#he was kept in one of the most guarded and hardcore prisons the fuck even

[hanakihan]

oh my fucking god

my friend just texted me after finishing watching Monte Cristo adaptations and asked me why man went so hard on revenge shit because it’s not like his time in prison was that bad and he had treasure on him why not just move on or do it other way

head in hands

see that’s what I mean by adaptations missing the key point of his imprisonment time

without knowing what happened in château d’if, without understanding how much of his life was destroyed here along with his psyche and morals, without understanding that he was so destroyed that by the time he met abbe faria, even faria himself high key was regretting teaching/telling dantes who screwed him over because at this point he helped to finalize monster in dantes, because if faria didn’t tell him that, dantes would’ve never even decided to have revenge because he didn’t had need/target for it

i just keep noticing that people who watch adaptations without reading source material always get confused on ‘why’ of his revenge because the start and result don’t weight the same for them and such people more than right to ask the question what stopped him from starting new life with treasures faria left him

dantes with his wealth honestly could’ve simply hired assassins or mercenaries to kill people he deems responsible for his demise and call it a day. but no, he wastes even more of his years for a revenge and even went overboard with it because it’s extremely personal for him in his broken unhinged mind. his broken psyche concluded that death would be too easy for them, they need to go through equal amounts of hell he went through. because his revenge is more psychological torture focused than physical one, he is a broken man who doesn’t understand he overstepped boundaries of equal revenge and only snaps out of it when his plans backfire on people uninvolved.

his hyperfixation on such hard to execute and too complex revenge is pretty much what is keeping what remains of his broken mind and morals intact, since he in his head (as well as narrative) justifies his actions and goals based on what he went trough in prison. because if abbe faria didn’t unintentionally given him a goal, a target of revenge, even if he proceeded to escape and find a treasure, he simply would’ve started his life anew.

so yea adaptations missing on fatalism and mindfuckery of his time in château d’if is what ruins them all. book really gives you time to savor the shit he went through here, starting from time passage, changing of his cells and how ‘life’ around goes up to his mood and behavior changes through years, from hopeful hysterical boy to depressed apathetic half corpse who ironically considered his jailers as some sort of friends he can talk to even if they don’t talk back to him anymore

[ephrampettaline]

the nsfw alphabet meme

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Historically, Ephram had a hard time being touched kindly after intense sex; now, though, cuddling and being close with Freddie is non-negotiable and necessary for both of them. If they’ve been deep in Daddy/Baby scenes, Ephram doesn’t hang on to that too much. If there’s something he wants reassurance about he’ll absolutely ask for it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ephram’s fond of his cock and his hands, and what he can do with them. It’s very hard for him to narrow down his favourite parts of Freddie, but any bit that’s lush and plump -- lips, tits, arse, post-fucked puffy cunt -- has an edge, with special mention for those pointy ear-tips!

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

lol that pretty much sums it up: Ephram loves everything about cum. Shooting off inside Freddie or on him, seeing Freddie’s pretty sparkly fairy spunk, feeling Freddie spurt a load inside of him, licking it up and swallowing it, all of it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

With how open Ephram is with Freddie, his dirty secrets are just little things he fantasizes or finds hot, that he hasn’t yet articulated or thought to bring up with his husband. Honestly *I* don’t even know what these are until Ephram sees fit to state them, heh.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ephram is a peculiar mix of experience and innocence. At heart he’s a good boy, who’s been put through a number of excruiatingly obscene experiences, many of which were non-consensual. As a teenager he got a lot of ‘action’, but it was mostly teen-grade: fooling around, making out, not really much intercourse except with his fiancee Marigold. The sex acts he endured in prison were varied and inventive, but only so much as the inmates & guards using him were making the most of their proscribed opportunities and were entirely concerned with pleasuring themselves (whether that meant hurting and torturing Ephram or not). 

So Ephram had a lot of experience, technically, but it’s not like any of it stuck or appealed to him on a meaningful level other than to self-medicate with rough sex afterwards. Ditto the depravities that Anaxis performed with his body. Those experiences weren’t of his choosing, so they don’t really count.

Under his own steam, Ephram knows what he’s doing because he’s very instinctual and pays close attention to Freddie’s responses and cues. He tends to come at sex from a place of pure id, without much overt construction or forethought, preferring to gauge Freddie’s desires in the moment and see where they match up with his own. And luckily enough, they are extremely sexually compaitble.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Most positions are good, depending on the mood and context, but Ephram will always favour positions where he can kiss Freddie and see his darling’s face, and they can look into each others’ eyes.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Honestly Ephram tends more towards intensity, but he’s also easily swayed by Freddie’s mood; if his fairy starts to joke or giggle, or wants to make things a little lighter for whatever reason, Ephram follows along quite happily!

His joking/teasing happens more in flirty foreplay than during the actual act.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Ephram is as groomed as Freddie makes him.  XD  He’s SUPER FUCKING lazy about it now and won’t do anything for himself. The hair in his groin and under his arms is a darker gold; he doesn’t have much body hair otherwise, but what’s there on his legs and arms is quite sparse and fair so he never thinks about it. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

REALLY intense. Ephram during sex does not get distracted by anything -- outside forces or internal thoughts. His entire focus is on his Freddie, and depending on what they’re doing, he’s either ... actually no, he’s always supremely dirty-mouthed ahahahah but the two of them find that romantic anyhow!

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Ephram doesn’t find much need to jerk off anymore, especially now with Freddie being a stay-at-home husband. Their sex life has evolved to a situation where Freddie’s chosen to be available at all times for fucking, which suits Ephram just fine. He never saw himself as having a glamorous, sexually-skilled kept boy before! But then again he never saw himself as having a sugar daddy before, and both of these are currently true, so hey.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Of late they’ve been delving more into sexual slavery, and Ephram is SO INTO IT. He loves the thought of Freddie’s morning being spent deciding how he can be most appealing, and that Freddie’s fixated on being Ephram’s fucktoy and beloved plaything, and the new state of obedience and good-boy-behaviour that Freddie’s entered. If at any time Freddie wants to turn the tables, Ephram will happily take his place at his master’s feet and on his leash -- it’s not ever a one-way street with them, no matter which dynamic is more their usual.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

ANY-FUCKIN’-WHERE. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

ANY-FUCKIN’-THING ahahah! I mean it’s basically true. Ephram can get turned on in between one breath and the next; while he’s extremely, unabashedly physical during sex, he’s also hugely cerebral about it, with a lot of imagination and fantasy and deep contemplation going into what gets him aroused and engaged. Freddie is, of course, very encouraging and serves as an exceedingly fruitful muse, so Ephram never has to sacrifice either the physical raunch or the intellectual fancies.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

His dislikes encompass Freddie’s -- they’re not into scat or infantilization -- but everything else is on the table. It’s possible that Ephram has less turn-offs than Freddie does, since he embraces the gentler acts and the kinky-as-hell acts as well as hardcore pain and degradation. Which is the step that Freddie doesn’t take, for many valid and understandable reasons! Ephram doesn’t require violent sex from Freddie, it’s just that he wouldn’t turn it down or discourage it should things ever stray into that territory.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ephram could eat Freddie out for HOURS and loves sucking and biting his nipples. He prefers to be the one getting blowjobs, though; first of all, Freddie’s blowjobs are exquisite and master-class level, and second, Ephram’s had traumatic experiences with giving blowjobs. While he doesn’t generally carry around much trauma in terms of being triggered when it comes to the rapes and abuse he suffered in prison, he was very unfamiliar with giving blowjobs at seventeen and had a frightening ordeal where he was skullfucked, threw up and nearly suffocated, and was beaten badly for it. 

