine smile. “It was nice to meet you Beth. I do hope I get to see you again”, he nodded, before kissing my cheek & heading for the door.

I stood still for a second, gathering my thoughts & regaining my composure, before walking towards the bar where the Crüe & Sophia were stood, trying to act as if they hadn’t been watching.

I had barely made it over to them before Nikki was straight in there with his sly comments, immediately trying to get under my skin.

“Aw was Prince Charming not happy to hear the Princess was actually a band slu-“

Nikki didn’t get the chance to finish his insult. He was silenced by the remainder of my drink soaking him as I threw it at him furiously, dousing his arrogance with my cocktail.

“That is for thinking you have any right to chase away a good guy just because your petty, selfish ass is jealous.” I spat. “And this..”

The loud crack of my hand slapping him sharply across the face echoed around the bar, followed by the whooping of Vince & Tommy. I even caught a glimpse of Mick smirking.

Nikki recoiled, his hand flying to his crimson cheek, shock & fury on his face. But his rage couldn’t match mine. I grabbed his face roughly, my hand cupping his chin & cheeks, forcing him to meet my wrathful glare.

“That is for fucking me & leaving me like I was one of your whores.” I seethed, my voice quiet & dangerous.

Nikkis face went from white hot anger to an ice cold stare in an instant as he straightened up, pushing me off of him as he did. He took a step towards me, but I didn’t move an inch. I was way too fucking angry to back down.

“Listen Princess, you’re fucking lucky I’m not a bad guy-“ he began, but my sharp laugh rang loud, cutting him off.

“Not a bad guy?! Nikki, are you really that delusional?! You’ve done nothing but purposely fuck with my head from the day I met you. You’ve insulted me, dragged me down to your level, used me, screwed my chances with two different guys & for what?!” I screamed, tears threatening to form. “No, you know what?! You're fucking lucky Sixx, I’m not gonna do this here. I’m done. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

I span around, ready to make my dramatic exit, when I came face to face with a very happy looking band manager, Doc. He clearly couldn’t care less about our drama as he marched over to us like nothing was happening.

“Bartender, a round of shots for these boys & their girlfriends. We need to celebrate;”

“The fuck are you talking about Doc?” Snapped Nikki, his eyes still fixed on me.

“Boys, you’re in!" He announced, unable to hide his obvious pleased-with-himself smirk "I've just been told that Mötley Crüe have been offered a last minute slot to play alongside the likes of Judas Priest, Scorpions, Van Halen & The Prince of fucking Darkness, Ozzy fucking Osbourne at the US Festival on Memorial Day weekend!” Doc exclaimed, laughing as the band began shouting & whooping, looking disbelieved & excited as hell. Choruses of “are you serious?!” & “you’re fucking kidding!” we’re passed between them as Doc reassured them that they were on their way up.

In that moment, watching these guys I’d grown to love over the last couple of years get the break they worked so hard for, I couldn’t be mad. I watched as Tommy jumped on Nikkis back, Vince hugged Doc & Mick silently smirked to himself. They deserved this.

Doc handed me & Sophia a shot as we congratulated them all, although I couldn’t quite bring myself to share my enthusiasm with Nikki. But he was too busy to notice as he held up his shot glass in a toast.

“To us! We’ve got an old man, a kid drummer, a cover band singer & a fucking run away. Win it all or loose it all, we’re Mötley fucking Crue!” He yelled, his excitement & energy almost infectious, as much as I wanted to hate him.

“To you guys!” Sophia cheered, laughing as we all downed our shots.

“Let’s get another round in, we’re celebrating! And pour one for yourself gorgeous.” Vince called to the barmaid who was more than happy to oblige, blushing as he winked at her, turning on the Vince Neil charm that would assure she’d be going home with him at the end of the night. I remember that well, I chuckled to myself.

The atmosphere of the night had changed so dramatically from what it was 10 minutes previously, everyone’s anger & awkwardness forgotten in the wake of such elating news. I looked around all the happy faces; Vince flirting with the bar maid, Tommy all over a giggling Sophia, Mick & Doc eagerly discussing set lists & felt an overwhelming sense of misplacement. After all that had happened, I just couldn’t bring myself to match their enthusiasm, not tonight.

I noticed Nikki's gaze focused on me, his face betraying his now obvious guilt as he watched me stand alone, uncomfortable & upset. His sudden success had clearly snapped him out of his petty, jealous mood.

Uninterested in an apology from him, I let my eyes continue to scan the room, looking anywhere but at him, when Sophia glanced over, catching my eye & gestured for me to join in. I forced my best smile as I walked over to her & Tommy.

“Take another shot Reynolds!” Tommy shouted, pushing a shot glass of mysterious liquid at me. I laughed politely as I shook my head.

“Thanks, but no thanks T-Bone. I think I’m actually gonna shoot yanno, I’m getting pretty tired.” I lied.

“Beth, don’t leave, please?” Tommy pleaded, his face suddenly serious, moving away from Soph & towards me.

“T-Bone, it’s not a big deal honestly, you guys enjoy your celebrations!”

“Just talk to him. I know the fucker doesn’t deserve it, Beth, I know. But he cares for you more than you think, I promise. We all do.” He added, placing his hand in mine & giving it a squeeze as he flashed me a goofy half smile.

I gave him a half smile & squeezed his hand back. “I know Tommy & I love you guys, I really do. But I can’t be around him, its.. it’s too hard.” I muttered back, so quietly it was almost inaudible above the music playing in the bar. But Tommy caught it.

“You care for him too, don’t you?” He asked, just as quietly.

I nodded, my eyes filling with tears. “God knows why T-Bone, he’s made it clear he doesn’t care about me. I’m just another girl he fucked.” I sniffed, furiously wiping away my tears before anyone noticed.

“Beth, Sixx is a dick. I’ve watched him fuck over chick after chick who was convinced they’d tame him & he tosses them without a second thought. But not you. I don’t know what the fuck goes on in Nikkis head, but that fucker cares about you. So please, don’t ditch us all just because you think he doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry Tom, I know he’s your friend & you wanna see the best in him, but you’re wrong. Nikki Sixx only cares about himself.” I replied, straightening my posture & regaining my composure. I pulled Tommy into a tight hug & congratulated him again. “I’ll see ya around T-Bone, I’m sure.” I winked, gesturing towards Sophia.

He laughed, “I’ll look after her.”

I blew him a kiss before heading towards the door, not wanting to disturb anyone else’s night with my drama.

“Lizzy, wait up.” I heard Nikkis voice call. I closed my eyes briefly, choosing whether to stop or keep going. I chose the latter & walked swiftly out of the door, pretending I hadn’t heard.

But my ignorance was in vain & he was right behind me, following suit out of the bar.

“Nikki please, just go back-“

My sentence was cut short by his lips crashing onto mine. I froze, feeling anger, lust & passion sweep through my body as my brain tried to compute the correct emotional response. I pushed him away sharply, deciding anger overwhelmed any feelings I had towards him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Are you asking for another slap?!”

“Lizzy, I’m sorry ok?” He blurted out, clearly uncomfortable with apologies.

“You’re sorry?! Oh, well that makes everything ok then.” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes at him.

“I know ok, I fucked up. I’ve been a dick to you & I’m sorry. I just, I don’t know how to do this shit.” He mumbled, running his hands through his tangled hair.

“Do what, Sixx?” My frustration mounting with his half-assed apology.

“I don’t fucking do.. This.” He gestured between the two of us, struggling to find his words.

I sighed with exasperation. “What is this Nikki? Is this an apology or what, because honestly there isn’t much you can say right now, just let me go home.” I finished, turning to leave, but he caught hold of my hand, pulling me into him. He placed his hand gently under my chin, bringing my face up to his.

“I don’t do this, ok? I don’t do feelings or relationships, fuck, I won’t even sleep with a girl twice.” He laughed, before clearing his throat when he saw my unamused expression. “Lizzy, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I got pissed as hell when I saw you with that fucking pretty boy, I snapped.. I don't know, I guess I was kinda jealous.. I do care about you.”

I scoffed. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“I do, Lizzy. But listening to you telling me why I’m a bad guy, all the shit I’ve done to you, you’re right. And I’m sorry. Just, please don’t leave. Come celebrate with us, we all want you here. I want you here.. You’ve been with us from the start, it wouldn’t feel the same without you. You mean a lot to me... Um, to us. You mean a lot to us.” He corrected.

I looked into his green eyes & saw the sincerity, noted the lack of arrogance in his voice & the absence of his usual smug smile. I so badly wanted to give into him. I wanted to taste his kiss again, melt against him like I always do. I wanted to take his hand & go back inside, enjoy the night with the band, drink, have fun & fall into bed with him when the night was over.

But I’d fell for Nikkis sweeter side before, I knew how the night would end. He’d leave afterwards & I’d be hurt all over again. And I wasn’t gonna let that happen.

“No Nikki, I’m sorry.”

#motley crue #motley crue fanfic #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue fandom #motley crue imagine #the dirt fanfic #the dirt fanfiction #the dirt fandom #the dirt imagine #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx fandom #nikki sixx imagine #vince neil fanfic #vince neil fanfiction #vince neil fandom #vince neil imagine #tommy lee fanfic #tommy lee fanfiction #tommy lee fandom #tommy lee imagine #mick mars fanfic #mick mars fanfiction #mick mars fandom #mick mars imagine #vince neil #tommy lee #mick mars

[neverheardnothing]

black friday spoilers under cut!!! i’m serious!!!

aaaaaa im going to lose my SHIT

really im about to spoil the entire show

dont read if you havent seen it

oh my GOD OH MY GOD. PAUL. AND EMMA. THEYRE BACK. THEYRE BAKC.

AND THE FUCKING LA DEE DAH DAH DAY MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND IS BACK

PAULKINS. GOD. THEYRE ALIVE. AND FINE. IMGOING TO LOSE MY GODDAMN MIND!!!!!!!!!

“i dont like getting by cars anymore”  this is fucking hilarious why isnt ANYONE LAUGHING

“okay okay okay OKAY” ahhhh theyre really perfect for each other

“my buddy bill” hey im going to start crying.

:( this is so upsetting im so sad for this family.

DYLAN SOLO TIME. HIS VOICE. FUCK. 

“flash, bang, jane” oh my god oh my god i am on the FLOOR. this is HEARTBREAKING.

this song reminds me of inutil from in the heights fuck. im.

“family emergency” OKAY HIS WIFE DIED. DONT BE SO HARD ON HIM.

COREY SOLO COREY SOLO OH YEAH BOI

also they lit a fire on stage

corey’s character is SUCH AN ASSHOLE I LOVE IT HE’S THE PRIME DICKASS. oh my god wait hE’S MR KRABS

MALL SECURITY. ROBERT BEING A COP AGAIN.

ethan is a Look. the plaid around his waist AND the leather jacket oh my GOD.

oh my god the backing music in this moment is from the trailer. god. i love it.

CALIFOR MIA OHM Y OGD

OH MY GOD IT SOUNDS SO GOOD WITH THE FULL ORCHESTRATION

THE CHOREO WITH HANNAH IM CRYING

OH MY GOD THE HAMONIES. ROBERT. 

SMOKE CLUB. IM CRYING.

THE INTERLUDE WITH THE LETTER OH MY GOD IT’S SO GOOD.

BROKE! AS! SHIT!

smoke club hannah.

“that better be fucking floss. let’s go i want a cigarette”

“that’s illegal...... or it should be.” LMAO

WHAT DO  YOU SAY OHYEAH BOI

IT SOUNDS SO GOOD AS AN ENSEMBLE NUMBER AND ALL THE HARMONIES ARE IN

corey really is mr. krabs he’s even in red

GIVE US UR FUCKING MONEY

GIVE US UR FUCKING CASH

WHATEVER THE HELL JAIME IS MIMING IS SENDING ME

“and im in a hurry” A MAN IN A HURRY 

whatever the hell kind of accent is jon putting on i love it

SKDLFASL;DKSS JON “RIGHT IN T HE SUBPEONA” 

“three dollars” god that’s me

OH MY GOD THIS A BACKING BIT JEFF PUT ON HIS STORY

yES I AM LIVING SO FUCKING HARD

i think this is my favorite number so far

THE BEAT DROP GOES SO FUCKING HARD

jon and jeff strangling each other

this is SUCH A GOOD NUMBER AND THE CHOREOGRAPHY

JEFF AND JAMES HAVE REALLY OUTDONE THEMSELVES

GOD I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE CAST RECORDING

this is DEFINITELY the best song musically yet

THE MOTIF FROM SHWO ME YOUR HANDS YES OH MY GOD I LOVE IT

THE RECURRING THINGS FROM TGWDLM I AM LIVING FOR IT S O MUCH

hannah is such an archetype character so far i hope she gets like. More Character soon.

the melody for califor mia returns in the backing here ugh i love it

wow i wonder if these guys have fight call for all this shit

the “eeeeee” noise jon made i just laughed so hard

WAIT FUCK THE SAD PIANO CALIFOR MIA IS IN THE BACKGROUND

WTF ETHAN DIES HERE? WHAT THE FUCK. OH SHIT. FUCK!!!! the first death.

“GIVE ME THAT FUCKING DOLL IM IN A HURRY” OH MY GOD MAN IN A HURRY STRIKES BACK

are we down a tom already too?? jesus fuck i presumed all these characters would die but this is quick.

the reverb/echo on joey’s audio is So Spooky i love it

AHHH THE NEWS THEME BEEPS

the creepy carol of the bells backing music i love it

also is that a fucking barack obama impression

james patting the doll as they all argue is such a mood

OH MY GOD

MCNAMARA

OH MY GOD!!!

AMERICA IS GREAT AGAIN THEME IS BACK

I! AM! LIVING! FOR ALL THE TGWDLM MUSIC REPRISES.

PEIP BAYBEEEEEE. 

“just me and a few of my peeps” im fucknig losing it

GOD!!!!! THIS UNDERSCORING I CANNOT HANDLE IT.

intermission

THE NOT YOUR SEED MELODY ON AN ELECTRIC GUITAR

GOD IT SLAPS!!!!!

oh my god found the bit of choreography that looks like it was from the prom

also love the james lauren and robert solo dance number

the only starkids minus denise who can dance

the ensemble numbers in this show are so fucking good

also nice that tom survived. though like. probably not for long considering how this show is going.

tom: i killed my family

becky: yeah but remember us in high school?

did becky fucking kill her husband

LOL YEAH SHE DID

jesus christ what an admission

oof dylan and kim’s voices dont blend that well together and i think one of them is slightly flat on the belt harmonies

oh my god theyre going to fuck in this movie theater during the apocalypse christ almighty

oh hELL YEAH america is great again theme is playing again

“fuck that, fuck that, FUCK THAT!” mood

his face at “birth canal” is KILLING ME

im so ready for jon wiggly to show up i HOPE TO GOD ITS A FURSUIT

jaime is SUCH a good actress like legitimately

is wiggly going to be the new satan in this fandom oh god

this is like if everyone actually worshipped the duck in firebringer

“unless i get what i shit” lmaooooo

wow ok i legit wonder if they have fight call for all these lifts and fights that happen in the show

the demented califor mia underscoring right now i am Living

“well, webby is a stupid bitch!” lol i love this, though i dont love that theyre just using vulgar words as the punchline

the underscoring of dylan’s i want song in this conversation holy shit

space tour vibes with the helmet lmaoooo

“i cant be evil im a status quo democrat!” LMAOOOOOO

oh im finally getting that the streamers on the wall are also supposed to be like wiggly’s mouth

THE ELECTRIC GUITAR IS FUCKIN POWERFUL

UGH YES NOT YOUR SEED MELODY LINE FOR A SEC

o shit nuclear war with russia

“two doors not one” OHM Y GOD OK

FUCK MAN!!!!!!!!!

HANNAH!!!!!

the melody of “aliens invading minds” reoccurring is Killing Me i love it so much

“friday is black for me” oof

oh shit so both lex and hannah have some weird fucking interdimensional power???

this entire fucking show is SO fucking wild like i honestly dont know what to make of it

“THEYRE ALL INTO FORTNITE DUDE” LMAOOOOOOOO

it’s because all the adults are sad and jaded under capitalism lol

tom’s face this entire time is hilarious

dylan’s voice is literally heavenly oh my god

“should i move these boxes first?” cinematic parallels to the should i take this chair lol

“the hat falling off her head” lmaoooo

curt laughing

“is it some kind of joooooke???”

the yoga choreography i am LOSING MY SHIT

evil carol of the bells motif again!!

JAMES’ DEATH DROP UGH YES

lex set a fire and she burned down the mall!

oh man the “what if tomorrow comes” melody is playing and im crying

“WEAR A WATCH” OH MY GOD LMAOOO

also jon saying “what am i going to  dowithout my iphone” as a former apple store employee is hilarious

the callbacks to tgwdlm were hilarious

god this song is so fucking good

also robert being hot chocolate guy is hilarious

im so ready for nerdy prudes must die

kendall’s voice is so good oh my god

the harmonies im living jesus christ christ i wish they were sustained though there’s some silences between them which is a bit awkward

and this was only the digital ticket im sure they’ll sound MUCH better with the actual editing in picked from several performances and better on the cast recording. 

ok tbh i don’t know quite what to make of black friday yet i will have to rewatch a few times to Really Process it but i do know that there were some fucking BOPS in it. it kinda feels like a bit of a mess

angela did very well singing songs that were originally not written on her voice but u can also definitely tell. i really liked her califor mia but not so much when the song required her voice to be very strong.

and hey at least most of them didn’t die this time.

#teresa liveblogs stuff #black friday #black friday spoilers #sk

[thisartofeveryday]

For those of you who thought I should make my life story into a book…here is the outline. For the sake of clarity as you are reading, let me explain who the characters are. The kids from my Dads first marriage: Jim1, Patty, Seana. The kids from my Mom’s (Mary Ellen) first marriage: Mary Jane and Jim2. My brother that I am a full sibling to is Charles (chuck).

I think you might know that 95% of our lives are lived from the unconscious mind. From birth to age 7 a childs mind is in Theta wave (hypnosis) and everything that they learn in those years (mainly through observation and repetition) is the program that their minds run for their entire lives. Knowing this – I look back on the first 7 years of my life.

I think we moved 7 times in those 7 years. I am certain it was because of Dads extreme anger management problems and the fact that he is a sociopath, a pedophile and a rapist. Zero stability or chance to make lasting friendships. My dad was sexually abusing me and unpredictably violent. I was terrified of him. I was being terrorized/bullied by my brother, Chuck, who was every bit the sociopath that my dad is. My mom was overwhelmed by the number of children she was responsible for - none of which she actually wanted- and add to that, her husband was sexualizing all of the kids, so really being the last of her kids I was the last of her problems. Being the youngest (and as traumatized as I was), I was quiet and easy to forget about or push to the side. The older kids were the ones in the spotlight and where all the attention went. They were enrolled in activities and they were more the same age, so they were a unit. I was just an observer of them. I felt so left out and forgotten. Always.

I was a mistake and a burden (dads exact words to me on my 11th birthday). Mom made sure I knew that she thought I was mentally retarded- she would joke about it all the time. (I guess she never made peace with her sister being autistic) She also loved humiliating me even when I made it clear she was hurting me. Remember her sausage fingers joke or how many years I got called Boomer? I absolutely hated both of those things, made it clear, and yet she refused to give up the name calling and humiliation. There was very little respect for my personal boundaries. Dad would assault me in the middle of the night and I would wet the bed out of fear- then he would make me sleep in it to teach me a lesson. Mom would do nothing to help me, though she was awake in the middle of the night when I would work up the courage to go into their room to ask for help. She let him treat me like that. Goddamn…I remember the night terrors and being scared to be in my room at night because the scary man was sitting in the rocking chair, in the dark, next to my bed.

I have a memory of being in the garage in our house in South Windsor. I was playing with our basset hound, General…I was crawling around on the floor and the dog mounted me and was dry humping me. Dad got this sick laugh and let it happen. Mom walked in and got mad at him, but did nothing to help me. My personal boundaries were nonexistent. Nobody was protecting me from him. I remember him eating the food off my plate at dinner…or kissing me on the ear or touching me when I would tell him I hated it and to stop. I remember the baths dad would have me take with him and how he taught me to touch and work his dick. I remember the photos he would take of me after the bath. I remember being 7 years old and trying to lay on his bed and be sexy enough for him. I remember kissing mom passionately the way that dad taught me to and mom getting upset and asking me where I learned that. I remember having a baby doll that I drew all over, angrily, with lipstick. I remember being scared because my ass was bleeding and I told mom while her brother and sisters were visiting and she shushed me and scurried me away. I remember him also beating the shit out of me…sometimes for no reason. I remember being deeply attracted to and absolutely terrified of him. I was 7.  These are the only memories I have of my dad. I don’t remember him being there for me, or interested in me as a person, or engaged in anyway. I just remember him being what I now know is a predator.

7 to 13: I remember some stability in Connecticut because we stayed there for three years… but I also remember having moments of being deeply depressed and hiding in the basement of the house writing notes that I hoped someone would find, asking for help to get me out of there. When I look back, those were my first experiences with disassociation from stress and waves of major depression. While I was being assaulted during those years, those years were all about Mary Jane, Seana, and Jim2. These three had each other. These three were a team. I was just an observer to your lives. I had no voice, no opinion, no importance, never truly included and absolutely my feelings went unheard and did not matter. We can say it was the age difference, sure, that’s part of it…but that’s also just an excuse. Things could have been done to validate my importance too.  I had Charles bullying me….I had my Dad assaulting me. I was so alone.

My internal voice wants to shout: Why did nobody see this? Why did nobody help me? Where were my siblings? I guess everyone was doing the best they could…

Literally anyone looking in knowing the truth could have easily assessed that this was a horribly destructive environment for any child to grow up in. I know dad was doing this to all the kids. I wasn’t the only one. It is absolutely stunning to me that through the years of my life I have consistently been blamed by my Mary Ellen (narcissist/borderline personality disorder) and the people who chose to listen to her twisted opinions that there was something wrong WITH ME.  I mean, logically the mental health issues I have faced my entire life are perfectly normal and healthy reactions to a situation that was deeply flawed. But somehow the blame has always fallen on me.

The very first thing I think when I think of my mom is her asking me “Whats wrong with you Melissa”. Ive lost count of how many times she has asked me that very question.

I now know that its just deflection. Queen Narcissist cant take responsibility for her actions so she puts it on the person who she always denied a voice. That’s nice. Very loving and motherly. Doesn’t fix the 40 some odd years of my life that I believed her and wanted to die.

Right around age 9 or 10, we move again. I remember it being a big scandal – I think the truth came about that my dad is a sociopath, a pedophile and a rapist. (By the way, that’s in my DNA. I get to live my life connected to that. I look just like my dad. I think like a Painter. It’s fucking unsettling.)  I remember all the pressure to say nothing about the move and to constantly behave as though we were the perfect family and nothing was wrong. So incredibly demented.

I remember a HUGE fight about Seana and Jim2 staying behind in Connecticut. (by the way: I also remember Jim1 leaving for the Marines and wondering where my brother went and why he never talked to me. At one point he came back to visit and gave me a beautiful geisha doll in a glass box that mom destroyed in a fit of anger at me…she intentionally violently knocked it off the top of my dresser in one of her vindictive off the handle rages…Im sure at 8 years old I totally did something to deserve it, right.)

And, of course I remember the night Seana was killed. (why did the man that killed her not serve jail time? Why are bad people never held accountable?) Dad wasn’t there. Again, Dad wasn’t there. As I recall he was having an affair with some woman in Arizona? Mom was already distraught to be back in Michigan. That night, I remember being awake before the call came in…watching the clock radio in my bed… it had a short in the wire that would spark. I was listening to the Beatles: My guitar gently weeps…. To this day, I hate the Beatles.The phone rang. Mom screamed to you “Mary Jane, OMG, Seana is Dead”. I didn’t understand what happened. I just knew we were packing up like we did so many times before to take yet another long drive across country. It felt to me like another move. I didn’t understand death or that my sister was gone forever. I didn’t get it.  

(an aside: I struggled in school. When I was in Beginning Algebra One for some reason that class would make me check out and I would always soul travel to the night Seana was killed and it felt like it was happening to me. I took that class 4 times including summer school before I passed.)

(later, when I was maybe 13, my dog got hit by a car in the street and now I knew what death was so I freaked out like Mom did when Seana died and I remember Mom shaming me: You cried more over than damn dog than you did at your sisters funeral. Very nice. Very motherly. Very supportive and kind of her.)

At Seanas funeral, I remember not knowing what was expected of me. I was just so focused on getting it right and who I was supposed to kiss (because that sexualized stuff was already so ingrained).

There were so many goddamn rules for behavior, (rich white republican ex-military country club going family that we were) and I remember getting it wrong and being scowled at all the time. Mom was always angry and stressed out. We had to BE someone and over and over again: “Don’t forget the family name” and how important our clan was (hilarious that she kept the Sterling last name because her current husband is too ethnic and this sounds classier to her than her own actual last name)….

Meanwhile, My developing sense of self was being assaulted and neglected/ignored out of me and I felt wrong all the time for every single action I took.

I think we moved back to North Carolina briefly and then to Florida? Whatever the case….

Then we move again. Again. Again. Now we are in Florida. Im 10. My parents are getting divorced. Mom is deeply goddamn depressed. My family is falling apart. I don’t know where my brothers and sister are. Everything is exploding. Im powerless and hostage to all this. I cannot underline the importance of that sense of being hostage to a situation that I was powerless to escape and having my feelings and my personhood completely ignored and erased. It consumed me. I wanted to die. I am, as always, the least of moms concerns.

In Florida I was so incredibly dissociative. I was experiencing C-PTSD. I remember feeling numb all over. Having no ability to react to this little girl that fell off her bike in front of me….I just stared at her…the adults nearby yelled at me for doing nothing. I went further into my head. I was so checked out. People just thought I was quiet or shy or retarded. I was deeply traumatized and needed help.

I remember Mary Jane and I sitting on the bed watching this music video by The Cars. In the video there is a woman who is laughing and crying. I remember asking MJ what she was doing because I do that too and I think she told me she was having a mental break down.  

I remember getting a Walkman and listening to the Police nonstop. That was my only retreat from how much I hurt. WHY DID NOBODY SEE THIS AND HELP ME?

I remember during that time that I was given another baby doll. I remember MJ and mom watching me play with it to see what I would do. I felt scared of them both and the creepy way they were lurking to watch me. I felt ganged up on. I couldn’t trust anyone. I was so alone. I wanted to die.

In Florida, I remember my birthday and dad cocking his fist back like he was going to punch me in the face…he did that sick laugh and told me he wished I was never born and that I was a mistake. (later when I told this to Patty she explained he punched her in the face on her 11th birthday. Im related to all that. That’s in my dna.)

My body was changing. I was getting my period. I felt crazy. I was in that HUGE school in Jacksonville and I had no friends and I was so scared. Everything was terrifying….and Dad was getting more unhinged thus Mom has Jim and Lynn move in to protect her and had you come back… and then I remember walking in to the living room in the middle of a sunny afternoon and mom on the pull out sofa, trying to make dad jealous, was fucking the guy who was there to buy the house  that we had just moved in to because we were MOVING AGAIN….

Not to mention, I remember MJ and I quickly taking Dads gun to the beach to bury it so he because he wanted to kill us all.

Im not even 13 yet….. Are you exhausted?

Any one of these things would make a fully functioning stable adult fold like a house of cards. “Whats wrong with you Melissa?”…. It took something like 20 years of therapy but now I have some clues to answer that question. Here are some more clues:

We finally make it to Boone. Mom followed her best friend, Mary Jane. After all that… that incredible pressure cooker of my pre teen childhood we arrive in bumfuck nowhere, North Carolina….and everyone is gone except the sociopath brother. The house is basically empty. Everyone abandoned ship. Where did my brothers and sisters go? I remember coming home after school and there would be nobody home. For my entire life I had come home to my family but now there was no one. I would sit on the couch and watch the clock with growing anxiety and cry until mom came home from work. It was beyond torturous. And then she would be pissed off that I needed her because she just got home from work. At this point Mom is just angry and exhausted all the time. She had to get a job outside the home for the first time in her life which she hated, she was sick of being a mom…she wanted it all to be over so she could have HER life. Charles was getting more and more abusive- physically and mentally and had to be sent away for our protection.

And then she starts dating Don Bailey. I think the sex must have been amazing because the guy was an utter low life. He was living off of her/my child support money… and beating the shit out of her. Their fights were never goddamn ending. I would hide in my room after school and not come out. I was so alone. I had no friends and no escape. Mom was friends with Mary Jane, not with me. Mom wanted nothing to do with me. One day we were driving home and I was so attached to her. I needed my mom so goddamn bad… I was struggling to make friends at yet another new school and the PTSD made me feel so distant from everyone but I had no words for what was wrong with me I just thought I was terrible at making friends (I remember this: pathetically I checked out a book at the library: How to be your own best friend)… She pulled the car over and told me “we cant be friends.” Mom has some glorified memory of us driving around looking for our favorite tree in Autumn… the only thing I remember is that conversation…her rejecting me when I needed her the most… after we moved to the town my sister lived in so she could be close to her.

Again, still no help with the major depression, the CPTSD… just a lot of blame “why cant you be happy Melissa…whats wrong with you?” and I cant be clear enough about this: all her spare time at home was spent on Don, not me. I didn’t have clubs and groups and activities that she as sure to enroll me in. I didn’t have my brothers and sisters there with me. It was just me, after all that, trying to figure it out.

I was a burden to her. She couldn’t wait to get rid of me and be done. I felt it always.

An aside: When she was unsure if she wanted to stay in Boone, I remember her asking Charles if we should stay or go back to Florida…after he chimed in with his answer, I gave my opinion which she angrily scoffed at me and told me it didn’t matter what I thought, Id go where they tell me to go.   My voice didn’t matter, I was a burden to her. I had no value as a person. I was powerless. So there I was in my bedroom that was the walkway between the living room and her room… at the mercy of whatever happened with no privacy or power over my life….. whats new.

Another aside: During that time we had gotten a dog that was a total pain in the ass for her to take care of. She gave it away while I was at school. I came home and the dog was gone and I was tearful thinking it ran away. She gave my dog away without telling me.

Then we moved out to Valley Crusis (9 miles outside of town…so isolated. I was so alone. The isolation was killing me. Where were my siblings. I needed help. I needed someone who was just there for me.) and Dons abusive behavior got even more extreme. I remember him picking me up from a concert that I was at….because he had sent Mom to the hospital with a sprained wrist and a busted lip. He was laughing about it when he told me to get in the car. Another time I remember Don looming in my bedroom door when Mom was at work and it was just us in the house… telling me: “Go ahead and call the police, nobody will believe you anyway.” I remember the woman who lived up the hill from us, with the curly hair…I think her name was Susan… coming down to the house while Mom and Don were gone and telling me If it ever gets too bad, you can always run up here. The neighbors knew I needed help. Where were my brothers and sisters? Where was my Mom? FUCK.

I remember Mom having many off the handle rages at me because I looked like a boy and my hair was crazy and I was so fucked up. I remember one morning after she had raged at me so hard that I was in stunned silence… we were sitting at breakfast at St Sinners and MJ kept looking at me, she knew something was wrong, I was clearly checked out and fucked up. I needed my sister. I had no voice or ability to speak up. I was scared of her husband, Glenn. Nobody helped me. Mom was the star of the brunch party!

I remember getting my first job at 15 and working at St Sinners…. Then, when mom bought the restaurant I stopped getting paid. She cut me off from my paycheck and told me it was my “duty to the family”… but she had Jim2 and his first wife Lynn there working and they were getting paid…and also stealing her money to fuel their coke habits. She didn’t value me, or my efforts but her golden son Jim can do no wrong even when he is fucking her out of her business.

I remember Jim2 offering me coke at a house party and John Golden and another friend getting me out of there away from my own brother. I remember Lynn being LIVID that I would stop by their house when I was lonely and wanted my family but instead I got shamed for thinking I could stop by and see them…and mom would tell me that “they had BUSY LIVES and I should leave them alone.”

I remember being so fucked up and alone in Boone….I mean, I now know I was just in shock and experiencing major depression. Mom kept asking me Whats wrong with you Melissa…when I was your age I had to choose between boyfriends… etc. Its incredible to me how Mom normalized my childhood abuse and completely erased my feelings or my personhood then blamed me for somehow being a problem child or wrong in whatever way….more incredible: people believed her.  

During those years in Boone I remember her doing things like openly making fun of me when I thought I might be gay, fixing regular hamburgers and telling me they were tofu when I became vegetarian…starting a burn pile in the back yard full of toxic things after I told her how important recycling was to me and laughing at me as I cried…..every chance she had to make me feel awful about being me and disrespected she took.

