#i think wilson should abuse his walking power more often

[enoodlez]

God I hate them both

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 9

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2443

Warnings:  Pregnancy, mentions of past child abuse

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 9: Ghost of Family Past

It wasn’t long before I felt settled in the new place.  I loved the house out at the compound and I was glad we had it, but it had been so large that it still felt a lot like a hotel to me.  This new layout at the tower and the familiarity of being in the place where I’d spent so much time, I felt at home.  Not to mention it was nice being in the city again.  We could order in food, something that had been impossible out at the compound.  It was great having the big meals where we arranged them all by type and then just took what we wanted again.  People had gone back to stealing things from each other’s plates.  All these little habits that had been a huge part of our collective lives were coming back and I loved it even after a few days.

Things quickly found their rhythm too.  Natasha and Wanda’s morning sickness was hitting hard in the morning so they were generally staying home.  Wanda was in full nesting mode.  She was spending a lot of time with the kids and looking at baby clothes online.  Natasha was working in the office, going over mission briefings, and compiling intel.  She also was adamant that we did not take the kids out without her, so she would finish work in the afternoons and take them and anyone else that wanted to go to the park and the library for storytime.  Her new cloaking powers meant that they were going to be able to live a fairly normal childhood in the end.  Or at least, paparazzi free.

I was mostly spending my time between the lab and home and planned to keep it that way as long as I could.  So far I wasn’t getting any morning sickness.  I was still really only barely pregnant, so all those signs hadn’t kicked in yet, though I was expecting them to start soon.  Mostly I was just relaxed and enjoying life returning to normal.

Bucky had booked Tyr and Spotty in to be groomed and the two of us went to take them to the groomers during our lunch break one day not long after getting back.  It was the first time I had gone out without Natasha since the wedding and so my first experience with the paparazzi after they got word that I had married Tony Stark.

They had been grouped around the front door and security had to push them back as we made our way out with the dogs.  Mostly they were calling out my name and asking about the wedding.  Some seemed to be trying to make Bucky angry for some inconceivable reason.  Yelling out to him about being a second choice.  Luckily he was good at keeping his reactions neutral.  He just put his arm around me and pulled me a little closer.

“Should have gone out the back,” I said.

He shrugged.  “They’re around there too.  Just ignore them.  You’re all glowy so the pics are gonna be nice.”

I giggled.  “‘Cause that’s what I care about.”

“Just keep walking, don't engage.  Security will keep them out of arm's length and if they get past them, they won’t have any arms when I’m done with them,” Bucky said.

“Bucky!” I scolded.

He chucked and rubbed my shoulder.  “I was kidding.”

“How long will we have to worry about them?”  I asked, looking back over my shoulder at the crowd following after us.

“They’re just greedy ‘cause they don’t get how the wedding thing worked.  They’ll get over it soon.  It’s not like they’re gonna catch us going out that way very often,” Bucky explained.  “If it makes you feel any better, the dogs think they’re fucking annoying too.”

I laughed.  “Oh no, babies,” I cooed and reached down and scratched Spotty’s back.

“You better pat Tyr too,” Bucky said. “He’s jealous.”

I bit back more laughter and pet the Cavalier awkwardly as we kept moving.

“Elly!”

The use of my less formal name by someone in the crowd drew my attention and I turned to see who had called out.  The voice was familiar too, and yet it wasn’t until I saw who was calling out to me that I recognized who it was.

“Elly, please.”  My younger sister was being held back by two security guards, looking at me imploringly.  I hadn’t heard from any of my family in years.  I had kept in touch with my sisters for a little while after I ran away from home, but when they started dating what my father would have considered the right people and I remained the black sheep.  The last time I spoke to any of them was around the time I had been kidnapped by Madame Masque and only then was I calling my father once a month so he wouldn’t send out the police to find me.

“It’s alright,” I said the security.  Bucky looked at me confused.   “It’s my sister,” I explained quietly as they let her through.

He nodded.  “Keep walking,” he said, his voice low and serious.

I started walking again letting Amanda catch up to me.  I wasn’t sure what to say to her.  Or why she was here.  It wasn’t like people hadn’t known where I was for the past six years.  I’d been in the media on and off since my first date with Tony.

“Tell us what you want,” Bucky said as she pulled up next to us.  There was a growl in his voice.  He was angry and protective and worried Amanda was here to hurt me.

“It’s okay, Buck,” I said rubbing his hip.  “Let her say what she wants to say.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch,” Amanda said.

“I didn’t exactly keep in touch either, Mandy,” I said.

She shrugged a little.  “I know but I was the one that stopped first.”

I could feel Bucky tensing more and more as we walked.  I slipped my hand into his back pocket and looked up at him.  “It’s okay,” I said quietly.  He scowled at me and nodded but he didn’t relax at all.

“So… what?”  I asked.  “You suddenly got into the mood to make amends and you thought rather than calling or reaching out to me online you’d stalk my home?”

“It’s not like that,” Amanda said.  “You cut us all off when you started -” she waved her hand in the direction of me and Bucky.  “-all of this.  We haven’t been able to get through to you.”

“We?”  I asked, not sure who exactly she meant by ‘we’.  Then the rest of what she’d said sunk in.  “Wait… what?”

“Mom and dad.  They’ve been trying to get through to you, but they can’t get past your security,” I stopped walking and it took a few steps for either Buck or Amanda to realize I wasn’t with them anymore.

“El?”  Bucky said, turning back to me.

“Why wouldn’t I have been told that my parents were trying to get in contact with me?”  I asked.

Bucky shook his head.  “I don’t know, doll,” he replied.  “Would you want them to?”

“I - I -” I shook my head, trying to clear it.  My brain was a jumble of thoughts that involved my abusive parents trying to get back into my life and my overprotective spouses not telling me shit that directly involved me again.  “How long?  When did they first try?”

“We need to keep moving, El,” Bucky said.

“When?!”  I shouted.  The paparazzi had all started taking pictures in a frenzy like this was the best scoop they’d ever gotten.  Bucky moved to me quickly, putting his arm around my waist.

“Come on, darlin’.  Not here,” he said quietly.

I nodded and we started walking again.  “When was it?” I asked again.

“When they read about the wedding,” she said.

“Oh, that’d be right,” I snarked, rolling my eyes. “And you haven’t thought about me at all?  You have a niece and nephew and it didn’t cross your mind.”

“Well, so do you,” Amanda retorted.  “You’re hardly in a position to judge me for that.”