He doesn’t think of it at all anymore, but the memory is deep in his reflexes and so giving blowjobs just isn’t something he gravitates towards. If he does it, it’s because he really wants to, not because it’s a regular part of his repetoire. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Whatever suits them at the moment, baby. They are skilled at them all.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

I mean ... in concept, Ephram’s all for a quickie? But his mind tends to start building on what they’re doing once they start to fuck, and so it generally takes longer than the space of a quickie. That’s more for taking the edge off immediately and then getting somewhere to take their time as soon as possible.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

And how!! Ephram loves taking risks with Little Husband, particularly because Freddie’s a fairy and can heal them both up, can glamour whatever insane idea they come up with, and has an innate sense of mischief that gets Ephram whipped up into a frenzy. Freddie encourages the madness lol

Ephram can get a little skittish about the possibility of being caught, but aside from that, he likes a little risky behaviour.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Between a highly-motivated witch and fairy? They can heal up, do away with refractory periods, stay hard, anything they damn well want. They last exactly as long as they want to.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

TONS of toys. They’re platinum members at Barbarella with their measurements on file, after all. XD

Ephram generally likes using toys on Freddie, because he loves to see his baby take it and how he reacts, and because Ephram’s mechanical-minded and so toys fascinate him. He likes having them used on himself too, of course, but he just tends to grab them first and use Freddie as his pleasure subject/victim.  XD

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not really. Ephram will taunt and tease a little bit, but it’s not really in his nature once he has Freddie in the flesh. He’s more apt to make himself wait and suffer a little bit, but not for long and only for the duration that it entertains him. If Freddie feels like teasing, Ephram is obediently pleading and panting until he’s rewarded. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Ephram is forever talking when they fuck, and he will occasionally gag Freddie for the visuals of it but really all in all, he likes hearing what Freddie has to say. Talking with each other and hearing each other is a huge part of their relationship, sexually and otherwise, so it’s never as satisfying to have Freddie’s words or his own obscured. Now and again, it’s wildly hot to be gagged or have a mouth covered, but their unabashed, instinctive noises and words are very much part of what textures their intimacy.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Ephram would very much like it if Freddie pulled him around by the tie, when he wears a suit.  XD

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very high. Very very VERY high, and Freddie seems to stoke it higher with each passing month that they’re together. Ephram can hardly focus some days, he’s so busy thinking of being with his little darling.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It’s quite a workout, physically and emotionally, so unless they’ve got somewhere to be afterwards the two of them normally snooze together. They absolutely love snuggling down and sleeping together, since it’s such a time of vulnerability where they’ve found safety and security in each others’ presence, so it’s really the perfect wind-down from the sex.

[darkredehmption]

Minimally Invasive Interrogation

Written by @DamagedBrother and @OfFeatherNFang 

Zsadist: 

[I managed to stay awake the entire time but surprisingly the prisoner fell asleep. For a few hours I watched as he slept, wondering what that other half of him was. I didn’t get a sense of human but what else was there? After that got annoying, I found myself counting the tiles on the floor. There were five hundred and eighty two. I counted three times to make sure I was right. Then I remembered that V downloaded a few books on my phone so I read one of them. After that I went back to staring at the wall contemplating my whole life. It was a long night that was for sure. Soft snores still fill the air as I reach into my pocket to check my phone for the time. It was so close to the sun setting once again which meant that the brothers would be here shortly. Perfect. Then we could get to the bottom of this and I could rest. 

As I rose to my feet, I heard the door open. There was Vishous holding coffee in a Red Sox’s mug. I think that was the one Butch got him last year around the holidays. He sipped the warm beverage then offered me a taste. I declined and he shrugged taking in another gulp or two. We moved out into the hallway, my shoulders rolling as I stretched out a little. “How was your night?” It was funny he asked cause he was up watching it all from his four toys.]

Oh yeah it was great. [Snorts then watches the brother eye me. “Y’all were chatty in the beginning...get any information out of him?” I shrugged.] He started to freak on me so I had to control the situation. After that he ranted hardcore. Let it slip that he’s only half vampire which is making me believe the other half is something interesting...I mean he could be just half human which wouldn’t sit well with the Queen having him captured. Then again regardless of what he is I don’t think it will sit well with her at all. After that I told him to shut up and he eventually slept. [V nodded then muttered “At least someone did. Butch was a traitor and passed out on the couch. He lasted pretty long though. I got a bunch of work done so it was all good.”

Nodding before my attention is drawn to Cop who was rubbing at his eyes and making his way over to us. “Are we going to first meal? Cause I’m starving as fuck.” I nod] You guys can go. Gather the others and come down here when you are finished. [Vishous shook his head. “Z man, go eat. I’ll grab something from the Pit. Shaking my head as I peered in through the window on the door to the PT suite] I’m not hungry. Besides, I have a feeling he’s gonna wake soon. [Vishous eyed me up before looking at his best friend. “Grab me a bagel would ya?” Cop nodded then headed down the tunnel while V just returned to the Pit. Leaning against the door as I stood and waited for all the brothers to arrive.]

Mal:

I kept my eyes closed as the door opened, my breathing slow and even as I listened to the Brothers exchange greetings after a whole night in two different rooms. As they moved into the hallway I tuned out their chatter in favor of shifting my wrists, my ankles, trying to get blood moving after a night of laying perfectly still in the one position. My head ached faintly, but I’d put that down to whatever healing concussion the male had given me the night before.

When my body felt like it was finally awake… sort of… I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. My stomach snarled but I ignored it, not about to ask any of /them/ for anything. I’d kill to take a piss too, but again, whatever pride I had left was giving that idea a firm ‘no’. Besides, would hunger or bladder needs matter if the King brought his royal ass down here and decided to cut my head off? Doubtful. So preserving what little dignity and pride I had left seemed like the way to go.

“Is there any way to press the fast forward button on this shit, or do you all still stand on ceremony when you’re at home too?” I muttered, knowing the scarred male would hear me, even as I continued to stare at the ceiling. “The coffee lover, was he the voyeur? The one watching on the screen? Bet he was hoping for a better show,” I continue absently, as if I was talking to myself, which frankly, was better conversation. “Tell him if he slips me a hundred next time I’ll make it worth his while.”

Zsadist:

[Narrowing my eyes as I listened to the prisoner talk to himself in the room. I was going to step inside and tell him to shut the fuck up but then we would probably start having an actual conversation. And I needed to stop talking to him. So I decided to ignore it all and wait for Wrath and the others. I couldn’t help but peer in through the window again. His eyes caught mine and I stared for way too long. Grunting as I turn my attention away from the prisoner. Something just didn’t add up. Suddenly I was starting to think that maybe he wasn’t...the bad guy. Though he definitely was keeping something from the Brotherhood and that was not good. 