Once I visited her at her office and she told me I was “too ugly to look at and she didn’t want anyone to know I was her daughter and to never come to her office again.”

Shes right, we were not friends. She was a jealous mean girl, obsessed with appearances and her shitty boyfriend.

Lets not forget when she, with Mary Janes help, stacked my portfolio with MJs lithographies and coached me how to lie to get me in to Governors school for the summer. She wanted me gone and she got her wish. I remember feeling like a fraud that summer. I wasn’t good enough to be there. I had to lie to be included. I remember she didn’t even drive me there. She had Don do it. He harassed me in the car all the way there, 3 hours…. then dropped me…16… off on the curb in front of the college and drove away. All the other kids had parents excitedly helping them get set up in their rooms…excited about their major accomplishment of getting in to Governors school… I was there with my milk crate of shit, a fraud. alone. Acting like a tough girl who didn’t need anyone. I was a pro at that. Mission accomplished, she was rid of me.

I remember how deep my depression was becoming by the time I was 18. That last year of high school I would bang my head against my bedroom wall in an attempt to knock myself out, in hopes that I would get sent away to a treatment center or something. I couldn’t take all the fighting between her and Don. I fucking hated him and he was in my house and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried to throw myself down the back stairwell at school. I barely graduated high school my depression was eating me alive.

Amazing that nobody IN MY FAMILY SAW THAT I NEEDED HELP. I was invisible. Mary Ellen cast her proclamation that all was well, she was amazing and I was a problem child and that was that.

I have a million stories about Mom demoralizing me during those years…. Whats weird is that I have no memory of my Mary Jane there. I think she was so involved with Glenn and way up the mountain, I had no way to reach her. And I was scared of her husband Glenn. And, we were never close. And, she was Team Mary Ellen…. So I was just alone and wanted to die. Sincerely. Goddamn. Let it end.

I remember Don telling me that Mom was using my child support payment to make her car payment. So I asked her about where my child support was going and she told me she used it for my Blue Cross Blue Shield Insurance…. So I called the insurance company to see if I had coverage…. They had no record of me. She was, again, a liar….

When I graduated high school she couldn’t get me out of the house fast enough. She pawned me off on my boyfriend Gebeaux and expected him to simply take care of me. We broke up. He didn’t sign up for that. I was basically kicked out of the house in valley crusis. I wasn’t prepared for life on my own. I wasn’t ready. She just wanted to be done being a mom so Hey..I came back to the house one day and all my stuff was packed and that was that. I had to figure it out. Fuck me.  

At one point during that time I was living in a trailer with my friend Stacy. Mom was horrified about this. I was getting food stamps and she was so ashamed of me for being so low class. She came to the trailer and was completely off the handle. She said there was “no air” in there and grabbed a 2x4 and smashed out all the windows. Mind you from her perspective it was just another example of what a loser I am, living in a trailer on food stamps how did I end up such a piece of shit when she is such a wonderful mother… it must be because there is something inherently wrong about me.

She has seen me as trash who is incapable of being anything great my entire life.

Somewhere in there she stopped dating Don and started dating lawyer Rand Sterling…who broke her ribs multiple times and literally pushed her out of a moving car and then she walked 5 miles back to his house to be with him.  That relationship took her to Texas. She followed the money. The insanity of that relationship is all I heard about from her. She needed Jim2 to come protect her from her husband multiple times. I absorbed all of this through her very rare but insane emails to me. She has always used me as her emotional manipulation dumping ground.

I had my first total mental break right around 19 years old. I was fetal position on the floor at my girlfriends house… Jenn… I couldn’t stop crying for multiple days and I felt my mind split in two. I literally went into a black hole and was begging for death. Jenn and the next door neighbor scooped me up off the floor and drove me to the Watauga County Mental Health and got me some help… but at this point I was having a total mental collapse… the part of me that was traumatized was a child denied her voice or any recognition of her Self, so I had no way to articulate what was wrong and Mom had denied and normalized the abuse and denied me voice and my personhood for so long that I had ZERO chance of articulating what was wrong… it was buried so deep inside of me and I was so scared to trust anyone…. I was experiencing schizophrenia and Major depression.

Jenn helped me with my depression. Jenn made sure I was housed and fed. Jenn took care of me. I owe her my life.

I mean, that is an extreme mental health episode. Where was my family? How could none of the people who were supposed to love me the most see any of this? Why did none of them help me? Why did all of them think I was to blame? (my guess: Team Mary Ellen)  

Somewhere in that year my friends were moving to Chapel Hill so I packed up the car that my child support paid for and I went down the mountain. She threatened to call the police on me for stealing the car.  She told me I needed discipline and needed to go into the Army. She just didn’t know what to do with me…such a problem child. If I remember correctly, you echoed her sentiments. Everyone was always so angry at me for being so wrong and so bad. None of my family (meaning MJ and mom because my brothers had long bailed on me and my extended family has never made a single attempt to reach out to me or know me at all.)  were my friend, or loving, kind or compassionate.

I got away….I went to Chapel Hill and lived with my best friends Kerry, Lesley, Julie, and two other guys in Kerry’s Moms rental house. I was working at the Columbia Street Bakery and dating this boy, Richard…. Who happened to be a really abusive drug dealer… who held me down one night and violently orally raped me and when I called mom for help she told me with the exasperation of a mother who had supposedly tried so hard to do the right thing and raise her child with love and support but that child was just tragic and terminally fucked :

“I don’t know whats wrong with you Melissa, I guess you just like the bad boys.”  

Again, no self reflection on her behalf…she did nothing to help me.

I didn’t know how to get away from Richard who was playing mind fuck with me and I was getting high with him (LSD) …which was basically, me being drugged and him using me for sex but not being loving or kind in any way (felt like home)  Eventually, Richard got busted for selling a page of lsd to an undercover cop and threatened to kill me because he thought it was my fault… so I had to get out of there and I went to New York to chill out and work for the summer at the Omega Institute of Holistic Learning… to just be around hippies and eat good food. I hung out with Baba Ram Dass and Ben & Jerry…and took a class on the whirling dervish… These moments when I wasn’t in the pressure cooker of my life were both brilliant because I needed healing but also the worst because all this trauma would start to surface and I didn’t know what it was or how to speak about it. I would start to shatter again.

I believed it was my fault and there was something inherently wrong with me.

I was so lost. I needed help. I needed a parent or loving compassionate family or someone trusted to guide me through that time in my life. I had no one but my friends from North Carolina who were just as fucked up as me. I needed help. I needed help. Oh my god, I needed help.

Omega ended…I had no money to get out of there, nobody to turn to for help, no clue what to do next, I certainly couldn’t go back to Mom who hated me and was living with Rand so fuck that… I had no idea where my brothers and sisters were and no relationship with them so that wasn’t on my mind as an option…..so I caught whatever ride I could get and ended up in Boulder. One of my friends from Omega hooked me up with her cousin for a month and I tried to make it work… it was basically winter in Colorado at this point and I was out there door canvassing for Green Peace making no money and freezing to death. Just walking door to door for Greenpeace… looking in on other families and their loving lives together. I was so fucking sad. I was hungry and scared and completely out of options. I had to get out of there.

I called Mom for help. She said: “You got yourself into this, get yourself out”…. And hung up on me. The bitch hung up on me. I was stranded and so scared and I needed my mom. She hung up on me. She blamed me. She wanted to punish me for being such a problem. She was done being a mom. She hung up.

I remember having gone to the Planned Parenthood to get some medical help because I was sick. I explained my situation and the nurse looked at me incredulously and said “where are you parents?” I explained to her that Mom hung up on me.  I was devastated, living in a constant state of shock. Scared out of my sense of self or ability to connect to the present moment.

I was a fractured soul in every possible meaning.

My month at my friends place was over and I had to find an apartment or live on the streets. It took me another month of begging whatever guy I could find to give me a place to stay and then I contacted the boy I was dating at Omega, Scott, and asked him for money to get a bus back to North Carolina. He helped me. Bless him. He got me out of there.

I got on the Greyhound and ended up going to Idaho to visit with my friend Stacy (who I lived in the trailer with) and stay with her for a couple weeks to get grounded and feel safe with a friend for a minute. My mental break was coming back full force. I was inconsolable.  I remember laying on her bed fully having an out of body experience from the stress and being so disoriented. She is so patient and kind. She took care of me. When my time with Stacy was up, the next layer of insanity: I got on the Greyhound and took a 5 day no sleep, no food journey across country. I got chased down, carrying all my bags of things and looking like a little hippie… on a layover, by a group of drunk men in Wyoming…they almost got me but I found a laundromat that was open and full of people so I ran inside and hid until my bus was leaving again. I was terrified. By the time I made it back to Lesley and Kerrys house in Chapel Hill it was New Year night…I got some hours back at the Columbia Street bakery I was working at and got some money rolling in.

I want to mention that Poverty, which I have lived most my life in, is no joke and more damaging than anyone outside of the experience can understand. It is cyclical, like bi polar…. Living paycheck to paycheck or however you get just enough to maybe hold on for a moment longer but never knowing if more will be coming is a terror. Always feeling like the bottom is going to drop out…and never knowing when youre going to eat…and what that does to your hormones and your mental health…. Poverty is proven to damage people on a cellular level and have lasting effects that lead to chronic illness.

After making it back to NC, few weeks later the boy from Omega came to Chapel Hill and told me he wanted to marry me and wanted me to move to Boston with him. So we took a little road trip and eventually ended up in Boston. As a surprise to no one sane, that was not a lasting relationship. So after a year of misery in Boston, (more poverty, more loneliness, more no family) Scott drove me back to Chapel Hill and that’s when the girls and I all moved up to Asheville. All the while, checking in with Mom who was yelling and shaming me for being such a fuck up.

I can’t underline enough: I was disassociating the entire time. I was having episodes of schizophrenia. I was experiencing major depression and bi polar disorder. The stress of my entire life was more than I could handle and I had no support and no compassion and nobody validating my experience or me as a person. People just thought that was who I was. I was just fucked in every way possible and believed she was right and all that was normal and I was a terrible piece of shit. She had everyone believing that.  

Mary Jane believed her. She echoed her sentiments to me. Go Team Mary Ellen.

I moved up to Asheville and got somewhat stabilized. I was again living with my friends and I got a decent job at the Laughing Seed Cafe. I met Mark and I had decided to go to college because I thought that would make Mom happy and I needed to DO something with myself.  

Mark and I were together maybe 8 weeks before we moved across country and started a life together. Eight weeks.

I was so adept at being a high functioning  dissociative major depressive and I had no way to articulate what was wrong with me (all that stuff that had been normalized and ignored…all the ways my feelings and personhood was erased)… I just knew something evil bad was in me and it took me out from time to time. I thought it was my fault and I was ashamed of myself.  I was living in a constant state of shock. CPTSD.

So, I get myself into college and thanks to Mark and his truck we move across country.

When I hear my friends now talking about saving money for their kids college and really setting them up for success by helping them choose a school and get settled in or making sure they don’t have to work so they can focus on their studies and have a healthy social life with friends and do activities Im so confused. I didn’t know parents and families helped their kids with such things. I didn’t understand that in other families they help, protect and support. I made it through without any of these blessings.

Mark and I get a shitty apartment (the ceiling caved in out of rot and the place was full of roaches. The property managers stole my drum set and we would catch them on the roof at night peeping through the skylight to watch us), I get a full time job managing a restaurant…in addition to schooling full time...Im overwhelmed by the workload, scared to be across country, freaked out by college and the expectations… it was too much. I was away from the source of my abuse and things started to surface… I NEEDED HELP.

I needed my family except, honestly, I have none. Additional mindfuck: when I tried to talk to people about this I get the old trope about how everyone has tough relationships in their families and I need to love my mom and work it out with her.SO I KEPT GOING BACK FOR MORE WITH MOM BECAUSE I NEEDED HER LOVE SO BAD AND I THOUGHT THE PROBLEM WAS ME. Further, because I was so regressed I just sounded like a petulant child when I tried to talk about the abuse I had no accurate words for so nobody outside the experience really got it or could conceive how bad things really were for me… why would they? My family is extraordinarily fucked up, like nobody I have ever known.

In college, nobody comes to check on me and make sure Im ok. Nobody was calling. Id get rare emails or letters. When I would tell mom how hard it was, mom would mock me and tell me to suck it up when I would reach out to her and “complain” about how things were going for me… See, because its always my fault and Im never measuring up.

An aside: To this day, 40 years later, Jim2 has yet to even send me a single email to check and make sure Im ok or get to know me at all. He has never responded to the multiple emails I have sent him, so I stopped reaching out. I used to cry to mom about it and she would tell me that he “has a busy life” and I had to understand that’s why I wasn’t a priority to him. Personally, I cant imagine anything being more important than making a connection with your little sister, but I guess Im biased and not like him: busy getting high and drunk and being a cool party guy.  

During my college is when he married Lori. I worked over time and got a plane ticket to be at his wedding. I was sick to my stomach at the idea of having to be around my family but I love my brother and I wanted to be there. He ignored me the entire time I was there. I was a HUGE FUCKING DEAL that I could afford the ticket and made the effort to be there for him. I showed up for him….He ignored me. I was devastated and felt invisible and so worthless.

Another aside: I was 24 and that very first Christmas on the west coast Mom calls me, driving herself to the ER to get her stomach pumped from a suicide attempt. She was dramatically telling me her goodbye in case she didn’t make it. I was stressed and powerless beyond the telling of it. I cried all the way through that Christmas. Again: Mom always uses me as her emotional manipulation dumping ground. Out of all her children, Im the one with heart and she gets the sympathy she is working me over for.

During my college years, I would ask Mom for help she would mock me “Im sending baby Sava (MJs daughter) a care package…are you a baby? Do you need one too?”

Mean girl jealousy that I went to college and her life was taken from her by her children….

In college I had no friends, just Mark. No time for activities and my mental health was so fragile I had no ability to form friendships. I was barely hanging on. I would be catatonic in my time at home. We had this geometry screensaver on the computer and I would be frozen staring at it for hours while my brain felt like it was going to shatter. I was an absolute wreck and a shell of a person…but I was determined to prove I could graduate college and I wasn’t a fuck up. I wanted Mom to be proud of me.

I guess it should come as no surprise that after 4 years of no time off, working and schooling 80 hours a week, getting zero support emotionally or financially from my family …. that absolutely NOBODY FROM MY FAMILY CAME TO CELEBRATE ME AT MY GRADUATION.

Nobody came. Nobody celebrated me. Nobody saw the value in me or my hard work.

I remember being on the phone with Jim2 the day of my graduation. I had called him to ask why he wasn’t there for me. I was in tears. He told me that if that was the worst thing that ever happened to me, congratulations on your nice life. He thought it was bullshit that I was so upset. He thought I was being a baby. This loser dropped out of college which he had a scholarship for and did nothing with his life but drugs and alcohol and saw no value in me or what I did on my own. He didn’t show up for me.

Me going to college and graduating on time with full credits was a major fucking accomplishment on so many levels.

Not one of my family was there for me and I will never forgive or forget that.

We moved to the same fucking town Mary Jane was in when she was in college and never ONCE did anyone come to check on me and be interested in what I was doing or validate how amazing it was that I was in school and making it happen on my own.  

When I talk about how alone I feel in life, its in my bones.

I had worked over time to get Mom a plane ticket so she would be there for my graduation and she called me a couple days before to tell me pathetically “She couldn’t get the day off work.”  (Lie: I think she has some legal issue and couldn’t leave the state or something like that.)

After she called to bail on my graduation… at 27 years old… I had a heart attack on my walk home. I collapsed in my living room. Mark found me on the floor when he got home from work. She literally broke my heart. I was devastated. I was in shock. I was dissociating. I was so fucked up. I needed help. Poor Mark. He didn’t know what was wrong and neither did I.

Shortly after my graduation, MJ graduated and she drove to see her and was sure to tell me about it. I mean, they are BFFs so, no surprises there. GO TEAM MARY ELLEN, right?  

Whats wrong with you Melissa? My family. My family is whats wrong with me.

During college I was stressed to the point of being catatonic when I wasn’t at work or school. My mental health was tanking in every possible way… but the pressure cooker of school and work kept me hemmed in and my desire to prove that I was someone worth loving (because god knows I wasn’t going to be loved just for being me…No one was simply going to show up for me or simply be there. I had to earn it.)

…. then we moved to Seattle and I had three years at Amazon in that pressure cooker of a job… (10 to 14 hours a day, 6 days a week) working as a Lead running a team of 200 people to keep me too busy to feel my feelings or connect to emerging myself.  

At some point after I graduated and it no longer mattered, I remember MJ came to visit me one time. That was nice of her. Thank you for trying, MJ.

But heres the fun part: Mark. Mark loved me.

Mark is the very first and to this day ONLY person who has been intimately involved in my life who loves and respected me just as I am.

It was Mark loving me that allowed me to start developing a voice and for that very young very traumatized person inside of me to start coming to the surface. Mark was the very best thing that has ever happened to me….and, ironically, it was because he loved me that all that evil finally came to the surface…and was our demise.

All the things dad did to me, all the never ending abuse from mom that sought to vilify and demoralize me… all of the hurt from the abandonment from my brothers and sisters… all that evil came up because he Loved me enough to make me feel safe and supported…I just didn’t know that then and couldn’t see or feel that he was the most tremendous gift this life has ever given me ….

and I started sexually assaulting myself in my sleep (woke up one time with an entire box of tampons inside of me and had to go to the doctor to get them all out). I would throw punches in my sleep. I was having an utter mental breakdown/ breakthrough… and then I started acting out sexually with other men that I met online. I felt like I was being puppet mastered from some evil unknown source. I was manic and acting out sexually. That default programing from my childhood was calling the shots. I didn’t have a sense of self so I was acting from what I knew and what Dad taught me about myself and the self-worth that mom made sure I didn’t have.

I say acting out sexually. What I should say is reenacting the trauma…which there was so very much of. I was on auto pilot and at that time if you asked me if that’s what I wanted to be doing I would have said yes out of programming but the core truth of who I am knew it was not at all right or who I am or what I wanted…that core didn’t have a voice yet.

2001, Amazon had laid us all off. I got hired working at a treatment center for abused youth.  I was major depressive and would be fetal position on the floor and cry for a month at a time but I didn’t know why or what was wrong… I was just deeply goddamn depressed and wanted to die. All the time. Goddamn. Let it end.

Poor Mark. He didn’t know what was happening. He was the perfect boyfriend. He tried so hard to help me. I honestly could not have asked for a more perfect man to come in to my life…and he was stuck with me. Mentally fucked Melissa with no clue what was wrong… and worst of all, I thought I had to get out of my relationship with Mark.

Crazy,right?….I asked Mom for help. She had no relationship with me and no clue what was going on in my life…She is a complete train wreck of a human and so deep in her own denial and so wrapped up in her latest abusive relationship with a rich man that she could honestly give a fuck about me and thought the worst of me anyway… so yeah, break up with him and oh my god Melissa I don’t know what to do with you.

I kept cheating on him over and over again. I was off the rails with my manic depression. Spending, fucking, driving my car too fast…. Through a chat room, I got mixed up with a man that felt like Dad to me and I was entranced and captive to him. Mark asked me to marry him and I broke up with him, moved out.. I was off the rails with the sexual acting out/re traumatizing myself.

(Mark immediately met the woman he has since married and has been with for the past 18 years. I would give anything to have that man back in my life…Throughout these years, my memory of how he treated me has been the standard by which I have held all other men and nobody measures up….Beyond his character and integrity, the art, music and intelligence that lives within this handsome and kind man is incomparable. I blew it. Fuck. I pushed away the most incredible man I ever knew and he loved me. I still love him to this day.)

At that same time I heard a rumor at work that one of the counselors (reggie, 24) had slept with a client(raya,16). I knew reggie was capable of it (I had slept with him) so I reported it to the Unit manager, Big Mike. ……What I didn’t know is that Reggie, Mike and the guy I was so into, Cash were all friends who grew up together and in the same gang……

and so it was that month that I moved out from Mark that the man that I was so “in love with”, Cash, drugged me at a house party and raped me with 4 of his friends to teach me a lesson for reporting Reggie.

I remember sharing a beer with Cash and then feeling tired and dizzy and asking to lay down and then multiple hours of being barely coherent and having no control over my body and being passed around for everyone to fuck over and over again.

Cash was a sex trafficker and grooming me all along. No wonder he felt like home. My need for family and my daddy issues in full effect, I couldn’t break the spell. I was terrified of him and wanted him to think I was so sexy…..He was masterful with the mindfuck and kept me under his thumb at all times which felt like attention and love to me and was intense enough that I could feel it.

At that time, in Washington, you had a statue of limitations of 8 years to report a rape.

Mind you, I was so dissociative and still had no idea I was a person or had any rights to my thoughts or my body… I was really goddamn checked out at that point in my life….I was in shock. The childhood assault trauma was just surfacing and I had no words for it because it had been normalized and my feelings negated by my parents So, I didn’t know if I had been raped or not….it took me years to figure out that its wrong to drug someone and have all your friends fuck them…

I didn’t know I should or could ask for help. I didn’t believe I could be helped. I didn’t think anyone would help me. I didn’t know I was a person. I didn’t know I had rights. I didn’t know I could escape or how.

ANYONE CONFUSED ABOUT WHY I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO GET HELP OR THAT I DESERVED IT???????

Whats wrong with you, Melissa?

In the meanwhile, Cash was making sure I wouldn’t report it.

He knew I was away from Mark, had a history of sexual assault and no family, and that I lived in absolute poverty so there was zero chance I could escape him.

I was in so much trouble. I needed help. I called Mom. I explained that it all to her. I explained that they were a gang. That it was sex trafficking… that I needed help…. To which she said “Let them play godfather. Whats the worst they can do?”….. (nice way to minimize the extreme danger I was in and negate me as a person, don’t you think?)

that bitch loves to see me suffer and struggle, doesn’t she. Doesn’t it make her look amazing when I look like shit? So she didn’t help me. She shit talked me to the rest of the family like I wanted to be in that situation because I was trash. Nobody helped me.

I remember talking to Mary Jane around that time explaining that I was getting counseling and she, like mom, shamed me and told me I didn’t have bipolar or something like that… She was Team Mary Ellen all the way and me getting counseling was just attention seeking or something like that.

See, this is why MJ and I have never been friends or close. I cant trust her. Shes not someone I think of as an ally. Sorry about that, MJ. Im not trying to be mean but… look at why I think that.

I really do look up to her though. She is so smart and capable. But I cant trust her and this is why.

By the way, here’s just a few of examples of the worst they can do while “playing Godfather”: They were so invested in making sure I never spoke about the rape they made sure I was living in such constant fear for my life (mental domination) that I was too scared to talk to anyone about it:

*They had voyeur cameras in my house…that they were making money off of.

*They had software on my laptop to collect all my personal data (social security, passwords, answers to security questions) so I am owned by them to this day.

*They had GPS on my car to track me everywhere I went and would leave notes on my car to let me know I was constantly being watched.

*They flipped my therapists office and stole all her files to make sure there was no record

*They poisoned my dog every day for a month while I was at work…I would come home to Milo cowering in the corner like he had been abused all day long and diarrhea all over the floor until one day I yelled out in my home with nobody there that I would find Cashs son and do the same to him…and I went online and found his childs home address…yelled that out to my empty apartment…and after that day Milo was never sick again….

*Then there are the 2 times they broke into my apartment in the middle of the night, drugged me in my sleep and did whatever and dumped me at the park. One of those time I woke up with half my face slack and paralyzed as though I had a stroke. By the grace of god I got the feeling back but to this day its still a little droopy.

*They sent their equally psycho boy Alex into my life to keep watch on me. He was horribly mentally abusive. I was so broken and demoralized. I needed to get away. Instead, I got pregnant. Alex also gave me syphilis ..and so I had an abortion. I had to get two Orders of Protection to get Alex away from me. When I called mom for help with the pregnancy, she was off the rails hysterical and I was yet even more scared and alone. Mom blamed me for all of it. Further evidence Im trash. I got pregnant by a mistake by a black man.

There is more, I mean it was 8 years of daily torture… but I think you get the idea. Complete mental domination was the name of their game.

I had no friends. None. I was so fucked up. I was terrified to speak to anyone because everything felt like danger. Just these men showing up when they felt like to to fuck me and terrorize me. Eight years. My 30s. I was miserable beyond the telling of it.

Whats wrong with you Melissa. I needed help. I was so scared. I needed my family. I got yelled at and shamed. I was so alone. I wanted to die. I was so depressed and fucked up. Goddamn. Let it end. And the worst of it all is that I really didn’t even have myself. I never had a chance to be safe enough to develop a self. I was a shell of a human. I was out of my head. I was so checked out with the PTSD and the trauma of it all. I was scared to be alive. Soul fracturing is real.

This was how I spent my 30s. Somehow pulling myself together to go to work during the day because I didn’t want to be homeless, coming home and having a total mental collapse at night and all the while being mentally tortured by a gang of sex traffickers and when I reached to my family for help I got blamed for being a fucked up piece of shit.

I had no one. When I talk about my isolation and how alone I am, its cumulative.  Its all this and more.

I don’t need to volunteer at a shelter on Christmas to be with someone for the holidays. I don’t need to get a dog. I need family. I need to be validated on a daily basis that I matter and am loveable just as I am. I need someone safe who is simply there. I need people in my life who celebrate me without me asking. I need people who are there for those simple mundane acts of living that define us…I need to come home to love.

The miracle: I kept myself employed and was successful in my corporate career path, I kept myself housed, and drug and alcohol free the entire time. I had the where with all to get counselling and try to work through my shit. I never gave up on myself even though I didn’t yet know who I am and my family had absolutely written me off from day one.

Then the Recession happened. I, of course, had never learned money management skills so there really wasn’t any savings to rely on. I was comfort eating like a motherfucker, I had student loans, a car payment and insurance and a foolishly large and expensive apartment, I had these lecherous men that were taking advantage of me financially too… I was manic depressive… I was paying for counselling (which if I am not mistaken over the years has totaled $100k) But to be honest, I don’t know where my money went… so when the Recession hit it took about 2 months before I was selling off everything I own and living in my car….where I stayed for the next year with my dog.

Nobody help me stay safe or in my integrity. I had no friends in Seattle to turn to. Mom told me to put my things in garbage bags and throw it all away…take the dog to the pound… and work with my counselor (she was angry about me getting help because she perceived it as being me trying to vilify her and this was her chance to punish me for getting help) and find a shelter to check in to because I wasn’t welcomed at her home.

Let me say that again: My mom knew I was losing everything, told me to throw my life away, dump my kid at the pound and told me to check into a shelter, I wasn’t welcomed at her home.

MY MOM.

Shes sees me as trash. She threw me away. Doesn’t she look amazing when Im failing?

Work in Seattle was impossible to find. I literally had 700 resumes out. Understand, I have held a job consistently since I was 15 years old and somehow mom thought this moment was me being a lazy piece of shit and just trying to manipulate her for money when I asked for help.

Sure. Ok.

I spent the next year in my car with no money coming in other than whatever odd jobs I could grab on craigslist to make my car payment. I drove back to North Carolina to seek help from my friends and my brother. My friends back home were not in a position to help me in any long lasting way but bless them all for what they did…

but Jim 2, who lives in Raliegh, was. He just declined. He made me a sandwich…told me there was nothing he could do for me (he has three houses)…and I spent the night in my car outside my brother’s house.

I had an ex acquaintance from Seattle who lived in Raleigh. He was part of the abuser sex trafficking gang. He let me sleep on the floor but would beat the shit out of me if I tried to sleep on the couch. I was so demoralized and out of my head, I needed literally anyone to be there for me….so, I stayed there, on the floor, for a month.

My brother was 15 minutes away, could have kept me safe but my brother chose to do nothing to help me.  

Whats wrong with you Melissa. My family. Definitely gonna say my family.  

When it was clear that North Carolina wasn’t going to be any better for work than Seattle I decided to drive back to the west coast. I had to drive through Texas and I didn’t stop at Moms house. I didn’t even try. Why would I?  I was so hopeless and out of my head with depression and PTSD. I was screaming into the great black nothing. I was cutting myself all over to get the evil out. I would punch my own face black and blue from self loathing… again, thinking it was all my fault and that I was defective. I mean… my own family didn’t want me. Nobody did. It was me. I was a horrible piece of shit and deserved to die. Nobody loved or wanted me. Nobody kept me safe. I was deeply lost in the void. I wanted to die. Goddamn. Let it end.

That year in the car was by far worse than the 8 years of being tortured by sex traffickers or the 13 years of living with my sex predator father or the 7 years of being stuck in bumfuck North Carolina with my moms abuser boyfriend stealing the show.

Without question having nobody and knowing that nobody cares if you are safe, in your integrity, have a door to lock, privacy of any kind, if you are fed or showered… knowing for a demonstrated fact that there is not a single person on earth who cares enough to validate your humanity is the absolute worst feeling I have ever known.  Being completely dehumanized, demoralized, erased. I begged for death.

Whats wrong with you Melissa?

Fun fact: during that time, instead of helping me or offering me a job at her business doing the exact job I did so well at Amazon (I asked for one and told her I would sleep in the attic at the office and she told me No), to mock me and show me what a failure I am and that I was just trying to manipulate her for money because Im a lazy loser

Mom went to her local Costco and applied for a job to show me how easy it was for her to get hired.

I mean, if youre going to be void of a soul, you should really go for it. Kudos, Mom.  

I drove through California on the way back home to Seattle and met my sister Patty for the first time. We look like two peas in a pod. We think exactly the same. She is undeniably my sister. It was the most incredible feeling.

For the first time in my entire life I actually felt and thought the same as someone else.

She casually declined to introduce me to her family. They kept looking at me incredulously because we look just the same… but she would shoo them away when they would come over to talk. I met her at her restaurant and then she took me to her palatial home. She has a huge family. She had tons of photo albums… and then she started talking about Dad…like she was in a trance and talking about a favorite lover… it was clear that Dad had sexualized her and maintained that relationship with her well into her adult life and that was the reason she had no contact with us and didn’t want a deeper relationship with me. One conversation was all I got with her. I slept in my car outside her home. My sister didn’t help me. Whats wrong with you Melissa???

In one shot from LA I drove back to Seattle. I figured out that the Queen Anne neighborhood had the lowest crime rate so I parked there. I was so sick to death of all the nights that year that I would wake up with someone trying to break in to the car. Thank god I had Milo with me. He saved me multiple times from intruders that year. My body was a wreck from car living and shit food. My mental health beyond destroyed. I was really just done. Run through. All the way run through.

I did a brief stint staying in Silverdale with my friend from NC that I managed to re connect with on my drive back… but the hour drive into Seattle from Silverdale was too much so I lumped it and just slept in my car in Queen Anne once I secured my job…..

I went in to Top Pot Doughnuts every day for a month and demanded a job until they gave me one. I was 8 weeks into that job, still sleeping in the car but I had forward momentum when I totaled the car. I had the very last car payment in the seat next to me I had worked so fucking hard to maintain my payments in good faith despite it all and come out of that situation with my car but nope…fuck me. I was on my way to the gym and I was giving myself a pep talk telling myself everything was going to be ok….and I ate it…40 miles an hour into a stopped truck on the West Seattle Bridge. Entirely my fault. Milo went to the pound. All my earthly belongings went to the impound yard. I went to the ER…. And I called every single person I knew and who I thought could help me.

Just when you think you have nothing left, turns out you can go lower. Nobody returned my call.  

Me, the unwanted, loveable piece of shit. I could die and nobody cared. Whats wrong with you Melissa?

I got out of the hospital, I had made contact with my online friend Rishad and he let me stay for a couple days… BLESS HIM… In those two days I got on the bus. I took the bus that goes through Capitol Hill and up to Queen Anne where my job was. I wrote down every apartment for rent phone number I could see and I started making calls. In the first true lucky break I had in years, this apartment manager woman at a really sweet little apartment on the hill heard me out…heard my story… it was the 15th of the month. I had my car payment check and I cashed it and gave her the money… She gave me the keys and a wink and told me I could move in “on the first”, that’s what the money I gave her would pay for…. and that she definitely didn’t know anything about a dog so no pet fee was needed.

I went right upstairs, LOCKED MY OWN DOOR and laid on the floor with literally nothing left to my name and cried so fucking hard.  

I had whiplash from the accident. I fractured 4 molars on my steering wheel and over the years as my dentist promised they have slowly one by one fallen out of my face. I had broken both my feet and wracked my knees…. But I had a place that was my own and a job and that’s all that mattered.

I went right to the pound the next day and got Milo. I went to the impound lot and got what was left of my life. I missed a sum total of two days of work…. I was so thankful to have a job again I blocked out the pain from my broken body and I just kept going.

