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superdillin · 9 months

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Gender! At the Strip Club

How Sex Work Transed my Gender

(but also it's far more complicated than that I just love a punchy headline)

It’s tricky to have a conversation about the realities of sex work in a world that sees things too profoundly in a binary. Admonishing certain realities of it may be misinterpreted as siding with TERF ideology but romanticizing it ignores the complicated intersection of labor exploitation and bodily autonomy inherent to the industry. Because I want to talk about an ultimately positive experience I took away from my time within the industry, I feel that it’s important to start by saying that when people say sex work is work, we mean that it is labor, and needs the support that all laborers need. The workers need organizing power, ownership of the fruits of their labor, and protection from their clients and employers.

Recognizing the impacts of sex work on my life has been a delayed reaction because ultimately, it was a traumatic time of survival. I spent nearly a decade in Fight or Flight, with no time to analyze what I was experiencing while it was happening. I’m not even blaming the industry for that, because as problematic as it can be, poverty was the true villain, as insecure living situations, unstable work, and working multiple full-time jobs will keep your nervous system in overdrive 24/7.

So years later, every so often, I find myself with a new lightbulb appearing cartoonishly over my head, drawing another connection from who I am and how I interact with the world today, and how said behavior ultimately originated in a place called Nite Moves, of all things. Some of those behaviors have resolved with time. How I interacted with all cis-men during those years and for a time afterward was undeniably disordered. I inherently distrusted every single one, yet felt like I needed them around at all times for a feeling of safety and security. I kept dangerous men in my life for no good reason. But that went away with time and therapy. Now I distrust cis-men an appropriate amount. (ba dum-tss)

Other things did not resolve with time. My ire for how club owners (often in tandem with security staff) exploit workers and prioritize clients and profits over the safety of dancers? That ire was justified, and all that’s changed now is that I know more about labor organizing, leftist politics and have more context in my belief system to explain why the system is wrong. The other thing that did not resolve is how it made me view myself on the gender spectrum.

All sex work involves a bit of gender performance, but stripping as a whole is the most hard-line, binary-adjacent area of the industry I’ve dabbled in. Because everyone in the strip club is performing. The dancers are obvious, but if all a client wanted a hot woman to ogle, pornography is cheaper and easier to access. Cam girls can offer you a completely tailored and personalized experience. And no one is more discrete than a full-service worker. Part of why men go to strip clubs is to be perceived in a strip club by other men. It’s a whole gender ritual, even. Half of the men who get taken to these clubs on their birthday or bachelor party have told me in the privacy behind the curtain that they wished they had gone to play pool, camping, or whatever their friend group’s shared interest is. But outside the champagne room, they’re pinching asses,ordering bottle service and getting high-fives for how good they can play this role.

So, on the converse side of this gender performance, strip clubs tend to encourage the most rigid portrayal of a culturally-accepted femininity, often to the point of a very bad homogenization. On that topic, the lack of racial and body diversity in strip clubs is something people with a better perspective have talked about before, including the Portland Strippers who recently unionized, and the Black Feminisms blog, check those out for more on that perspective.

So getting ready to work at the average club is not a matter of dressing down and dolling up. You’re trying to fit a very rigid expression of femininity that, if I were a gambling man, would likely not line up with most of the dancers own personal definition of femininity. And the more “high-end” the club, the stricter and more rigid those rules. I’ve seen clubs have restrictions to what the owner thought were the “most feminine” nail polish colors. Hair length mandates. One manager inspected my midsection to make sure it “passed”; if it hadn’t I would be restricted to wearing corset-tops on the floor.

But for me, it unlocked something personal that I did not expect. I’ve never felt particularly attached to femininity, even when I identified as a woman. Then, I began to appreciate the ritual of putting femininity on as a costume. Once I did, I instantly had an easier time enjoying it. In my subconscious it was clear that this was not me. It was a role, a gimmick I was playing at, and thereby I felt so comfortable indulging in it. The best part, though, was the other ritual at the end of each shift. Taking off the costume, and tucking it away. The blissful comfort I would feel in my own body for the several hours after a shift - no matter what happened that night, no matter how dreadful or dry - I would be reenergized. I literally got to put femininity on like a costume and then take it off again.