My head lifts as I hear a shit load of boots coming down the tunnels. Watching as Wrath and the others make their way towards me while V slips out of the pit. I inclined my head towards the King before I eyed the others. Wrath takes in a deep breath. “Thanks for staying up to keep guard Z. You can go get some much needed rest now.” Lifting my shoulders in a shrug as my eyes flickered to the door.]

I’m good. If it’s alright with you my Lord I'd like to sit in on this. [Normally I didn’t disobey an order from the King. Okay maybe I did, but this was something I wasn’t going to miss. I just spent the entire night watching this fucker and I was curious on how this would play out. Wrath’s brows disappear under this shades. He stays quiet for a moment then grunts out a response. “Fine. But you get some rest afterwards. You are off of rotation tonight. And I don’t want to hear a word about it.” I nod watching as he practically shoves the door open to the PT suite. This was it. I followed after the King and my brothers. Leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room. My eyes met the prisoners again.]

Mal:

I heard them coming, a small army of heavily armed individuals that didn’t have a problem with inflicting pain on the things that stood in their way. I knew because it was how a group of hunters sounded when they stalked back into a halfway house after a hunt. They greeted my warden, dismissed him, but… he stuck around. And I felt… relieved. Huh. Great. Stockholm Syndrome. Since when did that kick in after only twelve hours?

As the rest of them all filed in, I watched the scarred one, until his eyes met mine, and I forced myself to look back at the ceiling. The King settled out of reach, but close enough that one step and a swing would allow him to smack me silly, no problem. 

“I hope you enjoyed your nights accommodation. I’m sure that motel you mentioned won’t mind.”

I fought every sarcastic impulse not to roll my eyes. Or tell him to go fuck himself. At the end of the day, I suspected that he’d not want his minions to stab me just yet, but he couldn’t stop all of them from attempting it at one go.

“You’re /hilarious/,” I muttered instead, still not looking at him. “FYI the turn down service here isn’t really up to par.”

Several males still growled. But no daggers in my chest. #Win

“Well y’know how we fix that? Getting you back to whatever two star shithole you booked? You tell me what you were doing poking holes in Lessers. Are you a Bastard?”

Hilariously, yes, I was. Just not the kind I thought he was implying. Vaguely I recalled some mention of a Band of Bastards, but I certainly had nothing to do with the bunch. And why lie about that?

“No.”

“Then where did you get the balls to take on one of the Omega’s spawn? You like dancing with death?”

“Obviously, since I’m here chatting to you,” I growled back, finally turning my head to look at the Blind King. 

He didn’t respond for a moment, instead inhaling and adopting a sardonic smirk. Meanwhile all the Brothers shuffled, eager to get closer and ensure my restraints were in full working order by beating me and seeing if I could defend myself. 

“Y’know what’s interesting, son? That wasn’t a lie. You /do/ like dancing with death. So what, you caught the scent of a Lesser and thought ‘yes, I can finally punch my ticket to the Fade’?”

Closing my eyes, I weighed my options as I stuffed all my anger and righteous indignation back into whatever box it came from and locked the lid. More attitude was just going to prolong this, and like I said before… I was hungry, and I wanted to piss. So either this got sped up, or I provoked one of them into offing me and solving everyone’s problems. And if this King was sniffing for a lie? Then I just had to be honest.

“I hunt. I’m a hunter. That Lesser? He was just a workout for me. So I figured why not do the Brotherhood a favor before I get the fuck outta this town.”

And boy, did I want to get out of this town right now…

Zsadist:

[The prisoner’s eyes locked onto my own and I saw...relief? Was he glad that I was here? Hell, strangers normally wanted to stay far away from me. One look at my face and most went running in the other direction. I raised a dark brow and quickly his eyes shot up to the ceiling. Now that’s more like it. Snorting as my arms cross over my broad chest. Time to listen to see what he had to say. 

My attention is drawn to the King as he starts to grill the prisoner. Of course he comes back with all the sass. Rolling my golden eyes to the Fade. This guy was just fucking asking for it. I mean granted the King was the one who told us to capture him, but damn it’s like he didn’t care if he died. I straightened up when he growled at Wrath. We all stepped a little bit closer to that stretcher. Yes he was tied down, but that didn’t mean shit. He was disrespecting the King and we needed to have his back no matter what. 

Vishous took a dagger out and started to play with it. Tossing it in the air a few times as his eyes stayed locked onto the prisoner. Phury still had a curious look. Like he was waiting for the male to speak more about his Chosen mother. As for the others...they were just on high alert. Even Rhage. Not a tootsie pop in site. He was all business as he glared at the male. 

My eyes widen as the prisoner then dropped a bomb. He was a hunter? The fuck did he hunt? I mean the brothers weren’t there for our fight in the alleyway, but the male could throw a punch. As much as I would like to say keep lesser fighting for the pros, he could hold is own. Now wasn’t the time though to chime in on that. What would that make me? Vouching for the male all of a sudden? What he did was still fucked but at the same time if he’s a trained fighter then it was an instinct to attack and defend himself. Yes lessers were Brotherhood territory but maybe he wanted to join in on the fight. And we needed numbers more than anything right now.] 

Mal:

Wrath leaned in. It was almost comical simply for the reaction of the Brothers around him, all of them shuffling closer as he did. The one flipping a dagger up and down in my periphery clearly wanted somewhere to put it other than his sheath.

“You hunt, huh? I’m getting the distinct impression it’s not deer or elk,” the King grunted, folding his arms. Which just made him look more like a big, black painted wall. “We’ll circle back to that. If you’re that good, why not sign up for our trainee program then? You not interested in protecting the race?”

I bit back on the instant reply of ‘not my race’; one, because it wasn’t entirely true, and two, because it seemed like a good way to further divide the situation. But if there was supposed to be a familial feeling in me toward the people that made up half my entity? It began, and ended, with my mother. Period.

“No one was there to protect my mahmen when she had to flee or be someone’s bed warmer,” I said instead, my voice cool. “I came here for /her/, for whatever residual affection she has for the race that just as easily ignored her. But vampires were not my kin growing up. They were not my friends, my acquaintances or my distant relations. And look at this!” 

The anger peeked its head out as I yanked at the cuffs around my wrists, the skin re-opening slightly and my blood staining the bands. Every vampire took /another/ step forward bar the King, who simply cocked his head slightly, like he was listening to me bleed.

“I killed /one/ Lesser. One. Because even if I care nothing for this place or the race I’m supposed to be from, in good conscience I couldn’t leave it there to go off and kill a civilian. And what do I get for having a conscience? Locked up like an animal. Treated like a criminal. Turns out it’s true; no good deed goes unpunished.”

At this point, nearly every Brother was basically /at/ my gurney, bar my scarred warden, who was taking everything in with that contemplative look on his face. As if sensing it, the King turned his head toward him.

“Zsadist,” he growled. “You spent the night down here. He said he was a hunter. He say anything else of interest?” He paused to look back at me, his smile a little feral. “Cause everything he just said then was no lie. So things are looking up for you, kid. But there’s still a few unanswered questions here. Like ‘who’ you are. Where you came from. ‘Why’ you didn’t want to own up to Lesser slaying at the Audience House.”