(Mind you the only thing Mom has ever been proud of me for in my lifetime is losing weight. That’s what got her attention…that’s what she was impressed by. I went on a diet.)

That next year, I lost 70 pounds at the gym. I perceived my training team as the family I never had and I was good at lifting weights. They weren’t honestly my friends or family but it was something consistent and I needed that stability and I needed them so fucking bad. It took 5 years to start to return to a somewhat functioning human... Lifting helped me get back into my body and stop checking out so much. My nutrition plan made me focus on myself every moment of every day…and nothing beats depression like clean food and working out. Structure and consistency.

My PTSD was off the rails though. I was worse than a soldier coming back from war…I never signed up for that shit and it started when I was a child. I was suffering. I wanted to die. Every moment of every day. I was miserable to be around. Nobody wanted to be my friend. So, trust me…just work and the gym with my illusion that people were there for me and me inappropriately and overly attached to them.

The irony is that I looked amazing and strong and I was, yes. The reality is that I wanted to die. I begged for death. I had two suicide attempts in those years….I surprised myself and cut my wrist with my house keys on the way to work one day and another time I walked into traffic but the car swerved.

Coming out of all that happened and processing all that trauma took more will power and resolve than anything I have ever done. It was so dark. I felt demon possessed. I was out of my head. I would find myself walking out of my place into public with no skirt on just my tights or other crazy shit like that. I was talking to myself, having heated arguments with nobody there all the fucking time. I was punching myself in the face. I was cutting and other such self harm.

It was really bad. I was hurting so fucking much.

And, I had another sociopath boyfriend taking full advantage of my disadvantage…keeping me fucked up because it kept me there for him. Thomas was in my life for 7 years. Absolute Scum. But he was the only person who would show up in person for me. I needed to be held. I was so out of my head and I still had no friends in my life…just people on the internet.… So again, this familiar situation: I just let him use me so I could have literally anyone there. The social and emotional isolation was killing me and I was convinced I was in love. He felt like home. He kept telling me we would be together if I waited. That he loved me. That I was the Key! I was the only time he was happy. The reality was he wouldn’t speak to me during the week. He would just show up on a Friday or Saturday night when he felt like it, from 1am to 3am…literally show up with his dick out to fuck me…very often wouldn’t speak to me when he was there…then he would leave and that was what I considered my relationship and love. It was about 2 years into our “relationship” that the truth slowly started to surface that he was in a long term relationship and he lived with her….

The details of how twisted he is and how he manipulated my daddy issues is disgusting. How he used neglect to keep me working so hard for him to be there and begging for his attention….really sick.

He felt like home which is the worst part. He was exactly like home.

It took me three years at the doughnut shop to get emotionally stabilized enough to make a plan for next steps. I was too emotionally fragile to go back to corporate work or be in an office environment. I knew I wanted to go to massage school and I really thought it could be an answer for me even though Mary Jane and mom had previously shamed and mocked me when I said I wanted to go. Mom didn’t think I could be anything better than a waitress. She told me to stop complaining that I hated my work and just go do it.

It was around this time that I had to move out of the apartment because they raised the rent by double on my sweet apartment and I found my way into squatting in my Art studio, where I have been for the past 7 years.

This studio has been so needed and healed me in so many ways. It is private enough to have a complete mental collapse and since it was a former isolation tank/jail… Nobody can get in here….bars over the windows and a steel door…so, I could sleep at night for the first time in years. The rent is crazy affordable which allowed me to go to school and later afford activities to try to learn social skills and be a real person in the world…. This place is my everything.

When I had my first art show… consisting of the photos that I took when I was living in my car. One of the ways I survived and changed my paradigm to get out of the car alive was that I would walk around and task myself with Looking through the eyes of Love. I would try to find one thing each day that I could see beauty in so I could continue to see good in the world…thus my collection of flower photos that I maintain to this day as my gratitude practice.

Mom picked up the phone and called me the night of my show.

(Mind you, she has never been there for me. Over the years since she kicked me out I think we have talked on the phone maybe 10 times. There have been years where she refused to give me her phone number…she made a game of it for years…I would email and ask for it she would say she was going to give it to me in her reply but never would. Then she finally did and a week later she changed it again. Psycho. Another time I can remember a time we talked on the phone and I ended by saying I love you and she was silent and struggled to say it back. Whats incredible is that she has always pretended to be someone who knows me and knows whats going on in my life and talks about it with such authority. This is a narcissistic abuser in action. What she was doing was scanning my social media and whatever scraps of information she could get and twisting it into whatever story she needed to support her storyline about me being a problem child and a fuck up and what a wonderful mother she is so she could continue to live in denial. She cant face the past and she has never done any work to own her part or apologize. So, now Ive cut her off. She does things now like call the place where I get my mail and had the people who run the PO box office tell me my mother called and she is worried about me and she asked them for whatever information they had on me -so I had to get a new PO Box place where the owners have English as a distant 2nd language-  or she will go through my friends list on social media and contact people to see if they will keep tabs on me for her and share her story about what a problem I am and how she is just a loving mother who I have scorned and of course people believe her. She said the magic word: Mother. Nobody would suspect what kind of Mother she actually is and they see me all angry, regressed emotionally like a child and so fucked up and struggling in the world so she must me right about me, yeah? Text book actions when you try to break away from a Narcissist)

So…I get into the studio and Im all set up for my show and she called me to say this: “So, youre having an art show huh? You think youre so great. Youre still alone though aren’t you? (the mean girl was jealous that I somehow retained a sense of self and did something neat to be proud and again, she wanted to punish me…the woman is demented.) You know, the longest relationship you’ve ever had is with that damn dog.” And then she laughed at me. Made some shit comment about my basement studio “not having air” and some other bullshit and we ended the call. My party guests were arriving. My self-confidence was missing in action for the rest of my night.   Nice, right? That’s my mom.

Shortly after I get in to the Studio Milo got sick. Really really sick. As I promised him from day one, I would never let him suffer for my own selfish reasons…. So, I rented a car, took him to the vet and had him put down. The love of my life and my great protector. This sweet soul that was my constant source of love and hope for 14 years. When I posted on my facebook thread about his passing, mom commented that she was devastated at her loss. Because, you know… Milos death, this dog that she wanted me to throw away, was about how it impacted HER.  …yeah….ok.

I want to mention out of the context of a clear timeline that somewhere in here I trained for and ran two Tough Mudders. They are 12 mile courses with 20 really fucking hard obstacles. They are designed to be run with a team. I ran them both solo because nobody wanted to join me. On the days that I went to the events, neither my Trainer or the man I was so in love with, Thomas, sent me as much as a good luck text to wish me well or acknowledge my accomplishment. My previously 215 pound ass had shrunk to 140 pounds and, at 40 years old ran a team event solo and made it through in TWO AND A HALF HOURS completing every single obstacle, no excuses…. And nobody who should have been excited and invested in my success said a word.

I was still invisible. I still did not matter. I was still not celebrated by the people who should have been there for me.

I want to point this out: Even I did not think I mattered or what I was doing was noteworthy. I was still so checked out and erased to myself that it didn’t click in my head that my life and all that I was doing and surviving was me doing the impossible.

My friend Luke (who I met online dating but I knew we were meant to be solid friends for life) made a point to come with me to the first Tough Mudder. He spent the entire day out there and he took photos of me… He is the reason that I can now reflect on what I did and actually SEE MYSELF. That gift is immeasurable. Luke evidenced me. Im here today as a whole person in part because of him.  Also of note, the transition time between the apartment and the studio: Luke let me stay with him. He kept me safe and he was my sounding board and my true friend. I have nothing but the deepest most heartfelt love and respect for him. His story is equally harrowing and he is a miracle in action. Thank you Luke. I love you. Youre in my inner circle for life.

Now that Milo was gone and I was feeling somewhat more stabilized as a human, I knew it was time to make my career plan and try to get into massage school. Here is the next great stroke of luck in my lifetime: I went to Discovery Point and I talked to the women that run the school I explained my situation and that I was completely broke. They let me go to school for free in those 9 months with the understanding that I would clean the school on the weekends, make what payments I could as I went along and work out a payment plan immediately after graduation and that they would hold my diploma until that was complete.  OH SWEET MERCY.

My days during those 9 months were 17 hours long. I would manage the café in the morning 5am to 1pm, go to the gym to lift and run from 2 to 4, then to school from 5 to 10pm…all the while walking to get to each place. I was getting something like 12 miles a day. I did it. I made my 9 months of cleaning the school and keeping my life on track ( no cheering section, nobody doing laundry, cooking, keeping bills paid or there to comfort me but me: Whats new?) , I passed my exam and I was on track to move my life forward.

I feel like there should have been a celebration when I graduated because that’s fucking astounding…. but, hey… nothing happened, nobody in my life said a word of congratulations about it. Surprise.

I live alone. I have no friends beyond those that exist on the computer, acquaintances from community, and a few co workers that I have hung out with from time to time and I always make a big deal about that on social media which gives the illusion that I have people, but I really dont. My only contact with others is at work. I go home to an empty room and there is no support or comfort. Its really impossible to describe to people who have people what it is like to live with this constant isolation and utter lack of emotional intimacy and how it eats you alive…but this has been my life.

People who don’t understand tell me to get a dog or volunteer or pay for therapy for companionship. That’s a cruel tone deaf response. People need people and it is reasonable to want to be loved, intimately, from the outside in. What I want is to simply matter, and be loved and valued, and have someone who is there without having to do something to receive that…..

Because I have yet to be understood when I talk about it, I have for the most part stopped talking about my isolation that is to this day very real for me.

Im so lonely I just want to die. Whats new.

In the next year, I was waiting tables still and somehow managed to pay off $10k for my license… on a year where I only made $24k. again, no celebration when I told my co workers about it…. I thought it was a big deal.

During that year I went to the doctor and discovered that I was literally malnourished. I was pushing it too hard with working out and keeping everything on track and my personal trainer wasn’t actually reading the food journal I sent him each night… so I got pneumonia as well….but just kept going.

I also got my Personal Training Cert and my Nutrition Counseling cert that year and started working as a Personal Trainer while I looked for a Massage job. Things were lightening up for me. The tremendous crushing weight of my entire life was lightening up.

But the reality of who my Trainer was and what a fraud he was came to the light. He was sleeping with some of his clients and I have a laundry list of unethical things he, and his business partner, were doing. When I held him accountable that was the last straw for him. He was sick to death of weathering my PTSD and how fucked up and sick I was and how fucked up I was over Thomas all the goddamn time… and additionally I was calling out all the ways he was unethical: I was bad for business. I was bad for him in the fitness community.

He kept gaslighting me to try to get me to leave but that was my community for 5 years and I didn’t know what to do…….So, Matt did whats guys do: Shes crazy… and shit talked me throughout the fitness community.  He kicked me out of his gym and I now have no gym to work out at and no trainers willing to work with me. Thanks Matt! Super appreciate you!

I maintained my own lifting program for another year but honestly, I was in it for the community and sense of belonging that I never had before in my life. Without that and with Matt shit talking me in the background so I had no support elsewhere my program started to slip…. Add to that, I had begun  working full time in massage and my shoulder got burnt out. I have a repetitive stress injury from my Amazon days that was made worse at Tough Mudder when I got my arm yanked nearly out of its socket in an obstacle… so, Lifting started to fade… and honestly, I was burnt out on the regiment of it all. I needed a break. I deserved a huge break.

I think it was right around 2014 when Mom had me come to Houston for Thanksgiving as though we are friends or she was a Mom. The highlights of that visit include her telling me the reason I wasn’t welcome in Houston during the Recession was because her husband Rumi forbade it.

(I forgot to mention that all through the years of her being with Rumi she has painted this picture of him being physically and emotionally abusive. That she was hiding money to escape him and what a horror he is. She had some secret email account that she sent me emails from at one point and told me that she was trying to hack his email to see who he was having affairs with or some other drama….. but you know if you ask Jim2 who his best friend is, its Rumi…apparently they text all the time…so, you know…she loves to lie and paint these horrific pictures of who people are to support whatever her manipulation is to get sympathy or whatever pay off)

Anyway, While I was in Houston visiting her she was acting like everything was normal and fine and that I had just made up whatever it was that I went through during the Recession. She reminded me that since I “left home” at 18 she has had to give me something like $20k in support and implied what a burden I am and how I always have my hand out. She has kept track of the financial support she gave me as a parent and wanted me to feel like shit for needing her. Cool….

Another example of how mentally deranged she is: While I was there we went out to lunch. Mind you, I have maybe $100 to my name at that time. I offered to pay for lunch at this fast food place and after we ordered she commanded me to go pick a table. So I got a booth with a chair. I sat on the booth side so I was facing the café and could see her when she came out of the restroom… I waved her over and she sat in the chair. Unbeknownst to me, the booth side made me taller than the chair side…. She got this twisted angry look and became livid that I thought I was better than her. Paying for lunch and sitting above her like that….. The next day Mom and Rumi started playing a really fun game where they forgot my name and kept calling me “Savannah” (my niece) for the remainder of the time I was there …. You know… because at 44, they saw me as a child. Nothing like a little game of erasing your daughter’s person hood and replacing it with infantilism to let your daughter know you really see her and respect her.

I really hope this is making clear why I have a strict no contact in place with her that I will never change.

Now its 2017 and I get hired at my dream job. The Spa that I am at is beautiful. My co workers are the best. I make really fine money. My mental health is slowly coming together. I got Thomas out of my life and have enough mental clarity now to really see him for who he is.  I had spent yet another holiday season alone and the isolation was killing me, as per usual…so I decided that the best thing for me to do to help pull me out of my PTSD and stop being so scared to be seen or heard would be to go to music school…. Learn how to make friends for the first time in my adult life and be with people who were not my co workers. Try to trust people again. Try to trust that I could be liked for who I am….though rejection has been a very prevalent theme in my life… Try to learn some social skills that I missed out on basically my entire life.

How to simply hang out and play….was brand fucking new to me. Music school was really really really hard… not to mention I have no musical ability and I get triggered by stress pretty quickly and freeze… but I knew it was the right thing to do to reparent the kid inside me who never learned to make friends or be in activities with others and who wanted to play drums…. So hell yeah. I did it.

Thank you to Katy,Tracy,Melissa,and Kiyan for coming out to see a couple of those shows and being there to support me. You have no idea how much that meant to me.

I thought if I could make friends there I would have people to go out with and maybe could have a chance to meet a man and have a relationship… but all the women there were married with children and had little interest in going out at night, and I still wasn’t fully integrated as a Self yet… so that was a bust.

Music school was really me making up for my 20s and 30s when I should have been out at shows and hanging with friends and making art and and dating but instead I was being mentally tortured by my entire life. I gave it a good shot, but Im a mixed media artist not a musician and that’s really that. I have to take it in stride: Bless my heart for trying. Thank you to all my bandmates for being so kind and supportive of me and for being stellar humans

I was in my first year of Music school when I met the most amazing man, Joe. He was magical. He honestly loved me for me and I loved him right back. It was fast and deep and I felt so completely seen and wanted by him and OH MY GOD I NEEDED THAT FOR SO LONG. He made incredible things happen and took me on dates that made me feel like a Queen…. But Joe was terminally ill and two months later took his own life. I was in shock again….but kept going as I do.

Also out of context of timeline: When I got into that sweet little apartment I would go down to Edge of the Circle which was just a couple blocks away and get Tarot readings from Raven and Kiyan. I didn’t know how to simply ask for friendship so I would buy Tarot readings to have someone to talk to. These two helped me so much in so many ways…through their compassion and through helping me develop my Self and my skills. Over and over again these two have shown up as real people who have treated me with integrity. People who genuinely care about me and support me in my developing personhood. Ive made it through because of them and so many others along the way.

The shitty thing about being knocked out of your self is that even though you have people around you who care, you often cant see it or feel it and like a dick minimize what people are doing for you because the all-consuming feeling that nobody is there is so much larger than the gentle loving efforts of those around you…. And what happens: you push away the people who are there for you because they have self-respect and youre unwittingly being a dick. I want to say Im really sorry about this because I know for sure Ive done this.

Also out of context of timeline: Somewhere in here I started working in Tarot and caught a lucky break and got hired at Percys to be their Reader. Huge shout out to Krista who made that so possible for me. That Tarot night did more for my sense of Self and well being than I can explain and I was a success there largely because Krista made it so beautiful and kept that night going for me.

I also want to say Thank you to Tracy, Katy, and of course Brian who were my friends and co workers at the RowHouse Café… through those early massage school years. Endless support and encouragement from these guys, even when I was too fucked up to really receive it or reflect it back. Im really lucky to have met you and have had you in my life.

It was right around the solar eclipse and the night before that hurricane hit and flooded Houston and moms house got flooded that I emailed her a long list of things she had done that hurt me and explained that I would be taking time away from her and Id let her know when we could speak again. The next morning after I sent that email I again felt puppet mastered…. But this time by the little kid inside me… I literally woke up, jumped out of bed and started to dance. I was filled with glee. I was amazed by myself. I don’t know where that came from except to say that the kid inside me was OVERJOYED to be free of her.

In the coming years I kept proving to myself that I wont let her back in and that Im safe now… and as I have been staying true to this practice of not letting her, or anyone like her, back in my life… I have become happier and more whole as a human being…. More capable of making good choices in friends and finances….

She made an attempt to contact me around the holidays this year. I saw her call but let it go to voice mail. The message she left was something to the tune of her wanting to know if I had forgiven her yet and gotten over it. …See, because its about me and what I need to do because its my damage that is the problem here…. Nothing had changed with her. It was still my fault. No apology. No self reflection. Had I forgiven her yet. For fucks sake: I will never forgive her.  

I have learned to celebrate myself, take my self on vacations and to my great delight I had friends who spent time with me and took care of me!!!!!! Incredible!!!!!, give myself the compassion and nurturing that I always wished I had and reasonably should have had from my family. I have been working on being able to see the love that is there for me from the people that I have in my life, though I still struggle with that.  I have been working so hard on Self Love, Self Respect, Healthy boundaries, creating safety and stability in my life in all way and I know that Im doing great work because my inner me, those little kids inside of me that needed a parent are really responding to the parenting Im giving them…. Check this out:

A month or so after I declined her call I was out at the café in my neighborhood, having a treat and a coffee and doing some writing. I was sitting at the table and this incredible feeling came over me as though a golden light was shining on me and I could see it glittering down on me. I started laughing and crying like when you cum really hard and youre filled with ecstasy and bliss. And then I had a vision of being in a hospital room that was in the forest… it was just two walls of the room and then the woods…I could see deer and birds. In the hospital bed there was a person in a full body cast. The cast had moss growing on it and tiny sprouts of pine trees. The Doctor walked in to the room to check on the patient. I was both the Doctor and the Patient. I told myself: Hey, its time to get you out of there. And I grabbed my circle saw and started to cut my cast from end to end and crack to open like a sarcophagus. I told myself Welcome Back! We are so glad you are here!!! Go slow, take your time getting up. No rush.

I was so elated. I walked home immediately. Upon arriving at my studio I had another vision of all the ages of myself, down to the youngest and up to the oldest and wisest all linking hands. I recognized these women as my Sisters/MySelf… all of us agreed that the next would watch out for the next and that nobody would ever hurt us again. SOUL RECLAMATION.

For the first time in my life I am here, in this body, in this present moment. The first time in my life I am ME. Im currently 6 months in to my actual LIFE. THIS IS ME. I AM HERE. OH MY GOD. I MADE IT.

Yes now, of course, the world is ending and my career in massage is tenuous at best and I might be fucked again…. But so not worried because honestly, Ive survived worse with less. So I will figure this out and keep myself alive, housed and fed.

Over the years my attempts to talk it out with Mom were pointless… she would erase my feelings and angrily tell me that it was hard on all of us. She would hold no space for me and just be my mom and have some compassion for her baby girl. Nope: It was hard on all of us so stop complaining… but see, I was a child and they were my parents and that was my family and I had no choice…. So really, at this point, Im done. Im better off on my own.

I don’t know what else to say other than those yearly years were tremendously bad for everyone in my family, yes. I can now at this time in my life see and understand why everyone did what they did…. That my parents were also victims of abuse from their parents and all that and yeah, I have compassion and Im really sorry they had to go through that….But it doesn’t make it ok or make mom someone I will let back in my life. I mean, I went through it and Ive dedicated my lifes work to helping others heal and I try to be so good to everyone around me so…. No excuses. And, I still have questions like: Fuck, why did dad never go to jail? Im guessing it was about the money…..and really, how did nobody in my family see that I needed help?

Anyway… Ive done epic amount of self work to be here today as a whole person and really change my reality to one where I have value and can share love. Im still working on it… My social anxiety is still the worst. I can barely form words into sentences when Im out in public and I dont have a job to do as my role to play....but you know, I keep trying and its easier and keeps getting easier… and I have amazing friends like Brad to have mini adventures with… and I have my Studio to do my art in and now that Im feeling so much more whole as a person I think I might actually see some work through to completion that I can be proud of… and I have a job that I love and Im getting training for some other skills to expand my skillset and I feel that things can only get better from here so

I feel so lucky to be alive and so fucking grateful to be me and I really like myself. It’s a miracle. All things are possible if you just remember: LOVE IS THE KEY and keep moving in that direction.

That’s my experience and now you know.

[theskyexists]

she-ra 4

the reason i stopped watching she-ra is the same reason i stopped watching the dragon prince.

the narrative doesn’t take the situation seriously. instead of leaning into the anguish of war and violence (atla, teen titans) - they make light of it. EVEN when the characters’ guardians are KILLED!!

when Angella died and they spent 2 seconds on Glimmer’s grief at the end of season 3 i was like......actually fuck this. HOW can i take any of these stakes seriously when they insist on brushing them off???

anyway just had to complain about that - especially because the start of the first ep of 4 is them joking AGAIN about something as grim as Glimmer now carrying all the responsibilities of her mother - who may i remind you IS DEAD

but catradora became canon apparently so now i have to struggle through

her aunt, her mother’s sister, is fuckin, joking about cakes, her friends are laughing at the joke. COME ON! how goddamn unrealistic and insensitive. EVEN if they wanna make a point of it - it’s silly! because the narrative PARTICIPATES in making light of the situation. if it was just the characters it would be less jarring

‘we’ll make sure this day is perfect’  WHAT? how could it EVER BE IF HER MOTHER IS FUCKING DEAD????????? AND THAT”S THE ONLY REASON SHE’S QUEEN????? ‘must be hard’ YEAH IT’S HARD - IN FACT IMPOSSIBLE. instead of pretending to be happy maybe you can show some genuine sensitivity. these people are so crazily emotionally underdeveloped my god. what age are they supposed to be? 16? 17? The problem that She-ra has (just like the dragon prince) is that there are no relevant adults. Oh sure there’s a Queen, and some Soldiers, and a Sorceress. But there isn’t a single relevant competent adult around who is concerned with running a bureaucracy or the emotional stability of children

I do like how Catra has overcome her fear of Hordak. but i think i remember being fuckin furious at her for almost destroying the whole world and hurting Scorpia and betraying Entrapta just to spite Adora. vaguely.

the rebellions problem is that they’re all extremely stupid himbos. like literally, in the whole story, only catra and shadowweaver have any smarts, while glimmer gains the ability to think during full moons on wednesdays. meanwhile everybodys is a slave to their emotions - which destroys any brain cells that shadowweaver or catra (or angella or anyone) might have managed. they could literally have killed hordak the entire time but just let him order them around because they’re so hot for acknowledgement

I’m glad Glimmer reflects my frustrations now hahahahaah

‘everyone is already acting like she doesn’t matter’  - yeah dudes, you fucking insensitive bastards

‘im supposed to take care of you glimmer’ - but unfortunately i have the emotional intelligence of a crab! FUCK!

this is another thing about this show that makes me groan. sappy quick resolutions of emotional turmoil through re-affirming the fuckin power of friendship in the first episode of the season.

also couldn’t Adora have done this she-ra stuff from the very beginning

that was badass.....miss glimmer’s other hair though. ok the emotions at that hologram and statue though...

the coolest part of she-ra for me is finding out more how the ancient systems all fit into Etheria and the She-Ras and Hordak Prime etc.

THIS IS A GOOD SPEECH. love this badass.

love Hordak getting put in his place. Love Catra realising she has power - love Hordak reaping what he sows. its unfortunate that she’s a shitty brat who JUST can’t get over her inferiority complex

if i could endlessly teleport i would do what glimmer does

also, glimmer was willing to fuckin murder catra before and she DEFINITELY will be now lol. love that for her.

why did they only introduce adora learning to transform her sword NOW ahahaha, theyve had SO MANY SCENES in which she doesnt have it and then suddenly does - and then its gone again

scorpia is the funniest and most likeable person in the whole show

they really suddenly can’t take five people on with she ra and fuckin huntara on their side??

i remember that little sadistic righteous twist in my stomach when Adora finally was like: FUCK!!!!!! YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!! Catra!!!!!!! and the stupid idiot got it

FINALLY A GLANCE AT THE PEOPLE OF ETHERIA AGAIN! i love the party sequences in this!!! the people of etheria are so beautiful! nobody ever comments on the main characters all looking plain human in contrast....

‘and i fell for it!’  yeah cos you DUMB AS BRICKS ADORA

so first they quietly take out the guards....and then literally break open the door hahaahahahahaaha

‘we forgot the bots regenerate’ - yeah cos you DUMB AS BRICKS ADORA

i just dont understand why they insist on making the main characters so DUMB ahahahahaah

Adora and Catra are great at hitting where it hurts. the difference between them is that Catra KNOWS that she’s hurting Adora - she does it deliberately.

wow that could be some pretty angsty stuff constantly leaving her to struggle on the floor while painfully electrocuted. Catra has also moved to kill Adora straight up so many times. im sure she really wants to (but it would destroy her later). But now, Adora swept something at Catra that might have actually killed her. I get Catra though, I would’t want to get beaten by some blonde, blue-eyed, glowing golden kid who always gets to win and do better. this is truly the first time Adora has moved to kill Catra......

does flatterina not have parents who’d be like: uhhhhh maybe leave the soldiering for a couple more years?

catra truly burning all her bridges. hahaha. it’s so satisfying to see her use her anger and power to truly destroy herself - because of guilt!

no other villagers were like - HMMMMMMM this random new kid is here? weird..... i didnt see that coming either.

Adora doesn’t think about what Catra might have even been doing there - cos she’s DUMB AS BRICKS

the interesting thing about this show is that they’re setting up a dichotomy. they’re treating war like a high-stakes game because they have the good side adhere to an aesthetic of ....magic. they will not make the two sides equivalent in any way - which makes questions of morality moot. the show is purely an emotional drama. the horde is an army of brainwashed kids in an industrial wasteland - they fight with tech and guns. but the good guys cannot fight with an army or tech, they fight with cleverness and magic. they’re called the ‘rebellion’ - they HAVE to be underdogs because they have to follow the script of good - even though what’s really going on is war, not a rebellion. That’s why they have a single strike team that do ‘missions’. They are presented as FUNDAMENTALLY different - on the level of identity which they cannot change lest they destroy themselves - and in that way the good guys can never become the bad guys. it is ALMOST meta. think they’re gonna do something with that at one point. i hope

also Netossa has such a super cool design.

‘everyone knows you’re needed in bright moon’ - uh. really? i dont know. some random person i’ve never seen before demands you go to meetings. so? is that important? why?

spinerella can literally FLY???????? why has she been in the background this whole time??? hahahaha military inefficiency.

there was an explosion that ripped trees apart - but bo’s alive!! honesty why didn’t they try explosive suicide bots before. they’re very lucky he was still alive to heal

‘could they be tracking she-ra?’ WHAT? isn’t the obvious suggestion - A SPY???? they just assume that the general is right hahahahaa.

i love how double trouble is so meta.

actually, why wasn’t glimmer trained as a sorcerer anyway?

glimmer is upset about her growing magic plants but not her having magic ingredients

why do they present good strategic thinking (for once) as evil influence from shadowweaver

what a fuckin badass. honestly - glad that this show finally utilised glimmer’s extremely op powers like they should be. honestly, she’s much more powerful than She-Ra.

that bit with spinerella was so contrived jfc.

‘by using me as a decoy’ adora says, pissed off. uhhhh YOU went off on your own to get smushed by fuckin bots adora. Glimmer didn’t do that to you. she just used your stupidity.

glimmer really left catra to die. hahahahaa

i like adora best when she’s on her own and being a dork

they definitely managed to foreshadow that Light Hope was evil but im glad they picked up the thread now

am i seeing this wrong or did scorpia have two mums??? but also. where the fuck are they

lolololololol because everybodys dumb as bricks and emotionally volatile they’re incredibly easy to manipulate

‘i cant risk hitting flatterina’ pffft - ALL YOUR ARROWS ARE NON-LETHAL BO. ugh i cant deal with these contrived stakes

I LOVE THIS BADASS EFFICIENT HARDCORE GLIMMER

they’re really gonna spin it like this is a bad development? fuck off. finally some grit.

‘you took things way too far’ - but she got results! dumb as bricks adora

(this may seem harsh but adora is DUMB shes so fucking DUMB!!!! and she has many good qualities (such as an almost innate sense of morality) but goddamn. i guess its good to sometimes have a show about all around dumb characters. i mean, it’s not unrealistic per se, it’s just.....weird.)

the interesting thing about these characters is that you can SEE every single one of them struggling with cognitive dissonance. thats the big story of this show. they see the world a certain way - and then when something challenges that, they fight to the death to destroy or deny or ignore that new information - to everybody’s detriment. and they can’t back down because every step they’ve taken - would turn to sins they can’t live with. it’s interesting and its also a kind of conflict that‘s frustrating if not resolved at SOME point. thats why i love this season for its characters going off the rails. adora aiming to kill catra, catra destroying her last relationships, glimmer growing more and more militant.

they’re all acting like teens - that  is - highly volatile - unable to keep from provoking others or be provoked - but they ARE teens.

‘catra doesn’t care. she’ll hurt people to get her way (implied: EVEN people on her side)’ - we must remember that Scorpia was entirely fine with KILLING the trio (it was Catra that wasn’t at the time).

‘you’re a bad friend’ OH OUCH. Catra - who’s always been treated as a whipping girl by those in power - does the same to those she is in power over. But on some level she doesn’t WANT to be that. she’s just always always been rejected and take advantage of and lashed out at and abandoned by the people she considered important (shadowweaver ---- doing the same to catra that was done to her is so goddamn....it’s the story of this show. the simplicity and banality of damaging and hurting others and that carrying over to harm even more people - is the story of this show and it’s immeasurably frustrating and REALISTIC)

she still flinches at Hordak’s lashing out. but she imprints on him the exact lesson she’s trying to school herself in. If you don’t need anybody - you don’t want anyone - if nobody matters but the mission and winning - then you can’t be hurt. she wants to prove her worth - but she doesn’t realise that inherently means that she’s putting somebody in power over her - again and again and again.

mermista coming  in clutch with the braincells: there’s a spy! I love how this is played as completely implausible and just Mermista nonsense (who i love learning about) - while it’s so obviously true/

i actually love Adora when she’s being serious and heroic, or a huge dork. and she has the wit to RECOGNISE good ideas. but i just don’t understand why Adora is being big b about being used as a distraction. like....why?

i love that the underside of Mermista’s sneaker has a figure. but why the fuck is a common soldier with them (flatterina) and do they really think they can interrogate the whole castle filled with some shitty guards and...what - the guerilla troops they sometimes employ? where do they even live? ah in a tent city. ok

why is the GENERAL in front line combat WITHOUT SOLDIERS???? oh wait. glimmer did that too when she was general. lolololol

i understand why Adora doesn’t trust Shadowweaver and doesn’t want her around most of all - and Glimmer getting buddy buddy with her is hurtful. but...it’s not helpful to needle glimmer about it. but dismissing the guards around shadowweaver however? stupid of Glimmer. unnecessary. ‘what has she done but help us?’ - uhhhh she kidnapped you, corrupted your powers, almost wiped Adora’s mind. I wish Adora had summed up those things instead of leaving them implied.

so perfuma and mermista come across inconsistencies in the stories - but then. forget about it? i just...... UGGHGHGHGHGHGHGH. people really aren’t this dumb are they? they’re just NOT.

‘no more secrets and doing things without us’ - that was a good speech. but like, glimmer is right - she’s surrounded by INCOMPETENT IDIOTS lolololol. but good leadership is corralling idiots, Glimmer. not going off on your own. but she’s already planted the bait about the dining room.