“You have kids?”  I asked, frowning as I looked her over.  She looked a lot like me.  Her hair was cut short, in one of those ‘I want to speak to the manager’ styles, and she was dressed in a grey skirt suit.  But aside from the styling differences between us, there was no mistaking this woman was my sister.

“Yes, three,” she said.  “And so does Olivia, and so does Ian.”

“Right,” I said.  “I’m sorry.”

We’d arrived at the dog groomers and Bucky turned to Amanda.  “Wait here,” he growled.

Amanda drew herself up, obviously not used to being ordered around by random strangers.  “Now listen here…”

“No, you listen to me,” Bucky hissed.  “You ambush us while we’re out walking the dogs and you think you get to run the show?  I don’t fuckin’ think so.  You’re gonna wait here while we drop our dogs off and then we’ll talk.”

Amanda took a few steps back like she was facing a wild animal.  Bucky put his hand in the middle of my back and guided me inside.  “You okay?”  He asked.

“I … I don’t really know,” I admitted.  I didn’t know how I felt.  It was a mess.

“Tell her to fuck off then,” Bucky said, picking Tyr up and putting him in my arms.

“She wasn’t the one that hit me, Buck,” I said.  “She was a kid in that house too.”

“Right,” Bucky huffed.  He picked up Spotty and we carried them to the counter.  We checked them in and were given some paperwork and a time to pick them back up and Bucky took me aside.  “Alright, this is what we’re gonna do.  We’ll take her to that bar on the corner.  Get something to eat and get to the bottom of why exactly she’s here.  Then we’ll get the dogs and go home and you can think about it, alright?”

I nodded.  I couldn’t fault the logic.  He went to move and I grabbed his arm.  “Why didn’t anyone tell me they were trying to get in touch?”

“I don’t know, El,” he said.  “I promise if I did I’d tell you.  I’m guessing either Steve or Tony said not to let their calls come through, or they just haven’t got that far into the messages while we were away.”

“Right,” I said.

“You can ask them tonight,” he said.  “It’s gonna be okay.  I promise.  I’m here.  You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

I nodded and we went out to find Amanda.  She was waiting with our security detail and Bucky approached her.  She took a few steps back, and I saw that same kind of terror in her eyes I always felt when I knew I was in trouble.  It made me feel sick and I hurried up to Bucky and took his elbow.  “Mandy,” I said quickly.  “Can we have lunch?  Talk this over?”

Her eyes flicked from Bucky to me and she nodded.  “Yes.  Yes, please.”

We walked down to the bar in silence, me clinging to Bucky’s hand.  We were given a booth in the back and some of the security took a booth near us, while others waited outside.  After a quick peruse of the menu, Bucky went to place an order for us.  I wanted nothing more than to order a whole tray of shots and just drink myself into a coma, but thankfully rationality won out.

“Ended up with someone just like dad after all, didn’t you?”  Amanda snapped when Bucky went to the bar.

“Bucky is nothing like our father,” I hissed, balling my fists under the table.

“Right, looks it,” she snarked.

I clenched my jaw as I tried not to completely lose my temper.  I wanted to just yell at her that she didn’t know him and she didn’t know me.  That I hadn’t ever felt safer with anyone than I had with the people I was with.  But there was no point.  She had her idea of what he was like and while he was in angry protective mode, that wouldn’t change.

“Why are you here?  Really?” I asked.  “And why now?”

Bucky returned to the table with a number, a glass of white wine for Amanda, a beer for him, and a pineapple juice for me.  He sat close to me, putting his arm around my shoulders and resting his hand on my hip.

Amanda’s eyes flicked to Bucky and back to me and she let out a breath.  “Mom and dad asked me to come.  You’d blocked them on most things, and they tried calling the Avengers people, but they weren’t getting through.  They want to see you.”

“Over my dead body,” Bucky growled.

“Buck, honey.  I really need you to not do that,” I said.  He huffed and took a drink of his beer.

Amanda took a sip of her wine and fiddled with the glass.  “They did think about it when you were pregnant.”

“But they waited until I got a rich husband, huh?” I snarked.

“They’ve changed, Elly,” Amanda said.  “Dad’s mellowed out.”

I shook my head.  “Uh-huh.  And the fact they’ve chosen now that I’ve married one of the most famous billionaires to get in contact is a coincidence.”

Amanda sagged a little and blinked her eyes.  “Elly, I know it was harder for you than the rest of us.  I know that when you ran away they just wrote you off.  When it came out you were in this big -” she waved her hands again.

“Polyamorous.  The word you’re looking for is polyamorous,” I hissed.

“Right, that,” Amanda said.  “He completely lost it.  Said it was going to look bad on them.  That if people found out he’d lose his position.”

“You’re not spinning it in his favor there, Mandy,” I deadpanned.

She sighed.  “I know, but… he’s your dad.  And they’re your kid’s grandparents.  They’re really good grandparents.”

Bucky stiffened up.  “If you think for one second, I’m letting my kids near that monster…”

Amanda leaned over the table and put her hand on mine.  “Please, Elly.  Consider it.  For me.”

There was a fear in her eyes and I looked down.  There was a thread that joined me to her.  It was very faint and hard to see with all the other much brighter ones.  I looked at it and I knew… we were family and I was going to have to meet with my parents.

// NEXT

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 2

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

 Penny Parker worked, on average, 108 hours a week between three jobs to make ends meet for herself and Peter. His high school, a stupidly expensive private science academy, sucked the majority of her income up each month despite a scholarship. Rent was $1,200 a month, not including utilities. Peter ate like a quintessential teenage boy, which meant a pound of cereal every morning before school and the equivalent in the evenings when he got home from his clubs.

She didn’t sleep much and only had one rotating day off each week. After learning of Peter’s situation with Tony Stark, she slept even less and spent her days off doing any and all research she could into the man and her options for getting Peter away from him. By the time a month had passed since the revelation that her baby brother was being stalked by a super powerful, criminal mastermind pedophile piece of shit, Penny was a wreck of a human being. Even Peter, who was understandably wrapped up in his own head most of the month, had noticed the bags under his sister’s eyes and the harried look she carried about her at all times.

They joked that Penny had taken every bit of chaos from her parents combined genes, somehow managing to leave behind every ounce of intelligence for Peter. She was a walking, talking disaster on the best of days. He’d seen her stick a fork in a toaster, try to mix bleach and vinegar, hell one time she’d come home from work with a sprained wrist because she’d fallen off a ladder stocking some shelves despite the fact someone had been actively holding the ladder to spot her. But this was an entirely new level of disarray from his sister.

Peter could tell that she wasn’t coming up with any solutions that she was happy with. Despite their inside jokes, Penny had a weird sort of intuitive intelligence. She couldn’t do basic math in her head and forget anything to do with science, hell basic reading comprehension could be a trial at times.