Zsadist:

[My head whipped back and forth between the King and the prisoner. I was starting to get the feel that this male didn’t like his vampire side. But why? Maybe it had something to do with his Mahmen. Did she flood his head with stories of how shit used to be? Does this kid know how better things are now? Okay so it’s not perfect and the King is still working on things but it has gotten better. Wrath took time to listen to civilians, to make sure he always had the race’s best interests. When the King mentioned the trainee program I blinked. Hell, would he even accept that? Would it even be safe to have him here for that after all this? Listening to every detail they had to say that I almost didn’t notice everyone moved up until Wrath called me out. Blinking as I look around me then over to the King. Clearing my throat as I uncross my arms]

Not much. [Reaching up to scrub at my skull trim as I watch Vishous eye me up.] I mean...we talked about fighting in the alleyway. He complained a lot as one would do if they were strapped to a bed. [Hold up was I defending him? No. Can’t do that. Grunts.] He was being disrespectful so I just ended the conversation. Though he did let it slip that he’s half vampire...Which leads me to wonder what his other half is. [My eyes flicker to Butch then I shrug] I mean...I doubt he was made, but when we were out on the streets he didn’t dematerialize. Now maybe he was just too scared to do so. [Snorts loudly, smirking as I eyed the prisoner] Though from the punches he was throwing I highly doubt it. 

[Just as I was about to add more to that I watch as Wrath stiffens. His hands curled into fists and this time I move to join the others around him. Tohr speaks “What is it my-...” Before he could finish that sentence we all smelled her. The Queen. Blinking we pull back, turning to see her at the entrance to the PT suite. “What...did you guys...do?” Wrath turns in the direction of her scent, his voice a bit stern. “Leelan. It’s not safe for you here at the moment. Head back upstairs.” Shiiiiit. That was not going to fly well with Beth. We all took a step back as she moved forward, but still kept our eye on the prisoner. Beth glared at the King then frowned as she eyed the male on the stretcher. “He’s bleeding Wrath...He looks…like a trainee. Is this some kind of initiation?! Cause if it is you all have completely lost your minds!” 

Lifting a hand to scrub at my face. We were finally getting some truth out of this male and now it was a mess again. Fuck. I wanted to know what he was...Maybe it was human. Hell and if it was he could see Beth and maybe see that we aren’t all fucked here. Then what? Become a trainee? Clearly he has a job hunting something else. Though I started to have concerns about what exactly that was. If he wasn’t hunting lessers...then what? Humans...no. Shifters? Blinking at the thought.  He couldn’t be one of those vampires cause of his Mahmen being Chosen. Still...maybe his father was involved in that shit.]

Mal:

I hid a grimace as the warrior, Zsadist, mentioned my little slip of half n’ half, even if it was spliced in with a little sympathy at my predicament. Who’da thought? Maybe Stockholm Syndrome went both ways. I certainly did…

Shoving that thought out of my brain completely, because right now this situation and all these males were about as appealing as roadkill with sauce, I paused as I sensed someone else approaching. Their tread was much lighter, their essence fragrant, and as the King stiffened I got a whole lotta ‘oh shit’ as a female appeared in the doorway. She looked regal, and yet she didn’t conduct herself like a prissy Queen. Her gaze was strong, her chin held high, and her sympathy at my state was frankly much appreciated. Human, my mind supplied, and I wasn’t even sure how I knew, but I did. She was half human. I relaxed a little further, my familiarity and affection for the human race that much more than the vampire race. Half vampire and half human? She could be my Queen. 

“I am not a trainee, my Queen,” I murmured, lowering my voice. The King didn’t seem ready to explain the situation, and as I spoke his jaw locked like he was waiting for me to blow this popsicle stand and cause a total shitfight with his wife. And boy, it was tempting AF to do just that, lemme tell you. “I am… visiting,” I managed dryly. “Unfortunately, my visit is considered suspect since I killed a Lesser. I believe this is… minimally invasive interrogation.”

The one that had been tossing the dagger actually snorted. Everyone else kind of winced, like this was so not where they’d expected this to go. Taking a deep breath, I weighed my options now with the Queen present. If she was sympathetic to imprisoning the innocent then I had to get it all out there. Her interference could help me regardless of what I said.

“You wanted to know everything about me?” I direct this question to the King, forcing his attention away from the female that took a step into the room, even as a Brother tried to put himself between her and me. “I told you, I am Malys, Son of Elieanora. I’ve never met my father.” A truth to cover a lie - I wasn’t admitting he was an angel. Hell to the no. But I had never met him. “My name in the human world is Malachi. I have no true home because I travel, a lot, trying to protect humans from whatever other monsters are out there.” Point to me - the Queen’s eyes softened. “And I didn’t own up to killing the Lesser in the Audience House because all I’ve wanted to do since arriving here is leave, and confessing my ability to easily kill the enemy didn’t seem conducive to getting my butt outta here. I never wanted to have to face this part of me but I love my mother, and I cannot deny her. She asked. I obeyed.”

I took a breath, dropping my head back against the bed as I swallowed down the rush and the anxiety at confessing so much of who I was. But as I’d hoped, the King was staring in my direction, and I knew he was getting all the truth behind every word I’d uttered. That I’d been respectful to his shellan? Bonus points. But now I had to see how the two of them fought it out to get me outta these damn restraints. 

Zsadist:

[The brothers and I all looked between the King and the Queen. Wrath still looked pissed while Beth was a whole bag of emotions. Wrath finally broke the silence. “Leelan…” But he was soon cut off by Beth. Her hand thrown out and everything. “No. It’s my turn.” Scrubbing a hand over my face as I hear someone mumble. “Oh shit.” Lifting my head to watch as the Queen moved over to the stretcher. She frowned as her hand landed on the prisoner’s. And just like that we were behind her in a second. Vishous looking like he was ready to get in between them. Beth turned, her blue eyes meeting each of us. “Guys...I got this. Take a step back.” It was hard to obey that order, but one grunt from Wrath had us moving backwards about an inch or two. 

The Queen turned her attention back to the male. She smiled. “Malys was it? I commend you on protecting the human race. Even if these big men behind me don’t care as much about humans, I sure do.” Rhage chimes in. “Hey...we do...for certain circumstances.” Like Mary. I think to myself quietly. Beth turns to eye Rhage and smiles wide at him. He returns it and pulls out a tootsie pop like he deserved a treat for that. Snorting as Vishous smacks the back of his head before watching the Queen again. “I myself once only knew of the human world. Until that big scary looking male over there found me.” She chuckles as Wrath lets out a growl. “I’m not sure what other beings are out there but if vampires exist I assume anything is possible. Thank you for caring for the humans. They matter too.”

Damn. What was next? We going to invite him upstairs for fucking tea or some shit? Beth eyes Tohr. One she knew wouldn’t throw lip at her. “Tohrment, can you please take off his restraints. I’d like to let him come have some food and stretch his legs so we can chat more.” Welp. Tohr eyes Wrath who was seething. Finally the King cuts in. “No. We will not jeopardize the entire mansion by letting him walk freely in it.” Oh shit. Beth snaps her head to the direction of Wrath. “Hellren mine, if you ever want to sleep in our mated bed again then you will do as I say. I don’t see any threat from this male. He came to you on behalf of his Mother, and all because he didn’t explain why he took down one of those disgusting creatures you treat him this way!” She shook her head. “I know I don’t understand all Brotherhood business but I do understand what is right and what is wrong. Tohrment…” The Brother looks at Wrath again who just grits his teeth then nods once. 