‘we were the only ones who knew about the plan to take back dril’ ---- THEN WHY DID YOU INTERROGATE OTHER PEOPLE AHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHA

‘stop questioning my choices, stop whining about being a decoy’ YEAH FUCKIN HELL ADORA STOP BEING SUCH A FUCKING SHIT. IS THIS REALLY ‘TAKING CARE OF GLIMMER’????

‘all you do is question my authority, it’s exhausting.’ yeah god...it really is. adora needs to fucking BACK! OFF! but im loving these fights because it brings out the grievances. Adora is right to be worried about Glimmer no longer including her in her decisions. and she makes a good point that that’s bad. She makes a good point that Shadowweaver cannot be trusted. And Glimmer makes zero good points - except that it’s been hard for her and has garnered 0.1% understanding from the people around her. Oh they were working together. BUT those were definitely real grievances.

GLIMMER CAN ALREADY DO A CONTAINMENT SPELL LIKE THAT??? godDAMN. castapella completely flunked her responsibilities to Glimmer but shadowweaver did NOT.

hmmm so Solinius was....destroyed. but like, did the people die? like....the people? that’s the important bit isn’t it? i mean, they were under the sea right?

i suppose the problem i also have is that this show will NOT hurry up. normally i love filler stuff but ...the characters are too.....cheery. too flat. their quirks are fun and funny until they’re literally character flaws.

are the horde just literally attacking civilians? jezus. the war crimes. how did shadowweaver ever expect to trick Adora when she was released into the field?

‘you can’t just keep going off on your own!’ - SHE LITERALLY SAVED THE WHOLE FUCKING TOWN. SHE’S THE QUEEN! EVERYBODY SHOULD LISTEN TO HER! lolololol

the problem with Adora’s points is that everything about their dynamics are always so nebulous. why cant glimmer keep showing up to help out? WHY??? she’s the most capable fucking soldier in the field! she’s supposed to have full fucking authority! like, Adora isn’t in the right here. the problem is that her needling is only a symptom of her worries - which is that Glimmer doesn’t trust her any more. but the needling does NOTHING but make her seem like an idiot

i do love this trope reversal here - Seahawk deliberately damselling them to let the princesses save the boys? pffft

love catra getting the consequences for her actions regarding Scorpia. You can’t keep lashing out at people and expect them to stay my dear cat.....

oooohhh Glimmer.... you’re treading close to very hurtful territory. Blaming Adora for the Rebellion failing? for things she couldn’t do anything about? stupid.

really?? you’re really gonna fucking fight-resolution BLOCK ME? are you FUCKING kidding me? edging me for the whole GODDAMN SEASON??? and finally Adora cries at Glimmer going over the line????  fuckin I HATE the narrative decisions in this stupid show I FUCKING HATE THEM FUCK THESE WRITERS GOD FUKCING DAMMIT!!! this has been the whole GODDAMN SHOW!!!!!! ARGHGHGHGHGHGH

i’ve been waiting for a fucking resolution for Adora and Catra the whole! goddamn! SHOW! NOTHING! else matters! you do the exact same for glimmer and adora and now you let it fester again??? because of some no-stakes BULLSHIT? just give me the fucking godddamn PAYOFF for watching these kids be IDIOTS.

this fight on the boat is COOL and really wonderfully animated

really? Glimmer’s response to Adora being hurt and not wanting to be TOUCHED is to be angry herself? what a fucking IDIOT. god i can’t stand this. I CAN’T STAND IT

is this how people act? do they never take a moment to breathe and think and reflect and realise their priorities and take a step back and fucking apologise?

jezus FUCKING! CHRIST!

‘no matter what glimmer thinks of me’ oh that HURTED. oh damn. that’s so relatable. it’s a way to run, it’s a way to internalise the hurt and then prove the things that hurt wrong. the one that hurt you

I know Bo is supposed to be the emotionally intelligent one but he’s also too soft. He should go up to his friends individually and ask them the sharp questions. not - ‘communicate more positively’.

I just like Adora so much better when she’s alone. Her friendships’ positive moments are always so sappy or so....like over-exaggerated, the negative moments always so fucking annoying. Alone, Adora is generally driven, tragic, and cool. the problem is perhaps that i don’t care for the constant fucking drama

god i LOVE Mara so much - she’s so beautiful. and i LOVE learning more about the Old Ones. So they were trying to study Ehteria’s magic.... but then Bright Moon and the princesses were already here. The Magic-Like systems of the Old Ones are pure tech.

wow! even Mara’s transformation is way cooler.

so why was the first one’s tech (she ra) responsive to the magic? why does Raz know about She-Ra? when she ra is first ones tech????

WAIT ONE SECOND. She-Ra is ‘magic’ ??? it’s the SWORD that’s the first one’s tech! She-Ra is Etheria’s magic ! but how if the First Ones chose Mara. Did they steal She-Ra from Etheria?

so what im getting is that. the Old Ones colonised Etheria. Etheria has magic, and when Mara was chosen they made that girl an elite soldier - giving her a first one’s tech sword so she could ‘control’ Etheria’s magic. Then Mara was told to study the magic of Etheria - the ship implying that she’d not been on the planet before. then they created a Heart of Etheria project - which will probably turn the magic into a weapon. this was going to be used against Hordak Prime, im sure. I mean, Mara saved Etheria, but she did doom the rest of the universe to...extinction.... like, judging from Hordak’s strategy, Hordak Prime just literally exterminates planets and repopulates them with his clones....

But why would the planet choose a girl from amongst the colonisers - twice?

OOOHHH that anguished scream. i love anguished screams

why dont they put fucking safety belts in these ships. it’s not like the ship didn’t survive. only Mara got splatted (i guess)

also i love Mara. but damn Adora just got some more shit on her plate. why the fuck was she pushed through a portal again? for a She-Ra chain reaction?

I love madame Raz.

So they didn’t explicitly use it against Hordak Prime. and it wouldn’t have destroyed Etheria back then but it will now...

guh this showmakes it so hard to enjoy catra’s pain.

well they did finally have a good talk about it. I have to say, Glimmer is making good strategic sense - it’s just that this show only rewards harebrained schemes

Catra having a crazy panic attack cos she can’t find Scorpia and she’s completely lost and she knows its her fault. kinda love that for her. my heart

my dear Glimmer, theres a difference between absence of trust and absence of agreement.

they’re bringing king micah back just when angella is dead? oh fuckin lol

the horde....exiled micah? they exiled Micah instead of killing him???

why do they ALWAYS interrupt important conversations? i hate that shit. it’s cheap. it’s unsatisfying.

now THIS is what im here for - that unstoppable WILL!! john gonzalez is right - we watch stories for characters overcomign obstacles. writing, is creating the obstacle course. .....what does that say about me and my life....hmmm.

‘light hope told me everything i need to know’ - uhhh no she didn’t. she didn’t tell you how to harness the energy at all. ugh

how the fuck did double trouble escape. seems to me that they didn’t actually. they were let go....

it’s always so stupid when people try to tell other people: oh no you’ve got no plan - this is too risky! when that’s NEVER a problem

Glimmer is going to activate the weapon just in time for Hordak Prime to use it. And naturally she misses the return of her dad. fuck this

they’re gonna have Hordak and Catra fight? hmm

Double Trouble is right - this IS good for her - and it IS Catra - except for Shadowweaver’s case - she was an abusive bitch

I love Scorpia’s new cool fight music and also glowy eyes

is glimmer going to throw herself into lava??

the unfortunate thing is that Hordak Prime is right on the doorstep and he took over the whole universe or whatever. so they could probably have used that weapon. i mean the Old Ones must have seen something coming. there must be a reason they’re all GONE maybe????

why did Adora assume that all those stars would be destroyed?

THE ANIMATION ON THAT FINAL STUFF WAS INCREDIBLE AND EPIC

how the fukc are they going to beat Horde Prime lolololol.

i guess Glimmer really shouldn’t have done that. but at least she was in time to bond with Catra.

#my stuff #vidi #she ra

[felix-loves-albert-and-ralb-blog]

Sorry

here’s some trans albert for y’all

pairing: racetrack higgins/albert dasilva

warnings: mentioned abuse, mild dysphoria, violence, blood, homophobia, transphobia, the f slur (i star it out), a single knife

canon era

albert’s pov

I’ve always known I was different.

I would tell my mom day after day that I was born in the wrong body, that I was really a boy, but she never listened.

She chalked it up to stupid sayings of a child, up until the day she took me seriously.

The day she took me seriously she quite literally threw me out onto the street.

I was left without a home.

I was on the streets for a week, avoiding the police and stealing whatever food I could.

I cut my hair with a shard of glass, not caring that it sliced up my hand.

And then Race found me.

We were 10, and he led me back to the Lodging House.

I insisted on bandaging all of my injuries myself.

No one was going to find out my secret.

No one would know Cynthia, it would just be Albert.

When I was 12 I had to start wrapping my chest. Most of the boys changed out in the open, but there was still a bathroom with separate stalls, and I changed there.

When I was 13 I thought I was dying. I was sure that that could be the only explanation for the endless stream of blood and torrent of pain in my stomach. But no, I snuck out to the Bronx one day and learned that it was just something I had to learn to live with. And learn to live with it I did.

When Race and I were 15, he kissed me for the first time.

I had no clue how to react, what would he say when he found out that I was a fake?

“Al...” Race and I are kissing again, we’re 16 now. His arms are around my waist, mine are running through his blond curls. His hands are slowly moving up, his fingers pushing past the fabric of my shirt, stroking my skin-

I pull away fast, shoving Race’s hands away.

“What’re you-”

“I’m sorry.” I mumble, tucking my shirt back in and replacing my cap on my hat.

“I-”

“I’m sorry, Race. Just-” I don’t know what to tell him, so I exit the conversation by climbing back through the window into the Lodging House.

I’m distracted the next day.

I’m barely paying attention when I get my breakfast of bread and buy my papers.

I sell all of my papers, but I wasn’t into it today and I’m now stuck racing the setting sun back to the Lodging House.

Even now I’m still distracted, so it’s definitely a shock when a hand clamps tightly over my mouth and drags me backwards, my feet scraping against the ground.

I try to kick my way free, but I’ve been on my feet all day with no break for lunch or dinner so it doesn’t do much.

I see the shadowed face of Morris Delancey in front of me, and I assume it must be his brother Oscar holding me.

I try to shout past Oscar’s fingers, but my voice stops short when I see Morris pull a length of rope from his belt.

My ankles are quickly fastened together, and my wrists are pulled in front of me and bound too.

Oscar’s hand is replaced with rough fabric, and I am dropped to the ground.

“Fucking f**.” Morris growls, kicking me in the stomach. “We saw you with Higgins the other day. We know your secret.”

How could they have seen? We’ve been so careful.

And just how much of my secret do they know?

“You’re disgusting.” Oscar adds, kind of a weak insult, but his boot grinding my head against the concrete is far from weak.

Morris pulls me up by my shirt collar, and he punches me directly in the face.

I cough blood into my gag, and he punches me again.

And again.

And again.

My skull feels like it’s been split in two, all I want is an end to the pain.

“You goddamn f*****!” Morris shouts, slamming me against the wall.

My head hits the bricks hard, and my vision blurs.

I’m on the ground again, and I can see through tears and blood a silver glint of light.

One of them has a knife.

I can feel my hair being practically ripped out of my scalp as Morris uses it to keep my face pointing towards Oscar, who is gripping his switchblade so tightly his knuckles are white.

I shut my eyes tight as the knife comes towards my face, and I can feel the sharp sting of the metal as it cuts open my forehead.

Three cuts.

I can’t see what I look like, but I know it must be three letters.

Three simple letters.

More punches, more kicks, but all of them seem meaningless compared to the fire that has consumed my head.

When the brothers finally leave me alone on the floor of the alley, slowly bleeding out, there’s only one thing I can think.

At least they didn’t open my shirt.

I don’t know how long I lay here for, ropes digging into my skin, sobs unable to escape my gag, blood pooling up around me.

All I know is that after what seems like hours later, long after the sun has set fully, I can hear footsteps.

There’s a blurry shape stepping towards me.

“Oh my God, Albert...” It’s Race? Probably.

I feel arms wrap around me and gently lift me off the ground.

Everything hurts.

The next thing I know is that I’m back at the Lodging House, lying on a bed.

I open my mouth to speak, but the fabric is still there.

I lift an arm to remove it, but I’m still tied up.

I look around the room, I’m completely alone.

Did they find out? Is that why no one wants to be in the same room as me?

I scream as loud as my raw throat will allow, I feel so trapped.

“Oh God.” Race is back, and his face is red and flecked with tears.

He starts fiddling with my ropes, his shaking hands trying desperately to free me.

He keeps muttering something, but I still can’t hear very well over the ringing in my ears.

I can see his lips moving though, what is he saying?

My ankles are free now, as well as my wrists.

My gag is gone, and a wave of blood spills from my lips.

Race’s lips are still moving, but I still can’t hear him.

His hands move to my shirt, slowly undoing the buttons, and I scream at him to stop, beg him, but he won’t listen.

“Al, I need to check your ribs.”

Great. I can hear again.

“Please, don’t!” I scream, not even bothering to try and regulate the pitch of my voice, but it’s too late.

“What...?” Race has unearthed the fabric bound tightly around my chest, and he is trying to untie the many knots securing it around me.

Tears are mixing with the blood on my face, and I shut my eyes, not wanting to see Race’s face.

“I’m sorry.” I gasp. “I’m sorry, I-” My voice cracks, and it fails me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Race’s voice is quiet, and I open my eyes a crack.

I can’t speak.

I open my mouth, move my lips, but no sound comes out.

“I could’ve helped you. I could’ve-”

What?

I’m hallucinating, he’s supposed to be angry.

Upset.

“Albert, I-” Race closes his mouth again, he too is at a loss for words. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

There will be a conversation later, there’s now way we can continue being what we are without having one, but for now it’s just silence.

Race cleans my cuts and bandages my head in silence, I grit my teeth through the pain in silence.

There will be a conversation tomorrow, more pain tomorrow, and surely more apologies tomorrow, but tonight is silence.

me? editing before posting? it’s less likely than you’d think

let me know if you wanna be on my tag list!

TAG LIST

@booksbroadwayandbagels @somekindaspacecadet @tea-and-theater @be-more-chill-evan-hansen @auspicioustarantula @dancingpenss @suddenly-im-respectable @have-we-got-news-for-you @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @funnyihope

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #albert dasilva #racetrack higgins #morris delancey #oscar delancey #violence #blood #knives #homophobia #transphobia #ralbert #angst

[buckywintersoldierbarnes2017]

Enough Is Enough - Part 5

Summary: You have known Bucky Barnes your entire life and he is your twin brother’s best friend, so seeing him on a daily basis shouldn’t be all that much of a problem right? Wrong. You hate the guy, with a passion, and no matter how hard you try you just can’t seem to get rid of him. He is there, constantly, like some persistent little pest that refuses to leave from where it’s not welcome.

So what happens when you start to pick up on just why that might be? Will your strong opinion on him change or become even worse?

Note: This is the fifth part to my entry for Tay’s AU Writing Challenge I had the prompt  “I don’t hate you. It’s just that if you were on fire I wouldn’t piss on you to save your life, is all.” and chose to have it as a Bucky x Reader fic.I’m so glad that you are all enjoying this….your feedback is appreciated soooooo much <3 I am so sorry for the delay in getting this posted!

Bucky x Reader (AU)

Words: 1,498

Warnings: Language, upset, violence and mentions of injury and blood.

Disclaimer: GIF is not mine so all credit goes to it’s wonderful creator.

‘Enough Is Enough’ Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

PREVIOUSLY

It felt like an entire eternity had passed you by before you were finally able to force your thumb down onto the phone screen to open up the picture you had been sent.

There was Bucky, as clear as day, and next to him was Sam – both men seemed to be laughing at something that had been said. During the time he was supposed to be here with you, whisking you away on the date he had been so desperate for you to agree to, he was with the man who had caused you so such grief at school.

It was happening all over again. He was using you to have a laugh with his mates….

You could feel the sickness beginning to rise up into your throat just as a knock echoed out around the room from your front door.

                                        * * * * * * * * * * 

He felt like a new man and as he walked down the street in the direction of your apartment his grin stretched from ear to ear. It had taken years to finally get you to agree to go out on a date with him and now the night was finally here he couldn’t wait to prove to you how he truly felt – after tonight all the bad things that had happened would be put in the past and would stay there. He was determined to make sure that nothing came in the way of the two of you again.

“Well don’t you look like the cat who got the cream!”

A familiar voice interrupted the happy thoughts that had been running through his mind and immediately the grin that had once been there contorted itself into a frown.

“Sam….” The tone in Bucky’s voice was more than enough to show the dislike he felt at the appearance of his old school friend. “…I don’t have time for this.”

“Nah I don’t believe that for a second!” He threw a hand down onto his shoulder before pulling him a little closer into the doorway he seemed to have sprung from. “You can always make time for a good friend you haven’t seen for years. So come on then, who’s the lucky girl?”

The unwelcome male gave him an exaggerated look up and down to indicate that he had spotted the rather suave look he had going on; it wasn’t exactly ‘the norm’ for James Buchanan Barnes to be walking about in a suit worthy enough for James Bond himself so it was glaringly obvious he was out to impress.

Bucky’s cheeks betrayed him as a crimson blush radiated across them from the thought of you. When he realised what was happening he quickly collected himself enough to snap out at Sam defensively.

“None of your business Wilson so why don’t you find someone else to annoy.”

Sam had been readying himself to vocalise some kind of witty comeback at his old friend but his eyes widened as the penny finally dropped.

“Holy shit…..it’s [y/n] isn’t it? Damn you still messing with her man?!”

The next slap he received to his shoulder was shortly followed by the loudest, most obnoxious, laugh that seemed to resonate off the very walls around them and attacked the very last bit of patience he had for the male in front of him. They may have been friends once, many years ago, but that didn’t mean he wanted anything to do with him right now and the last thing he was going to do was listen to him talk bad about you.

Offering Sam a false sense of security Bucky initially seemed to return his laugh, oblivious to the fact that this was the very moment your closest friends had come within line of sight of this current confrontation, but after a short while his laugh faded, along with the fake grin he’d plastered onto his face and before Sam had any chance to react a balled up fist met with his face hard.

It was an action that, if seen by both Natasha and Wanda, would have changed the outcome of the rest of the evening dramatically but they had since gone about their activities and hadn’t seen the move he had made in your honour – the negative chain of events that would transpire from this action had already been set in motion.

“Argh! What the fuck Barnes?!”

Bucky’s fist was still clenched as Sam’s hands moved to clutch his now bleeding nose, a look that had a mixture of both pain and disgust etched across his face.

“You so much as speak her name again and you will have a lot more than a broken nose do you understand me?” Another wave of anger filled him as his uninjured hand grabbed hold of Sam’s shirt, so he could bring their faces within inches of the other’s. “I’m not that boy you once knew, the one that just went along with anything you did. I love [y/n], always have, and I will tell her, and show her, that tonight….NOTHING, not even a piece of scum like you, will get in the way of that.”

“You are one stupid fuck Barnes.” He laughed out, sending small splatters of blood flying onto the shirt Bucky was wearing, before pulling himself free from his grip. “She’ll bring you nothing but humilia-“

He didn’t have the patience for this and unless he fancied residing inside a prison cell for the next few years he decided that walking away from him was the best thing for him to do right now- there was every chance he would put Sam in hospital if he stuck around any longer. Making him pay for the bad things he’d said about you was going to have to wait till another day…..tonight was about you, you and the relationship he desired to have.

                                        * * * * * * * * * *

His heart had been racing before he’d even knocked at your apartment door and as it opened he could have sworn it was about to jump right out of his chest; he had never felt this nervous around you before, it was like you were meeting for the first time again.

It was silly, he knew that, but this is what you did to him.

The smile he had been wearing as he walked down the street, before seeing Sam, was back on his face as he finally caught a glimpse of your face through the crack in the door as it opened.

“I’m so sor-“ He had been about to apologise to you for his tardiness, knowing that you would have thought the worst of him, but when he saw your bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks his heart sank right down to the bottom of his stomach. “Jesus [y/n] what’s happened?”

Instinctively he moved towards you, wanting to hold you close to him just as he had done back in the shed, but before his foot had even moved an inch you backed off away from him. You couldn’t let him near you, not again, you had let him into your life a little more than you ever had done over the years and this was how he repaid you….by associating with the one person who had made your school years hell.

“You need to leave James.”

Crap. You were back to calling him James again, now he knew he really was in trouble.

“Wait. Come on now [y/n] I’m not even that late…I would have been here on time bu-“

“But you were too busy having a laugh with Sam about me?” You didn’t want to give him any chance to deny it, to fabricate some ridiculous story that you would never believe, and so before another word escaped his lips you showed him the picture that Nat and Wanda had sent to you. “I’m never anything but a bet for you, entertainment for you and those immature friends of yours, I don’t know why I thought tonight would be any different.”

There were so many tears biting at the back of your eyes, wanting to be released, but you refused to cry another tear over him . In fact at that very moment as you broke your gaze away from his you decided that you didn’t want to waste another second on him and you slammed the door shut in his face, the blood on his shirt not even registering in your mind yet.

Bucky could do nothing but stand there and look at the wood of the door, noticing the small cracks in it, for a few moments – disbelief incapacitating him from doing anything else  but after a while he seemed to snap out of whatever state of mind he had gone into and started to pound his bloodied fist hard on your door.

“Open the goddamn door [y’n]! You’ve got this all wrong!”

His words were met with silence.

                                         ~~~~~~~~~~

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Writing challenge tag: @sgtbxckybxrnes​

#enough is enough #bucky x reader #taysauchallenge #sam wilson #james buchanan barnes #reader imagine #marvel imagine #au #sebastian stan #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes x reader #not my gif #buckywintersoldierbarnes2017 #bucky au

[pot-of-gluttony]

Navigating

Prompt:

Day 1 - Precanon

Day 3 - House is Not a Home

Rating: G

Category: Gen

Chapters: 1

Characters: Katsuya Jounouchi, Shizuka Kawai, Ms. Kawai, Mr. Jounouchi

Summary: A visit to the park goes awry, but it doesn’t matter...

Warnings: Heavily implied domestic/child abuse

Author’s Notes:

Hahahaha. I can’t believe I’m actually trying to do another event after my previous disaster.

How do you do summaries?

I hope it’s not too distracting that he’s referred to as Katsuya throughout the thing. I figured since he’s interacting with his family, and since his mother and sister probably still used his dad’s name before the divorce, it would just be more fitting.

Also on AO3!

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

Howling shouts accompanied by falling cabinets, shattering glass and ceramic, and a muffled distant voice.

Katsuya Jounouchi ran all around the apartment -- since when was it so big? -- trying to keep things from crashing into the floor. The walls glowed many shades of red and orange with the occasional pink that would blink in and out in-between the harsher fiery colors. It was hard to keep up with everything. It all came falling faster and faster, breaking against the floor, rebuilding itself bigger and more unstable, and then falling again due to the unending earthquakes that made it impossible for him to get to any one spot on time. The angry voices kept fueling each other, though one was always more volatile than the other -- always in control.

He made it to the little cabinet that held the trophy he got last year at school for winning a race. It was very crucial that it was safe; if it got damaged, who would remember how he was the best 7-year-old in track? Although he could win that again this year, so maybe it wasn’t too important.

It wasn’t just the trophy, though; the cabinet also held all the homemade pottery he made with Shizuka and Mom, back when Mom still had time to do pottery with them. They had only done one piece without her supervision since then and he got an earful for letting Shizuka play with plaster and paint. But when their mother tried to take the lumpy, green torpedo -- it was gonna be a plane; they used a bird-shaped mold and he was gonna polish the wings and details to make a plane, but he screwed up the wings so he opted to turn it into a torpedo which was way cooler anyway -- Shizuka cried her little heart out and Mom decided to keep it after all.

Katsuya looked into the cabinet’s little glass doors to make sure everything was okay. Strangely enough, the torpedo was now a perfectly sculptured little submarine and a different, darker shade of green.

Bi... other...

Maybe he could ride it? Nah, it was too small.

B-g.. other...

It looked as though it was steadily growing, though. Maybe if he took it out, it would have enough space to grow and he could board it with all the other crafts and the trophy.

Big brother...

It finally dawned on him that Shizuka’s voice had been calling for him for some time now, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. He wanted to get out of there now. If the submarine grew as soon as he took it out, it would’ve been too heavy for him to carry it as he looked for her. Then again, maybe he could’ve gone looking for her from inside the submarine. He could’ve navigated the apartment and not worry about the earthquakes, which had transformed from rattling his body from the inside out to outright robbing him of whatever stability he had.

But what if the submarine was on autopilot? Once he got in, it would take him somewhere safe -- he was absolutely sure of it -- but what about Shizuka. Would the submarine go back for her later? Should he even risk it?

“Katsuya, please wake up!”

His eyes shot open and he instinctively pushed himself upward. He ended up with half his body propped up on his elbows, struggling not to fall back. His vision was spinning wildly, the rampant noises outside their bedroom door causing his head to throb harder and harder without reprieve.

He wished he could cry.

“What’s wrong, Shizuka?” he mumbled with a strained, sleepy voice.

“I think Dad’s back home,” she whispered. “I think Mom’s all alone with ‘im right now.”

“It doesn’t matter. He won’t hurt her,” Katsuya replied, mostly believing his own answer. “If we go out, we’ll be hurt a lot more than her. Besides, Mom grounded me the last time I tried to help her agains’ Dad. I dun think she likes it when we meddle. She gets really upset and--”

“I know,” Shizuka whispered with a hoarse voice. She wanted to cry, too, he noted. And she was having a harder time than him not doing so. “But I wanna see that she’s okay.”

“Okay,” he replied.

He closed his eyes tightly, took a deep breath and willed the dizziness away as much as he could. It didn’t do much, but it gave him a momentary reprieve; enough to sit up fully. After a few seconds, he scramble off the bed and onto his feet. He stumbled towards the door, Shizuka squeezing his arm so tightly he was almost afraid she would yank it off. After a few minutes of hesitation, he tried to turn the doorknob.

It wouldn’t move.

His eyes widened. The spinning had stopped, but the throbbing continued and soon his chest started to hurt a little. “It’s locked. Why is it locked?” he tried turning the knob forcefully, unscrewed his arm from Shizuka’s grip and tried with both hands. He pulled on it, hung off of it. Shizuka placed her hands over his and tried to help turn it.

It wouldn’t move.

“Why is it locked?!” Katsuya yelled and started banging on the door with his fist. “The door’s locked! Mom! Mooooom! Why’s the door locked?!”

He heard his mother shouting from the other side. “Katsuya, go to sleep!”

“Why is it locked?!”

“Don’t wake up Shizuka!”

“Mom!” Shizuka yelled, her voice cracking as tears started to brim her eyes. “Mom, why’re we locked inside?!”

“Why the hell is the kids’ room locked?!” a furious voice bellowed. “How did you even get that key?!”

Silence.

“Mom?!” Shizuka sobbed.

“Honey, just go to sleep-- Where the hell are you going?! Stay away from her!”

“Why are my kids locked in their room?!”

“Get away from that door!”

“Are you hiding my kids from me, woman?! Is that it, is that what you’re saying?!”

There was another crash, this one closer to their room. Katsuya shoved Shizuka away from the door, and almost immediately it started to rattle.

“I told you to stay away--”

“Open the goddamn door!”

“First, you’re coming back to the living room and calming down. I am not letting you near Shizuka like that!”

“If you don’t open the door, I swear I will break it down! Don’t test me!”

Katsuya grabbed Shizuka’s hand and hurried to the window. It was supposed to be locked shut, but their father had busted the lock once when he forgot his house keys and wanted in. At the time, he had given Katsuya a grim look and with a low, gravelly voice told him not to tell his mother. Katsuya scowled at him but kept his mouth shut nonetheless. Shizuka just did her best to stay clear of her father as he had stalked out of their room. They weren’t able to sleep afterwards that night.

Right now, however, he was strangely grateful he hadn’t told his mother -- she would have fixed the lock.

He invoked all of his strengths to open to pull up window. It lead directly into the fire escape, which made some rickety sounds when he jumped off the window frame and landed on them. Otherwise it seemed pretty stable.

“Come on, Shizuka, we gotta hurry,” he whispered to her.

“But... where... where’a we goin’?”

He held out his arms for her. “To the park,” he answered with a hushed tone. “We can stay safe there until Dad stops being mad.”

The banging on the door would pause for screams between the two parents, followed by more banging and the serious threat of the door being knocked over. “You have five minutes to get me that key!”

“Come on, Shizuka.” Katsuya tried his best to sound as calm and collected as he could, hoping not to be given away by his shaking hands and the terror that was doubtlessly creeping up on every feature of his face.

Finally, Shizuka climbed over the window frame and reached for his arms. He helped her stand on the cold railing and gently pulled her along with him as they hurried down the flight of metal stairs. The more he breathed in the cold air, the more he felt like something chilly was cutting part of the inside of his head, but it didn’t hurt much. More than anything, it steadied his body more and more, making his skin feel warmer and sweatier.

He stopped Shizuka before she walked off the last step as there was a freezing puddle waiting at the end -- one he hadn’t noticed until he had already plunged into it.

Katsuya bent down and looked over his shoulder. “Quick, get on my back. I’ll carry you there.”

She shook her head. “That’s too far.”

“You’re not wearing any shoes!”

“You’re not wearing shoes, neither!”

“It’s fine!” he insisted. “I can run fast. That makes my feet really strong. Come on, I’ll show you.”

“You won’t get hurt?”

“Nope. It won’t be too long anyways cuz we just gotta” -- he paused and gestured at the light post at the end of the alleyway -- “we just gotta, like, gotta follow the lights all the way there.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Shizuka pressed the palms of her hands against his shoulders, then tried to find a way to hook her legs to his hips. They almost fell back but Katsuya was able to balance them at the last second until she could fix her hold on him.

He stood back up and began jogging lightly down the alleyway, bare feet scampering over the concrete as he tried to focus more on the posts and less on the deep dark that surrounded the buildings.

It took about eight minutes to reach the park, although he almost regretted it when they got there. It was darker than the streets, the ground was cold and the grass was wet and itchy. There were noises everywhere, ranging from the animals hiding in the bushes to the creak of the swings moved ever so slightly by the slow, freezing wind.

For a moment, he considered backtracking to the store they had passed along the way. He had been there several times in the past. It was only to hang out with classmates, seeing as he couldn’t actually afford to buy anything. However, sometimes he went in alone -- on the particularly annoying days when school had been tedious and he knew nothing good waited for him back home, it had been a good place to stop for a quick break. The smell of freshly baked pastries and hot chocolate, the light conversations and laughter from the customers, and the soft music that always played in the background were nice. Unfortunately, it wasn’t worth it for two kids to go in this late at night without any grown-ups to accompany them. They could get in trouble. Or worse -- they could be taken directly back home.

As soon as it became clear to him that waiting out their father’s tantrum at the park was truly the best option, he realized Shizuka had already left his side and awaited him at the swings. How she didn’t seem the least bit worried about what lurked in the dark puzzled him and he only willed himself into following her in because big brothers take care of their little sisters.

“It was wet,” Shizuka said when he approached her.

“What was wet?”

“The swing. It was like it rained, but it never rained all day long so I don’t know why it was like that.”

“That happens to the stuff that’s left outside at night.”

“How does that work?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe sometimes it rains a little and we just don’t notice it because that’s when we’re inside.”

Shizuka remained quiet. As his eyes adjusted better to the dark, he could see her tired gaze fixed firmly on her wriggling toes hanging slightly over the ground.

“Maybe I could know if I go to school,” she finally replied. “Maybe if I could go to school, then Mom would’n have to take care of me all the time and Dad would’n be mad all the time and we would’n have to hide or run when they fight cuz then they would’n fight.”

“I don’t think it’s cuz you can’t go to school,” he said. “Sometimes jerks are always jerks. It doesn’t matter what you do or what I do or what Mom does cuz none of that’s gonna fix him.” He watched her quietly for a few moments. “Who said you can’t go to school?”

She slowly began swinging. “There’s a girl in my ther’py thing and her mom said to our mom that she has as many years as I do, and-and she also said she was goin’ to school after her next birthday. But I heard Mom say my birthday is before that girl’s birthday so if she’s goin’ to school, then I should go, too. But I’m not...”

Katsuya tried to swing at the same pace as his sister. It was a little tricky to get a hang of it since he constantly kept swinging harder and faster than her. After a few tries, however, he got a hold of her rhythm and after confirming that they were moving at the same pace, he leaned his head towards her as much as he could without disrupting either of their movements. She hadn’t looked at him once while speaking; she wasn’t looking at him now, either. This was one of those times when she didn’t feel right looking at anyone. Their mom usually held her face to her to speak to her, but he could tell Shizuka didn’t like that. So he got as close as he could to make sure she could hear him clearly without having to look at him.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. That’s why kids go to school. It’s i’portant.”