I also found that it shed a light on something interesting about my relationship to girlhood, not just femininity. There are things about girlhood that have always resonated with me in a homey way, sleepover delirium and bar bathroom camaraderie, but those resonances don’t make me feel like any more of a woman. In the strip club, girlhood feels like having an army of girls meet you in the dressing room without you having to ask because they saw how ‘that guy’ was acting, throwing a separate funeral for your friend because none of you would be allowed in at the real one, boycotting a patron who hurt one of you because security refuses to boot him.

I am not a woman. I am trauma-bonded to girlhood from my time spent in the trenches with it.

I am not a woman. I am whatever is left is left when society’s vision of femininity is shed and packed away.

I am not a woman. But I play a pretty good one when I need to.

#gender #lgbt #trans

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bowieography · 2 months

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Tonight Show, 1993

Nite Flights

#david bowie #gif

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cemeteryspider · 28 days

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Dearie~ Pt. 4

Alastor x Singer! Reader

Summary: A pot left to boil may simmer over at some point, and Vox is about to learn that lesson.

Trigger Warnings: Physical Violence (Against Reader), Abuse, Coercion, Kidnapping, Restraint, and Manipulation

Word Count: 1395

Previous | Next

"Satan! Why are you so difficult! I do e̵̙̕ṽ̶̘͝ė̸͉̼̍ṟ̷͋y̴̥͑t̷̥̝̿̄h̵̛̳ǐ̵͍͈̉n̶̢̋g̴͙͈̐͛ for you and t̵̝̔h̵̘̉ḯ̸͈s̴̫̓ is how you repay me, you b̷̟͝i̶͓͝ṫ̷͉c̸͎̐h̵̼̅" Every buffered word reverberated through the room, each syllable a heavy step that brought Vox closer. He loomed over you, a shadow casting its weight upon your curled-up form in the dimly lit corner. The air crackled with tension as the pungent scent of demon rage filled the confined space.

"If you would just listen," Vox's voice resonated, carrying a mix of frustration and desperation. His plea hung in the air, a haunting echo of a desire for understanding. “I wouldn’t have to do this”

His foot stomped against your temple, and your whole world went dark before you could even make a sound.

~~~

In the end Alastor ended up back at the hotel, right back where he started. His Darling, still trapped, and possibly worse off then she was before, with no way out.

As Alastor pondered the plan he toyed with, a heavy sigh escaped him. The weight of the decision settled in his chest. He hesitated, knowing the gravity of the steps he was about to take. Yet, for the sake of his dear, he knew he had no other choice.

~~~

Alastor asked his old friend Zestial to call a meeting. There stood all of the relevant overlords of the Pride Ring, minus the Vees. Luckily all of them just so happened to be friendly with him, and or loved his Darling. She was a charmer and that did not end with run of the mill demons on the street.

"Why have you called us here, Alastor" Carmilla was straight to the point, and obviously had better things to be doing.

"During my seven-year hiatus," Alastor began, his tone measured, "my Dearie struck a deal with Vox. She's in trouble, and I require your assistance to bring her back." The room fell silent as the overlords absorbed the weight of his words, their expressions shifting from curiosity to concern.

The Overlords scooted in closer and unanimously agreed that they would help, not just for Alastor’s sake but for the sake of their friend.

Alastor supposed it was time to get down to business.

~~~

When you woke up you felt real restraints tying you to a chair. A pair of handcuffs linked each arm to their armrest, and your legs were duct taped together.

"Finally you're up!" Vox jumped from the box he was sitting on, looking up from scrolling on his phone, "Good, I thought I lost you there"

You tried to pull yourself free from the shackles but as you had assumed they were not budging.

You slumped back in your seat. You were well aware that seeing Alastor was a bad idea, and it wasn't going to end well. However, just in case you didn't make it you wanted to see him one last time, and hold him again even if for a moment.

"Now, I assume you're going to be a good girl and do as I say. You are going to hair and makeup to get all dolled up for a special performance on Vox-2-Nite, and you're going to perform the song I wrote for you exactly as written. You are going to show the world how grateful you are for us and then you're going to do it all over again tomorrow. Okay, doll, now you are going to be on your best behavior" He carefully unlocked one of your cuffs.

You circled your sore wrist, and once your other was free made a move to punch him right in his flat face. However, a blue chain wrapped around your wrist, and pulled you to the side.

"Ah, ah, ah, what did I say about being a good girl" He landed a swift kick to your stomach, "Pretty please will you cooperate, wouldn't want to make make-up's job harder than it already is"

He dragged you from the chain, up multiple flights of stairs, and around many hallways until you reached a dressing room.

"Fix her! She's on in an hour" He growled at the nearest make-up artist, who promptly got to work concealing your many bruises and cuts caused by Vox himself.