What she knew was that Tony Stark had every police department in New York on his payroll, despite the act they put on that “they were doing everything in their power” to gather evidence on the 87 open investigations into him and his company. She knew that he had several politicians under the same thumb, not because it was public knowledge, but because somehow every bill that was put to vote that could be useful to Tony Stark passed into law (or however that sort of thing worked—Penny didn’t understand bills and laws and the senate or whatever, but who really did?).

She knew that the surrounding states were similarly within his range of power. That his companies’ holdings in California meant he had too much control there too. He had holdings in Alaska, Hawaii, and Puerto Rico as well. It wasn’t public knowledge, but Penny could read between the lines when things seemed too good to be true. Or, too good to be true for one Tony Stark. Everything aligned in a way that was so suspicious, she couldn’t figure out why the FBI or CIA or NSA weren’t on to him too.

In the end, all it meant was that nothing Penny did would really matter in the long run. Tony Stark was infinitely powerful in a multitude of states, rich and influential in a way that one person shouldn’t ever have the ability to be. And Penny Parker had $3,000 to her name and a shitty apartment and an even shittier car. Compared to Tony Stark, she wasn’t even good enough to be dirt.

It meant that she had to be more creative. Penny wasn’t smart, but thinking outside of the usually accepted parameters was kind of her specialty. There was no good way to get Peter away from Tony’s sphere of influence, but there were some ways. Maybe just a single way. A very unpleasant, single way that would rip her heart to shreds. But Penny had decided as a 13 year old that she would do everything she could to keep Peter safe and happy and fuck if she was willing to stop now.

***

“Are you still stalking the webcam feed?” Tony wondered if it was possible to push anymore exasperation into his voice as he walked into the main living room only to find Clint once again watching Peter’s empty apartment on the massive TV.

“Something might happen,” it was the same defense the assassin always used when caught in the act, but Tony knew that the blond actually just wanted to catch a glimpse of Penelope Parker.

In all fairness, even Tony could admit that the young woman was rather beautiful. Where Peter’s skin was milky white and freckled, Penelope had a tan that betrayed her father’s Israeli heritage. She was shorter than Peter, held more weight than her lanky but growing brother. Her hair was long and held a natural wave, the same colour as Peter’s. They had the same eye colour as well, but Penelope’s were more narrow and slanted. It wasn’t Tony’s cup of tea, but he could objectively understand the appeal.

In all honestly, Penelope Parker wasn’t his cup of tea as a person. Every time her name popped into his head, he felt a seething rage begin to build in his chest. Penelope fucking Parker, responsible enough to be deemed guardian of the most precious boy in New York but not responsible enough to actually take care of him.

Back when he thought Peter lived alone off his meager inheritance, the living situation had bothered Tony but not enraged him. After all, sure a teenage boy would be fine living in a shit hole if it fit his budget. But no, his sister was the one who made him live in that rat’s nest. His sister, who worked so often it left poor Peter neglected and alone, was the reason he had to walk through dangerous streets to get home at night. His sister.

His fucking sister.

No wonder Peter hadn’t told him he had a sister. She was probably a fucking monster, as selfish and miserable as the goddamn evil stepsister from Cinderella.

He’d caught enough glimpses of Penelope Goddamn Parker in the last month to last him a life time. She and Peter hardly interacted where the webcam could pick up, although sometimes they caught snippets of audio. Mostly, they witnessed just how addicted to the internet she was. She spent more time on her fucking laptop than she did talking to her own brother.

It drove Tony insane, knowing that the longer he left Peter in her care, the more neglected he would be. His baby boy was trapped in an apartment with an uncaring bitch who spent 90% of her time working and the other 10% ignoring him for whatever bullshit Instagram, Facebook nonsense she was so obsessed with. Tony didn’t even bother keeping a record of her internet history, after the first two days of monitoring had revealed she spent the entire time on Youtube.

“Yeah? And has anything happened in the last, oh, 6 hours since she left for work?”

“No but she should be getting home soon—” Clint winced, having walked directly into the trap Tony set like a dumbass.

“Stop watching the bitch on my TV, all you do is stare down her fucking shirt anyway.”

“The bitch would make a pretty decent lay if you’d give a guy a break.”

Tony Stark did not roll his eyes. Tony Stark was a genius, ran a weapons engineering empire, had the most important politicians in the United States in his back pocket. Tony Stark did not roll his eyes.

So Tony Stark Did Not Roll His Eyes at the blond parked out on his couch with a bowl of popcorn and a beer. No doubt there was a cheap ass pizza on it’s way up the elevator, despite the fact Tony employed some of the best chefs in New York for his private kitchen. Clint Barton was the worst sort of best friend Tony had, but he’d still kill for the dumbass.

“What has Penelope Goddamn Motherfucking Parker done now?” Sam Wilson questioned absently as he walked into the living room from the kitchen, quoting Tony’s general tone of voice when talking about the woman.

“She hasn’t even taken her shirt off where I can see it, can you believe that? Fucking ridiculous. With a rack like that she should be shaking her tits on camera for money daily,” Clint whined in response, gesturing to the empty room on the TV, “I swear she sleeps on that fucking couch almost every night and not once has she undressed in front of the computer.”

“You’re a freak, my dude,” Sam smacked the blond upside the head as he walked past towards the elevator, “Time table still on track, Stark?”

“Steady as she goes,” Tony replied, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, “Where are you going? Movie night starts in 20 minutes?”

Movie night was almost the most ridiculous thing Tony participated in on any given day. His inner circle was made up of the only people in the world he trusted, was made of up assassins and ex-military super soldiers and all sorts of genetically altered freaks, and somehow movie night had become a staple of their existence. To miss a movie night without a doctor’s note or a mission was a crime punishable by near exile in the form of a group silent treatment. Pepper, Happy and Pietro were currently exempt, away on a business trip as executive, body guard, and assistant.

“Just going to change,” Wilson gestured to his workout clothes and shrugged, “need to shower.”

“Now if only we could make you realize that needs to happen more than once a month,” Clint muttered quietly, only to have a dirty shoe nail him in the face a moment later.

The blond fell off the couch with a shout, popcorn flying everywhere as the bowl escaped his grip. Sam, who’s aim was almost as impeccable as Clint’s own, gave the man the finger as the elevator doors closed dramatically.

“You are a disaster of a human being,” Tony commented absently, still watching his phone as the little dot that was his baby boy moved through the city.