“It’s only important if you’re okay, like if you’re not sick. When I get sick, I dun go to school. You’re very sick, so you can’t go to school. That’s okay.”

“But my eyes are better...” Shizuka whispered. Her swing came to an abrupt stop as she jumped back onto the ground. “I mean, not all the time, but they do better now. The doctor said they were better now than before. Can’t I try to go to school then? After my birthday?”

Katsuya stopped his swing and joined her on the ground. “You could study at home,” he replied. “I heard from my friend Miho some kids do that. Their parents are their teachers so they don’t have to go to school. Maybe Mom’s gonna teach you at home. That would be pretty cool, actually. School is really annoying.”

Shizuka gave him a mixed look of confusion and frustration. “’Cept you like school. You always come home late cuz you like staying at school more than staying at home.”

“I dun--” He looked around to make sure no adults were within earshot. “I dun actually stay at school after school is over. Sometimes... I’m not even at school when I should be at school.”

“Why?”

“Cuz school is annoying and if you don’t know a lot, teachers get mad at you all the time. And I dunno a lot. So I try to go to school almost every day, but some days, I just hang out outside with my friends. And when school is over, I dun stay at school, I go to other places before coming home.”

“I wanna do that.” Shizuka looked down. “I wanna go to a place that’s not home.”

Katsuya gently reached for Shizuka’s hand and tugged it. He started walking slowly towards a dome-shaped play area. She followed his steps, her eyes never lifting. Thankfully, the dome was close enough to the sidewalk that some of the light from a nearby post reached it. He crawled inside and she followed him and they sat against the wall of the dome, slumped into one another.

“One day, I’m gonna take you somewhere else to play,” he said. “And when your eyes aren’t sick anymore and you go to school, every time we get out, I’m gonna take you to a new place every time. And-and! And when I turn into a grown-up, I’m gonna get a big, nice house without Dad and you can come live with me. And you’ll never get sick cuz I’ll take care of you.”

Shizuka yawned and rested her head on his shoulder. She brought her knees to her chest and curled up to keep warm. Katsuya wrapped an arm around her and lied back.

“Can Mom come live with us?” Shizuka asked. Katsuya tilted his head back. He stared at the roof of the dome silently. “Big brother?”

“If she wants to,” he spoke softly, “then I guess she can.”

“You dun want her to live with us?”

“I think she doesn’t like living with me too much.”

Shizuka shifted and wrapped her arms around his torso, settling her head against the crook of his neck. “I do.”

“I know,” he squeezed her closer to her, causing her to erupt in tired little giggles. “It doesn’t matter anyways.”

----------

This time around, Katsuya was able to board the green submarine along Shizuka. He wasn’t sure how the submarine found them while he was showing her his classroom, but then again, it made sense it would know where he studied seeing as he did make the thing.

It never took them far enough. In fact, it never took them far at all. It orbited the building where their apartment is from high above. He could see his parents running up and down the same stairs they took to escape. His father screamed at the top of his lungs, rambling incoherently the entire time; his mother kept alternating between yelling at her husband to shut up and calling for Shizuka’s name.

“Do you want to tell her you’re okay?” Katsuya asked his sister as she hid away from the submarine’s windows.

“Not if she makes us go back.”

K-tsuy-...

He tried to ignore the overwhelming feeling of drowning that hit him in that moment.

“I... she wo-...” He gasped for air and stood on his toes to stay above the invisible water line. “She won’t!” he shouted for Shizuka to hear. “I won’t let her!”

Shizuka looked up at him from where she was curled up on the floor of the submarine. Her eyes were wide with bewilderment and she didn’t reply. He had already dropped back to his heels, but thinking she might not have heard him, he stood on his toes again and took a sufficiently big gasp of air to shout out the answer for her to hear.

Before he could, however, a hand yanked him to the ground and in a second swoop dragged him out of the park dome.

“What were you thinking?!” his mother yelled at him. “Do you know how badly your little stunt could have hurt Shizuka?! She’s your baby sister, you have to take good care of her!”

Katsuya tried to blink his grogginess away and gaped at his mother kneeling over him, accompanied by a pair of policemen, one of which was holding a very drowsy Shizuka. It was light out now, though not very bright. Just enough that he could actually see the park. The light posts would be turning off soon.

“I-I thought--!”

“No!” she said. “You didn’t think. If you had thought about what you were doing, you would have stayed in your room.”

“And wait until Dad broke down the door?!” he yelled.

Her grip on his arm loosened and she stared at him exhausted.

“Ma’am, what’s this about the boy’s father?” one of the policemen asked.

“It’s” -- she paused and sighed -- “I-It’s just a nightmare he keeps having. We’re fine. He’s just... a very adventurous boy and I should have never left him alone with his sister.”

She helped him stand up, grabbed his hand while averting her gaze from him, and reached for Shizuka with her other hand. The policeman handed her over and Shizuka hesitantly reached back for her mother, coiling her little arms around her mother’s neck as she picked her up.

“Do you need us to escort you back home?”

“No, I can make do. Thank you so much for your help, officers.”

What followed was an agonizingly silent walk back home. Katsuya could swear they were moving even slower than when he was trudging through the dark with his sister on his back. He kept stealing glances at his mother and sister, but only Shizuka returned them. If he weren’t holding his mother’s hand, then he wouldn’t be sure she remembered he was still there.

“Mama,” Shizuka whispered halfway through the trek, “please dun be mad at Katsuya.”

She stopped. Katsuya looked up at her, but her gaze hadn’t changed. He tried to distract himself to keep the prickling sensation from getting worse and realized they were only a few steps away from the store.

“Everyone at school says they make the best honey toast ever there,” he said between subtle sniffles.

His mother turned towards the store and approached the door. For a moment, he dared be hopeful.

“I’ll make breakfast once we get home,” she said, eyes never prying away from the glass of the door.

“Why can’t we eat here?” Shizuka asked.

“You need sleep, sweetie.”

“I can’t sleep with Dad yelling,” she protested.

“He’s quiet now, dear.”

“Can’t we buy honey toast to go?”

“No.”

Shizuka wriggled impatiently in her mother’s hold. “Why not?! Is it cuz Katsuya wants to eat here?”

“It’s no--”

“Stop being mad at him!” she cried. “Please dun be mad at him no more!”

Their mother sighed. When she finally faced him, her eyes were hard and sharp. He turned away from her glare, anger seeping into every vein of his body.

“It’s fine, Shizuka,” he reassured. “It doesn’t matter.”

#jouweek2k17 #katsuya jounouchi #shizuka kawai #joey wheeler #serenity wheeler #yugioh #yu gi oh #duel monsters #pot.glut.fic #EDIT: CRAP I FORGOT THE WARNINGS

[lusilly]

streets of gotham: secret origins

finally a complete introductory fic for the Streets of Gotham 2 team: Colin Wilkes (Abuse), Ellen Nayar (Ember), Nell Little (Spoiler), Jordan Joyce (Jabberwock), and Niloufar Ghorbani (Seraph). (lucas comes later lmao)

Since Jordan’s got the most complicated backstory, xe has xyr own intro fic you can read here. The SoG2 team is featured heavily in Fiat iusticia and in Wheel in the Sky.

This fic was an exercise in Mark Waid’s advice on how plot is nothing more than setting upon which to hang emotion.........and that was Tough lmao. extremely unsatisfied with the ending. Relies heavily on story from Batman: The Black Mirror. Damian is about 16 here. My fav part of this is damian beating the shit out of a joker stan. Enjoy!

NAME:  Damian Wayne ALIAS:  Robin DATE OF BIRTH:  5 September 1996 (approximate) BLOOD TYPE:  O-  (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT:  BW, DG AFFILIATIONS: Teen Titans, Team Ember EVAL: [File Encrypted] NOTES: |Robin| Eval needs to be de-encrypted. Any information contained therein cannot possibly be worse than not knowing |Nightwing| Yeah thats kind of a dick move B. Lol |Batman| Notes are to be relevant to the file in question not a space for airing personal grievances |Red Hood| Im airing my personal grievances here just to spite you. You suck |Batman| If this continues I will remove editing privileges for all of you |Red Hood| You still suck Editing on NOTES is locked

----

           Damian got up early; patrol had ended before two AM last night, the city quiet and still in the early winter lull. A cold snap had settled across Gotham this past week, creeping in from the bay. Though it did not snow, the clear skies brought the temperature to well below freezing, which led to slow nights on patrol. The heat of summer pushed people outside relentlessly. The cold, on the other hand, made criminals lethargic and cautious, preferring to stay inside with their families.

           So Damian rolled out of bed around nine in the morning, the sunlight shining into his window through blinds he had forgotten to draw last night. The first thing he did was take his phone from its perch on his bedside table and scroll through any new notifications. Both Iris and Lian had texted him. He responded to Iris’s but not Lian’s, then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Not ten minutes later he was in the drawing room downstairs, where Titus slept before the great brick fireplace, which was empty.

           Damian patted his dog on the stomach, whistling through his teeth. “Come on,” he said, getting down on his knees and drumming his hands on Titus’s sturdy body. The dog lit up with energy, reaching up to lick Damian’s face, tail wagging furiously as he got to his feet. Damian scratched him behind his ears. “You ready for a run, boy? Come on, let’s get some exercise.”

           Alfred appeared, hot coffee in hand. “Good morning, Damian,” he said. “Taking the dog for a walk?”

           “Yes,” answered Damian, glancing around. “He’s been indoors too much lately because of the cold, he needs to stretch his legs.”

           “You too?”

           Damian offered Alfred a little grin. “Me too,” he agreed. “It’s slow out there.”

           “And here I thought that was a good thing.”

           “It is.” Titus bounded across the room excitedly, chasing his tail, ready for a walk. He started to paw at Damian’s leg, and Damian only held up one hand to indicate Stop. “Down. One moment, alright?” To Alfred, he asked, “Do you know what time my father got home last night?”

           Alfred gave sort of a shrug. “Not long after you.”

           “Oh,” said Damian. “When he wakes up will you tell him I’m heading to school later today? I’ve got an exam at three.”

           Alfred made a face of enthusiastic pride. “Your first university exam,” he said, sounding impressed. “In which subject, may I ask?”

           “Multivariable calculus,” Damian answered, kneeling down to rub Titus’s big head. “It’s simple stuff. A pre-req for applied math.”

           “Not finance?”

           Damian flashed that grin at Alfred once more. “I’m just testing out my options,” he said. “I have time.”

           “Indeed you do,” agreed Alfred, with an approving nod. “In any case, good luck and I shall inform your father as soon as he wakes. Which,” he glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway, and took a disapproving sip of coffee, “should be quite soon. He’s quite worse than you, isn’t he?”u

           Damian opened the French doors to the back garden. With a wave to Alfred, he said, “We’ll be back,” and he whistled for Titus to follow him, then took off jogging past the flowerbeds. Coffee in hand, Alfred watched him go.

           The morning was brisk, but Damian felt warm and alive underneath the early wintertime sun. Taking it slow, he scrolled through his phone, searching for an appropriate playlist, then tucked earbuds into his ears and his the phone itself into a holder at his bicep. Whistling once more at Titus, he took a wide berth around his vegetable garden, knowing that Titus was prone to digging around in it sometimes, upsetting his crops. From there he stayed close to the tree line, heading out across the Manor grounds. The route he liked to take eventually led to a field and a set of rolling hills littered with public paths; he preferred, however, to take a less intuitive path, slightly different every time and designed to get the most out of the slope of the hills.

           Damian took great joy in his morning runs with Titus: it was productive and refreshing and outside, instead of careful training in the facilities under the Manor, which, though state-of-the-art, could feel a little claustrophobic. It was good, he thought, to get out of the house for a little while, out from under his father’s watchful eye. This was the same reason why he’d been spending so much time with the Titans lately.

           Cutting through the edge of the woods, where the trees were sparse, Damian suddenly realized that Titus wasn’t following him anymore. When he glanced around, Titus was nowhere to be seen. He came to a stop and turned around, tugging his earbuds out.

           It was mostly quiet, except for the wind shuddering the tree branches. Damian whistled. “Titus!” There was no response. Muttering an oath under his breath, Damian jogged back down the path he’d just cut. “Titus!” he called again, searching between the trees on either side of him. “Titus, come!”

           His heart jumped as he heard suddenly a piteous whining, as if Titus were afraid of something, cowering in fear; with a little more urgency he headed into the woods, following the source of the sound. “Titus!”

           Off the beaten path, obscured by some low underbrush, the scene Damian found jolted his stomach, making him feel immediately sick before his well-practiced professional instinct took over. “Titus,” he hissed, approaching the dog, who laid whining beside the ugly sight. Grabbing Titus’s collar, he tugged the dog away, retreating to a nearby tree. Titus whined as Damian took out his phone, but Damian just said, “Sit. Titus, sit,” and the dog did so, albeit reluctantly.

           In Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne’s personal cell phone, which sat neatly in a charging device by his bed, started to ring.

           Bruce, raised his head groggily from the mess of sheets and limbs in which he typically slept. Narrowing his eyes at the screen of the phone, which displayed an close-up selfie of Damian’s annoyed face that Dick had assigned to his civilian contact, Bruce started at it for a moment before reaching out and plucking it off the charger.

           “Damian?” he said, masterfully masking his confusion.

           “Father,” replied Damian shortly, heading back to the path by the edge of the woods. “Did I wake you?”

           “I – where are you?”

           “A few miles away from home, almost at Brentwood. I took Titus for a run.”            This was not unusual, but it was unusual for Damian to call home halfway through. Unsure what was happening, Bruce began, “Is…everything all right?”

           “I found a body,” he said bluntly.

           Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. “You what?”

           “Well, Titus found it, really. It was sort of tucked off the main path, we never would’ve seen it had I not decided to loop around past the Kai estate. A boy,” Damian informed his father automatically, pausing to bark, “Titus, come,” before continuing, “maybe my age or slightly older. Wearing a Brentwood uniform.”

           “Signs of assault?”

           “No,” answered Damian. “Dead for a few hours now at the very least, but I can’t determine COD. Suppose we’ll have to wait for the coroner’s report.”

           Sitting up in bed, calm and alert, Bruce began, “All right. Bring anything you’ve gathered back here and we can look into it tonight. Good work so far but for now the best thing to do would be to call the police-”

           Damian interrupted him. “I already did,” he said. “Father, I’m sorry, I think you may be misunderstanding me? I wasn’t actually calling about the body, I’m calling to ask if you can come pick me up.”

           Bruce blinked in surprise. “What?” he asked. “Why?”

           “Because I already called the police and they’ll be here any minute, and I’ll have to act all traumatized because of the dead body, and anyway you know I don’t like civilian encounters with police without you.”

           This more or less made sense, but it wasn’t what Bruce had meant. “What do you mean you aren’t calling about the body?”

           “Oh,” said Damian, as if he hadn’t even thought of this. “Well. It’s by Brentwood.”

           Again, Bruce did not immediately understand. “So?”

           Almost apologetically, Damian said, “A five mile radius beyond campus limits…isn’t your jurisdiction, Father.”

           It hit Bruce then with the force of a freight train: he, like a goddamn amateur idiot, had ceded actual turf to Damian’s pet side team made up of Gotham natives and sometimes headed by Damian’s closest friend in the city, Colin Wilkes, who boarded at Brentwood Academy on a Wayne Enterprises scholarship. The agreement itself had been a bit of a farce meant to keep the team out of trouble, given the specific area the Batman had permitted the team as their responsibility was located in the richest neighborhood in Bristol County, slightly outside Gotham city limits. He had not imagined that any terrible crime might go down five miles away from a wealthy private school, but in retrospect, of course it would.

           “Damian,” said Bruce matter-of-factly. “I appreciate your loyalty to your friends,” he didn’t want to legitimize it by saying your team, and besides the Titans were more Damian’s team in any case, “but even you need to admit, this is out of their league.”

           “This is one dead body,” answered Damian skeptically. “If that’s out of their league, they shouldn’t be doing this at all.”

           “Well, perhaps that’s a fair point-”

           “No,” said Damian shortly. “It’s not. You wouldn’t have given Ember her uniform if you really believed that.”

           This was true enough, but frankly Bruce thought Ember was the only member of that team capable of joining the fight, and ideally he’d absorb her into the Batfamily at large before she got too committed to her own team. But this was not a conversation he wanted to have over the phone, so he shoved the sheets off the bed and said, “Don’t move for now, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

           “Will you hurry, please?” Damian asked, sounding bored and slightly annoyed. “I hate calling the cops.”

           Getting out of bed, Bruce reminded him, “You should be used to it, it’s half of what we do on patrol.”

           “Yes,” muttered Damian, hearing the distant wail of sirens. “But I’m not exactly in uniform at the moment, am I?”

           Feeling a little awkward at the reminder of the constant presence of race in Damian’s life which Bruce could never really fully grasp, Bruce assured his son that he would be there very soon. As soon as he hung up Damian sent him a pin dropped into a map at his location.

           Bruce arrived not long after the police; a detective was talking to Damian, taking down notes. Titus got anxious around people he didn’t know, so Damian had his fingers hooked around his collar, keeping him close. The detective – a rookie who Bruce didn’t recognize on sight – had a few questions for Bruce, then patted Damian’s shoulder reassuringly. Taking Bruce aside, he recommended considering having Damian speak to a professional about the trauma of the sight he’d just witnessed, and Bruce nodded in what he hoped looked like naïve paternal concern.

           Damian coaxed Titus in the backseat of the car, then got in himself. Titus hung his big head in between the two front seats, panting from exertion and excitement.

           On the ride back to the Manor, Damian mercilessly mocked the police. “Now, this is so traumatizing, but you’ve been awfully brave – for Christ’s sake, it’s like none of them have ever seen a dead body before.”

           “Well,” said Bruce fairly, “most sixteen-year-olds haven’t, Damian.”

           “It’s not as if it was violent,” Damian pointed out. “There wasn’t even any blood or anything.”

           “Which is…curious,” said Bruce thoughtfully. “No external evidence of foul play. Suicide?”            Phone in hand, Damian replied, “I already sent photos to Colin, he should be able to identify him and pull his school records. We’ll check for a history of depression or mental illness, but my gut tells me a Brentwood student wouldn’t stagger into the woods to kill himself unless it was going to be uglier than that.”

           Bruce nodded; this made sense. “Could’ve been an accident. Alcohol poisoning, or an overdose.”

           “I’m leaning towards overdose personally,” answered Damian, texting something on his phone. “Colin’s files should have any record of drug activity at the school. I’ll meet up with him and the others tonight and we’ll get started.”

           There was an awkward sort of pause. Bruce began, “You know, if you or the rest of the team ever require any help-”

           As the car came to a stop in the Wayne Manor garage, Damian shook his head, interrupting his father. “You’re micromanaging,” he pointed out. “I told you, they’re never going to get better if you keep stepping in and taking over their investigations.”

           “I understand that,” replied Bruce, turning the car off. “I’m merely remarking upon the fact that they lack experience, and therefore could benefit from guidance.”

           “Namely, me,” said Damian, watching his father. “I’m their guidance.” He waited for a moment, eyes on Bruce, as if expecting confirmation. Little tink-tink-tink sounds came from the car’s engine as it cooled. “Right?”

           Bruce began, “You already have a team-”

           “You have, like, four teams,” Damian countered. “Not to mention whatever secret society you’re funding this week.”

           “A murder is serious business.”

           “You don’t even know if it’s murder yet.”

           “If it were-”

           “-then you still wouldn’t be in any position to take this from them. Just,” Titus stuck his head forward again, whining, and Damian reached out to scratch his face. “Unclench, alright?” Damian asked his father. “I can handle this.”            Bruce didn’t reply to this, so Damian got out of the car and opened the door for Titus, who happily jumped out and followed him back into the house.

           Later that day, Damian drove to Princeton for his first college exam. He finished early, and called Colin on the drive home.

---

NAME:  Colin Wilkes ALIAS:  “Abuse” DATE OF BIRTH:  9 December 1996 BLOOD TYPE: AB+  (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Jane Brown LSW, Caseworker AFFILIATIONS:  Team Ember EVAL: Behavioral history of paranoia and violence in multiple foster homes, though likely a result of instability in childhood rather than pathological root. Experimentation by SCARECROW led to increased physical abilities through transformation which includes augmented strength (no evidence senses are affected) as well as moderate invulnerability. Venom appears to have had long-lasting effects on body chemistry despite its degradation.

Decent field skills complemented by extreme strength. Only cleared for patrol if transformed. hand-to-hand and weapons training negligible. Defense training and development of damage-resistant uniform necessary to compensate for tendency to take fire. Precision training vital for development of fine offensive skills.

NOTES: |Robin| Consistent attitude improvements since enrollment at Brentwood. Some instability with transformations likely due to a mental block, have seen improvement past 2-3 months

---

           “You’ve got to get a permanent HQ,” said Damian, in full Robin uniform, standing before a laptop computer in an empty Brentwood Academy classroom.

           “This is good though,” Colin insisted. “This way we’re close to the action, right?”

           “Well,” Damian replied, trying not to hurt Colin’s feelings. “Yes, though it really isn’t worth the lack of security or tech resources. Batman operates almost solely out of the Cave, and you know that’s a bit removed from the city.”

           Colin said, “I don’t have a house to stick a secret lair underneath, though.”

           “I mean, yes,” Damian admitted, nodding. “But the point stands. Besides, most of your team has trouble getting all the way out here. Spoiler’s bike can only hold two people.”

           “That works fine anyway, Jordan doesn’t need a ride.”

           With a long-suffering inhalation, Damian gently corrected, “Jabberwock, Abuse. Jabberwock. We use codenames in the field.”

           “Oh, yeah,” said Colin, clicking through some files on the computer. “My bad. Anyway.” He gestured towards the screen. “This is what I got so far.”

           “Aren’t we going to wait for the others?”

           “Oh, should we?”

           “Ideally, yes, we should. But if you’ve any sensitive information to share with me first,” he gestured at the screen, “by all means.”

           Colin hesitated for a moment, watching Damian. Then he began, “Well, you know how I was kind of sort of maybe dating Ethan a while ago? So it turns out-”

           “Abuse,” interrupted Damian loudly, holding up a hand. “I don’t mean – I meant sensitive information related to the case. You can call me and update me on your social life any time, so let’s try to avoid it while in uniform, yes?”

           A little hurt, Colin replied, “This is related to the case. The dead kid is Joey Fremont, OK, and his roommate is on the wrestling team with Ethan, and so a while ago Ethan asked me to go to one of the wrestling team parties after the meet, and I didn’t go ‘cause he was being weird cagey about us and I could tell he wanted to go as ‘friends’ and it was annoying because like I asked him out and everything so it’s not like he didn’t actually have like feelings-”

           Softly, Damian reminded him, “The point, please.”

           “OK, OK, so – Ethan heard from Joey’s roommate that he was dealing in some shady shit.”

           A frown creased Damian’s brow. “Define ‘shady shit.’”

           “Dealing,” Colin emphasized, as if that had made it obvious. “Like, drugs.”            This seemed a little far-fetched. “Joseph Fremont, seventeen-year-old trust fund baby, was a drug-dealer?”

           “Yeah. Some shady stuff.”

           There it was again, shady, Colin’s favorite ambiguous descriptor. Damian felt a migraine coming on. “We’re still waiting on the tox report,” Damian told him. “But it’ll be easier if we know what to look for. Do you know what he was dealing?”

           “Drugs,” said Colin.

           “What kind of drugs? Cocaine? Heroin?”

           “What the fuck, you think I know? I didn’t buy any shit from him.”

           This was going to be harder than Damian thought. “Do you know anyone who did buy it?” he asked. “Maybe Ethan, or someone else on the wrestling team?”            Offended, Colin told him, “Bitch, Ethan isn’t a fucking junkie.”

           “Right, since you have impeccable taste in guys.”

           “Wow,” said Colin, even more insulted. “That’s fucking rude.”

           Damian was saved from trying to apologize for his completely correct and true reading of Colin’s limited dating history by a knock on the window. “Cavalry’s here,” he said, heading to open the window.

           Ember and Spoiler slipped into the room. “We weren’t sure if we were supposed to use the door,” Spoiler explained. “We thought there might be cameras and stuff.”

           “Abuse disabled them,” Damian said. “And we’re far enough from the center of campus that security doesn’t patrol here.”

           “Oh, cool,” said Nell. She waved behind Damian. “Hey Colin.”

           Before Damian could correct her, Colin impressed him by chiming in. “Abuse,” he said, grinning at her. “Only codenames.”

           “Oh, shit, sorry!”

           “It’s OK,” murmured Damian, going back to the laptop. “Is Jabberwock coming?”

           “I haven’t heard from her,” answered Ellen, shrugging. “But I imagine if she was, she’d be picking up, um,” she gave a pointed pause, “you-know-who on her way over.”

           “Who?” asked Damian.

           “Voldemort,” said Nell, giggling.

           He looked around at Colin, expecting an answer. Colin made a beckoning gesture with one finger, and Damian went over to him and leaned in. “Niloufar,” he whispered.

           Damian pulled away, frowning. “Niloufar?” he echoed.

           Colin took great pleasure in going, “Shh! Codenames only!”

           “I don’t know who that is,” said Damian honestly. “Do they have a codename?”

           “Not yet,” answered Nell, taking a seat on one of the desks. “She said she liked Angel or something, I think.”

           “No, it wasn’t Angel,” Ellen said thoughtfully. “It was something Muslim I think. I can’t remember right now.”

           Damian hesitated for a moment, then said to Ellen, “Whether or not Jabberwock brings her, can you send me her information later? We’ll do a background check.”

           Ellen watched him for a moment, but beneath the scarlet mask her expression was indecipherable. “I can relay it to Oracle, if that’s what you mean.”

           It wasn’t exactly, but it would do. He nodded. “Now. Let’s get to business. Abuse, would you brief your teammates on the case?”

           Quickly, Colin got back to business. He did a decent job, though Damian interjected a few times with details that seem to have slipped Colin’s mind. Nell, in her caped eggplant-colored Spoiler costume, sat on one of the desks, whereas Ellen, her crimson-and-black uniform, took a seat, leaning forward over the desk thoughtfully. Her body language was tight and measured, inscrutable. When his mind wandered Damian found his gaze occasionally drawn to her, though it wasn’t really in attraction so much as curiosity. He still wondered exactly what she had done to prove herself to his father, who trusted her far beyond any other member of this burgeoning team.

           The specifics of the case were this: Joseph Fremont, seventeen years old, white male, five-foot-eight inches, approximately a hundred and ninety pounds, had according to his roommate never made it back to his bedroom on the night of November the thirtieth, and had the following morning been discovered dead one-point-eight miles away from campus. They were still waiting on the physical evidence, but Robin had called them all together tonight so they could hit the ground running. Colin’s revelation that Joseph Fremont might have been dealing was kind of disappointing to Damian, as it suggested that the kid might’ve just been sampling the product and accidentally overdosed. Not that he wished a murder had occurred or anything, but a good old-fashioned mystery would’ve been perfect training for the young team.

           When Colin told Ellen and Nell about the drugs, sparing them the details about how he knew, Ellen spoke up. “If he was dealing and there were no external signs of a struggle, don’t you think he probably just OD’d?”            “Perhaps,” said Damian, chiming in from his spot in the shadows behind Colin. “But we have to consider all the possibilities.”

           “What if his tox results come back positive for a shitload of heroin?” asked Nell.

           “Then we’ll rule it an overdose,” Damian told her, feeling like he was talking to a bunch of infants, “unless we find evidence that suggests otherwise.”

           “But what if it’s an actual murder but someone just like coerced him into taking a shitload of heroin so he died?”

           “That’s why we look into anyone who might have motive,” said Damian. “Even if this looks cut-and-dried on the surface, if there’s someone who would benefit from Joseph Fremont’s death, then we tug on that string. Tug hard enough, and something always unravels.”

           “The Fremonts are Wall Street money,” Ellen commented offhandedly. “I’m sure a lot of people would have motivation to target their family.”

           “Right,” said Damian. “Ember, you look into potential suspects. Colin, dig into the drug connection. Maybe something went awry with his supplier.”

           Nell asked, “What can I do?”

           “Stay plugged in to our contact in the coroner’s office,” Damian told her. “We need to know what killed Joseph Fremont. Until we have that, there’s only so much we can do.”

           “So you’re saying all we can do now is wait.”

           “No,” said Damian coolly, turning to Ellen. That blank red mask was starting to bother him, making it impossible to read her. “I’m saying you can look into potential suspects so we can get ahead of the game.”

           She watched him for a moment. “So you do think it’s a murder, though?”

           “I think it’s suspicious that our victim wound up two miles away from campus, in the middle of the woods,” Damian told her. “And I find it unlikely that no one knows any specifics about what occurred. Our job is to apply pressure until the cracks become evident, and then plug the leaks when we find them.”

           Ellen ran her hands down her long braid. “I think that’s a mixed metaphor,” she said.

           It wasn’t, though it admittedly was kind of clumsy. He ignored this comment, turning instead to Abuse. “I’ll find somewhere more secure to use as headquarters. In the meantime, collect your research. Remember to keep it all under secure encryption using the tech I gave you.”

           Nell raised her hand. Damian looked at her, then did a double take, then Ellen reached out and pulled her wrist downwards. “You don’t have to raise your hand,” Ellen told her.

           “Oh,” said Nell. “OK, sorry, but sidenote, are we allowed to use the computers you gave us for like, other things?”

           “They’re yours,” said Damian. “Use them for whatever you need. All of your encrypted files go to a drive that Batman and I can access, but other than that you can do what you want with it.”            “OK, cool,” said Nell. “I was just asking because I use it for homework.”

           Colin threw his arm around Damian’s shoulders, hanging onto his neck. Poking him in the ribs, he told Nell, “Just ask Robin for another separate homework computer, that’s what I did.”

           Though Nell’s eyes lit up, Ellen spoke before she could. Leaning back in her seat, she said smoothly, “I’m sure Robin doesn’t have the time to play sugar daddy to all of us, Abuse.”

           “No,” agreed Damian. “Fortunately Batman plays the part very well for you, doesn’t he, Ember?”            There was a silence so deep they could hear a pin drop. Damian felt belligerent and annoyed, and didn’t immediately regret the comment. He knew the grants and the scholarships and the job offers that had been extended to Ellen Nayar, and he didn’t think she had any right to sound so dismissive of his family’s generosity.

           Though Damian could not Ellen’s gaze behind her mask, she turned her head away from him first, indicative of breaking first.

           When she and Nell left, Ellen did not say a farewell to Robin.

---

NAME: Danielle Little ALIAS: Spoiler DATE OF BIRTH: 29 June 1997 BLOOD TYPE: O+  (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Rhonda Holmes Little, Mother (Contact) AFFILIATIONS: Batgirl (Formerly), Team Ember EVAL: Promising but untrained. Investigative instincts are excellent, but more practice is necessary. Very young and inexperienced, though a strong devotion to local community and neighborhoods is a good foundation for future efforts. Potentially a place for her in the Batman Inc. hierarchy whether as an official agent or otherwise.

NOTES: |Robin| Not ready for patrol |Batgirl| She’s just as ready for patrol as I was when I first started |Red Robin| Yeah cause that turned out so well |Batman| Notes must be relevant to the file in question or I will suspend editing privileges

---

           As dusk arrived the next night, Bruce sat in front of the computer in the Cave as Damian worked on some complex tech designs at the workstation below the computer hub. There was a comfortable quiet apart from the usual whir of machinery and fluttering wings of the bats in the eaves. All at once, the silence was broken by a gentle beeping notification coming from both the computer and Damian’s phone.

           Not a moment later, Damian was skipping the stairs two at a time, practically sprinting to the locker room area where his uniform was kept. “Oracle,” said Bruce, hitting a button on the panel before him, “get Jim on the line.”            Damian emerged, in full uniform except for his mask though his cap was only half fastened and his boots weren’t laced yet, while Bruce was still on the line with Commissioner Gordon. “I’ll look into it personally,” he was saying. “I’ll be in touch.”

           Bruce closed the line and turned around in his seat to look at Damian, who stood there defiantly. He pointed at Bruce with one accusatory finger, then began, “You promised-”

           Stoically, Bruce replied, “This could be very dangerous, Damian, and it would be irresponsible to let a bunch of inexperienced teenagers deal with something of this magnitude.”

           “You promised,” repeated Damian stubbornly. “You told me this would be our jurisdiction, and that you would allow us freedom to pursue this mission on our own time.”

           “Us?” echoed Bruce mildly. “So as soon as the mission interests you, it becomes us rather than them?”