~~~

"Umm Alastor," Charlie tentatively called to him from the lobby, "I think you're going to want to see this"

He told the hotel about his plans right after his meeting with the other overlords. While Charlie didn't want her people to resort to violence, she knew that this was one of the rare exceptions to that idea. She knew that you were being hurt by Vox and his fellow Vees, and even though she had never met you, she knew you were special by the way Alastor cared about you.

So when Alastor appeared to question what Charlie wanted he was greeted by a horrible sight on the picture-box in front of him.

There you stood, your beautiful face obviously covered in make-up that you didn't usually wear. Your eyes sunken in, and your dress nothing like what you would normally wear. Worse of all were the handprints around your neck, and Alastor knew just who to blame for those.

As the haunting melody filled the room, each note carried the weight of the protagonist's suppressed emotions. With each word, the performance became a silent plea for freedom, the lyrics echoing the depths of a love distorted by Vox's malevolence. The protagonist's eyes, hidden behind layers of makeup, betrayed a profound sadness.

One day, I loved you, the next you were gone, Never looking back, to see if I was okay. Maybe it will be okay, but the shadows grow long, In the afterlife, a cannibal's wife, oh deer, darling, look what we've done. A pity, a shame, how the game was played, A pawn in the king's palm I shall stay. You'll see me on screen, forced to watch, As I spoil and rot, our love left to decay. Once the apple of your eye, now abandoned and cold, Never to see the light of day, your shining face I can't hold. In this twisted fate, a tragic tale unfolds, I'm tethered to the screen, where our story's been sold.

The lyrics echoed in your mind, a bittersweet reminder of the entwined fate that held you captive. The words became a mantra, a whispered promise that somewhere beyond the screen, a chance for a different ending awaited.

Oh deer, darling, the pain never subsides, In this afterlife, where love painfully hides. A cinematic nightmare, I'm forever confined, To the echoes of our past, lost in rewind. A pity, a shame, how the game was played, A pawn in the king's palm I shall stay. You'll see me on screen, forced to watch, As I spoil and rot, our love left to decay. But maybe in another life, our paths will align, Beyond the screens, where love's star will brightly shine. For now, I'll linger in this haunting reel, A cannibal's wife, trapped in a love surreal.

The melancholy tune continued and reverberated through. Everyone is listening.

Luckily you wouldn't be singing his song much longer.

~~~

As the weeks crawled by, a clandestine plan took shape in the shadows. The air crackled with anticipation, each passing day building toward an inevitable confrontation. Whispers of rebellion lingered in the halls of Vox Tower

Vox Tower was quite literally shaking on its foundation. A radio crackle came from below your bed, and you rushed to check it.

"Alastor?"

"Get somewhere safe, mon cherie" The static cut off abruptly and the shaking became worse. All you could do was crouch in the corner and cover your neck with your hands.

~~~

"What the f̸̛̱̏̃͛̈́͋̌̍͑́͝͝ừ̴͖͍̯̥̦͔͓̿͛͌͌̽̍̂̅͝c̵̨̟̤̫̺͉̥̓̾͂̿̆̇̇̾̑͗̚k̶͈̼̑̄̋ͅ is going on!" Vox's enraged voice reverberated through Vox Tower. Val and Velvette scrambled to restore order, but Vox's control was slipping. His fortress, once an impenetrable bastion of power, now quivered under the rebellion of overlords.

"Well it seems, that the overlords are fighting back along with those cannibal bitches" Velvette tried to calmly explain the situation, but every word seemed to anger Vox more and more.

The Overlords were turning on them. Led by Alastor they were destroying televisions, VoxSecurity Stores, Billboards, anything they could get their dirty hands on. Their sights were set on Vox Tower, the epicenter of innovation in the Pride Ring. Soon they would descend upon them.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hellaverse #alastor #hazbin #valentino #vox #hazbin hotel vees #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel 2024

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punisheddonjuan · 2 months

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youtube

The Walker Brothers — "The Electrician" from, Nite Flights (1978)

Perhaps the finest song about a CIA torturer plying his trade in Latin America ever written.