He ignored Clint’s protests, flopping onto the couch and making himself comfortable while the rest of the tower’s residents slowly ambled into the communal living room. Bucky and Steve were parked out on the recliner, disgustingly cute and cuddly even from a distance. They, like Clint, had a stupid fascination with fucking Penelope and were watching the webcam feed while they waited for everyone to arrive.

Natasha and Wanda wandered in while chatting, each already having a drink in their hand. Thor, Loki and Bruce all came out of the elevator at the same time, Bruce having come from the labs and the two brothers from the coffee shop on the ground floor of the tower. Sam and Rhodey entered at the same time from the stairwell, both having freshly showered after a long day.

“What are we watching tonight?”

The following argument generally lasted a solid 20 minutes, but Wanda and Natasha won out with a comedy horror they’d all already seen before. It left plenty of room for conversation while the movie played in the background, a deck of cards finding their way onto the coffee table as well.

“So what’s the plan for your boy’s sister, Tones?” Rhodey questioned as Sam dealt cards for their third game of poker of the night.

“I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic to get away from the bitch,” the man grumbled in response as he adjusted his hand, “He’d probably walk right out the front door and leave her in the dust if I asked. I figure I’ll give her an ultimatum: Peter comes with me and she shuts the fuck up, or Peter comes with me and she finds herself in a shallow grave.”

“I think I could draw her tits from memory from how often she’s on her computer and ignoring her brother,” Clint stated, because despite the fact he thought Penelope god awful Parker was hot as all Hell, he knew how much it hurt to have the person who was supposed to care for you most ignore you completely.

Rhodey hummed in agreement, “Maybe we should off her, just in case. I bet she gets some sort of welfare from the state for him and she shouldn’t get to keep raking that in.”

“She shouldn’t get it even while she’s got him,” Natasha stated from over her wine, spread out and lounging on the loveseat closest to the couch, “probably uses it for drugs. It definitely isn’t used for groceries to feed to the poor kid, he looks half starved.”

“Nah, that’s just teenage boy syndrome,” Bucky added a couple of bills to the pot on the coffee table, “Not that I think she’s winning any care taker of the year awards, but I’ve seen that him eat while doing surveillance. Kid could take down a whole ass McDonalds by himself if given the chance.”

“He’s been putting on some weight actually,” Tony felt the corners of his lips tip up in a small smirk, “Muscle mass, one of his friends started dragging him to lift weights on Thursdays.”

“Careful Stark, you get too excited by the thought and you’re gonna pop off in your jeans,” a round of snorts sounded at Rhodey’s words and Tony Stark, Who Did Not Roll His Eyes, gave his friend the finger.

“I say we just go ahead and kill her,” Bruce was focused more on his laptop and the reports there in than the movie, but made sure he always paid attention to the conversation during movie nights, “she’s a liability. It might help Peter adjust too, knowing that she’s gone.”

“And that he has nothing left and nothing to go back to,” Clint added, not mean spiritedly but pointedly and with an exaggerated head tilt.

“He won’t have anything left or anything to go back to,” it was pragmatic and a bit cold, but Steve never pulled his punches, “its best to cut all ties. The more he relies on Tony, the faster he’ll adapt to his new situation. Maybe its manipulative, but this is a weird situation and we might have to get our hands dirty to get him to a good place, mentally and physically.”

“By weird you mean kidnapping a kid?”

“For his own good!”

“Its only kidnapping until he turns eighteen, right?”

“I don’t think that’s how the concept of kidnapping works, Clint.”

“Excuse me, sir,” JARVIS suddenly interrupted, turning on the lights and turning off the movie, “I believe it is important that you watch the webcam footage I’ve been monitoring. The recording begins as of five minutes ago and is still ongoing.”

“Pull it up, J,” Tony ordered quickly, sitting forward on the couch.

Everyone in the room watched in confusion as the TV began to roll on Peter and stupid fucking Penelope sitting in front of the laptop, most likely at the kitchen table. Peter was slightly off to the side, the computer centered more on his sister.

“Penny, please just tell me what you’ve decided on? I’ve been watching you lose your mind for weeks, I know you came up with something last night.”

“You’re… not going to like it Peter,” fucking Penelope’s voice was soft, the laptop microphone too shitty to pick up the quiet cadence well, “If you can think of something better, we’ll go with that. But… I don’t think there’s another choice. I’ve gone through everything I can think of. Try to let me get through this without yelling at me, okay?”

They’d never really seen Peter and fucking Penelope interact before. Most of the time it was just her, on the laptop, all the fucking time. Peter came and went in the background, to and from school and clubs and his friend’s houses, but most of the time she closed the laptop when he was around. They were all a bit surprised by how much affection was in her expression as she looked at her brother. Peter nodded at her, lips already pursed in frustration.

“I’ve been doing as much research as I can on Tony Stark. He’s… God, he’s got more influence than the fucking president. There are entire states in his pocket, Pete. Can you believe that? From what I can figure out, he’s got just about every New York senator on his payroll and don’t even get me started on the police—”

“How’d she figure that out?” Rhodey’s frown was a mixture of concern and irritation, “There’s never been any sort of reporting on your dealings with politicians.”

“I don’t know.”

“The good news is, I don’t think he has any business in Oregon. I’ve looked through as much of the gossip as I can, he’s never spent any significant amount of time there and if I’ve been understanding the weird ass insinuations correctly, his businesses don’t operate in the area.”

“Oregon? Are we gonna go there?” Peter reached out and grabbed his sister’s hands, “I promise, I’m not upset over us having to move Penny, I—”

“Peter, I’m… I’m not moving babe, you are.”

The teenager seemed to draw back slightly, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth dropping open as he searched for words but was unable to come up with any.

“I don’t think you remember them, the last time we saw them was before mom and dad died, but we have second cousins in Oregon, Paul and Olivia. They’re about ten years older than me, with one kid. When I got custody of you, I contacted them. I wanted to make sure that if something happened to me, I had a sure thing lined up for you. It was years ago, but they promised they’d take you in a heartbeat if I couldn’t care for you anymore, for any reason.”

“You… you wanted to give me to them?” Peter’s eyes were full of tears and they watched as Penelope reacted in horror.

“Peter, no! Never! I would never willingly let you go. I was worried, everyone around us was dropping like flies in freak accidents and I couldn’t let you go into foster care if I died. I just wanted to make sure you would have someone if something happened to me.”

“You thought you were gonna die?”

“My birth father died, and then mom and dad died, then uncle Ben, then aunt May. I didn’t want to leave you alone with no one. I didn’t think I was gonna die, I just… wanted to be prepared. Just in case.”