Tohr moves forward and removes the restraints from the prisoner. As he does Beth winces at his wounds. “You poor thing. You probably are so hungry…” Without turning her gaze away from him she calls out. “Vishous grab me some bandages.” V snorts then does as he’s told. Handing her the box of gauze, we watch as Beth takes one out and places it on one of his wrists. “Come on...I will lead you upstairs myself.” Wrath quickly moves to stand beside his Shellan. Practically pressed right up against her.]

Mal:

I didn’t even /breathe/. As the Queen came closer to put her hand on mine, I one hundred percent stopped existing for fear that one muscle twitch, one exhale, would put a dagger in my chest. Sure she’d be pissed, but I’d still be dead, and I was beginning to think the King would prefer me so if it kept me away from the love of his life.

When she asked for my wrists to be freed I almost couldn’t believe it’d worked. And after some argument between the mated pair, one of the hulking masses, Tohrment, moved in to remove the bands. Again, every move I made was /minimal/. Even sitting up I used every muscle I’d ever carved out in a gym or on the road to do it slowly. 

I want to refuse the bandages; the wounds will heal in a day after all, and my stressed out, panicked self inflicted them so probably worth me learning the lesson, but I cannot rebuke her kindness. Her hands are incredibly gentle as she firmly wraps my wrist, and I raise my head enough to meet her eyes as I manage a small smile and a murmured ‘Thank you’. 

Then she was talking about moving, and boy, I had to remind myself of every single word my mahmen had ever mentioned about bonded males and their savagery in protecting their one true love. The King had gone from being a patient, if not terrifying, brick wall to leering, borderline rabid, guard dog. If I so much as sniffed in her direction, he’d bite my damn nose off…

Turning to drop my legs from the gurney, I try to give myself a second as the males move as one to be a guard for the King and Queen. A part of me wishes I could ask for a minute to myself, to get feeling back in my arms and legs, use the bathroom, but any desire to be alone right now would just come off as suspicious. So when I stumble to my feet, I have to grit my teeth and smother my pride as my body objects, my legs tingling and wanting to refuse. 

The Queen looked back to me stumbling like a baby foal, and while she didn’t say anything there was still a quiet fury in her eyes. I liked her. I didn’t even know her name, but I liked her. By not saying anything she wasn’t calling attention to my weakness in front of a group of males bred to be warriors, but she knew I was aching as I came to stand on her other side, a respectful distance between us as I took a deep breath of unrestrained air. My eyes flicked again to Zsadist, to the way those golden eyes assessed this new development, and I was surprised to note an almost reluctant admiration. Like I’d impressed him. His comments on my ability to throw a punch came back, and I hid a smile as I limped after the Queen out the door. By the middle of the tunnel, feeling had returned, my gait straightening out.

“You are far too kind, my Queen. I am… deeply appreciative of your generosity. In truth, I would be grateful simply to be sent on my way. I would hate to impose upon you. Or bring you any discourse with those of your family.”

Re: I’d hate to cause a fight between you and the guy who looks like he wants his sight back just for the satisfaction of being able to watch me bleed out under him. Seriously.  

Zsadist:

[The Queen smiled as she eyed Malys. “Please, call me Beth.” I watched as the male struggled to get up. He still kept his pride though and didn’t reach for help. Then again, even though the Queen would happily help, he in no way would ask for it. Pride as well as Wrath would break every bone in his body. Snorting at the thought before I watch his eyes lift to mine. I raised a brow and did my best to hide an amused look. He really turned shit out in his favor. Scoring points with Beth, becoming not a prisoner but more so a guest. Nice work fucker. I look away when they start to move. 

Suddenly the entire Brotherhood moved in unison, staying close to Malys and the Queen. Wrath looked like he was ready to lose his shit. All I could smell in the tunnels was his bonding scent. Beth reached behind to grab his hand. Being his guide since he was without George, but also squeezing his fingers in reassurance. Hell. If you would have told me this is how the evening was gonna play out I wouldn’t have believed it. Shit was always unpredictable around here, that was for sure. 

When we move up and through the door under the staircase we are greeted by Fritz in the foyer. My eyes immediately went to Malys. Curious of what his reaction would be to the mansion. He just stood in awe, taking it all in. Beth held out a hand towards the dining room. “Fritz...Can we get some leftovers from first meal for our guest?” The Doggen smiles then nods before disappearing into the kitchen as we all head into the dining room. Beth releases Wrath’s hand to motion towards a chair for the “guest” to sit in. Snorting as I move to my regular seat beside Phury. Wrath sits at the head of the table, face emotionless as he just sits and listens. 

Suddenly the sound of George’s collar jingling fills the room. Lifting my head to watch the Golden Retriever make his way over to the King. The dog pauses by Malys and I raise a brow. Okay if this dog didn’t like him then he had to be a fucking asshole. Dogs could sense that shit, right? Watching closely as George sniffs at Malys. He licked one of his hands before padding off to sit by the King's side. Fuck. I didn’t even bother to look at Wrath. He probably was fuming even more now. His best friend just betrayed him by licking the former prisoner. Traitor. 

My golden eyes flickered up to watch Fritz and a few other Doggens come in with some platters. Pancakes, bacon, sausage, some frittata thing, bagels, hash browns. The fucking works. As it is all set down Fritz grabs a fresh pot of coffee and fills up a mug for Malys. Rhage quickly darts his head up and reaches for a piece of bacon. We all glare at him as he munched away happily. This fucker. The Queen smiled and nodded to the food. “Help yourself, and hurry before Rhage eats it all.” She laughs softly and I couldn’t help but crack a small chuckle. Hearing a few other brothers join in. I mean...she wasn’t wrong. Beth reaches to grab a bagel. I doubt she was hungry, but more so wanted to make him feel comfortable about eating. That’s the kind of wonderful female she was.] 

Mal:

The bonding scent that’d been saturating me in the tunnel fanned out as we hit what had to be a foyer of… the biggest fucking building I’d clearly ever been in. Hallways stretched off in all directions, and even just standing on the marble floor, I had a sense of the vastness. This was the King’s mansion, the home of the Brotherhood, and while I had no idea where it was or how to get here, I also suspected I was one of very few that had seen inside it either. 

Guided into a dining room big enough to fit the motley crew of killers, and their Queen, I took the seat indicated, still feeling three hundred percent out of my depth. When the beautiful golden retriever padded in though, I felt some of my nerves ease, especially when it paused to offer a lick. I wanted to pet it, hold it, and make ridiculous coo-ing noises at it until it begged for belly rubs, which I’d also give it. But the harness told me he was Wrath’s dog, and FYI, it’s very poor form to distract a service dog. So I accepted the lick while radiating gratitude, and let him go on to his owner. Who looked ticked I’d gotten even that.

And doggen... wow. Mahmen hadn’t been kidding. They were all but giddy to bring in the ‘left overs’; enough food to feed everyone present twice. Instead of the food I reached for the coffee first, taking a sip and groaning softly before I could stop myself. As the first thing I’d had in over twelve hours, after spending a night locked down to a gurney, it was /heaven/.