#music #the walker brothers #scott walker #Youtube

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aloneandforsakenbyfateandbyman · 2 years

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If there’s any song that brings out my inner Patrick Bateman music nerd unwanted album reviewer, it’s the Walker Brothers’ Electrician from the 1978 experimental album Nite Flights.

The song is in itself sonically incredible, but when you realize it takes place from the perspective of a sadistic CIA torturer during the US-backed Operation Condor, which formed to politically sabotage and violently murder dissidents across Latin America in the late 60s- 80s… you realize this isn’t your typical narcissistic white ppl art hoe pop music.

It just makes me appreciate what a gifted musician Scott Walker was bc nowadays everyone thinks avant garde music is the Arctic monkeys or Ariel pink girl no only Scott would subtly yet viscerally expose US deep state imperialism in his 70s music after starting his career off as a boy band baroque pop crooner in the 60s when your faves could never.

#Walker Brothers #Scott Walker

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bluefeathrs · 9 days

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[from @made-of-archimedes]

The next time Nite Owl heard the familiar sound of something large landing on top of Archie, he smiled and went up to meet the only person he knew could do that while the airship was hovering high in the night's clouds.

Peaking out over the hatch, he noticed the shiny new foliage on Senja's blue wings. He even took off his goggle to see it with his own (still blurry) eyes.

"Haven't seen you in a while, how was the molt?" He asked with a excited smile.

Wow it was nice to fly again without having to mess up her own flight patterns with uncomfortable wings. Six weeks always felt like an eternity dealing with something like that. But now the night air offered nothing but the freedom she was used to as she touched down on the airship with a clatter of claws on metal. The hatch opened a moment later, and she gave the vigilante a sharp-toothed smile.

“Kinda miserable as it always is, but the fresh feathers make it worth it!” she said, careful not to spread her wings too much, lest the wind carry her off the ship. “How have things been on your end? Hopefully the lowlifes haven’t been giving you too much trouble?”

@made-of-archimedes

#Answered #madeofarchimedes

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zumpietoo · 9 months

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Oh Here it Is....

And I’m POSITIVE it’s 10000% as real/verifiable as:

PP telling Cole in a coffee shop late at nite she was preggers

Cole’s fancee late nite cheatin’ “date” with Daniella at the mango smoothie shoppe (where at least she was photographed there/had her IG story, no sign of him)

Cole in Toronto cuz “really likes Daniella/been lowkey fucking her”, only to have him appear with PP, in San Franscisco!

Cole’s mennyyyyy on the sly nightly visits to KokeJ in Alabama, while Cole was in Europe

That time Cole was spotted in a bar, smoking weed in Tulsa, Oklahoma (where weed’s illegal, as is indoor smoking) for a layover, even tho it matched no flight patterns....

That time Cole was loudly dumping PP in first class, on a flight between LA and Vancouver....

Cole berating Ari at a restaurant, that ONLY one person saw..

Dylbabs practically fucking in first class, NOT in the lav, either----and then, the eternal classic, discussing visiting Budapest to spend Thanksgiving (a completely North American holiday) with Great Grandma Palvin....

Duuuudddesss.....and how remarkable this appeared shortly after y’all were licking egg off your faces....

Why TF would they argue publicly? Especially given how private Cole is....Alsoooo, I thought nobody GAF about him????

Next time, try harder.....

“Coming out”, Silly? Do you mean “after you planted it”, instead?

No, janASS, very “on brand” for you....

Now back to how your hypocrites continue to ignore Cabana Boi subscription and how Mommeee/SlaveTay had to threaten Deuxmoi, yet again (but y’all at least no longer deny about GymD.....)

(and the only “troll” is yourself....)

Also, really? THAT’S it????

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plaguerare · 1 year

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🌰

#murmur #flight rising #dragon share #completionist's run #acydni #their candles finished brewing last nite so here they are too<<33

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viric-dreams · 1 month

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54 for the entire gang

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

Ockham is possibly the most flexible, and has a good sense for which option will get himherthem out of and resolve this situation the fastest.

Roberts will often choose fight. He doesn't do well with being cornered, and often reacts with anger (thought fawn works best with the Commodore). Fight is also Nite's first instinct, though he makes a conscious effort to freeze and analyse the situation and if another response would work better.