“Why are you bringing them up? And Oregon? What do you mean that I’m moving? Alone?”

Penelope What the Fuck is Happening Parker’s lips pursed, eyes filling with tears. There was a level of sheer pain on her face that was startling for them all to see, especially considering they’d managed to work her up as an unfeeling monster in their heads for fucking weeks now.

“I’ve tried a thousand ways for us both to go, but I just… I don’t have the money saved for us to move. We’d have to break the lease and even if we left with the clothes on our backs, we wouldn’t be able to afford getting to Oregon. The car won’t make it, I can’t afford plane tickets. I wouldn’t be able to afford to get to Oregon. But I’ve figured out a way to get you there.”

“How Penny?” Peter’s was obviously trying to sound stern, but his voice cracked slightly.

“Not tomorrow, but the day after, we’re going to put in an anonymous call to Child Protective Services and claim that I’m abusing you. Neglecting you. They’ll take you out of my custody and send you to Olivia and Paul, since they’re our ‘closest’ living relatives.” Penelope Oh Fuck Parker’s voice was cracking too, tears running down her face as she explained her batshit crazy plan to her baby brother, who they were quickly realizing was far from neglected or abused.

Tony felt his chest tightening at the sight of the siblings, both with tears streaming down their cheeks. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get it so incredibly wrong. Maybe he’d seen what he wanted to see, that his baby boy was easy pickings. That no one really cared for him so it would be easy to sweep him off his feet and spirit him away.

“You’ve never abused me! You’ve never neglected me! How could you even say that, Penny!? Everything you’ve ever done—”

“Peter please, listen,” Penny was nearly sobbing, grasping Peter’s hands tightly with her entire body angled downwards over them, “We have to pretend, okay? We have to pretend because they’ll send you somewhere safe.”

“You’ll go to jail!”

“That’s fine! That’s okay, Peter! As long as you’re safe, I don’t care—”

“You can’t ask me to do this, you can’t ask me to send you to jail, to send you away when you haven’t done anything wrong, ever! I wouldn’t even be able to visit you! I’d be a million miles away and you’d be rotting away in jail because I was too stupid to mind my own business!”

“Peter none of this is your fault,” the tone was so stern and determined as Penny sat straighter in her chair, squeezing her brother’s hands reassuringly even as her chest heaved with grief, “it’s that fucking pedophile, piece of shit Tony Goddamn Stark’s fault, don’t you ever think that you are at all to blame for any of this—”

“I probably deserve at least half of that rage,” Tony stated absently, almost guilty at the word ‘pedophile’.

“Half? Hah!” It was an absent response, more instinct than intention but got the point across even as the entire group was absorbed by the pain playing out on the TV.

“I went to that stupid tower!” Peter wailed suddenly, making Penny go stiff, “After you got that note telling you not to report the assault, I went to the tower because I knew he worked there and I wanted him to suffer. You wouldn’t go to the police because they threatened your family but I thought… It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was stupid and I went to fucking Stark Tower and that’s where he saw me. It’s all my fault.” Peter’s sobbing was viscerally painful to hear, even through the shitty microphone.

“What assault? A note? JARVIS, figure out what he’s talking about!” Tony barked, already on his feet and pulling out his phone, “Give me the surveillance footage from that day, who was my boy here looking for?!”

“As the conversation is roughly five minutes delayed, I took the liberty of deciphering Mr. Parker’s statements already, sir,” the AI stated calmly, “six months ago, Mr. Brock Rumlow of level six security sexually assaulted Ms. Penelope Parker in a club in Queens. In order to prevent any bad press upon the company, a persuasive letter was sent from the Tower’s security to Ms. Parker to ensure her silence on the matter. I assume the day you came across Mr. Parker was the day he arrived to confront Mr. Rumlow over the assault and threat.”

“Find him,” Tony snarled towards Rhodey, who was already on his feet and typing away at his phone, heading towards the elevator, “Alive, Rhodey!”

“I’ll see what I can manage,” the man muttered darkly as the doors shut and he began descending towards level six, leaving the rest of them in the living room.

“He… he saw you… there? Oh, god… Oh god he saw you because you went to the tower, oh my God you went there because of me and he saw you— Oh my God!” Penny’s reaction was so emotionally brutal that it verged on physically violent. Her entire body seemed to lock up for a solid thirty seconds before she threw herself out of the chair and they could hear retching in the background a moment later. Peter was still sitting on the far side of the screen, sobbing into his hands.

Almost five minutes later, Penny ambled back into view. Her face was so pale compared to her usually tan complexion that she looked like a ghost. A fine tremble ran through her entire body, goosebumps visible on her exposed arms.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter’s voice broke through his sobs, bone achingly sad, “I’m so sorry I did this to us.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, bud,” Penny’s eyes were almost blank, the pain so overwhelming that she couldn’t force any other expression, “I set all of this in motion. I made a mistake and I’m so sorry you’re having to pay for it. I should’ve protected you better, you never should’ve even known what happened, let alone who— it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Everything is going to be okay Peter. We have a plan and everything is going to be alright.”

“You’re going to go to jail, Penny! For a horrible crime that you’d never, ever commit! Because I was stupid and immature and—”

“Stop Peter,” Tony’s eyes watered as Penny gently ran her fingers through Peter’s hair and left it to rest on his cheek, “don’t blame yourself for this. No matter what you did, no matter what choices you made, you didn’t deserve to be frightened and stalked. What’s happening is happening because there’s a man out there with a sick mind, who thinks he can take whatever and whoever he wants for whatever he wants. That’s not on you, babe. That’s on him. And everyone who built him up and let him get to this point.”

She let Peter cry for several minutes and the group in the living room found themselves left to digest the situation to the sound of his sobs. Discomfort ran through all of them, for different reasons. Because they’d judged Penelope Too Good for This World Parker so wrong. Because they were the ones enabling Tony to do something terrible. Because they didn’t actually feel guilty for enabling Tony but they did feel guilty for the pain it was causing the Parker siblings.

“You’ll take such good care of him, Tony,” Natasha said quietly after a moment, seeing the pain in the man’s face, “He’s never going to want for anything ever again. He’s going to live in comfort and luxury for the rest of his life and that’s because of you.”

“He’s scared right now, Tones,” Clint jumped in quickly when it looked like Tony might protest, “They both are and we can’t blame them for that. But once they’re—he’s here, he’ll realize that it’s not a bad thing and that he has nothing to be afraid of. That we’re going to take care of them—him, all of us.”

Mind running at a million times per hour, Tony considered their words. Actually, he considered Clint’s words. Clint’s misspoken statements that implied both Parker siblings would be in the tower. Both of them would be safe and cared for. Both.