“Thank you, Beth,” I replied smoothly, glad for her name as I set the mug down and did as she’d suggested, gathering a small amount of food to my own plate and proceeding to dine. I deliberately kept my eyes either on the plate, or on the Queen, because any time I even glanced toward a Brother, other than Zsadist and the one they called Rhage, they looked at me like I was a cockroach and it was just a matter of time. 

A figure appeared in the entrance to the living room, and only the instinct to know my surroundings had me looking up. I nearly dropped the fork, my hand freezing as I saw the male standing there and knew instantly what he was. An angel.

Likewise, the male’s all white eyes narrowed on me, but then he was smiling, sauntering in and announcing he was commencing a movie marathon in the billiards room with popcorn provided. All welcome. Apparently even me? Then he was waving at me as he left and I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out in a rush, shakily putting down the fork as I swallowed the fresh hit of nerves. He’d known… he’d known what I was the same way I knew what he was, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Who was that?”

The words left my lips and I almost smacked a hand over my mouth to take them back. Fighting that impulse, I instead looked to Beth, my expression polite and befuddled at the angel’s total… verve. Wrath grunted.

“Better question would be ‘what was that’,” he muttered, taking some bacon off the plate. “Lassiter. Our resident pierced pain in the ass.” Several males muttered their agreement. “You’re lucky he wasn’t rocking the light globe look. You’d be blind.”

Would I? I thought, wondering if my ‘angel eyes’ would save me from that. Shit. I didn’t need to find out. I needed to get out of here. How did one politely request a bathroom, then an exit? Hell, I’d take the bathroom just for a window; I could fly from there and let them puzzle it out later. 

Zsadist:

[The meal, that only Rhage, Beth, and Malys were partaking in, was interrupted by Lassiter. Rolling my golden eyes as he announces a movie night. Like anyone had time for that shit. And the sounds of the shudders rising brought time in prospective for us all. Rotation. Rhage started to shovel down more food into his mouth. Vishous got up saying he had to grab some coordinates from the Pit. Butch stood hollering after him to grab his twin berettas. Wrath just pushed his fingers behind his shades to rub at his eyes. 

I shifted up when I saw Phury frown and move into the foyer, looking at his phone. Before I could go confront my twin, I heard our so called guest ask to use the bathroom. Beth smiles at him “Oh my, of course. I should have asked you that first.” She gets up and moves to sit on Wrath’s lap. They started to have a hushed conversation that included a lot of kissing and Beth working her male to not be so angry. Grabbing at Malys arm, I lead him to the bathroom that was closest to the foyer. Once he is inside I turn my attention to Phury. Watching him pace as he looks at his phone. My head lifts.]

Brother mine, what’s doing? [My twin looks over, his brows drawn in. “Cormia decided it would be a great idea to take out some of the Chosens. Apparently she wanted to have a drink with them and they are headed to Iron Mask. Fuck! Why would she go out unprotected with them?!” Blinking at the thought of those Chosen’s being picked up by some rando or worse a lesser. And one of them was my twin’s mate. Yeah this was bad.] 

Alright well let’s head to Iron Mask and we can drop Malys off there. Guy probably wants a drink anyway. [Snorts] V and some others can dematz if they need to head elsewhere for rotation. Don’t worry brother mine we will get to them. [The bathroom door opens the same time Wrath comes into view with Beth. The King’s voice echoes in the foyer. “Dropping off our… friend?” The Queen pats his arm then smiles at Malys. I nod slowly] Yeah. I know you said to not go on rotation but I need to help Phury out with a situation. Besides, I’m on like an adrenaline high right now and am wide awake. I promise I’ll rest when I get home. [Wrath grunts. “Fine. Just get him out of here.” I nod watching the other brothers show up as the King and Queen disappear upstairs. I let them know what’s doing and Tohr nods to Rhage. “You head with the twins and I’ll go with V and Butch.” Rhage nods, my head turning to watch Vishous move over to me. He tosses a blindfold at me then smirks. “Don’t worry it’s for Beth’s best friend over there. Call us if there are any problems.” With that V, Butch, and Tohr exit the mansion leaving my twin, Rhage, and Malys.]

Mal:

Stupid vampire houses and their stupid metal shutters to keep out beautiful daylight. Hitting up the bathroom, I’d drained the lizard and then gone straight for the window, eager to see how easy a getaway it would be. But the shutters that kept out the daylight hadn’t even lifted yet, and not only could I not budge them, I couldn’t use any lick of my power, angel, vampire or otherwise, to get around them.

Not that it mattered much. By the time I emerged from the bathroom, everyone had left the dining room and was in motion. The Brothers were armed up, preparing to leave, and my scarred warden was watching the rainbow maned male as he paced. When the Brother with his tattoo and eyes like diamonds tossed Zsadist a blindfold, I grimaced, but hey… better than any of them knocking me out over and over. My head still fucking hurt.

Dismissed by the King (big surprise there…) and flashing Beth an appreciative smile and bow of my head, I followed the warriors that remained while the rest went outside to dematerialize wherever the fuck they were going. Slipping through the door to the massive tunnel below, we didn’t stop until we were in a parking garage the size of a football field, and filled with more cars than I’d owned in my life. Or stolen. And hey, most of these were cars I’d /like/ to steal.

“Cool so what’s the seating arrangement?” I declare, ready for this nightmare to be over. I was not only getting out of this place without a dagger in me, but without them knowing what I was. I was one happy half-breed, let me tell you. Stopping at the big, dark SUV waiting, no doubt thanks to a doggen, I pause at the back seat and cross my arms. The white bandages from the Queen herself poked out from under my jacket. “Am I next to you again, bright eyes?” I add, looking to Zsadist. “Promise you won’t hit me again? Bit unfair if I can’t see it coming.”

Pretty Locks, or Phury, was ignoring me as he all but leapt into the passenger seat. The way he moved, I realised belatedly that one of his legs was prosthetic. Huh. What a trooper. The shockingly attractive blonde, Rhage, took the driver’s seat as Zsadist half shoved me into the back and passed me the blindfold. Rhage peered over the backseat, and his smile was enough to make you pause. If I’d been totally straight? I now would’ve been one hundred percent gay. No question.

“Put that on, please. I really don’t wanna ask twice.”

Ok. Seventy percent gay. 

With a sigh I did as he asked, lifting the black material and wrapping it over my eyes, around my head. I sensed Zsadist leaning over to do an inspection, right before something poked my cheek and I flinched back. “The fuck…”

Rhage chuckled. “Okay, let’s go!”

Zsadist: 

[I had almost wished I just knocked this guy out again instead of using the blindfold. Fuck the sass was back yet again. I couldn’t help but chuckle as Rhage poked his cheek. Normally that would annoy me, but it was so much more amusing when Rhage was bothering Malys instead of me. 