Tamara tends to go for flight. Situations, in her experience, often improve significantly once one or both of them have had some space from the conflict.

If there's no immediate danger, The Rubbery Barber Surgeon will often freeze and let the situation burn out on its own, because from experience he's learned that any reaction often escalates things. I don't know if there's a separate tactic for "do something so unexpected you freeze your opponent", but that often seems to work to diffuse conflict.

#ockham #roberts/nite #the rubbery barber surgeon #tamara #ta!

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house-of-slayterr · 2 years

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Rorschach's Journal: Ink Blot Meet Cute Pt. 2

Tag: @rorschach-thumbtack

Tw: Gore and suicide

Rorschach's POV:

The streets were stained with blood... his blood. The comedian was dead. Edward Blake. an old friend, was reduced to nothing more than a memory, blasted in the headlines. Many people had wanted him dead, that was certain. The list would be exhausting, but at least I had a lead, I had the kid.

There was always a chance they were lying to me, trying to save their skin. But I'd witnessed Eddie mow down a pregnant woman in his anger, there was no way they could have taken him, not alone at least. I'd be looking at a very different blood stain if that was the case.

I adjusted my trench coat, pulling it closer to my body. As I lept down from the roof, I heard some footsteps in the ally behind me. But I knew those footsteps anywhere, his costume was distinct in both look and sound. Nite Owl.

"What are you doing here Rorschach?" Dan's voice came out distorted behind his mask.

"Assuring we arent next on the hit list. You may have moved on, but despite his faults, Eddie deserves better."

"There was no foul play."

"You don't know that. Leave me to do what needs to be done Daniel, I won't ask you again."

Daniel sighed heavily.

"At least tell me why you're watching some girl's apartment."

I groaned, my eye twitching behind my mask, before finally turning to address my friend.

"They are not, 'some girl' Nite Owl, they are integral to my investigation."

"Well do they know this?"

"Yes, I- we have a date."

"Surprised you a get a date when you never take off that mask." He jeered.

"You know what I meant. They have the information I need, I decided to get it the none-lethal way this time. No point in snuffing out a flame that has potential."

"So she's a flame now?"

I groaned once more. Why is it that he always took pleasure in misinterpreting my words?

"And what about Silk Spectre? Is she just a flame to you?" I dodged his question with my own.

"It's not like that."

"Have fun explaining that to Dr Mannhatten. You know how reasonable he is." I dared.

He shifted awkwardly. I looked back up toward the apartment. It was in a bad spot of town, though I suppose there weren't many good places left to live in this city. Their light was now on in the window. Up on the tenth floor, foolishly thinking they're hidden from any wandering eyes.

They were changing, we could both see it clear as day... well, night. But luckily it was only in silhouette. I had the wear with all to look away, but it seems Dan needed a gentle reminder in privity. I slapped him across the face, gaining his attention.

"I do hope you treat Spectre with more care than that." I scolded.

He chuckled awkwardly.

"Always the gentleman."

An inside joke, The kind you only get when you spend years hanging around the same miscreants. Nite Owl began to walk away but gave one closing statement.

"Let me know how your loose end ties up."

I made my way up several flights of stairs. I had to do this the proper way, callous and quick methods were not proper protocol in this instance. I took a breath before knocking on their door.

"Just a minute!" They called.

I adjusted my collar, as well as fixed my mask. I heard several bolts unlock.

"Smart," I thought.

They opened the door with haste, their hair dropped lazily in front of their face, blocking half of it from view.

"Your early,"

It seemed less of a question.

"Early is on-time in my line of work."

A small smirk broke on their face, as they brushed the hair from their eyes finally.

"Please, come in"

They stepped aside, allowing me to enter. They quickly shut the door, locking each bolt behind us. I watched as they walked into their kitchen.

"Tea? Water?"

I smirked under my mask. How charming. But I could see through their rouse.

"You aren't going to see my face if that's what you're after. Very few people who have are still breathing."

“That wasn’t what I- forget it. I’ll drop the hospitality bit. Photos and tapes are on the table. Anything else I can fill you in verbally from what I remember.”

It was curious, they had no interest in knowing who I was, unlike so many people before them. They poured some tea for themselves and came to stand beside the couch. I watched them carefully.

“This is everything?”