“They’ll never want for anything ever again,” Tony repeated quietly, all eyes in the room locked carefully on him, “Peter and Penny shouldn’t be separated.”

“You’ve given up everything for me, Penny,” Peter whispered after his cries calmed, “You dropped out of high school, dropped out of college, started working three jobs so I could go to that stupid school, you don’t sleep, you hardly eat, and I know it’s all for me. I can’t let you give up your freedom, I can’t let you give up anything else for me.”

“Oh my God no wonder she’s so skinny,” Wanda suddenly gasped, tears pouring down her cheeks in continuous rivers, “we thought Peter was skinny, but look at her, look at her collar bones! JARVIS, give me a record of all credit and debit card transactions she’s made in the last month and—” The redhead cut herself off when Penny began speaking again.

“All I want is for you to be happy Peter,” Penny whispered, the blank look in her eyes fading into grief again, “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. You’re everything to me, you’re my baby brother. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, bud, anything.”

“I won’t do it, Penny, I won’t—”

“Yes, you will, Peter,” resolve hardened Penny’s voice and she squeezed her brother’s hands, “You’re going to do as I say. Tomorrow you’re going to go to school and I’m going to call out of work. I’m going to throw most of your clothes away, all of the food in the house. I’m going to switch my stuff for yours, so it looks like I make you sleep on the couch while I take the bedroom.”

“Oh God she does sleep on the couch every night,” Professional Perfect Person Penelope Parker Stalker Clint Barton gasped in horror as he recalled his earlier comment on her sleeping habits and her undressing habits oh no.

“I’m going to trash the place as authentically as I can and I’m… God I’m going to destroy some of your stuff, Pete,” Penny looked pained at the thought, scraping a hand down her face, “But I’m going to transfer all of my savings into your name, so you’ll only be without your stuff for a little while. You can rebuy everything you need once this is over.”

“I can’t take your money, Pen—”

“Hush Peter. I don’t have much saved up, but I’ll put it under your name tomorrow. Now, when I turn 25 in a few months I’ll be able to use my portion of the money mom and dad left us. I’m going to transfer that to you as soon as I can, it should be enough for you to live off of once you turn 18 as long as you use it wisely.”

“Penny, please, you can’t expect—”

“I expect you to do as I say, Peter!” She cut him off with all the flare of a bossy big sister, “I want you to apply to universities outside of the United States. Focus on places like Norway, Australia and New Zealand. Avoid Mexico, Canada and the UK because I think he has business dealings in those countries and I don’t know how long he’ll be willing to search for you, so don’t risk it.”

“How does she know about our business in those places?” Tony threw his hands up in confusion.

“Sir, from what I can gather from Ms. Parker’s search history, she has done her best to track yours and your staff’s movements around the world for the last five or so years by means of social media and gossip blogs—”

“Well holy fuck, who would’ve thought to do that?” Sam’s eyebrows were raised nearly to his hairline, “that’s ridiculous, no wonder she was on the laptop constantly.”

“Once you turn 25 you’ll come into your inheritance too. By that time I’ll probably be out of jail but… Peter I want you to leave me alone, okay? We don’t know… we don’t know if Stark will let this go, if he loses you. He might use my location and contacts to find you and I can’t let that happen.”

“You want me to just cut you out of my life forever? Like you’re some horrible monster I never want to see again? I can’t—”

“We don’t have a choice bud,” Penny was quiet, soothing as she ran her fingers over his wrists and hands, “Tony Stark is a dangerous man and he has more connections and money than we could ever hope to fight. The police won’t help us, the law won’t help us. All we have is this plan and I need you to follow it. I need to be able to trust that you’ll follow the plan, so that you’ll be safe.”

“What about you, Penny!? You won’t be safe! You’re always so worried about, about me being safe and happy that you forget about yourself! Do you understand that you’re telling me you want to go to jail? That you want me to abandon you forever?”

Penny seemed to waiver for just a second, as if she might actually let some tiny ounce of selfishness set in and change her mind, before her resolve hardened once again and she stood, putting herself nearly out of frame, “This is happening, Peter. This is the plan. This is what we’re doing. Because I won’t let him hurt you. I will literally do anything to keep you safe Peter, this doesn’t even make a wave in the pool of batshit crazy I’m willing to go if I need to. I love you. Now go to bed, you have school in the morning.”

[tonysttank]

Fine Line Series |b.b.| Prologue

I haven’t posted writing on here in ages, and I’ve been planning to write this series for a while now. I have this planned as a 12 part series, not including this prologue. Hopefully you all enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

Constructive and/or general feedback is always welcome!

Bucky Barnes x female reader

Summary: Sam Wilson’s adopted sister thought she finally had everything the way she wanted it after he left D.C. to help Captain America. Little did she know that her world was about to get turned upside down when she is forced to move out of the country for her own protection. But maybe living in this new place wouldn’t be so bad...

Word Count: 1.5k

Prologue

It had been a strange few years for everyone, but especially Y/N and Sam. It was almost as bad as when he was on tour over seas… Sam Wilson and Y/N had been attached at the hip since, well, forever. The girl was raised in his household. Y/N’s parents weren’t the best by any means. In fact, they were pretty shitty, if she was being honest. Her mother had left her and her father when she was still in diapers, and the only memories she had of her father were him coming after her in a drunken rage. She ran away for days at a time fairly often, but he never really noticed. She’d spent many nights on the streets, stealing food and sleeping under porches just to get away from him, all before the age of 9. That’s how Sam had found her. She had snuck under the Wilson’s porch, and was munching on a stolen bag of chips. It was pouring rain and she was absolutely drenched and freezing.

“Is someone there?” The young boy, aged about 13 at the time, had asked, his footsteps stalling on the stairs when he heard the rustling of the bag of chips. Y/N froze, and hoped he would just go away. A few moments later, Sam was on his belly, poking his head underneath the steps. “Who are you?” He asked, an eyebrow quirked in confusion.

Y/N didn’t say anything… She didn’t know what to say.

“Oh! I know you! You’ go to West Elementary. I’ve seen you on the bus...” Sam said, his voice slightly prideful as he had recognized the girl. “Why are you all wet and eating chips under my porch like a mouse?”

Y/N stuttered for a moment, unsure of what to say. “Your house was the closest one when it started raining.” She said, her voice small. Sam climbed down off the steps and crouched next to her under the porch.

“Well, where’s your house?” He asked slowly, now noticing how dirty she was.

Y/N shook her head fervently. “I don’t want to go home.”