           Rolling his eyes, Damian headed down to the garage below, where his motorcycle was kept. Raising his voice to be heard, he called, “I’m their leader, so-”

           “Ember’s their leader.”

           Damian stopped on the staircase, then went back up so he could look at his father. “I’m their leader,” he said again, offended.

           Bruce shook his head. “This team is designed to be closer to the ground than we are. You don’t have their experience when it comes to the city itself.”

           “I patrol the city every single night,” Damian protested. “I know it just fine.”

           “That may very well be true, but you still don’t have their urban expertise.”

           “Urb-?” Damian broke off suspiciously, watching his father. Then he leaned against the rail of the stairs slightly and asked, “Is this a race thing?”

           Bruce glanced around at him, an eyebrow raised. “A what thing?”

           “Are you being,” he paused, didn’t know what else to call it, so went with, “…racist?”

           “What are you talking about?”

           “Urban is just one of those dog whistle words that means people of color,” explained Damian; he was taking a sociology class at Princeton, and he’d just read a chapter of a book about this. “And since this team is mostly that, you emphasizing that their street smarts and inner city experience feels almost as if…” he trailed off, feeling suddenly uncertain under his father’s gaze. “I’m just saying,” he said, unwilling to admit his doubt. “You may want to…think about the way you talk about them, is all.”

           Bruce watched his son, surprised. Despite the fact that Damian’s words weren’t exactly flattering, he felt an odd stirring of pride. He nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I will.”

           There was an awkward sort of pause, and then Damian headed once more down the stairs. Though it was just barely dark outside, he took his motorcycle to the hidden entrance to the Bunker, where he did some minor rearrangements and set up what basically amounted to parental controls on the computers. Satisfied, he alerted the entire team that they would be meeting beneath Wayne Tower tonight.

           This time, Jordan and Niloufar were there first. “Ms. Ghorbani,” he said, holding out his hand to the girl in the headscarf, “a pleasure to meet you.”

           Niloufar shook his hand warily. “We’ve met before,” she told him shortly. “One time you and Batman saved a school bus I was in from tipping off a bridge.”

           When in uniform, Damian got comments like that all the time. Though a school bus falling off a bridge was far more memorable than most of the everyday encounters he had with citizens of Gotham, it still didn’t ring a bell. “That sounds like us,” he told her, with a killer smile. She just watched him suspiciously.

           Jordan, who had been using her powers of flight constantly since they manifested, floated near the low ceiling of the Bunker. “I don’t like it in here,” she said. “Feels cramped.”

           “It’s merely temporary, Jabberwock,” Damian informed her, heading to the computer. “It’s not an ideal location for your team, but I needed some place with the technical capabilities to fill you in completely on the status of your mission.”

           “Our mission?” Jordan echoed. “You mean the dead kid from Brentwood?”

           Damian nodded, typing something into the computer. “Joseph Fremont.”

           Niloufar asked, “Is this about the results from the tox report?”

           The file on the computer unopened, Damian stopped and turned around to face her. “What do you know about the tox report?” he asked her.

           “I’ve heard things,” she said shortly.

           He eyed her, then began, “How do you-?” but before he could finish, the doors to the garage opened and Ellen arrived with Nell and Colin.

           “Hey,” said Nell breathlessly, her laptop underneath her arm. “I might have to leave early, I have a lot of homework to do.”

           “That’s fine,” Damian said, looking past Niloufar and Jordan at her. “There’ve been some new developments in the case and I just need to make sure we’re all on the same page about it.”

           “Hey,” said Jordan, floating upside-down, her ponytail hanging down from the back of her head, “I have a question.”

           Suppressing a roll of his eyes, Damian looked at her. “Yes?”

           “This kid OD’d, right?”

           “Yes,” repeated Damian, “and I’m about to get into the specifics of what exactly he-”

           “But like. Why should we care about him?”

           The silence that followed this comment deepened considerably, broken only by the hum and whir of the high tech machinery surrounding them. “Jabberwock,” he said, “if you have to ask that question, then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

           Before Damian had even finished this sentence, Jordan was shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I mean like, specifically him. There’s a dozen cases of this same thing every day on my block, and no one’s investigating that shit.”

           Damian explained, “This death occurred in your team’s jurisdiction-” but Ellen interrupted him.

           “She has a point,” she said, glancing at Damian. “It does seem a little biased that we suddenly care about an overdose as soon as it happens to a rich white kid. And I have wondered before why Batman decided we don’t get jurisdiction,” she framed it in air quotes, “over our own neighborhoods, especially because Jordan’s right, this kind of thing happens all the time in the city.”

           “OK,” said Damian, trying very hard to exercise patience, “well. When one of your neighbors overdoses on recreationally-developed Joker Venom, then perhaps we can look into that.”

           A frisson of excitement went through the Bunker, eyebrows raising in surprise. “Joker Venom?” echoed Colin, sounding almost delighted. “Joey got offed by the Joker?”

           “No,” said Ellen, a slight frown on her face. When she watched Damian as intently as she was doing now, he could almost tune out the scar, imagine exactly what she might look like without it. “Robin said – recreationally-developed? You think this kid was using Joker Venom to get high?”

           Damian nodded. “It gets worse.”

           Seated at one of the specimen analysis desks, her laptop computer already open, Nell asked, “How could it get worse than the Joker?”

           Damian pulled something up on the computer screen. “A few years ago – back with the previous Batman – there was a case that involved a drug called diaxamene which was reverse-engineered to attack the part of the brain which controls emotion, blunting the ability to feel empathy.”

           “Turn them into sociopaths,” Jordan said, sounding almost impressed.

           “Psychopaths,” Damian corrected. “But, yes. Essentially.”

           “Diaxamene,” echoed Niloufar, her gaze far away behind her thick glasses. “That sounds familiar. Didn’t it have something to do with a baby formula recall?”

           Clearly surprised that Niloufar knew this, Damian stopped short and looked around at her. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “The perp claimed to have dosed baby formula, though no evidence could confirm this. There was a recall just in case, though, which led to a shortage.”

           “Yeah, I remember,” said Niloufar, nodding. At Damian’s curious look, she finally added, “My younger brother was a baby at the time. I remember formula got really expensive.”

           Without replying to this, Damian nodded, then looked at her for a moment longer.

           Then he returned to the computer screen. “It looks like small amounts of Joker Venom were added to the reverse-engineered diaxamene. Because Joker Venom produces effects similar to psychopathy before resulting in death, diluting it with the diaxamene can reproduce the same feeling while decreasing its lethality.”

           “He still died, though,” Nell pointed out.

           Damian nodded. “It’s called an overdose for a reason, Spoiler.”

           “Oh,” she said. “Right.”

           “The modified diaxamene is a pharmaceutical, though,” said Niloufar, considering this. “It’s supposed to function long-term, not for a temporary high.”

           “Exactly,” said Damian. “For a young person like Joseph Fremont, the mild Joker Venom would have a slight narcotic effect while the diaxamene, if he even knew it was part of the drug, would be – nothing more than a placebo. At first.”

           Ellen nodded. “So what his death tells us,” she began, “is that this drug is on the market. That people are using it, and the more they use it, the more psychopathic they become.”

           “Yes,” said Damian, feeling an odd rush of pride at how quickly the team put this together. “That’s the real problem here. Someone’s pulling the same stunt as the baby formula plan, but aging up their demographic.”

           “Why not cut it with coke?” asked Jordan, seriously. “Or dope or something?”

           “’Cause it’s Joker Venom,” Ellen said, looking over at her as if this were obvious. “It has sex appeal.”

           Nell giggled, and Colin asked, “What about the Joker says sex appeal to you?”

           “Ember’s right,” said Damian, shutting the others up. “How many of you have seen firsthand some result of the Joker’s crimes?”

           Everyone except for Niloufar raised their hand without hesitation, but Niloufar eventually followed suit, making a noncommittal kinda sorta gesture with her hand.

           “Joseph Fremont never lived in the city,” Damian continued. “If you live in the wealthy suburbs your whole life, the Joker is something of a myth, and as a result anything with some proximity to him has a certain thrill to it – like forbidden fruit. It’s the perfect new drug to introduce to a privileged private school like Brentwood.”

           “Plus rich white boys are already a little psychopathic,” Jordan added.

           Damian decided to give her that one. “And that.”

           Despite this, Ellen didn’t seem fully satisfied. “But no one bothers to do a full tox report on a bum who OD’d in an alley in Midtown,” she pointed out. “This drug could be way more rampant than we thought.”

           Considering this, Damian answered, “True, but we haven’t seen the resultant wave of crime or violence you’d expect from that.”            “That’s assuming the drug has been out there for long enough. And Gotham streets are always full of crime and violence. How would you be able to tell the difference?”            He shook his head. “There’s no difference on patrol.”

           “You haven’t been on patrol all that often lately, though,” Colin said fairly, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “You’ve been with your other team a lot.”

           Inwardly, Damian cursed Colin’s lack of filter. Ellen’s eyebrow cocked, but it was Nell who asked, “What other team?”

           Jordan grinned at him. “Are you cheating on us, Robin?”

           “It’s the Teen Titans,” he said stoically. “Yes, I am frequently away with them. But Batman and Oracle keep a careful record of nightly criminal activity, which has not shown any major spikes lately.”

           “What’s Superboy like?” asked Jordan, legs crossed, sitting in air. “Just like a mini Superman?”

           Chris was in fact very dissimilar to his adoptive father, so Damian replied, with a hint of annoyance, “No, actually. Now if we can get back to business-”

           “What about Arsenal?” asked Nell, from her computer. “She seems cool.”

           With a knowing grin, Colin added, “Not as cool as Impulse, huh, Robin?”            Damian shot him a dirty look. “Let’s try to focus, shall we?”

           “Ohh,” said Nell, laughing. “Wait, Robin, is she your girlfriend?”

           For fuck’s sake. As he opened his mouth to shut this down for good, Ellen mercifully came to his rescue. “Come on,” she said, sounding sympathetic. “Don’t tease him, Spoiler, that’s mean.”

           Which, naturally, set his blood boiling again. “Ember, please,” he told her. “It’s fine. Now. Back to the case?”

           She gave him a wry, enigmatic smile, but nodded all the same, gesturing for him to continue.

           His face felt warm, and he felt stupid for allowing himself to feel even the slightest bit self-conscious. “Some excellent thinking happened tonight, team, so thank you for that. Now that we all know where we stand, it’s time to get serious about this case.”

           Doubtfully, Colin asked, “We weren’t serious until just now?”

           “I mean we have a lead,” said Damian quickly. “That’s all. Niloufar, Jabberwock, I want you two looking into other recent overdose cases throughout the city, see if we’re missing something.”

           “Seraph,” said Niloufar.

           Damian blinked. “I’m sorry?”

           “Seraph,” repeated Niloufar. “That’s my codename. I mean, it was Hafaza, but then we figured that was a little harder for people to remember and the key to a good codename is its memorability, right? Like, branding.” She paused, a little awkward. “So. Seraph.”

           He watched her for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Seraph, then. Usually the codename is accompanied by a uniform, though.”

           Apologetically, she admitted, “I’m probably not…super useful in the field.” At Damian’s expressions, she explained, “I failed P.E. last year.”

           Damian only had the vaguest notion what P.E. was, but he waved it aside. “Fine,” he said. “If you do need a uniform, Batman and I can help. Abuse,” he said, turning to Colin. “Have you dug up anything else at Brentwood?”

           Colin shook his head. “Not really? I think Joey’s roommate was clean, actually. He wasn’t dealing anything hard, just weed. I lit up with him the other day and he told me everything. He’s kind of fucked up over it actually, it’s kind of sad.”

           “Great,” said Damian. “Generally I would request that you try to avoid partaking in illicit substances, but otherwise, sure.”

           “Robin,” said Jordan, with a grin. “C’mon. It’s just weed.”

           “OK,” said Damian, ignoring this. “Keep pushing, Abuse. If you need backup, call me.”

           “Or me,” offered Niloufar. When Damian glanced at her, she added, “I go to Brentwood too. So I can help with that.”

           This was a relief; Colin was competent enough in the field, but his investigative work was still spotty. Damian had been considering an undercover mission in Brentwood himself to get the intel they needed, but if Niloufar also attended the school then she might be able to bolster Colin’s mission. “Perfect,” he said. “Seraph, you get double duty – work with both Jabberwock and Abuse.”

           Niloufar practically glowed at the extra responsibility.

           “Ember, Spoiler, you’re going to be investigating the Joker connection,” he continued. “Ember, I understand you have some familiarity with Arkham? This is your chance to demonstrate that. Meanwhile, I’ll-”

           Just then, he realized Nell’s hand was up in the air again.

           “Spoiler,” he said tiredly. “I’ve told you this a dozen times, you don’t need to raise your hand to ask permission to speak.”            “Oh,” she said, lowering her arm. “Sorry! I didn’t want to interrupt.”

           “It’s fine,” Damian told her, waving this away. “What is it?”

           “Would it be possible for me to sit this one out? I’m failing geometry.”

           Damian blinked at her. “You’re failing what?” he asked.

           “Geometry,” she repeated. “Tenth grade math.”

           Damian, who had mastered geometry when he was seven, felt suddenly and abruptly out of his depth. “Oh,” he said. “Yes, of course. That’s fine. All of you, never hesitate to tell me if you feel like you’re taking on too much. It’s fine. Civilian responsibilities come first.”

           There was an awkward sort of pause.

           Then he restarted, “Ember, I suppose that means I’ll be with you. We’ll also look at the previous case regarding diaxamene, but I’ll need a few days to round up my resources on that. I’ll contact you when I’m ready.”

           “Fine,” said Ellen. “Anything else you need to update us on?”

           Thoughtfully, Damian looked back at the screen. “No, I don’t think so. We’re dealing with a high tech trafficking ring by the docks again so if any of you find any unfamiliar weaponry or anything let me or Oracle know. Oh,” he said, turning around to face them again. “And I suppose I should warn you about something.”

           They all leaned in a little, as if intrigued by the hint of danger.

           Almost regretfully, Damian informed them all, “Batman is likely going to try and edge in on this case. He takes everything involving the Joker very personally, so I can almost guarantee he’ll try to take over. At the very least he’ll try to insert himself in an observational role.”

           “That’s not so bad,” countered Jordan. “Batman’s welcome to observationally roll me whenever he likes.” Colin laughed, obviously in agreement.

           Damian tried to keep his expression level. “My point is,” he restarted, “this is your mission and you all can take care of it perfectly well without his help. Don’t let him take this one from you.” He paused, looking around at them. “So. We’re all clear?”

           “Super clear,” agreed Colin. “I’m gonna head back to school and get a jump on this.”

           “Hold on,” said Niloufar, her gaze swiveling around towards him. “That’s not fair, I don’t board at school so I won’t be able to help out until tomorrow.”

           “Um, I just said get a jump on it,” Colin pointed out. “I didn’t say I’d solve absolutely everything so you don’t have anything to do.”

           “Abuse is right,” added Damian. “He can probably get a lot more done after hours than you can during classroom time. I’m sure he’ll fill you in on any developments in the morning.”

           Niloufar shot a glare towards Colin, but he shrugged and relented. “Yeah, for sure.”

           “We’ll get started, then,” said Jordan. “If we find anything out we’ll ping you or share it on the vigilante cloud or whatever.”

           “Thank you,” said Damian, as Jordan and Niloufar began to leave. “Good luck.”

           After them Colin headed out to return to Brentwood and Ellen, the only one of the team cleared for patrol on her own, also took off. Damian went over to where Nell still worked on her laptop. “If you need a tutor,” he said, peering over her shoulder, “I’m happy to help.”

           “You kind of already are,” she told him distractedly, focused on her work.

           He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

           Glancing at him, she explained, “I’m going to the Neon Knights center in my neighborhood for tutoring, so it’s cool. I guess I meant your family’s already helping out.”

           Damian stared at her for a moment. Though he knew rationally that the entire team had enough information at this point to deduce Batman’s identity and therefore his own, it was still a new and unfamiliar feeling, like danger. It set him on edge, despite the fact that they never would have let Nell or the others into the game in the first place if they didn’t trust them enough to be discreet.

           “Sure,” he said, straightening up. “Though I shouldn’t have to remind you not to talk like that when we’re in uniform.”

           This seemed to confuse her, as she finally took pause to glance up at him. “But…nobody’s here.”            “I know, but it’s a matter of developing a habit. If the mask is on,” he pointed to his face, “then I’m Robin. Only Robin. Do you understand me?”

           She nodded. “I got you.”

           “Good.” He hesitated, then added, “If you’d like you can stay here to do your work. I can program everything to shut down and lock up after you leave.”            This too drew her gaze away from the computer. She looked at Damian with big eyes, surprised and a little touched. “Wow,” she said. “For real? That would be super great.”

           “OK.” He shrugged, feeling a slight twinge of self-consciousness he normally only felt around Iris. He tried to push that out of his mind. “It’s no problem. And again, let me know if you need help.”

           “Yeah,” she said, beaming at him. “I will.”

---

NAME: Jordan Aguilar Joyce ALIAS: Wonder Girl / Jabberwock DATE OF BIRTH: 17 March 1995 BLOOD TYPE: B+ (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Maya Aguilar, Sister (Contact) AFFILIATIONS: Wonder Woman, Team Ember EVAL: Flight, augmented senses and strength from Themysciran heritage. Will follow-up with Diana. Deeply resistant to authority, but loyal to team. Need to develop discipline before regular patrol is instated.

NOTES: |Robin| Wonder Girl should not be listed as an alias nor WW under affiliation. Jordan has made it clear where she stands where it comes to the Amazons |Black Bat| Shes nice |Red Hood| How come cass doesnt get the Relevent to File in question spiel |Red Robin| Cause shes the favorite |Black Bat| :)

---

           “So Abuse and Seraph managed to get a lead on the Brentwood supplier – turns out a few of the older boys had been recruited by someone called the Dealer.”

           “Not very creative,” replied Ellen through her commlink, peering down at the city from the corner of a tall roof.

           “Yes,” answered Damian, “particularly because we dealt with someone using that name a few years ago, around the same time as the diaxamene case. In fact, the man who reverse-engineered the diaxamene actually bought outdated Joker Venom from the Dealer.”

           “Oh,” said Ellen, a little taken aback. “Then – that should sort of blow the case open, right? It’s the same guy.”

           “Impossible,” said Damian grimly. “The man in question has been locked up in a mental facility for years.”

           “In Arkham?”

           “No. I believe it’s somewhere in Chicago, far away from here. Besides, the version of the Joker Venom found in this new drug isn’t old or decayed at all, it’s very new, something we haven’t quite seen before, impossible to build up a resistance to. Enough of it would probably poison even the Joker himself.”

           “If our guy can reverse-engineer a prescription drug, I’m sure he could figure out how to update Joker Venom. And if he’s not at Arkham why are we even going there in the first place?”

           “Because,” Damian answered shortly, “sometimes you have to play with vermin to sniff out a rat.”            This was cryptic and annoying, and beneath her mask Ellen rolled her eyes. “OK. I can meet you there in an hour if-”

           “No need,” he said, just as the sleek and quiet hum of an energy-efficient stealth motorcycle came buzzing down the alley beneath the building on which Ellen stood. Robin stopped the bike, got off, and waved at her.

           She let out a sigh, then made her way down on the fire escape, jumping the last few feet. “How did you know where I was?” she asked, as he got back onto the motorcycle.

           “The tracer Batman put in your suit,” he answered; when she gave him a look, refusing to get on the bike with him, he grinned a little and added, “I’m kidding. But only a little. When you’re on a direct line, Oracle can pinpoint your location. If you toggled a private line or turned off your commlink, we’d lose you.”

           “Wouldn’t want that,” muttered Ellen, finally relenting and climbing onto the back of the motorcycle, behind him. She sat further back than was entirely necessary.

           They went most of the way in relative silence. They’d worked enough together – Damian had spent enough time training with her – that it wasn’t particularly awkward, but there was an odd degree of discomfort that neither of them were used to. When they made it to Arkham, stowing the bike in the woods behind it, Damian asked, “That reminds me, when are you going to get a motorbike of your own? You can’t rely on rides from Spoiler and Abuse and me forever.”

           “I don’t have my license,” she explained. She wanted to add, And I can’t afford one, but she knew that he would offer and insist and that would be unfortunate.

           “Oh,” said Damian, as if this hadn’t occurred to him. “Well. You don’t really need one, in our line of work.”            “Thanks,” she said, though her smile was not visible beneath her mask. “But I’m already toeing the line as is. I’d prefer to break as few laws as possible.”

           “She says,” he added, grinning slightly as they headed towards Gotham, “as we break into a private mental facility in order to interrogate a patient.”

           “He’s a criminal,” she replied smoothly. “Not a patient.”

           Damian shrugged. “They all are.”

           This wasn’t true, and Ellen wanted to fight him on it, but this wasn’t the time or the place. With the help of Robin’s gadgets and expertise, making it into Arkham was easier than it had ever been for Ellen – he did it with such nonchalance and finesse that it seemed positively casual for him. That sort of annoyed her.

           They made it to the Wayne Ward, which is where the most dangerous criminals were held, cut off from the rest of the world by thick steel doors. Somewhere in one of the cages, someone sang a children’s song. “Little Bunny Foo-Foo, hopping through the forest…”

           Another inmate moaned, “Shut the fuck up.”

           Damian brought her to an unmarked cell that looked no different from any of the others, and put his hand on the door, behind which the Joker still sang. “Scooping up the field mice and boppin’ them on the head…”

           Quietly, he asked, “You ready?”            She nodded, but didn’t speak. Looking away from her, he punched a series of numbers into the keypad by the door, and it slid open.

           He gestured for her to enter, and she did. He followed behind her, and the steel door clanged behind them.

           A pale man in an Arkham uniform sat cross-legged facing the wall across from them. “Down came the good fairy, and she said…”

           “Joker,” said Damian.

           The Joker’s head lolled back on his shoulders, his dirty green hair hanging down from his scalp. He did not look around.

           “Ah,” he began, his voice sickly sweet. “It’s my second-favorite little birdie. You’d be third favorite,” he said, almost reasonably, “but the dead one came back, and that’s no fun.”

           “Joker,” repeated Damian. “What do you know about a new version of your Venom?”

           Though he still did not turn around, the Joker made an unpleasant sound in the back of his throat, as if displeased. “None of that faker stuff. I’m no street corner dealer, little Robbie! I only have big plans, big shows, big-” he threw out both arms theatrically; in his left, he held a crowbar stained with blood, “-drama.”

           Without hesitating, Damian moved forward and grabbed hold of the crowbar, kicking in the Joker’s elbow as he did so. As Damian inspected it, the Joker started to laugh, then collapsed and rolled around on the floor so he was facing the door.

           “Where’d you get this?” asked Damian stoically, raising the crowbar.

           “Beirut,” answered the Joker.

           Damian shook the crowbar. “Whose blood is this?”

           “Yours,” answered the Joker. “Robin’s. Doesn’t matter which one, best not to get attached,” he looked past Damian, as if addressed Ellen directly, “they’re just gonna break your heart and move on. They always do.”

           Uncertainly, Ellen glanced at Damian, who only stared at the Joker.

           He raised the crowbar, and hit the Joker across the face with it. Again, the Joker laughed. “What do you mean that fake stuff?” asked Damian. “So you know someone’s dealing.”

           “Everyone’s always dealing,” Joker answered, with a shrug. “You know, dealing, coping, the human condition.”            “How do you know about the drugs?”

           The Joker lunged suddenly, throwing himself at Damian, grabbing hold of the crowbar tightly. Ellen instinctively moved to help, but Damian dodged, gripping the crowbar tightly and wrenching him away so that the Joker lost his balance and fell, half laying on the ground, still clutching the crowbar. He laughed and laughed.

           “The drugs?” he screeched, ecstatic. “You mean the Xanax? Oh, no, you mean the painkillers? Or are you talking about the meth, because that was what really made her spiral, huh? Just took a little while to get there, step by prescription step, and then all of the sudden bam!” His laughter turned higher, more frantic. He held up one hand in the gesture of a gun and pointed it right at Ellen’s face. “Right in the kisser!”

           Horrified, Ellen stared at him, frozen. It took Damian a moment to realize what was going on, and then he kicked the Joker square in the chest, sending him reeling back to the floor. “I miss Divya!” he called, as Damian, turned around returned to the door, taking Ellen’s wrist in his hand as he did so. “She was so much fun! Good stories! She missed you bad you know, she missed her beautiful son, her beautiful little-”

           A name came out of Joker’s mouth that Damian didn’t know, but he could guess what it was. “Come on,” he murmured to Ellen, who said nothing, her face obscured and made unreadable by her mask. As the Joker laughed and laughed and laughed, Damian led Ellen out of the Joker’s cell, ensured the door was closed tight, and they retreated out of Arkham. After a while Ellen pulled her hand away from Damian’s. He said nothing until they were outside.

           In the darkness, he turned to her heavily.

           “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have brought you in there.”

           “No,” said Ellen, shaking her head. “It’s fine. I had to meet him eventually.”

           “I don’t know how he knew that about you.”

           “It’s fine,” repeated Ellen, with a little more urgency. She tried to smile at him from underneath the mask, but obviously he couldn’t see it.

           Damian watched her cautiously for a moment longer, then suddenly jerked his head around, obviously hearing something at his commlink. Then his gaze lengthened past Ellen, behind her, and under his breath he muttered, “For fuck’s sake-”

           Despite the fact that Batman, from behind Ellen, should not have been able to hear this, he growled, “Language, Robin,” and Damian resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

           Ellen turned around uncertainly; she had only very infrequently been in the presence of both Batman and Robin, and didn’t really have the hang of their dynamic yet.

           Batman stood impassively before them both, watching them. “Are you here to talk to the Joker?” he asked, as if reserving judgment.

           “We already did,” Damian told him. “He didn’t have anything useful to say.”

           Thinking this was underselling the encounter a little, Ellen added, “He seemed to know a version of his Venom was being used on the streets,” Damian gave her an urgent look, like betrayal, so she continued, “but Robin’s right. He didn’t sound like he was involved in or even really approved of its production.”

           Batman gestured at the crowbar in Damian’s hand. “What’s that?”

           “A crowbar,” answered Damian.

           Batman only watched him.

           Damian held it up. “A man known as the Dealer tried to auction off an item just like this a few years ago,” he said, almost defiantly. “Nightwing brought it home, but he never entered it into evidence. He just got rid of it.”

           “Why?” asked Batman.

           “So you wouldn’t find out,” said Damian, “for obvious reasons.”

           Ellen wasn’t sure what that obvious reason was, but she just glanced in between Robin and Batman, sensing the tension there.

           Stubbornly, Damian continued, “The Joker was a red herring last time and I believe it’s the same thing this time around. We should be focusing our efforts elsewhere.”

           “Hn.” Batman headed past them, towards Arkham. “I’ll talk to the Joker.”

           As Batman passed, Robin reached out and physically took hold of his arm. “No,” he said. “You won’t.”

           Batman twisted around to look back at Damian, and there was a moment of deadly, pin-drop silence.

           “It’s my case,” insisted Damian.

           Batman glanced up at Ellen. “It’s her case.”

           Beneath her mask, Ellen’s eyebrows shot up. Reluctantly, Damian let go of Batman and turned to her. “Fine,” he said. “Ember. What do you think? Do you want a second opinion on the Joker, or do you think we should be able to proceed on our own from here?”

           There was no expression on Batman’s face, but then again Ellen didn’t think there was ever really any discernible expression on Batman’s face. Once more she glanced in between Batman and Robin, before finally admitting, “I…think we should be OK.” To Batman, she said, “I’ve studied your case files and I don’t really think this fits the Joker’s M.O. Right now selling drugs to rich kids sounds a lot more like this Dealer character, or maybe, um, what’s his face, that guy who poisoned the diaxamene.”

           Damian winced slightly when she said this and she suddenly feared she’d said too much; maybe there was something he’d been trying to keep from Batman. Though she didn’t really think that was all that smart – Robin’s pride be damned, this was about solving the case, not who got the glory of figuring it out.

           Batman watched her for a moment, then nodded. “I expect a mission report,” he said.

           “Of course,” responded Damian sourly.

           Without looking around, Batman added, “I meant from Ember.”

           Damian looked almost ready to blow a gasket, but he kept his mouth shut and nodded. Batman lingered for a moment longer, then swept away.

           There was an awkward sort of pause. Damian turned and headed back to where the motorcycle was stowed in the woods. “C’mon,” he said.

           She followed him, secretly a little pleased at this indication of Batman’s trust but also not wanting to push Damian at all. It was a weird place to be, staying quiet for fear of hurting Robin’s feelings – but then again, he was only a kid, at least a couple years younger than her. There was no need to be cruel.

           A minute or so after he revved the bike and they started heading back towards the city, he asked, “Are you hungry?”            His words came through clearly on her commlink, and yet she was still certain she had misheard. “Um. Sure?”

           “I know a place,” he continued, taking a sharp left. “Up by Amusement Mile.”

           Amusement Mile meant carnival food of some sort probably, which was fine by Ellen. Late at night as it was, the boardwalk was still all lit up neon, but Damian avoided that, heading instead for the less touristy area. There was a little shop – not much more than a booth – where he ordered falafel. Ellen got a kabob. The woman working there spoke warmly with Damian in a language Ellen didn’t know, but eventually she picked up that the woman was refusing to accept payment when Damian tried to pass it over the counter to her. He just grinned and stuffed a twenty dollar bill into the tip jar, and the woman laughed.

           They sat together on the rail of the pier, which was already closed for the night. She lifted her mask to eat, then took it off completely, leaving only a domino mask around her eyes.

           “Hey,” she said, nudging him a little. “Are you OK?”

           He looked around at her, confused. “What? Why?”

           “Your dad was kind of harsh on you. He didn’t really need to be, I know you have more experience at this than I do.”            For a moment he said nothing, just watching her. Then he looked back down at his falafel wrap. “You shouldn’t refer to him as my father when we’re in the field,” he said. “Things like that are supposed to stay in a civilian context only.”

           “Mmm, be careful about that. Everybody knows Robin is either Batman’s son or something a whole lot less wholesome, so I really think you should take what you can get.”

           She smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back, only looked at his wrap unhappily.

           When he didn’t reply, she too looked down at her food, picking at it. She hadn’t been that hungry, but would’ve felt stupid turning down free food.

           Softly, she asked, “How do you think he knew all that about me?”

           Damian glanced at her. “Who?” he asked. “The Joker?” She nodded, and he considered this for a moment. “He knows everything about everyone. Don’t take it personally. He knows how to get under everyone’s skin, we’ve all been there.”

           “He knew my…” she trailed off. “He knew my mother’s name.”            He gave a shrug. “She was in Arkham, right?”

           “Yeah, but – not in the Wayne Ward. Not with him.”

           “No?” asked Damian, with mild interest. “What was she in for, then?”

           Glowering, Ellen muttered, “As if Batman doesn’t have a file with all the sordid details.”

           “He doesn’t,” answered Damian. “Or at least not one I have access to.”

           For a while, so long that Damian didn’t think she was going to answer, Ellen said nothing. Then, her eyes fixed out across the black water of the ocean, waves lit by moonlight, she said, “She…was transferred. For the Wayne Enterprises drug rehabilitation program.”

           “Ah,” said Damian, nodding. “Yes. I understand that whole project was – a massive PR disaster.”

           “You could call it that,” Ellen agreed. “It’s what happens when rich people throw money at problems and expect results. At any cost.”

           “We didn’t know it was going to go as badly as it did.”

           “I know.”

           “Arkham’s always been a mess. We really did want to reform it into something good. Something productive.”

           “I mean, it was productive,” said Ellen, her voice sharp. “Lobotomizing addicts did help them kick the habit, it just also had the unfortunate side effect of, well, I mean, lobotomizing them.”

           There was a short silence. Damian asked, “Is she alright?”

           “Kind of,” answered Ellen shortly. “She’ll be in assisted living for the rest of her life.”

           “I’m sorry.”

           “It’s fine. Probably not even your fault. She OD’d a couple times before, so she wasn’t in great shape to begin with.”

           “This can’t be an easy case for you.”

           “Why?” she asked, looking at him. “Because it has to do with drugs?”            He returned her gaze, then gave a little shrug.

           “If I couldn’t handle an overdose now and then, Batman wouldn’t have given me the mask.”

           “Why did he?”

           Ellen leaned forward slightly, setting aside her food and holding the blank scarlet mask in her hands. She shook her head. “When you figure that out,” she said wryly, glancing at him, “let me know?”

           When they finished their food and headed back to Damian’s motorcycle, Ellen nudged him again. “Hey,” she said. “Thanks for not asking.”

           He didn’t know what she meant. “Not asking what?”

           She gestured across her face, at the diagonal scar there. “If this was what she was in for.”