“Yeah, couldn’t get any close ups obviously. Can’t afford the best equipment either.”

I frowned. It was good work for what they had to work with. I couldn’t definitely use these.

“Look, I’m glad you came to me Kid.”

“Correction, you came to me, if we’re talking technicalities. And I thought we agreed you’d stop calling me that.”

I chuckled slightly. They really were odd. Most people were terrified in my presence. I shrugged. They sipped they’re tea carefully.

“I think he knew he was going to die.” They spoke softly, almost like they were scared to say it to loud.

“What do you mean?”

They sighed, finally sitting on the couch next to me:

“I’ve been following him for weeks. But that day, at the dinner, he acted different. He was still a dick, but he actually apologised to the waitress that day. He sold a bunch of shit at the pawn shop down the street. He didn’t even bother to lock the door when he want home. Whoever attacked him, he knew they were coming.”

They had keen observation skills. More than I gave them credit for. I heard a strangled breath leave their throat.

“God, I should have stopped it. All the sighs were there I just didn’t want to read them. He’d still be alive if I just-“

I cut them off, placing my hand over their mouth. A little harsh, but I wasn’t the best at calming people down.

“This wasn’t your fault. Edward made a lot of enemies, it was bound to happen eventually… to any of us.”

“But it is fair Rory, none of this is fair.”

“Rory?” I questioned.

They pulled back, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry, your full names kind of a mouthful.”

“Nobodies ever given me a nickname before. You know, other than the usual Psycho, Crazy Dick…”

They laughed, a bright and cheerful laugh. No sign of pity in it. It sounded nice. Like the only source of joy in this cold, stoic place. They couldn’t see me smile, and I don’t know if I was half about that or not. I couldn’t risk being vulnerable, not now, not ever.

“I don’t think I stated it, but I really am sorry for your loss. I may have hated the guy, so did half the world; but he was your friend. Asshole it not he didn’t deserve to go out the way he did.”

It was cute really, their attempt to comfort me. I patted their back lightly.

“Thanks.”

Suddenly the phone ring, and I swore I saw them jump out of their skin. Some hot tea spilt onto their thigh and they hissed. I watched them stumble over thee couch and run toward the phone.

“Hello?” They asked.

Whoever was on the other line must not have been very friendly, because their face palmed significantly.

“Put it on speak.” I demanded lowly.

I couldn’t help my tone. I wasn’t upset with them, of course not, but whoever was calling had no right to make them this scared.

“I wanted those photos on my desk yesterday.”

“I know sir! There’s been a de-“

“Don’t interrupt me you little bitch. When I ask for something, it gets done. And now your over 24 hours late. Do you wanna know what happens when I don’t get what I want?”

“You throw a tantrum.” They said, just above a whisper.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

“I’d keep your mouth shut and eyes open if I were you little girl. I’ll get my hand on those photos, one way or another. Nobody betrays me and gets away with it!”

Then the line went dead. They dropped the phone and backed up until their spine hit the counter. The sound was harsh against the abrupt silence, I knew it had to have hurt. They started hyperventilating. I was no good with this shit.

I took a step forward, but stopped when they flinched.

“I shouldn’t have taken that job. I should have just kept my head down, like my father said.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Nobody who’s doing something legal pays that much for photos! Not even rich assholes like him. This is my fault.”

“He would’ve paid someone else to get those photos. You’re boss is the crook, not you.”

I took another step forward and they didn’t flinch this time. I took that as a sign.

“I should have at least called the the cops. But I-“

“Stop.”

“Edward was a dead man, despite your efforts. There was nothing you could do. But these photos, your memories, are gonna help me find who did this. To find justice.”

“There is no justice Rorschach, not in life, and certainly not in death!“

This seemed almost personal now. Like they were talking about something else, someone else.

“I should have seen the signs Rory. My boss, his Initials, that insignia, they were all that were left the day my father disappeared. Now I know what happened to him.”

“Why would he want your father dead?”

Insensitive, I know. But I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“He was a Hero too. But like Edward, he made mistakes in life. He pissed of the wrong people.”

There was a knock at the door, and they jump again, this time letting out a yelp in surprise. I shushed them, telling them to stay put. As I made my way over to the door, something was shoved through the mail slot.

I picked up the envelope slowly, inspecting it. It could be laced with anthrax, but my mask could protect me from that. I heard footsteps approach from behind. I put my hand back, telling them to stop again.