Leaning back in my seat as the SUV started to move. I couldn’t help but watch Phury who kept frantically calling his mate. He frowned then growled in frustration. “She’s not picking up, fuck!” My brows draw in.] Brother, relax. I’m sure she is just dancing with the Chosens or something. [That made Phury growl louder. Rhage swerved the car causing us all to get fucking whiplash.] Scribe! Can you get us there without killing us? You are lucky that Butch isn’t in this car he would wring your neck. [The Brother controls himself and the car before eyeing me in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry...just between the growling and the urgency, I’m all out of whack.” Phury continues to call while I let my eyes shift over to Malys. His hands were clutching the seat and handle on the door. Smart move. Inhaling his scent once again to see if there was anything else I could pick up. Nothing. What was he…? 

The car slows down and cuts off my train of thought. Lifting my gaze to see we were at the back of the club. Phury quickly gets out and runs inside.] Shit! [Rubbing a hand over my face in frustration. Before I can even move he’s outside again. I exit the car while Rhage sticks his head out the window. Phury looks at me worried. “She’s not in there man.” Even though I hated contact, I placed my hand on my twin’s shoulder.] We will find her, its okay. 

[And in that same moment a scream from a female is heard in the distance. FUCK. Quickly Phury takes off in a flash, following after him as I holler.] Come on Rhage! Just leave him! [I hear car doors being closed but I don’t bother to look back. Moving down the street, my twin and I turn the corner to see four lessers surrounding Cormia, Ghisele, and Amalya. Three of the smelly fuckers had each one in a hold while the fourth held a blade. This was not good at all.]

[ecotone99]

[NF] Punk Rock Therapy

Punk Rock Therapy

I always took pride in being the guy that you least expected to be, well, THAT guy. The guy who could fight like a Tasmanian Devil. The guy who drove faster and crazier than any sane person ever should. The guy that ran from the cops after vandalizing a construction site. The kid who wound skip school at every opportunity. The guy who would start, stop and control the mosh pit at the punk rock show. Yes, that guy. That guy is me.

My “incognito” self was a mild mannered, Clark Kent (but uglier and rounder) kid who was always living two separate lives. The life that I lied my way into and through and the life those around me including those I called “family” assumed I led. Not only was I the incognito rebel to those around me, I was those to complete strangers. No one assumed the fat kid in husky sized clothing from the JC Penny Catalog was going to be the shit starter. It was the perfect cover.

It’s hilarious to think that my parents assumed I was a good kid, who got decent grades in school. Little did they know that I was a born rebel and trouble maker who hijacked his high school report cards and created new ones on Windows 98. I would “volunteer” after school and then go hang out with my friends and vandalize shit. I’d drive like a maniac in my parents cars and run from security guards and police. I smoked cheap cigars. I got into fist fights every week. I punched holes in walls. I was all kinds of rebel but I didn’t want a soul to know.

There’s no doubt about it. I was a troubled kid, with a troubled home life and I was determined to walk the fine line of fucking it all up and getting away with it. My father would scream at me (on the rare times I did get caught) and ask me “why can you just be like your other brothers and sisters”? I’d watched my brothers and sisters conform to ways of thinking and action that were both immoral and cruel. I’d watched them stand terrified of my parents. I’d watch them and I’d think “no, no, no that won’t be me”.

I needed an escape.

Music was always a huge part of my life and for this I have my brother to partially thank. He had a massive cassette tape collection that he put out on display in his room. His room was always the forbidden room, which was probably because 1. He was an asshole and 2. Because he was afraid I’d find his stash of dirty magazines. Which I of course did, but that’s another whole story. He had everything from Guns and Roses to Metallica and even Dr. Dre and Genesis.

I would take these relics and make copies of them on his double tape deck, York audio system. I’d ask my mother to buy me blank tapes, saying it was for a reading assignment as school and then record as many tapes as I could while he was out of the house. I threaded the needle every day but I didn’t care. I was good at not getting caught and I didn’t get caught. I now, at the age of 9, had a wide variety of music to fill my head, heart and body. Some was angry. Some was REALLY angry. Some just had a sick groove. I’m looking at you Genesis!

As I got older, my love of what I stole from my brother and what was becoming popular began to converge at the best possible time. My life was a disaster at home, my mother was in prison (which is really, really another story) and my family was basically falling apart. Music was my escape. My safe space. It was where I could express my anger and express my vitriol in a semi productive manner.

On my 12th birthday, my musical life really changed. My older brother (not the asshole who I stole tapes from) asked me what I wanted. I, being a low key shit starting, music stealing rebel, said I wanted albums. I wanted Dookie from Green Day and Smash from Offspring. I have to say, he was very very confused as to why a 12 year old was asking for these records but like a good brother, he didn’t ask many questions. On my 12th birthday, there in my possession were Dookie and Smash. My life would never be the same.

See, as years went on, my taste flourished and I grew a deep love for the snarky, fast and poignant lyrics of punk rock. I also dabbled in metal, thrash and hardcore but also kept keen ear for hip hop. It was my kind of noise. The kind of shit my parents hated and the kind of shit I had to hide from them to keep them out of my collection. It was the least catholic music in the world. The least prim and proper. The most...me.

On the outside I was always a schlubby, chubby, socially awkward kid with weird glasses and stupid pants. I’d try to be relevant. I’d try to be cool. All I ever managed to do was look like a fool but find people that cared a little bit less about me looking like an idiot. I grew up in home where self expression was stifled. Everything from emotion to love was substituted and stuffed deep inside my black hole. I was whatever I thought I should be, not whatever I wanted to be.

See, my ears and soul were filled with punk rock from Bad Religion to Ten Foot Pope and Pennywise. I read about their pain. I felt their angst. I dreamed of being up on stage, diving into the crowd my fucking fist in the air. I had dreams of playing the drums faster and faster. Letting that swirling beat, that machine gun, ruthless, driving beat take over. Distortion was religion. Riffs and speed. Riffs and speed. God, I was hooked and I loved it so much.

Once I was able to drive (my other love) I was able to start going to concerts. See, there was a strict no concert rule in my home. My parents believed that all concerts were full of debauchery, boozing and rampant drug use. I mean, this isn’t entirely untrue but it’s not completely true either. Since my parents trusted me about as much as they found throw my 250 pound ass, I knew I could never tell them where I was going. In fact, I could pretty much never tell them where I was going. Ever.

My first concert was with a local, Christian punk rock/pop punk band. I had been asked my a friend to go and since it was a punk rock band (didn’t give a shit if it was Christian or not at that point) went to the show. It was at a church, not far from where I lived in sleepy Mission Viejo, CA. I mean why not? What happened at that church would truly change my life forever but not in the way you would think.

I told my mother I was going to a church function. Yes, a church function.

Once the band came on, there was a massive surge forward and I was caught up in the crowd. All the sudden people were shoving, pushing and moving. I moved too. The music was fast, aggressive and perfect. It was my very first mosh pit. I found my friend and we began to tear around the pit, tripping over bodies and picking up our fallen comrades. The band played and we moshed. It went on for about an hour but it truly felt like five minutes. I had power here. I was big, I was strong and for the first time in my life was powerful and has some control.

After the show, my friend and I met outside. I have to say, we were pretty torn up. I had blood on my shirt that was probably not mine, my friend had lost his shoe and his top was smashed and bleeding. We were sweating like I’ve never sweat before. Our ears were ringing but my God, my God we felt alive!