Sam looked at her with confusion written all over his features. Why didn’t she want to go home? Home was warm, and soft, and where family was… “Why not?”

“I just don’t.” Y/N said, a bit more sternly now. Why was this kid asking so many questions?

Sam sat there quietly for a few moments, thinking carefully about what he should do. He couldn’t just leave this girl here out in the rain… “I’ll be right back.” He said suddenly, and bounded off up the porch stairs. Y/N heard the front door close and relaxed again, quickly considering if she should run away or stay put… Her choice was made for her when Sam came out a few minutes later, and she was just about to bolt. “Do you want to come inside? My mom has something for you.” He asked, now crouched in front of her on the ground.

Y/N shook her head no, shoving her now empty bag of chips in her pocket. She would find a trashcan later. “I don’t like moms.” The girl said softly, wiping away a bit of water that had dripped from her hair and onto her forehead.

“Don’t like moms? Never heard of anyone who didn’t like moms...” He said, considering her statement for a long moment. “You’ll like mine. C’mon,” He insisted, holding his hand out for her to take.

The rest was history. Darlene Wilson had cared for the girl like she was her own, and Y/N had no need to return home to her abusive father. After some time, Darlene was able to receive full legal custody of Y/N, and the little girl was insistent she change her name. She was a Wilson through and through, and nothing could ever change that. 

But now, Y/N missed her brother like the plague. He’d left her in D.C. after going on the run with some guy named Steve, who was great, but him stealing Sam away left a bad taste in her mouth. It had been an absolute whirlwind. All Y/N knew was that this was some guy from the VA, and then next thing she knew Sam was an international criminal and working with the internationally famed Avengers team.

It had been close to a year now since she had seen Sam, or even Steve for that matter. Y/N had sold the condo they shared in D.C., and relocated to Manhattan for a job opportunity at Stark Industries. It was just a typical personal assistant job, but it was leaps and bounds better than working retail in the nations capital, at least now she was surrounded by some decent culture. Y/N was 25 now, and taking this job at Stark Industries was her attempt at trying to make a name for herself, since now she’d be living under the shadow of The Falcon. The girl was smart, that’s for sure, and graduated college with honors in biomechanical engineering. The only problem was the shitty job market, hence the working retail and the new P.A. job.

Y/N went about her week as usual, and had no plans for her Friday evening other than drowning herself in blankets while watching the newest true crime documentary on Netflix. To say that she was caught off guard when she walked into her apartment to see Sam, Steve Rogers, and Natasha Romanoff sitting on her couch was the understatement of the year; the girl nearly had a heart attack. Her first instinct was to punch Sam in his stupid face for literally dropping off the face of the earth for the better part of a year, but all she could really do was cry. It was quite embarrassing to cry in front of three of the most powerful people in the country, but Y/N didn’t give a damn at the moment. It was a reunion like you see in the movies, all tears and hugs and half assed explanations. The three intruders gave Y/N some time to shower and change before they dropped the bomb on her.

“You have to leave New York.” Sam told her as the two sat on the couch. Steve had perched himself on the arm of her unused recliner while Natasha sat in the seat.

“Excuse me?” Y/N bit back, an eyebrow quirked in question and indignation.

Steve spoke up, which was his first mistake. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay here without any of us to watch over you. Your close ties with Sam make you too much of a target.”

           “Sorry, but I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You guys disappear for a year, break into my apartment, and are now telling me I have to leave?” Y/N spoke in disbelief. Her attitude was all heat, the words flying out of her mouth red hot and angry. Steve was a little taken aback by her fiery response, not used to anyone other than Tony talking to him like that.

“We’ve been on the run all this time,Y/N, and the last thing I want is some power crazed assholes to come after you.” Sam told her, trying to keep his tone even and calm. He knew she wasn’t going down without a fight, but this was the best thing for her. With all the events he had been involved in during the last year she was a target, and he wasn’t taking any chances in losing her or putting her in danger.

           “Look, I know this is a lot, and trust us, we don’t want to do this anymore than you do.” Natasha chimed in. “But these are really, really bad people that we’re talking about, and they won’t hesitate to involve you. The last thing we want is for you to end up hurt or dead.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She’d kept up with the whole “fall of HYDRA” thing in the news and online, but this was all too much. “So, what exactly are you proposing? If you guys are hiding then what the hell am I supposed to do? I’m well aware of what you all and HYDRA are capable of. I read the files.”

           “We’re sending you to Wakanda. It’s all been organized already. All you’ll have to do is pack your things and get on a plane.” Steve told her.

“You’re sending me to a fucking third world country? Hell no. At least let me live in Europe or something.” Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms and shaking her head in disagreement.

           “It’s not a third world country. Just trust me, okay? It’ll be fine. I promise.” Sam’s voice spoke, even and sincere. Y/N looked over at him, skepticism and confusion clear in her gaze. He’d never led her astray, and she knew that he would never put her somewhere unsafe, especially if she was already in potential danger.

“What about my job?” Y/N asked, her defiant attitude being replaced with fear and timid body language now.

           Natasha nodded. “We’ve arranged for you to work there. Not much will change, but you’ll be with a different company. You’ll actually get to use your degree because there’s a project we need you to work on.”

Once again, Y/N was essentially speechless. There wasn’t much she felt like she could say, and she didn’t even know how she felt. She’d worked hard to get this life in Manhattan, and the thought of being forced to leave it all behind did not sit well with her… But Sam wouldn’t make her go through any of this if he didn’t think it was worth it, right?

           “So when am I leaving?” She asked after several minutes of quiet consideration.

“That’s my girl.” Sam said with a grin and threw his arm around her shoulders. “The sooner the better. Can you be ready in two days? I’ll take care of getting all your furniture sent over.

[buckysrighthanddoll]

Feel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of past trauma, flashbacks, PTSD, the reader is a dick

Relationships were important to you. You were the type of person who tried to be friends with everybody and make them feel welcomed. This was no different when you were introduced to the Avengers.

Steve was the first Avenger that you met. He would come into your smoothie shop nearly every day, and he just knew that you weren’t quite like the other baristas there. It took around a month for him to ask you about it, which shocked you. You had thought you were doing an amazing job of not being suspicious.

You told him that you had the powers of emotional manipulation and superstrength. It was a struggle for you, especially since you had no idea how to control it. Sometimes you would be so depressed that people around you would cry without reason, other times you felt such elation that it leaked into the store patrons. The strength was rather easy to control in comparison.