“What is it?”

“Just some mail.”

“The mail man doesn’t come this time of night.” They said suspiciously.

“I know.”

I opened it carefully, no white powder. But that didn’t mean it was safe. There was no address on it, which means it was hand delivered. Someone wanted them to get this message. There were photos inside. I got so caught up In reviewing the photos that I didn’t hear them approach until it was too late. They let out a scream.

The photos were gory, that was sure. The man isn’t he photo was missing most of his fingers, his jaw ripped clean off, and both eyes cut out. He had long gashes scattered across his flesh. His arms were bent at an unusual angle, caught up in the ropes he was tied to the ceiling by. It looked like his foot had been smashed beyond repair. But there was something even more unsettling about this.

Each photo he was moved slightly. He was still alive when these were taken. I turned to see them on the floor, sobbing violently. I cringed as they began to dry heave. I set the photos down on the coffee table and knelt beside them, holding their hair out of the way as they puked. I rubbed gentle circles on their back. I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry.” I finally decided upon. It was simple, but honest.

“Why are you apologising, you didn’t do this. They did!” They spat harshly.

They pushed me off them, and got up off the floor. Their legs were a little shaky but they caught themselves on the wall.

“I should have never made this deal with you!” They screamed.

I bit my lip. I’d never seen someone display such raw emotion in front of me. It didn’t feel nice to witness. I never wanted to feel the way they did right now.

“Do you really think anything would have changed?” I sighed.

“What?”

“The people you’re working for, you said it yourself, they aren’t good people. They were just waiting-“

“For me to fuck up! Which I did! If I had known my father was alive this whole time. I wouldn’t have given up, I would have kept searching every inch of this God Damn city until it killed me! I would have done anything to bring him home. Then maybe my mother wouldn’t have killed herself! Maybe I wouldn’t be the useless orphan I am right now!”

“You’re not useless”

“Yeah, tell that to your dead comrade! Go ask my father! Oh wait, you can’t. Because they’re both dead and I’m still here, fucking things up for everyone else. You know what? Maybe you should leave, cause you’re probably next. Everyone I interact with winds up dead.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. I couldn’t leave them. Not in this state, not when they could do something they might regret. Guilt was a powerful emotion, one I’d witnessed many of my team mates exhibit. It could eat you alive if you weren’t carful. I stepped toward them once more, but this time their step back was more deliberate, like a warning.

“I’m serious Rorschach, I’m not good for you!”

“I can protect myself… I can’t protect you.”

“And why would you do that? Huh? Did you fucking hit your head on your way here? You didn’t even know who I was 36 hours ago. And now you’re making promises you can’t fucking keep. I mean nothing to you, you got what you came here for, now get the fuck out of my apartment.”

I took another step.

“Get out!” They screamed, the sound tearing through their throat.

Another step.

Their wasn’t much further for them to go. I wrapped my arms around them, watching as they thrashed around struggling. I ignored the little hits and kicks they landed on me. There was power behind them, they would surly bruise but I could handle it.

“Put me down!” They begged.

I just held them tighter, not saying anything. After a few minutes they settled in my arms.

“You done throwing your little tantrum now?”

They huffed.

“You really know how to make someone feel cared for, Jackass.” They jeered.

“I’m new to this. Just like you’re new to my world. But now, you’re unfortunately stuck in it. These people aren’t gonna stop until you’re dead, and the everyone’s of my friends death goes away with you.”

“Then what do you propose?”

They turned in my arms, now facing toward me. Our faces were so close, I could feel the fan of their heated breath on my mask.

“We do this together. For Eddie, for your father.”

“Together?” They raised a brow at me.

I nodded, finally letting them go. The distance felt lonely now. But I welcomed it, it’s what I deserved. Someone like them didn’t belong with someone like me. We’d part ways when this mission was over, when they were safe.

“Lets kill those sons of bitches!” They declared.

AN: Tell me why I loved making Nite Owl seem mood villainous in this. Like, imagine he's on Ozmantium's side! Also awe, Rorschach melted my heart in this. I’ll for sure write a part 3 when I have time. I’m really enjoying this!

#rorschach #rorschach x reader #watchmen x reader #watch men #silk spectre #nite owl #nite owl ii #dc comics #dc comics x reader

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