Suddenly I remembered my church lie. Dammit. What the hell kind of church function was I at?! My shirt was ripped, stained and I was soaked in sweat. What was I supposed to tell my mother? “JESUS REALLY HIT ME TONIGHT MOM. SO HARD HE MADE ME BLEED”. I quickly realized that I had left a sweatshirt in my car. It was January so, thank god, it was a bit chilly. This would be my cover if my parents were awake when I got home.

When I got home, my mother and father were asleep in front of the TV as usual. I slid past them and upstairs to dispose of the evidence. This was going to be tough since my mother l, who did the laundry, would surely notice a trashed, sweaty shirt. I quickly found an old suitcase in my closet and stuffed the shirt in the zippered compartment. Success.

My ears rang from that show for 2 days. I knew, right then and right there, that was hooked. The cat and mouse game continued on like this for nearly a year on my Senior year of high school. I would say I was doing something else, then I would meet with friends to get crazy at some punk rock show. I had friends in bands, friends of friends in bands - it was awesome. I lied and snuck around while still maintaining my clean boy image for my family. By day I was a compliant kid, by night I was the ruler of the pit. The rest of world has no fucking idea who I was.

Then one day, the lying and deception came to a screeching stop. I made a mistake. My mantra of not getting caught had a chink in the armor and I let my guard down just enough to get caught.

Here’s the story.

My cover was that I was going to the mission in San Juan Capistrano to bag beans and rice for poor people in Mexico. I know, I’m a terrible human being for using that as my cover but Jesus Christ, you have no idea how bad things were at home. My mother would also believe this ridiculous story, bar none. I told her I was going alone, as she didn’t like my friend anyways.

Needless to say, I got what was coming to me.

We went to a show one summer night, it was a local band from guys at school we loved and well, the place was getting crazy. It’s important to note that I drove. My friend (same friend that went to the original show) was with me and we were having a great time.

That is, until I fell.

I spun backwards, expecting to use the ring of the pit as a springboard to launch back out into the middle of the pit. Suddenly, there was no one there. The pit opened up way wider than I expected and there was no one there to bounce off of. I lost my balance and began to fall backwards and fast. I lost my footing and BAM! I landed right on my ass, with my right hand breaking my fall. All 250 pounds of me.

I immediately stood up and rejoined the pit, not realizing that there was something seriously wrong here. It took about five minutes to register that I was had severely injured my wrist and hand. It really hit home when I looked down and watched in real time as my wrist swole up like a balloon and turned a shade of purple that no body part should ever be. Uh oh.

I grabbed my friend and showed him my wrist and we both quickly realized this was not going to be an easy situation to explain or deal with. My wrist was in so much pain that I couldn’t even turn the key to the car when we left! I could barely move my entire arm! I was so fucked! How was I going to explain this to my parents? I surely could not conjure up a lie grand enough to cover this one! What? Carpal tunnel while filling bags of rice and beans for poor people? Oh, Oh Danny Boy you are screwed.

I decided on a pure accident for the cover story. That’s right, I fell down the stairs at the church, how could I forget!? I’d play it up and hold my wrist out in a pathetic manner and explain how I fell down the steps. Well, my parents were again asleep when I got home so I’d have to lay this out for them in the morning.

It was a terrible night of sleep.

Morning came and I creeped into the kitchen to find my mother in a wretched, manic mood. Great. She asked me what was wrong and I held out my wrist. She aggressively grabbed and said “What in the hell happened? What were you doing last night!?”. I casually explained how I went full Superman off the stairs at the church and fell on my wrist. Truthfully, she didn’t really seem to believe me. She knew or thought she knew I was completely and totally full of beans and rice fueled horseshit.

For the time, she seemed to have sort of bought the story and indicated we would need to go to the urgent care because it was probably broken. She left the kitchen and left me with ice on my wrist, watching ‘Live with Regis and Kelly’. She returned a short time later and what happened next was like the worst kind of slow motion.

Her veiny, crepe-slimmed hand suddenly appeared in front of my face with an article Of clothing grasped firmly within it. It was a jacket. Not just any jacket, mind you, but the jacket belonging to my friend who I wasn’t supposed to be with. She screamed “What the fuck is this! Are you spending time with “evil friend” again? What did I tell you about seeing him?”

Oh boy.

At this point, I knew I was totally screwed. I knew she was going to pull the ultimate, crazy ass mother thing. She was going to call his mother. I sat there with my head in my hands as my angry, steaming mother picked up the phone and dialed my friends number.

“Hello? Hello, this is Mrs. Crazy Ass”

“Where was your son last night?”

“See, my son is a liar and won’t tell me where he was and I know he was with your son”.

“A concert? What kind of concert?”

“Oh, I see. I’m glad you knew before me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m his mother and I think I know best. “

“That’s none of your business.”

Click.

The next thing I know, my mother walked over to me and slapped me across the face so hard it made my head ring. My glasses went flying. My face stung. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, as she stared at me with her disgusting glare. She then grabbed me by my hair and held on.

She screamed: “That’s the last time you’ll make a fool out of me you son of a bitch. I know you were at that concert and I know you hurt yourself in something called a mosh pit. You’re never going to another concert again! You’re not to see that boy ever again and you are grounded for 6 months. Now get in the car, we need to go to the doctors.

I had broken my wrist in three places. As I write this, it still hurts to this very day. I had a cast on for six weeks - which made me the star at school. The story got around and I had people I never spoke to come up and ask how I was doing. My friends mom considered calling the police that day. My teachers thought my mom had hurt me again.

I was grounded for six months and in that six months, I still managed to talk my way into 3 other concerts. I still did it, I still didn’t care. I was still a badass rebel who walked with a big stick and carried the world on his shoulders. I didn’t need to fit the scene. I didn’t need to wear a Mohawk or rock a leather jacket with buttons. I was my own kind of punk rocker.

Inside, I was bursting with anger, shame and guilt. My life at home was falling apart and the community I had found with punk rock and hardcore music was being ripped away. I wanted to be at concerts every night. Every minute. Every fucking day.

As I got older, my rebelliousness turned into pure anger and disdain for the world around me. Simple responsibility became an excerpted in angry futility. A lifetime of criticism and contempt turned me into a defensive monster that could not be told what to do or how to do it. A simple command. A simple ask. A simple request would light a fire that ripped my insides apart and caused my brain to short circuit.

No, no one was going to tell ME what to do.

Realizing many years later that this false sense of control is what drove my life for so many years was sobering and stunning. It nearly wrecked my marriage. Ruined me professionally and financially. Put a halt on nearly two decades of my life. All for what? So I could rebel, fight and burn off the rage that seared inside of me? Yes. That’s exactly what happened.

So here I stand, reciting this and coming full circle with myself. Yes, I am a badass. Yes, I am always full of surprises. Yes, I was a punk rocking, mosh pit controlling son of a bitch.

No, I don’t need to prove to anyone that these things are true. They’ll never be anyone quite like me and I can finally stop trying to prove to the world that I mean something.

Strung Out: Better Days

Maybe today won't be the same Maybe I'll just stand my ground Maybe another time another place I'll float myself right outta here Under the influence of reality. Some days I drive myself insane Some days I'm all I've got Some days I'm tired of seeing The world take everyting I've got It's hard to get it right when doin' Wrong is all you know I'll take my chance when tomorrow Comes with a little luck I'll grow

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