           Damian had of course assumed this, but he had been pointedly trying to ignore the scar at all costs since he met Ellen, so he’d avoided saying it outright. For some reason the scar across her face reminded him of his own hidden scar down the length of his back. How he got that was a sensitive story, and he didn’t imagine Ellen’s was any less sensitive.

           He took her back into the city, and they parted ways for patrol.

---

NAME: Ellen Nayar ALIAS: Ember DATE OF BIRTH: 26 August 1993 BLOOD TYPE: A+  (Relevant Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Kiran Kaur Nayar, Grandmother AFFILIATIONS:  Green Arrow II (Former), Team Ember EVAL: Mastery of basic defensive techniques at a young age provides a solid foundation for future training. Has a tendency to fall back on defense when cornered, relying on tools to compensate. Capable of much more but struggling to balance training as well as other civilian commitments; requires more investment both in and out of uniform. Significant pain tolerance. Easily identifiable due to the scar and also hair/body type, any uniform designs must compensate.

Strong field skills, hand-to-hand improving and introduction of nonlethal weapons going well. An apparent preference for the staff though she lacks martial arts training in that area. Sharp mind and eye for puzzles. Potential for leadership role assuming increased confidence in her abilities. Imperative to firm up her loyalties or risk alienation. Family history of addiction.

NOTES: |Robin| Hand to hand is fine but she needs to work on weapons and tech. Uniform needs an upgrade, face mask restricts breathing |Red Hood| She smokes

---

           “I have good news,” said Oracle, on the screen, “and bad news.”

           “Good news first,” said Nell, at the same time Damian said, “What’s the bad news?”

           They looked at each other, and then Damian gestured for Nell to continue. She beamed at him and asked, “Good news?”

           “We got a lead on our guy,” said Oracle, a big globular green head taking up the screen in lieu of her real face. “The one who reverse-engineered the diaxamene.”

           Ellen sat up a little straighter, alert. “I thought he was in some mental facility somewhere.”

           “Yeah,” continued Oracle. “That’s the bad news. I, uh – had a friend in Chicago drop by to see him.”

           “Oh?” interrupted Damian, with a tone that sounded unlike him. It was half intrigued, half snide. “Interesting. What kind of friend?”

           “Just a friend,” she said snippily.

           Damian just made a face, but didn’t protest. Ellen glanced at him, wondering what that was about. “What’d he have to say?”

           “That’s just it,” Oracle told them. “It wasn’t our guy, just some decoy checked in under his name.”

           “A decoy?” asked Niloufar, a frown on her face. “For how long?”

           “Presumably since he checked in,” said Oracle darkly. “Which means James has been out this entire time, no doubt plotting his next step for years.”

           At the name, Damian lifted his head slightly, as if surprised she would use it. He leaned against the wall of the Bunker, a little away from the others, his arms crossed over his chest. “James?” asked Colin. “Is that his name?”

           “Yeah,” sighed Oracle. “OK, confession time, you guys.”            The green icon which represented Oracle disappeared from the screen, replaced with blackness and then suddenly a crystal clear image, as if a window to another room. An older woman with ginger hair and glasses on sat before them, computer glare lighting her up.

           She waved at them. “Some of you have met me,” she said, “but I guess it’s time to make this official. My name’s Barbara, but I’m still O in the field, OK?”

           Nell and Niloufar looked a little starstruck; even Colin seemed impressed. “OK,” said Jordan, glancing with what may have been a tinge of jealousy over at Niloufar. “What does that have to do with our case?”

           With a look that was tight and worried, almost apologetic, Babs continued, “The guy we’re looking for – his name is James Gordon, Jr. His dad is Commissioner Jim Gordon of the GCPD.”

           Everyone’s eyebrows raised in surprise, except for Damian. He watched as Jordan asked, “Gordon? The cop?”

           “Commissioner,” Damian corrected, echoing Babs.

           “Didn’t he retire?” asked Ellen, glancing around at Damian, who shook his head.

           “He was on leave a few years ago, that’s all.”

           “Yeah,” continued Barbara, nodding. “He took some time off after what happened with James the first time. I mean,” she paused, adding, “first is relative, but – anyway. Here’s where it gets personal. Jim Gordon is my dad.”

           In a little bit of awe, Nell asked, “So this guy is your brother?”

           Making a face, Babs said, “Kind of.”

           “Kind of?” echoed Jordan derisively. “How can it be kind of-?”

           Abruptly, Damian noticed Niloufar; she kept glancing in between him and the screen suspiciously, as if she was just putting something together. “What?” he barked at her.

           Again, her gaze flickered in between him and Barbara. “You’re Robin,” she said, then pointed at the screen, “she’s Oracle. Aren’t you two…?” she trailed off. “Does that mean Commission Gordon is your…dad…too?”

           Damian just stared at her for a moment, arms still crossed over his chest. Then he pointed at the screen, and asked doubtfully, “Do I look like I’m related to her?”

           “You could have different moms,” offered Nell helpfully.

           Rolling her eyes, Jordan said, “Come on, Nilou, everybody knows Robin’s dad is-”

           Both Damian and Babs said, “Jabberwock,” and even Ellen added a scolding, “Jordan.”

           At these reprimands, she threw her hands up in surrender. “Nevermind.”

           “OK, so,” said Nell, turning back to the computer screen. “If we’re pretty sure it’s this James guy, then we at least know where to start, right? When was the last time time he was in Gotham, and did he have any favorite haunts? We can start there.”

           A little taken aback by Nell’s sudden professionalism, Damian snapped his gaze away from her and back to Babs. “Spoiler is right,” he said. “We’ll dig into all the leads we have on James Gordon Jr.”

           “This is the guy who poisoned the baby formula, right?” asked Ellen doubtfully, glancing around at the group of them. Returning her gaze to Babs on the screen, she added, “Of course you know more about him than I do, Oracle, but somehow that kind of crazy complicated scheme just doesn’t seem to fit the M.O. here. Why would he downgrade to selling to rich kids?”

           “Actually,” piped up Niloufar, “we went through a couple overdose cases in the city over the past few months and came up with three positive reports for the same Joker Venom-diaxamene hybrid that was found in Joseph Fremont’s body.”

           “We?” echoed Damian sharply, watching her.

           Instead of shrinking under his gaze, as Damian had expected, Niloufar turned to look directly at him, straightening up slightly. “Me and Jor- Jabberwock.”

           Damian watched her for a moment, then his eyes flickered over to Jordan, who nodded.

           “So it’s not just Brentwood,” said Ellen.

           “But it’s still a valid point,” said Babs, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “James is more psychological than that. I don’t really see him getting off on handing out drugs like some kind of common pusher.”

           “You think he’s working with someone,” said Damian.

           It was Colin who spoke up then, from where he was leaning against one of the specimen analysis tables. “The Dealer,” he said earnestly. They all paused and looked around at him, and he returned their gazes, nodding slightly. “It’s gotta be this Dealer guy,” he continued, “the one who’s been selling to the older kids at Brentwood? That’s his partner.”

           Babs considered this, twisting her lips thoughtfully. “That would make sense,” she admitted. “James can’t exactly hang around the schoolyard, but he could manipulate someone younger into working for him. He manufactures, the Dealer distributes.”

           “Then that makes things a lot easier,” said Nell. “If this Dealer guy’s younger, then he’s more inexperienced, which means he’s more likely to slip up.”

           “Exactly,” said Babs, nodding. “I think the important part now is to split up-”

           Behind everyone, Damian cleared his throat loudly.

           When the others looked around, he seemed a little apologetic. But on the screen, Babs hesitated for a moment before letting out a short sigh. “It’s your team’s case,” she admitted. “This is really important, you guys. Batman’s really taking a leap of faith by trusting you with this one.”

           “They’ve earned it,” said Damian, in protest.

           “Yeah, but.” Babs shrugged, her empty hands turned upwards. “This is Batman we’re talking about. It took him about ten years to even start trusting me.”

           “Well,” said Jordan shortly, shooting a slightly too-friendly grin up at Babs, “all that means is that Batman’s one stupid motherfucker.”            “OK,” said Damian loudly, moving forwardly to the computer. “Thank you, Oracle. Send anything you’ve got our way, we’ll get ahead on this.”

           Before she said anything else, something else seemed to occur to Oracle, and she said, “Oh, one more thing. Which one of you keeps saving your math homework to the encrypted file database?”

           There was a beat of pause as Damian turned to glance around at his team. Nell was staring up at the screen with her mouth in a little ‘o’ shape; Ellen nudged her. “That – might be me,” she squeaked, obviously humiliated. “I’m sorry! Robin said we could use the computers he gave us for homework!”

           Damian tried not to roll his eyes as Babs explained, “You absolutely can, but you don’t need to put it in the encrypted file drive. Just leave it on your desktop or something so it doesn’t get uploaded to our databases.”

           Mortified, Nell nodded. “Sorry,” she said, again.

           “It’s fine,” Babs told her. “Anyway, I’m here if you guys need anything. Keep me updated.”

           “We will,” promised Damian, and then the screen before them went blank. In the white glow of the Bunker, he turned around to face them all. “Jabberwock, Abuse, Spoiler,” he began, with no hesitation, “you three need to fan out, comb the city for James Gordon Jr. He’s got to be hiding somewhere. Take a look at the information Oracle sent, and then head out. This is our top priority for the time being. Ember,” he added, turning to her, “you’re with me.”

           Snidely, Jordan muttered, “Wow, what a surprise.”

           Glancing at her then back at Ember, he explained, “We need to figure out who this Dealer person is. If he’s dealing in Gotham, then it can’t hurt to check in with Red Hood.”

           Already, Ellen was shaking her head. “Hood doesn’t let his people deal to kids,” she told Damian. “If the Dealer’s been selling to Brentwood students-”

           “Based on Seraph’s intel, he’s been dealing on the streets as well. Anyway, I’m not saying Red Hood will know who the Dealer is, just that he may be able to point us in the direction of any suspicious activity lately.”

           Ellen considered this, then nodded. “Is he in town?”

           Damian nodded. Earlier that week the entire family had gathered to celebrate the final night of Hanukkah; Bruce wasn’t particularly religious, but as he grew older he started to take every opportunity he could to gather everyone under one roof. This had been the first Hanukkah celebration at the Manor Jason had attended since before his death. He had spent most of the night messing around with Damian and Cass, more or less refusing to talk to Bruce directly. All things considered, it went well.

           Anyway, Damian knew that Jason was still in Gotham because he’d been in a group chat with him, Cass, and Stephanie since. Steph, offended that she hadn’t been invited, had been alternatively demanding all the details and simultaneously assuring them she wouldn’t even have gone anyway.

           Instructing the others to review Oracle’s information then spread out across the city, he made contact with Jason before riding out into the dark streets with Ellen on his motorcycle behind him. “Hey,” she said, her commlink transmitting her voice clearly into Damian’s ear despite the rushing wind, “what’s your deal with Red Hood?”            He didn’t answer right away. “What do you mean?”

           “He’s, like. One of you guys, right?”

           “Oh,” said Damian, taking a sharp right turn that nearly scraped the side of their legs against the street. He had thought she was speaking emotionally, as if she could detect faint strains of annoyance he thought he’d gotten past. But Ellen knew his identity and that of his father, so he wasn’t shy about admitting relation. “He’s my brother,” he told her, his voice a whisper in her ear. They entered the old block of Midtown, edging into Red Hood territory. “Adopted brother, actually, not that it really matters.”

           Ellen knew vaguely of Damian Wayne’s adopted brother, but she hadn’t realized he and Red Hood were one and the same. “Damn,” she said. “The papers would have a field day if they realized the founder of Neon Knights was a drug lord on the side.”

           This took Damian by surprise; he glanced back at her, confused, and then realization dawned on his face. With a laugh, he slowed the motorcycle, drawing close to their destination. “No, not that brother. Red Hood is older than him.”

           After a beat of hesitation, Ellen asked, “I thought the other guy was Nightwing?”

           “He is,” sighed Damian, pulling the motorcycle to a stop in a tight alleyway. Getting off, he explained, “Not very many people know this, but I actually have four siblings. Three brothers and a sister.”

           “Oh, shit,” said Ellen, impressed. She too got up, slipping off the bike. “And I thought you were an only child.”

           “In fairness,” he said, shooting a grin her way, “I do act like one sometimes.”

           There was a loud thump before them, and a red helmet shone in the darkness as Jason Todd descended from the fire escape above. “Sometimes?” he echoed, teasing. “More like all the damn time.” He jerked his thumb at Damian and to Ellen, he said, “Kid’s insufferable.”

           While Ellen gave Jason an uncertain smile, Damian got straight to business. “You heard about our case?” he asked, his voice low.

           Jay gave a shrug, shaking his head slightly. “Rumors, mostly. I heard some evil assclown is selling Joker Venom pills to kids.”

           Damian nodded. “We’ve pursuing all the leads we’ve got, but we’re trying to pinpoint a distributor. What do you know?”

           “Nothing, really,” admitted Jay. “Nobody on my payroll goes anywhere near kids, definitely not all the way out to the suburbs. Besides, I have kind of a,” he paused, and though Ellen could not see his face behind the helmet, she imagined she could hear him smiling, “thing when it comes to the Joker, so most of my people know not to touch that shit with a ten-foot pole. Sorry,” he said, and he sounded genuinely apologetic. “Wish I could help more.”

           “It’s fine,” murmured Damian thoughtfully, taking this in. “Have you caught anyone selling to kids lately? Maybe this is someone you dismissed?”

           But Jason was already shaking his head. “Nope,” he said. “My reputation is pretty well-known by now, Robin. People don’t usually try and test me.”

           Glancing in between the two heroes, Ellen moved slightly forward. “Is there anyone who left your operation lately, maybe for unrelated reasons? I don’t think a street pusher goes straight to working for a supervillain, if you know what I mean – it’d make sense if our guy had some exposure to you and yours before he ever made it to where he is now.”

           Jason considered this for a moment.

           And then he let out a very small groan. Though the helmet obscured his expression, Damian’s pulse quickened, sensing and impending revelation. “Yeah,” said Jay, nodding ruefully. “Now that you mention it, yeah. There was this one kid – I didn’t exactly, like, kick him out, ‘cause he never really did anything wrong, but he was just…” he paused for a moment, as if searching for the word, “…creepy. Not like, in a big-bad-supervillain anyway, but he was just kind of a creep. A lot of the women who worked around him had…complaints. He never did anything,” he added mildly, “but they just got weird vibes from him. Women’s intuition, huh?” Ellen heard the grin in his voice, and imagined he may even have winked her direction.

           “Anything else?” she asked.

           “Yeah,” answered Jay, his voice turning serious once more. “This guy – his name’s Scott Morrison, he’s maybe your age, Ember. But I caught him following me around on patrol a few times. Not following,” he continued, qualifying himself, “but – showing up in suspicious places. Like he memorized my route, which is weird enough, but then he’d start asking if I ran into any of the Big Bads. He asked me about Joker maybe once before I put my fist through his front teeth.”

           Disappointed, there was a reprimand in his voice when Damian began, “Hood-”

           But Jay just laughed and held up his hands. “Wasn’t that bad, li’l wing, just scared him a little. Anyway, haven’t seen him since then.” Damian nodded, but before he could say anything Jay added, “OH! I almost forgot – there was this one time, super fuckin’ weird, I kind of tuned it out.”

           At this, Damian and Ellen exchanged looks. “What happened?” she asked.

           “OK,” he began, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice. “Now this is super weird, and don’t tell your old man, Robin, ‘cause it’s the kind of thing he’d whoop any of our asses for – but one time, I got, you know,” he mimed gunshots with both hands, “beat up, a little, and I was bleeding all over the place try’na find somewhere to hang out and lick my wounds, and I swear to you this guy – I caught him, like, on his hands and knees on the ground following me with a fucking sponge in his hands.”

           Both Damian and Ellen stared at him. “A sponge?” Ellen echoed, with a hint of disbelief.

           “Yeah,” said Jay, nodding his head. “A fucking sponge. Blood is literally dripping off of my body, and he’s on the ground sponging it up. It was like, the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

           More heatedly than Ellen really thought was necessary, Damian demanded, “And you just let him take it? Why didn’t you tell Batman about this?”

           “Because,” answered Jay, rolling his head in a way that suggested he was also rolling his eyes, “no motherfucker’s dumb enough to try and clone me. You and your dad-” he broke off, glancing at Ellen, then corrected, “-I mean, the Big Man, sure, but me? Nobody gives a shit.”

           “It’s protocol,” said Damian stubbornly, but Jason shook his head.

           “Believe me, this guy wasn’t smart enough for anything like that. He was just fucking creepy.”

           There was a suspicious pause, and then Damian asked, “When did this happen?”

           “Like, maybe a month ago? But he quit working for me before that, maybe half a year or so.”

           Ellen glanced at Damian. “That fits,” she murmured. “Our first recorded overdose was almost four months ago. That leaves time for recruiting and initial distribution.”

           “Right,” said Damian, with a nod. The expression on his face was still severe. “Hood, we’ll need all the info you can get us on this Scott Morrison character.”

           “He used to have a place over in Midtown,” Jay said. “I think it was a motel or something, nothing permanent. Riverview, or something?”

           “Riverview,” repeated Ellen, with an urgent look towards Damian. “That was on Oracle’s list.”

           With a nod, Damian touched the commlink at his ear. “Thanks,” he said to Red Hood, and then into his comm he said, “Spoiler, come in.”

           Returning to Damian’s bike, they headed back through the city. By the time they reached Riverview Boarding House, Spoiler was waiting for them in Room 7. “I talked to the owner,” she said, as Ellen and Damian entered the room. “Somebody’s kept up-to-date on payments, but he hasn’t seen anybody come in or out for a couple weeks now.”

           “Probably since we started investigating,” said Ellen, as Damian moved forward to search the room. “He knew we were on to him and wasn’t about to get caught with his pants down.”

           “Robin,” said Nell, watching him search the walls for hidden compartments. He glanced around at her, and she jerked her head towards a door in the wall. “The closet.”

           For a moment he did not move, only stared at her. And then he turned to the rickety wooden door, and he opened it.

           Peering in behind him, Ellen made a face. “Gross,” she said.

           Damian said nothing, taking in the sight before them: a veritable shrine to the Joker, littered with newspaper clippings and amateur art and low-res photos printed from the internet. In the center, there was a small Robin action figure, the kind of thing sold at tourist traps in Gotham. The plastic Robin’s limbs and his head were all removed from his body.

           Gravely, Damian said, “He’s a Joker fan.”

           “That explains why he’s working with JGJ,” offered Nell, from behind them. When both Ellen and Damian glanced back at her, she clarified, “Uh, James-Gordon-Junior. He needed a snappier name.”

           Looking back at Damian, Ellen said thoughtfully, “It does explain the connection. Gordon used the lure of Joker Venom to recruit Morrison as his Dealer.”

           Still staring at the shrine, Damian’s brown skin had gone wan with disgust, and his lips were pressed tightly together. “I don’t understand these people,” he said lowly, then he stood up, getting to his feet. “The Joker is responsible for the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands of people. He’s a criminal. He’s not funny, he’s not interesting, and I don’t understand people who find him compelling.”

           “Yeah,” agreed Nell sympathetically. “I mean, the guy’s basically a terrorist.”

           Ellen caught the brief flicker of emotion across Damian’s face, a momentary tell that betrayed how much Damian disliked that word. Still; Ellen didn’t think Nell was wrong. “This is good, though,” said Ellen, to Damian. “It means we can bait him.”

           Damian paused, then, very slowly, he turned around to look at Ellen.

----

           “No,” said Bruce, shaking his head.

           “It’s an hour, tops,” Damian insisted, leaning against the computer’s control panel in the Cave. “The entire team will be on top of him the whole time. It’ll be fine.”

           “No,” repeated Bruce, shaking his head. “You are not removing the Joker from Arkham custody for any amount of time. He is in solitary confinement for a reason, he’s too dangerous-”

           “A hour,” Damian repeated, practically begging his father. “Tightly contained and surveilled. It’s the easiest way to smoke out the Dealer.”

           “The easiest is not always the wisest,” said Bruce shortly, “and I will not permit you to play games with a dangerous criminal. He always has a plan, and he’s bested you before.”

           “But the entire team-”

           “My answer is final,” Bruce told his son. “Harleen is out on parole, perhaps she may be of some help.”

           As if disgusted by this suggestion, Damian began, “I’m not retraumatizing Doctor Quinzel on the off chance that she completes Scott Morrison’s Joker fantasy. Most Joker-philes like him think she’s a meaningless distraction anyway.”

           “I’m afraid I cannot allow the alternative, Damian. It’s too dangerous.”

           “We’re so close.”

           “Then find another way.” Bruce’s voice was not unkind as he said, “I believe in you, and I believe in your team. But this mission has already exposed you and Ember to that monster enough. It isn’t going to happen again.”

           For a moment, there was silence in the cave except for the constant whirr of machinery and the far-off drip of slowly-forming stalactites. There was a profound tension between father and son, thick enough to slice; Damian was once more angry that his father was blocking the team’s ventures, and yet Bruce would not budge. There was no compromise here.

           On the specimen analysis table, unceremoniously contained in a plastic box, the crowbar remained. Bruce had not been sure what to do it, and so as he ran his tests he had kept it there in full view for all to see. Mercifully, Jason had not ventured into the Cave the last time he was here.

           A part of Damian wanted to tell Bruce about Scott Morrison, known Joker fanboy, on his hands and knees, sponging up blood. He wanted to tell him that he’d dug up records that someone fitting Scott Morrison had made a clandestine visit to the Joker’s cell in Arkham, presumably leaving him with a gift. He wanted his father to know that the crowbar was a complete plant, and if the crust of bloodstains on its curved end matched Jason Todd’s, it wasn’t because this was the weapon that had been used to kill him.

           But Damian was still a sixteen year old, and he was still petty. Perhaps Bruce was being especially strict because of this painful reminder of his own failure at the Joker’s hands, but Damian was just spiteful enough to keep this small knowledge from his father anyway, let him simmer in his own guilt and shame.

           “Fine,” Damian said curtly. “Then any further deaths due to this Dealer character are on your conscience, Father.”

           Later, he updated Ellen on the situation via commlink while on patrol. She sounded somber. “So that’s it, then?” she sighed. “That plan is out.”

           “Hm? Oh, no,” said Damian, leaping from one rooftop to another, his boots absorbing most of the shock of impact. “We’re still going to do it. We just need to keep it a secret from Batman.”

           “What?”

           He fiddled at his commlink. “Ember, can you hear me? I said we need to keep it as secret from Batman.”

           “No, I heard you, I just – that’s impossible.”

           “Not impossible,” he corrected, “merely difficult for the inexperienced. Luckily you have me, and I happen to be extremely adept at keeping secrets from Batman. You have to learn that kind of thing,” he told her, offhandedly, “when you live in a house with him.”

           “Breaking the Joker out of Arkham is a little different than sneaking out to meet your girlfriend, Robin.”

           Without hesitation, Damian said coolly, “That’s not what I meant.” It had been, actually, almost exactly what he meant. “All I’m saying is that I know him well enough to anticipate where he’ll be watching. We do this quickly and effectively, and it’ll be over before he knows it.”

           “That’s…optimistic.”

           “I have been told I have a very glass-half-full demeanor, yes.”

           Ellen laughed, and despite himself Damian caught himself grinning. “If you say so. When’s it going down?”

           Good question. Damian considered this, standing above a stone gargoyle, scanning the cold city streets below him. “The longer we wait, the more drugs the Dealer gets out on the streets.”

           “Fair enough. What’s the plan?”

           “Meet the others at the Bunker. I’ll explain everything there.”

           When all was said and done, it did take a little more time than Damian had anticipated. The first phase was dependent on the speed and inertia of rumor, which was spread both throughout Brentwood via Colin and Niloufar and throughout the rest of drug-dealing Gotham by Jason and a select few on his payroll. The rumor spoke of an anniversary: the birth of the Joker, or the rebirth, rather, when a man was swallowed by acid and spat back out as something else. It was a trap, designed to target the biggest Joker fanboy who frequented those circles, who, of course, naturally knew the apocryphal location of that fateful warehouse.

           All they needed was one night. It had to work perfectly, smooth as silk, precise as clockwork; but Damian had faith in his team. Well. Ember’s team.

           Ellen herself was stationed at the warehouse, staking it out. Colin and Nell were off on the other side of the city, waiting for their cue; Niloufar was spearheading operations out of the Bunker, and Jordan was with Damian, her speed, strength, and flight, a necessary part of his plan.

           Hidden inside the bowels of Arkham Asylum, Jordan hovering slightly above him, Damian watched the seconds tick by on his mask’s lens display. For a minute or so, there was nothing but tense silence.

           And then Damian touched the commlink at his ear. “Abuse, Spoiler,” he said, “you’re good to go. Seraph, how are we on security?”            “All disabled and looped,” came Niloufar’s voice, without hesitation.

           “Perfect,” he replied. “Ember, Jabberwock’s on her way.” He nodded towards Jordan, then took the lead, expertly navigating through the high-ceilinged halls of Arkham, avoiding guards.

           In his cell, the Joker was still singing. “Little Bunny Foo-Foo, hoppin’ through the forest…”

           Disabling the door’s security, Damian gestured for Jordan to take over. “Go.”

           She did so, wrapping her arms roughly underneath the Joker’s shoulders and heaving him up and out, shooting back the way she and Damian came, disappearing into the night. The Joker’s fading laughter echoed in Damian’s ears as he locked and secured the door once more, then slipped away, hoping no one would notice Joker’s sudden silence.

           As Damian headed back out to where his motorbike was stowed, he checked the open channel; the shit had, to put it delicately, apparently hit the fan, and Batman was barking orders at other Gotham heroes following an incident on the other side of the city, which meant he was far away from Arkham and from the docks where their plan was about to go down.

           It took him almost twenty minutes to make it to the warehouse. Leaving his bike some ways away, as he approached the empty, abandoned building he was certain he could hear that faint, familiar laughter. Their trap was lain.

           He found Ellen and Jordan in the rafters, high above the walkways which crisscrossed above vats which were now mostly empty. Jordan had dropped the Joker in one which had a foot or two of (probably?) nontoxic sludge at the bottom, and his laughter was so manic and so loud that its reverberations started to hurt Damian’s ears. He activated the dampeners in his commlink, relying on his teammates’ comms to hear them.

           “Nice work,” he told them both. “Abuse and Spoiler gave us an hour, tops. After that Batman resumes his normal patrol around the city, but we caught him as far away as we could, so it should be at least another hour after that before he realizes there’s anything amiss.”

           Though Ellen’s face was obscured, the sound of her voice betrayed her concern. “So Morrison better show up in the next two hours.”

           “He will,” said Damian, watching the dark and empty walkways below them. “He won’t be able to resist the lure of legend, and there’s no way he’ll stay away once he hears that.”

           “No kidding,” muttered Jordan, following his gaze.

           “That’s still leaving an awful lot to chance,” Ellen added, sounding uncertain. “The timeline seems kind of arbitrary, and I’m still not completely sure why we needed the Joker himself for this anyway? Seems to me we could’ve just used, I don’t know, a recording of his voice or something-”

           “Ember, please,” said Damian shortly, waving away her concerns. “I know what I’m doing.”

           “Yeah, OK,” she replied, maybe a little insulted. “I don’t doubt that, Robin, but I’m pretty sure Batman said that this isn’t your team, it’s mine, and part of me is starting to think the only reason you wanted to go get Joker in the first place was because your dad told you not to-”

           But before Ellen could continue or Damian, suddenly livid, could open his mouth to defend himself, Niloufar’s voice echoed in all of their ears. “Someone’s approaching the warehouse,” she told them, via commlink. “Good luck, you guys.”

           They didn’t reply, because at that moment they heard the big sheet metal door to the warehouse creak open. All at once, the Joker’s laughter suddenly stopped.

           Scott Morrison was not at all what Damian had been expecting. He was somewhere in his twenties, tall, slim, good-looking. His blond hair was gathered into a topknot, and he wore wide-brimmed glasses which appeared to have no magnifying effect on his eyes, and so therefore were probably only worn for the aesthetic appeal. Both he and Ellen shifted uncomfortably at the same time, perhaps coming to the simultaneous conclusion of, Oh no, he’s hot.

           “Hello?” he called into the vast warehouse, which Damian thought was a pretty stupid move. He went to the stairs which led to the walkways above the giant but now-empty vats, climbing them slowly, cautiously, peering around. “Joker? Mister J?” he called, which caused Damian to cringe slightly and Jordan to whisper, “Yikes.”

           Morrison continued, making his way across steel catwalk, his hands on the railing on either side. “I heard you laughing,” he called. “Are you here? Joker?”

           A low, sickly chuckle emanated from one of the vats. Morrison’s eyes went wide behind his fake glasses, and he darted across the walkway, leaning over the railing.

           The Joker leered up at him. His voice was low and frightening, like a purr in the back of his throat. “Who’s asking?”

           “Oh, shit,” said Morrison, in obvious excitement. “Holy fuck, OK, oh my God, Mister Joker, woah. Hold on,” he said.

           Morrison dug into his pocket, and Jordan muttered, “Oh, Christ,” as he took out a phone and literally posed for a selfie.

           “Oh my God, Mister Joker, big fan,” said Morrison, once he’d taken the picture. “Like, holy shit, I can’t believe this is actually happening-”

           Ellen gently nudged Jordan. “Go,” she whispered, but then Damian held out his arm.

           “Wait,” he said.

           In disbelief, Ellen blinked at him. “We have him,” she whispered angrily at him, “he’s right there, if we don’t move now then the Joker could tip him off to this whole operation-”

           But Damian was already shaking his head. “Wait,” he said again.

           This infuriated Ellen. Jordan just gave her an apologetic look and a shrug. Knowing Robin was the most experienced vigilante between the three of them, she forced herself into silence.

           In the vat, up to mid-calf in a thick yellowy-gray sludge, the Joker just stared up at Morrison, unimpressed. “Big fan, huh?” he echoed. “What era?”

           Morrison stared down at him. “Uh, what was that?”

           “What era?” repeated the Joker, sounding as petulant as a child. “Nicholson, Ledger, Leto? Who was your favorite?”

           “Um,” said Morrison uncertainly, “uh, no, sir, I think you misunderstand me, I’m just saying that like, you know, out of Batman’s whole rogues gallery, out of, you know, out of everything in Gotham that makes up the soul of this place – I mean, you’re it, man! Your presence is stamped into the very fabric of Gotham City! You’re everything!”

           There was a silence. The Joker stared up at him. “Not very funny, are you?” he asked, his lip jutting out in a pout.

           “What – I mean, no one’s as funny as the Clown Prince of Crime! But, like, I do have some stand-up material, if you like, want to hear?” He paused anxiously, then began, “OK, so, like, here’s one – why does Batman’s sidekick keep getting younger and younger?”

           Sounding bored, the Joker drawled, “’Cause the older ones keep dying.”

           “No,” said Morrison, “but – that’s funny too. No, it’s ‘cause – ‘cause he’s Robin the cradle. Get it? Like robbing?”

           There was a long, tense silence. And then the Joker let out a chuckle. “Hey, kid,” he called up, “that is pretty funny.”

           Beside her, Ellen could feel Damian tense, his entire body coiled tightly. He was aching to jump into action, she could tell. She didn’t entirely understand why he hadn’t already.

           “Hey, kid!” Joker called once more. “Why don’t you come on down here, and tell me a couple more of those funny jokes you got there?”

           A flash of uncertainty crossed Morrison’s face. “Oh, I – I don’t know-”

           “Aw, come on,” said the Joker, kicking around at the sludge under his feet. “Hey, wanna hear another one? What did Batman say to Robin before they got in the Batmobile?”

           Jordan leaned over and whispered, “I know this one!”

           “Get in the car, Robin,” said Joker, and then he wheezed with laughter, breathless in his own hilarity. A grin spread across Morrison’s face. Once more he dug into his pocket for something, then pulled out a plastic baggie full of pills. He snagged three or four out of the bag, and stuffed them into his mouth, swallowing them down.

           Then he climbed up on the railing, and he jumped down into the vat below.

           He hit the bottom with a sickening crunch, and let out a yelp of pain. “Got him,” muttered Damian, but once more he stopped Jordan from moving. “Wait.”

           The Joker stalked towards Morrison, who misinterpreted this as intent to help him up. “No!” he barked. “No, no, no! This is good! Pain is good, it’s freeing, like chaos of the mind!” He let out a loud, manicured laugh, as if it were something he practiced in the mirror. “See, Joker, man, I get it! I get you, the big joke behind everything, the ultimate gag! Laugh in the face of an indifferent universe! It doesn’t matter anyway, so why not try to burn as many bridges as you can on your way out, right? We all die in the end!”

           “That’s not very funny,” said the Joker.

           “It’s all funny!” insisted Morrison, as the Joker slowly neared him, like a shark stalking his prey. “That’s the point! It isn’t real! It doesn’t matter! That’s what makes the joke so damn funny-”

           The Joker grabbed Morrison’s topknot; his wide grin, usually so gleeful, was downturned into a comical frown. Though the slimy sludge at the bottom of the vat was only about a foot high, he shoved his face into it, sticking a knee on Morrison’s back to keep him down. Morrison started to struggle wildly, his shouts unintelligible as the ugly goo slipped into his mouth and nose.

           “It’s like babies in bathwater,” the Joker said, cocking his head, watching Morrison struggle. “Never understood it! You leave the kiddies alone for two minutes and suddenly they’re floatin’ on their bellies like a bunch of goldfish. How do they drown in that!” He let out a guffawing, belly-deep laugh, which sent a chill down Ellen’s spine. Pushing Morrison’s face deeper into the sludge beneath him, he roared, “It’s not that deep!”

           At that, Ellen disregarded her orders and moved. She leapt onto the steel walkway, sprinted down towards the vat, and jumped in, her feet landing squarely on Joker’s shoulders, knocking him off his feet. As Morrison lifted his face and gasped for breath, the Joker turned around to see her, and his face lit up. He laughed maniacally, gleeful.

           “Look who’s back!” he screeched. “How nice! How soon! Tell me, how’s Mama?”

           Ellen drew her fist back to throw a punch, but in a split second, the Joker had disappeared; she glanced up to see Jordan spiriting him away, presumably back to his cold cell in Arkham. There was a squelching thump behind her, and she turned around to see Robin glaring at her. As Morrison coughed, Damian said, “I had it under control.”

           Pointing towards the pathetic figure on his hands and knees, Ellen said, “Joker was going to kill him.”

           “He was going to scare him,” replied Damian pointedly. “Nothing like a healthy dose of trauma to cure you off your obsession with a criminal like the Joker.”

           Still wracked with coughs, Morrison’s head swiveled towards Damian, sludge dripping down his face. “S’not a – criminal – he’s an – artist-”

           Damian turned around, looking only mildly interested. He kicked at Morrison’s torso with his boot, and the man toppled over. “The eight-year-olds finger-painting at Neon Knight Centers are artists,” he told him. “The Joker’s just a two-bit con man who somehow stumbled into mythologization.”

           Gasping for breath, Morrison refused this. “He’s the – beating heart – of Gotham City! He’s Batman’s binary star! He defines the Batman!”

           Damian grabbed the man’s collar and swung a leg over his head so his feet stood on either side of him. His gloved fist connected solidly with the front of Morrison’s face. “He’s not that interesting,” Damian said shortly.

           “Where would Batman be without the Clown Prince of Crime?”

           Again, Damian punched him. “In better mental health than he is right now, that’s for sure.”

           “Who would he be? He’s the Batman’s greatest match! His greatest foil! The only other man he’ll ever truly understand!”

           His fist connected for a third time with Morrison’s face, and Damian looked over his shoulder to address Ellen. “People use that one a lot,” he said, sounding genuinely perplexed. “It really says something concerning about how people interpret empathy and intimacy in male relationships.”

           Once more Morrison attempted that terrible, overly-practiced laugh, and Damian turned around again to hit him in the face again. It was then that Ellen moved forward, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “As satisfying as this may be,” she told him, sympathetically, “we’re here to get information out of him, remember? We need to know about Gordon.”

           “Gordon?” echoed Morrison; there was incredulity in his voice, even through the blood running out of his mouth. “J-James Gordon?”

           “That’s the one,” said Ellen, turning to him. “Junior, that is. Is he the one who’s been supplying you with the modified diaxamene?”

           “Diaxamene?” he repeated, but Ellen was already digging through his pockets for that plastic baggie full of pills, which she quickly found and removed. “I don’t know what the fuck diaxa-what is, that shit’s diluted Joker Venom!”

           “Yes, we know,” said Damian shortly, clearly still irritated. “You’re the one they call the Dealer, aren’t you?”

           “I – I don’t know, man, James just said to tell people that!”

           “James,” said Ellen, seizing hold of this. “He’s your supplier, isn’t he?”            His whole body trembling, he tried to nod, but it came out looking more like a seizure. Spittle gathered at the corner of his mouth, and his skin was quickly draining its color, turning pale. Quickly Damian pulled open one eyelid, inspecting his pupils. Tightening his grip on Morrison’s collar, Damian asked, “How many pills have you taken tonight?” Morrison started to shake violently, his eyes rolling back into his head, and through his teeth, Damian snarled, “No!” Removing one hand from Morrison’s collar, Damian flipped open a compartment on his utility belt, popped the cap off a tiny syringe, and plunged it into Morrison’s neck.

           “Anti-Venom?” asked Ellen. Damian nodded as Morrison’s shaking subsided, and he grew limp in Damian’s grip. “Robin,” she said, lowering her voice. “You can OD on diaxamene too if you take enough of it. The Anti-Venom may not work.”

           “Maybe not,” grunted Damian, “but it’ll give us more time.” He shook Morrison bodily by the collar, and the man’s head lolled on his neck, his eyes blinking out of sync. “Scott Morrison,” he barked, “we know you’re the Dealer, and we know you’re working with James Gordon, Junior. Listen to me. Tell me where he is, and I’ll do my best to save your sorry life. If you have nothing to give me, then I will leave you here, and you will die alone in a warehouse where no one will find your body for weeks, if not months, and you’ll go to your grave knowing that Joker himself thinks you’re not fucking funny. Now,” he said, his voice calm and collected. “Where is James Gordon Junior?”

           Something was catching in Morrison’s throat, making it impossible to reply; Ellen had a suspicion that it was vomit, his stomach protesting against all the poison he’d swallowed. Incapable or unwilling to form words, he merely lifted his hands, and he pointed out of the windows which lined the walls, just below the ceiling.

           Damian paused, then he twisted around, following the direction of Morrison’s finger. Ellen did as well, but she didn’t understand: all that was visible out of the window was the night sky, stars faded above the lights of the city, and the shooting spire of the tallest building in Gotham City – Wayne Tower.

           Grabbing Morrison’s hair, Ellen hissed, “Is this a game to you?” but Damian had already let him go, shooting his grappling hook out onto the walkway above.

           He touched the commlink at his ear. “Seraph!” he called wildly. “Seraph, come in!”

           Something dropped into Ellen’s stomach as she understood. Following Damian, she sent out a 911 call with Morrison’s location and status, then quickly followed Damian onto his bike. Niloufar had never responded to Damian’s call, and when he tried Jordan, he heard nothing from her either.

           As they raced through Gotham, Ellen asked, “You think Gordon knows about the Bunker?”

           “Maybe,” murmured Damian. “I know he knows about my family, and he knew about Batman back when we were based out of the Bunker. It’s a tease, Ember, don’t you get it? The diaxamene, the Joker Venom, the dead child so close to the Manor? He’s been playing us this whole time.”

           “How?” asked Ellen, confused. “What do you mean?”

           The bike shot into the secret entrance to the Bunker, and Damian was off of it immediately, sprinting into the main computer hub. “Seraph!” he called, looking around wildly, but there was no one there. “Seraph!”

           Before them, the computer screen glowed a blank white. Something blared on both Damian and Ellen’s comms, Batman sending out an emergency signal for something going down at Arkham. “Jabberwock,” said Ellen to Damian, fear tight in her voice. “Something’s gone wrong-”

           For a moment, Damian did nothing. On either side of him, he squeezed his fists tightly, gloves still stained red with Scott Morrison’s blood.

           Then he turned to Ellen and said, “We can’t leave. Gordon’s here.”

           “Where?”

           Damian gestured for her to follow him, then took her through a set of doors she’d never seen open; he peeled his mask off his face, then lowered his eye down to a retina display. It blinked green, and an elevator opened. He held out one hand as if to say to her, After you.

           “Where are we going?” she asked, unmoving.

           He shrugged, then stepped into the elevator first. “The Penthouse,” he said shortly. “It’s where Nightwing and I lived back when he was Batman. If I’m right, it’s where Gordon’s set up camp.”

           In disbelief, she finally boarded the elevator with him. “And how is it possible that none of your fancy security features ever picked up on anything up there?”

           “I don’t know,” said Damian shortly, pressing his mask back onto his face. The elevator moved so rapidly with such sudden force that Ellen almost stumbled. “But it’s stupidly obvious – where’s the one place we would never look? Right under our noses, of course.”

           Ellen glanced up at the ceiling of the elevator. “Or – above our noses, I guess,” she mumbled.

           They emerged in a hallway; Damian jogged to the door and took off his glove, pressing his thumb against a scanner, and then he said aloud, “Voice recognition, Damian Wayne,” and the lock of the door let out a little click.

           Lowly, Ellen asked, “If your security’s so tight, how’d he get through?” but Damian ignored her, pressing his gloved hand against the door and pushing.

           The Penthouse was dark, but a light was on down the hallway, coming from the kitchen. When Ellen and Damian entered, a voice called, “In here!”

           With a wary glance at each other, they followed the source of the voice. Turning the corner into the big modern kitchen, they found James Gordon Jr. sitting at the counter, glasses on his face, a spoon tucked into a pot of yogurt.

           “Hi,” he said, waving at them. “Hey, it’s nice to finally meet you, Damian.” To Ellen he said, “I don’t know who you are,” then continued, “Nice digs, huh? Dick could’ve decorated more probably, but personally I like it.”

           “Where is Seraph?” asked Damian, his voice flat.

           “If you mean the girl downstairs,” James answered, scooping up a spoonful of yogurt, “she left a while ago. Probably to help her friend with the Joker.” Blandly, he looked at Damian. “Really nice of you to break him out and everything for me, Damian. I didn’t even have to lift a finger.”

           “You’re done, Gordon,” Damian told him. “Your operation is shut down.”

           “What operation?” asked James, looking mildly interested.

           “The drugs.”

           “I don’t have any drugs,” said James, innocently.

           Damian stared at him, his expression stony and unreadable.

           “Go ahead, search the place,” James continued. “Not a lot around here except some personal mementos. Sorry for squatting, but, hey, life’s tough when everyone thinks you’re a psychopathic murderer, right, Damian?”

           Color dropped out of Damian’s cheeks, then suddenly rushed back in, flushing his brown skin. Sensing they had to take control of this situation, Ellen stepped up. “We’ve got you, Gordon,” she said simply. “We got the Dealer, too. We know what you’ve been putting out on the streets.”

           “I haven’t been putting anything on the streets,” James said smoothly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

           Feeling a surge of anger, she suddenly sympathized with Damian’s fury. “Scott Morrison-”

           “-OD’d,” said James flatly. “Right?”

           Damian and Ellen exchanged a look. For all they knew, Morrison had died before the paramedics reached him.

           “Scott Morrison was a crazy man with a Joker fetish,” James said, with a shrug. He ate a spoonful of yogurt. “Nothing to do with me.”

           “The diaxamene-”

           For the first time, a hunt of frustration entered his voice. “Any idiot could’ve gotten ahold of that. Haven’t you heard, Miss Nayar? Prescription pills are all the rage nowadays. Oh,” he added, picking up a remote from behind him, pointing it at the television on the wall. “Would you look at that.” A Breaking News broadcast played, informing viewers that a potential catastrophe at Arkham Asylum had narrowly been avoided, and the Joker, who had mysteriously vanished from his cell, was back in custody.

           James smiled at Damian and Ellen.

           “All according to plan,” he said.

           Damian’s eyes were glued to the screen, slightly in shock as the news showed shaky video footage of a slim figure shooting into the sky, holding someone else in their arms. It was obviously Jordan, and it looked like she was carrying Niloufar, who had covered her face with her headscarf against the cameras. Despite himself and the absurdity of the situation, he somehow found himself taken by surprise that they had managed to solve the situation on their own, without his help.

           James Gordon Jr. did not fight back. He did not protest; when the police came, they arrested him, but found no evidence of wrongdoings in the Penthouse except, obviously, trespassing. Later, into his commlink, Oracle informed Damian that they were holding her brother temporarily, but they may not have enough solid evidence to put him away.

           Meanwhile, Ellen got a quick status report from the other members of the team, then checked on Scott Morrison. He was alive, but comatose.

           As the late nighttime hours began to bleed into the impossibly early morning, Damian and Ellen sat on the rooftop of a building, their legs hanging down over the side.

           “I know – technically – we won,” said Ellen, peering down at the city streets below them. “So why does it still feel like we got played?”

           “It usually feels like that,” Damian told her dully, without looking around at her. “Especially with filth like the Joker and Gordon, Junior. It always feels like there’s something we missed.”

           “We didn’t need to take the Joker out of custody.”

           “No,” agreed Damian. “I…suppose I just hate it when people think the Joker is bigger than he is. He’s a lowlife criminal. I wanted Morrison to understand that.”

           “I think that’s the problem,” said Ellen, glancing around at him. “It…strikes me that you really can’t take these things personally in this business.”

           Damian didn’t answer for a moment. Then, slowly, he got to his feet. “I understand that,” he announced, with some finality. “But…I don’t think it’s right to remove your own feelings out of these kinds of situations. I think that’s how you end up like Batman.”

           “And that’s a bad thing?”

           “It’s the worst thing,” he told her, his gaze flickering over to her. “A terrible option. The bad ending.”

           “I don’t know,” she challenged, with a shrug. “He took care of this city for a long time before you came along. Maybe he knows something you don’t.”

           This obviously troubled Damian. He bade her farewell, and then he made his way back to Wayne Manor, arriving in the Cave just as the very first edges of dawn began to break. His father was already there, seated in his throne before the computer, as always. Damian noticed the crowbar was gone from its place on the specimen table.

           He removed his mask on his way up from the garage, passing his father at the computer and heading in the direction of the stairs that led up to the house above. Before he reached them, though, he paused, and he turned around.

           “Father,” he said.

           Bruce moved only slightly, glancing over his shoulder.

           “I’m sorry,” he admitted, like pulling teeth.

           For a moment, nothing happened. And then Bruce turned back to the computer, his fingers clacking away on the keyboard. “What are you apologizing for?” he asked. “You won.”

           “The Joker-”

           “Is back in Arkham.”

           “But I-”

           “Maybe you made mistakes, Robin,” said Bruce, still facing the screen, “but your team was there for you, and they took care of it. I was impressed with Jabberwock and Seraph in particular tonight. Jabberwock should do very well on patrol, though I believe Seraph would benefit from a more permanent headquarters.” On the screen, Bruce flipped through a series of safehouses he’d long kept on reserve. “The Haven, perhaps?”

           Damian gaped at his father. “Headquarters?” he asked. “Patrol? You mean to say – this is it? You really trust them?”

           “I trust you,” said Bruce, “and I trust Ember. That’s got to be enough for now.”

           Still, Damian felt discontent. “Father,” he began, “I still think – if we had just-”

           “Ifs and should haves are poison, Damian,” said Bruce, without looking around. “You won. Red Hood and some of his contents are working on getting Gordon’s drug off the streets, but without a supplier, it should dry up on its own.”

           “And Gordon?”

           “From what I hear of him, he’s no criminal mastermind. He just likes toying with people. If he can, his father will put him away.”

           “His father,” echoed Damian, trying to ignore the obvious parallels suddenly rearing his mind. “I imagine you might be feeling some…empathy, for his situation.”

           “None at all, Damian. None at all.”

           Damian rolled his eyes, then turned to head up into the Manor, taking the stairs two at a time.

----

NAME: Niloufar Ghorbani ALIAS: N/A / Seraph DATE OF BIRTH: 16 October 1996 BLOOD TYPE: O+ (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Nazanin & Mahmoud Ghorbani, Parents (Contact) AFFILIATIONS: Team Ember EVAL: Observe for further development of metahuman abilities

#sog2 #earth 28 #damian wayne #colin wilkes #nell little #ellen nayar #bruce wayne #jason makes a cameo!!!!! #also i hated writing the joker #and this fic officially makes jewish!waynes canon #i'll fix some shit in here before i upload it to ao3 but i just had to power thru it and get it Finished #oh babs is also there

[guyfierisrealwife]

yall mind if i fuckin uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh cw for fuckin abuse ig

im so fucking lonely and i hate living here so much like im seriously at my limit idk what to do anymore like. theres really no safe place to be? like some of my friends have offered to let me stay with them for a little bit and that is extremely kind and generous of them and i love them very much and if either of you are reading this thank you so much ily ily but like i cannt do that to you and i also cant leave my mom alone with her ex as much as id want to leave this place and as much as i appreciate the offer i cant leave her

but at the same time both my mom’s house and my dad’s house are unsafe places for me to be at but i cant leave and i dont even know if ill be able to go back to school in the fall like rn idk what’s going to happen and like if the virus isnt like. less. by then i cant go. like i have severe asthma like it gets set off by anything and if i get it i might go to the hospital or die or whatever and its just not worth going back to school for a semester if i might just fucking die but also i Hate being home and i dont want to fall behind where i want to be with school and i dont want to be a semester behind all of my friends and graduate late like i know thats kind of stupid but i dont want to yknow

but most importantly with that i dont want to lose my fucking job if i have to take the semester off like thatd be devastating to me like my father isnt helping me pay for school and my mom is helping a little but i want her to save her fucking money like id rather be in debt than have her live with chris any longer than she has to so working is really important and i love my job a lot and im like Good at it and i dont want to lose my job

idk im just worried and if my dad screams at me one more time or makes some weird sexual comment or like moans loudly in our shitty small apartment where i can hear everything he does im going to fucking lose it like please im Literally Begging you to shut up like i hate living here i hate it but i dont have a fucking choice and like i know that there are solutions to this but none of them can like. work because i cant leave and move away without my mom being able to do the same

plus my brother screams at me for doing literally anything and he steals money and food from me like sometimes ill have like alcohol in the house bc how the fuck else am i supposed to cope and he just Takes it and he steals money from me even though he doesnt fucking need it like he’s not going to school and if he needs something my dad will get it for him bc mikey is physically the largest and strongest one of us so my dad is just like “here have whatever you want”

and my dad literally doesnt care about anyone but himself i was like “if your friend is in the house can you please have both of you wear a mask” and he lost his fucking mind at me which is like. cool. ok thank you. i mean there’s a pandemic and you and i are in high risk groups and i know the only thing you’d care about if i died would be that i wouldn’t have any more accomplishments you can take the credit for and if you fucking cried when i died id haunt you for the rest of fucking time you disgusting pervert id make your life hell like the fucking hell you made me grow up in but whatever

also we’re fucking poor which honestly does suck like a lot of the time like im not allowed to shower that often bc my like 10 minute showers every other day take ‘too much hot water and make the bill too high’ but if mikey takes an hour long shower every day he doesnt say Shit, and he’ll buy himself a lot of new shit and make fun of me for buying a computer with the money i made by working (at a job he doesn’t think is like a ‘real job’ even though it. is?? like i dont get his logic?? is it bc i work for the school i go to? whatever.) becauyse my computer broke beyond fucking repair and id had it for like 5 years and the new one i got the fucking person at the store was like “you need this one” and it was on sale because parts of it dont work so i was like “yeah ok sure” and my dad is like “um :-) you cant say anythign bc you bought a new computer” and its like yeah and i dont pay the water bill so whatever if you want to complain abt something complain about how you drink a 12 pack of beer a day and scream at your kids about how when we ask for food it’s too expensive because we’re like “can we have milk and sandwich stuff in the house?” and youre like “literally die i hate you i hate you. im such a good dad :) you are so ungrateful :) no one helps with anything in this house :)” even though i literally do?? like so much??? and if im like “im going to wash dishes” since we dont have a dishwash machine he’s like “NO DONT FUCKING DO THAT YOUD USE HOT WATER” and its like please im fucing begging you to have a brain dude like im really begging you to think for once in your goddamn life about literally anything

not to mention hes a huge homophobe and fucking ableist even though he has a gay, mentally ill daughter and a neurodivergent son that he refused for YEARS to admit has some kind of neurodivergency and didnt let live with my mom because he “didnt want to lose his only son” even though hes abusive to him and all 3 of his fucking daughters lmao and he wonders WHY heather and alyssa hate him so much its because he says things like “youre so hot” to his daughters and then screams at them and says shit like “ladies shouldnt fucking swear” and threatens us and screams so much and thinks that an “im sorry...................you know how i am...........i was just upset..............why are you so angry that i screamed at you until you cried and then got even more mad that you were crying............................. i didnt do anything wrong and you should forgive me even though i never will change.” like dude i told you it made me anxious when you came into my room when i was in 6th grade and you laughed in my face!!! you laughed at me!!! when i was clearly nervous and visbily afraid you were LAUGHING at me

AND HE FUCKING LIES SO MUCH!!!! HE LIES TO EXTENDED FAMILY MEMVERS TO MAKE THEM THNK HES A GOOD PERSON AND HE ACTS SO BELITTLING i hate him so much i literally hate him and the times that im so fucking lonely bc i have no one else i live with to talk to i say something to him and hes like “shut the fuck up and go away” and its lik :-) ok. how do you expect any of your kids to talk to you if you tell me to go away as soon as i say anything

and dont look at my goddamn ass and legs and dont look at other women like that either and dont masturbate with the door open just FUCKIN STOP YOURE DISGUSTING I HATE IT HERE

also mister “i NEVER hurt any of you” like yeah ok THATS why you screamed about hitting us and threatened us and literally?? did??? hit us with your fcuking belt? like what lmao do you have fucking memory loss ??? like do you not remember like ik it was a while ago but think back like. i remember clearly you slapping my brother across the face but ok lol

anyway i Do hate it here lol

#tw abuse #cw abuse #sorry abt just going off like this lmao #if any of my friends still wondered why i dont wear more revealing clothes this is why lol #ill probably delete this later but i just needed to get it out

[neverheardnothing]

what the hell will winston (and the rest of the tmc gang) even DO while working at axe cap? because axe cap clearly does NOT want quants since axe scrapped the whole team as soon as he came back.

im kinda assuming that it’s just the main 5 of them going to work at the axe cap offices for now. how does axe respond to this? the deal he made was for taylor to come work at axe cap again for a while. he really only wants taylor there. he couldnt give less of a shit about the others (well, he wants revenge on mafee). so what does he do with sara, lauren, and winston?

does winston get absorbed into their IT department? like that poor dude who got yelled at a lot when the power went out at axe cap? that’s not really his specialty though, so i cant imagine him actually going there. or does no one really notice that he’s there and so he just sits around all day and pretends he’s working, but really he’s just dicking around on reddit or working on his own projects. he just tries to keep his head down and blend into all the faceless employees at axe cap before they realize that he’s not actually doing anything all day. what about the rest of the quant team at tmc? what are they doing? in fact, what are all of the rest of the employees at tmc doing? are they also coming along to work at axe cap and we just didn’t see them there initially, or are they all back at the tmc offices just hanging around and continuing to work there. can axe cap fit all these sudden new employees arriving? how many people work at tmc? i have so many questions. back to assuming only the 5 of them go to axe cap.

or maybe the fact that winston is a quant is like a Known Fact and so all the traders at axe cap are wary of him because hes the Guy Who’s Gonna Take Their Jobs. and on the outside his personality is very brash and there’s a lot of bravado there so i can see some of them (not like dollar bill or bonnie lmao) being scared of him initially. ben kim is probably scared of winston lmao. his freakout to wendy about how he should have listened to his mom and learned how to code is coming back now that there’s an actual person here working at axe cap who is the Future of what his job will be. dollar bill and bonnie probably threaten to break his nose in or something while also very lowkey being scared.

back to everyones jobs...

lauren’s job seems pretty relevant. investor relations is important for hedge funds probably and i assume they can always use more people in that department, especially since i dont think we’ve seen anyone there before from axe cap. and if lauren is as good at it as she seems to be, then they would probably really like to use her. though would they trust her to interact with investors since she is the Enemy tm? i dont think they would want someone that hates them to be the person interacting with their investors, especially since the last time that happened, taylor walked away with billions in money from investors that were supposed to be investing in axe cap. theyre not gonna let that happen again anytime soon. maybe axe thinks the pressure of what he “has” on taylor will be enough to keep lauren in line, but still. axe has no idea what lauren could be saying to his investors. 

sara, however, what the hell is sara doing? her job is chief operating officer. which is the same title as wags, but at axe cap taylor will have no real power like they did before, so sara definitely wont either. i honestly have no IDEA what sara could be doing at axe cap tbh. thats her entire section. ive got nothing. please let me know if you think of something.

mafee has a job! he goes back to what he was doing before, but now he’s like the least popular guy in the room. except to ben kim. he’s fucking over the moon that mafee is back as we saw at the end of s4. number of traders at axe cap with even the slightest trace of morals: 2 again. i assume he and ben hang out a decent amount at work now, especially since i dont think anyone else would want to be around mafee because of the whole traitor thing. (ps how the fuck is the interaction between mafee and wendy after that whole “youre a garbage person” thing?)

ben doesnt seem to be the kind to care about his “social standing” within the company falling because he’s hanging out with mafee. i mean he gives a friendly hi to the two least popular people in the room at the moment of Highest Tension. he does NOT give a fuck. i assume winston probably also hangs out a decent amount around mafee because that’s the only other tmc person who is In The Office on the ground floor (since lauren’s job is kinda.. talking to people Outside of the office and taylor is off upstairs making those Brilliant Taylor Ideas with their big brain and being forced to hang with axe. maybe sara is also around there i guess, but she doesnt seem to be the kind to just.. hang about). but anyways this is a prime opportunity for winston and ben kim to interact, im just saying @ brian koppelman and david levien. ben is probably a lil bit scared of winston in the beginning since u know. thats his job taker right there, but he warms up to winston eventually. this isnt a benston post, ill move on now. 

(just kidding. im not done. i know the popular benston thing is that theyve secretly been dating all this time but imagine them meeting for the first time at axe cap in s5. ben and mafee are eating lunch together (acai bowls prob lmao) or something and winston just drops in, kicks his feet up on the table (mafee rolls his eyes) and casually says hi. ben on the inside is all like Ah Shit That’s The Quant Dude because he’s totally been avoiding winston up till now, but the dude is sitting across the table from him he can’t just not acknowledge him. or possibly ben has the opposite reaction. he’s grown a bit of a backbone since the last time quants were brought up. makes a show of not being scared of winston but also not being an ass to him, which makes winston respect him since everyone else here has been pretty hostile to him so far. i think winston probably has a good impression of ben because he was nice to taylor and mafee at the end of s4 and the fact that he and mafee are hanging around, so he must not be That Bad. and winston doesn’t seem to be very into the axe vs taylor rivalry (re the whole comp rant) so he probably won’t hate someone just because they work for axe cap. anyways this is the beginning of their long and healthy relationship. benston endgame yall.)

does wags remember winston? he must. that was quite an Impression he made during his interview. what are his interactions with wags like, if any? is winston all snarky like “ha, you passed on hiring me but im here anyways, fuck you” or is he wary around wags because he’s still thinking about how he got Destroyed in that interview. i dont think the walk of shame out of the building must have been something he forgot quickly. i think wags would be quick to call out winston if he weren’t doing anything while at axe cap. the interaction would probably go something like this: “ur not doing any goddamn work.” “yeah i know, u guys dont want quants, what am i gonna do?” “well, figure something out” (implied or else there). winston quickly figures something out. probably automates some stuff for them or something.

also, do people in general remember him as the guy who was REAL happy after the boxing match? i mean he kinda made a big scene. he was cheering and yelling and screaming “i won!! i motherfucking won!!” after everyone else was sitting around dejectedly because their team lost and they lost money. you have to remember that Weird Guy having a blast after everyone in the room is upset. do they seem him walk in at axe cap and go “ah, that fuckin weirdo.”

god, examining any aspect of billions for more than 3 seconds makes you realize how much of a disaster everything is. id definitely watch a show that’s just the office dynamics at axe cap now that the tmc gang is there. lord knows itd be more interesting than what’s been happening in the show up until now.

#billions #winston billions #ben kim #dudley mafee #taylor mason #sara hammon #lauren turner #wags #dollar bill stearn #bonnie barella #bobby axelrod #wendy rhoades #think thats all the characters i mentioned in this #teresa talks #OH YEAH AND #benston #also this post is so unstructured im sorry #because it became a lot longer than i htought it would be initially #my posts

[survivemiddleearth]

Episode #11- “She lost her Bellatrix tricks” -Eric

Lmaoooo can we have ONE FUCKING NORMAL TRIBAL IN THIS GODDAMN GAME.

After every tribal I have to have a stress poop. I can't wait for this game to be over so that my bowels can calm down. Eric just exposed in the tribe chat that he heard Dylan was playing an idol, and I'm the only one who was supposed to know, so now I'm fucct. Which is great.

Okay Jay. You are the best player in this game. but after 500 tribals we finally got behind you. WATCH OUT. :D

this is going to be my longest confessional ever. lets get this started. jay and I have been working together for. the entire game?? like literally every vote. and maybe we lost some trust in each other after the drew vote but she was still my number 1 and to see that during this vote she seriously tried to target me and tried so hard to get me evicted is actually. really awakening. but don't think my survivor experience is over !! and don't think i hate jay !! its just now i need to completely reevaluate everything that I've done so far in this game. I have to watch my language very carefully around jay. she already knows about my vote blocker so im not sure what to do there ?? should i continue to keep it a secret or just spill the freaking beans. shes pretty much told everyone everything else about me so i wouldn't be surprised if everyone knew about my blocker. at least i didn't tell her i won immunity that one time !! i can have at least one secret lmao. for the next vote i have no idea what to do. theres a huge move to target jay next round which is valid, but i don't want to think with my emotions. i have a sneaky suspicion that roxy, sammy and eric have a final three. this is the last round before final 6, so i really want one of them gone. I could maybe convince dennis to switch to sammy ? maybe jay or crow ??? all i know is that i've lost all trust in jay and she was like. my only ally. this is why i suck at survivor yall !! don't put all your eggs in one basket !! honestly for my first ever betrayal i was expecting more. wheres the despair ???? my closest ally literally just tried to send me home. why am i not more upset. im honestly just living for the drama and also living for my revival arc that's coming. watch out viewing lounge you aint seen the last of me !! if jay wins this i'll be so proud of her omg she is in a pickle right now.

So apparently Roxy dennis and I made a side alliance with Dylan (with us 3 still the main alliance) to get out Jay who's kinda a puppet master but not rly anymore. She lost her Bellatrix tricks.

I'm really pissed that Crow won because I worked my ass off in that challenge and typing is MY thing! Crow is mad that I didn't vote Ford?? Like I'm on the bottom and always get votes if I hear the person originally getting unan is getting an idol played on my ass is switching especially when this happens at like 9:58 so stay mad? Sry you don't know what its like to get votes but maybe next round you can feel what that's like.

ok so like dennis is putting a lot of trust in eric for me which is great. totally trust the guy who i havent voted with this whole game to keep the secret that im ""betraying"" jay. love that. honestly the way this is abt to play out i cannot even imagine this being a blindside against jay. she's either gonna convice eric to vote out me [which would be easy for her] or just play an idol and send me home. i can't even imagine me not going home. i cant even imagine not having everyone hate me. 

it’s literally so onvious Eric Dennis and roxy are working together...but i think Dennis is the leader so we are gonna try to split them up this round. I feel as if he’s a threat to win imo. I asked roxy who she’d vote out and she said “anyone but Dennis” so that let me know they were together and then Dennis played an idol on Eric so like they are working together.

Alright. Everyone listen up. I will do it risky tonight. I won't play my Idol, unless Jay plays the legacy advantage. If I go out, I go out, so be it. But preferably i stay without playing it. The trust is in you Dylan. Even though Eric has been weirdly quiet tonight. I truly hope that he doesn't backstab me. Well we'll see after TC. Also if I have to play that Idol. Can't wait for everyone to hate me even more for not telling them about that idol. If this is my last confessional. Here are a few words. If Jay doesn't get POTS, either i read the whole game wrong or you misjudged. <3 Roxy this was alot of fun playing with you. Eric same goes for you. Dylan you are awesome and it was hella nice getting to know you. The decision of keeping you over Johnny will prolly either pay off tonight or will show itself as a big mistake. WHO KNOWS! Johnny. Sorry I did you so dirty for no reason... (well I had a reason, but it was a longshot..) Crow and Sammy, sorry that I couldn't trust you 100%. I know you are prolly hurt by that in some way. But for me this was only gamerelated mainly because I had stronger connections with roxy and eric. Sorry guys <3 I also have to keep in mind, that in theory there should be another Idol besides mine out there. If Jay has that one. Oh my god..

#outwitoutplayoutrunthewitchking