He invited you to get some lunch a couple of times a week after that. It was nothing romantic; he simply wanted to get to know you better. After three weeks of getting to know each other, he asked Tony to train and recruit you. He just knew that you would make a wonderful addition to the team and that you would be welcomed and bring light to the dark days that the team would often experience. Steve also thought that you could break Bucky out of his shell a bit, seeing as you went through childhood trauma and were a survivor.

Tony absolutely adored you. He admired your charisma and humor and bright smile, and he thought that with some training, you would be a perfect fit for the team. The others agreed, so you were quickly recruited and given a bedroom to stay in (money was very tight and you could barely afford both rent and a car payment most months).

You met Bucky Barnes in the gym. You worked out for fun because even though you had super strength, you had to keep those muscles strong. Tony wanted you to learn how to fight, so he asked Barnes to teach you (if you call begging and coaxing “asking”).

You weren’t intimidated in the slightest. He was tall, had a metal arm, and was built like a Greek god, but other than that, you knew the Bucky that Steve told you about, and if any of it was true, then James Buchanan Barnes was a giant teddy bear.

“(Y/N)!” Tony called as he walked into the gym with Bucky not too far behind him. You dropped the bar you were deadlifting that had 500 pounds on it and looked over to the two men. “He’s training you to fight. Have fun, don’t kill each other,” Tony said over his shoulder as he left.

“Let’s get started,” Bucky mumbled, going over to the mat. You skipped behind him, your mood unbelievably high. He turns to look at you, all sunshine and smiles, and his heart nearly drops. You are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen in his entire life. “You’re (Y/N) I hear? I’m--”

“James Buchanan Barnes, but you go by Bucky,” You say, smiling lightly. “Steve told me all about you.”

“Ditto,” He smiles. “Okay, so the first thing we’re going to do is have a small fight. I’ll go easy on you and give you pointers, okay?” You nod your head and get ready. It was times like these when you were grateful that your mom signed you up for self-defense classes when you were fifteen. You took them for three years until you were an adult and couldn’t afford to take them on your own. Bucky takes a fast swing at you, which you catch. You twist his arm and then use it as leverage to hop onto his shoulders. He slams back, nailing you to the ground with his head.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice,” You laughed as he got up, springing up. He swings again, this time you ducked down and kicked your leg to the side, knocking him off balance. He pushes you back, pinning you to the mat with your wrists by your head. “For an old man, you sure fight well.”

“Aren’t you scared in the slightest?” Bucky asked you.

You laugh, a sound that Bucky wants to hear again and again. “Oh, James, I’m not scared at all.”

“You’re not?” He asked in disbelief.

You shook your head. “Being scared is a weakness, and I am not weak,” You said, all smiles despite the intrusive memories. It reminded you of when you were a child before all of these powers had come into play. You used to be scared shitless every single day because your drunken father would beat you senseless. Your mother had taught you that being scared was not okay. It was kin to hope, and hope led to being disappointed, and there was nothing your mother hated more than disappointment.

Which was probably why you despised being called a disappointment--it reminded you of her.

You shook your head quickly, then you lifted your arms off of the ground. They moved easily despite him putting his all into keeping you on the mat. He looked at you in shock as you both stood up. “How did you--”

“Did Tony not tell you about me?” You asked, twisting your head to the side innocently. You were the picture of innocence until people got to know you.

“No, he just told me to come in here and train you.”

“Oh, well that’s a shame,” You said, frowning a little.

“I think we should call it now. You’ve got the basics of fighting down.”

You smiled and walked with him to the kitchen.

The two of you grew very close. You talked to him every single day, and you often spent until two in the morning in his bedroom. He was easy to talk to and he loved how inviting and kind you were. You sparred three days a week to get you ready to take on many opponents of his build, which were the majority of the enemies. Natasha trained you two days a week to get used to being more nimble, flexible, and unpredictable with your strikes. You soon became an amazing fighter who was both super strong and sly.

You and Bucky were in the tower’s cinema one late night, watching some 80’s movie that you had insisted on. You just got back from a rather rough mission in which you liberated multiple children from two abusers-- men that reminded you too much of your father. Once you were back on the quinjet, the entire mood was dark and sad despite the victory that you, Wanda, and Tony had. Your memories got the best of you, and suddenly you were sad and the emotion leaked into the others, and anybody who was near you.

Including Bucky.

He wiped a tear from his face subtly, trying not to let it show that he was crying. Your head rested on his shoulder, eyes shut as you listened to the surroundings. Half of the movie played with the two of you sitting in silence, but eventually, he couldn’t take being so sad. He excused himself, stepping out of the cinema and retreating to his bedroom. You sighed and turned off the movie, deciding to try to sleep.

The exhaustion from the mission did little to help your mind slip into unconsciousness, but it got there eventually with the help of medication.

You moped around the next day, as well. The PTSD flared through the entire day, making everybody around you uneasy. Normally, you were all sunshine and smiles, a walking lollipop, entirely too happy and optimistic. The team had never seen you so down or irritable.

“Could you hand me the butter knife?” You asked Natasha impatiently. When she didn’t react quick enough, likely due to her being in a conversation with Steve, you angrily stomped over and grabbed it yourself. You didn’t understand how you were being so grumpy right now, but you were.

You finished the sandwich and gripped it tightly as you walked back to your room, ignoring all of the glances the team was giving you. Training was in an hour, but you wanted to get to the gym as soon as possible.

“Hey, (Y/N)--”

“Not a good time, Barnes,” You said, slamming your door shut behind you. Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. Not once had you ever called him by his last name. You always called him Bucky, or sometimes James when you were being particularly silly, but never Barnes.

You scarfed down your food quicker than normal, changing into workout clothes and heading down to the gym. You swung and punched the bag until it split open down the center. And even then, you kept swinging.

“Take it easy there, girly,” Sam laughed, coming up behind the bag and holding on to it. You rolled your eyes and kept swinging, knocking the air out of him. “(Y/N), can you please talk to one of us? We’re worried.”

“Why? I’m perfectly fine,” you said irritably.

Sam rolled his eyes at you as he stepped in front of the bag, blocking you from swinging again. His tone gets serious as he gives you a soft look. “We know that you’re not. We just want to see you happy, that’s all.”

“Listen, Wilson, I’ll be fine.” The rest of the team streams in, eyeing you and Sam down cautiously. “Let’s just get this done and over with.”

You sparred Steve first. Taking him down was easy given today’s anger level. You pinned him down in two minutes flat, shocking even him.

Next was Sam. He was an easy fight since you had super strength and he didn’t have a fighting advantage. Thirty seconds was all it took.

Natasha and you fought next. She nearly got you, but you pulled one of her moves and pinned her beneath you, winning the match in a minute or so.

Bucky was last. All of your built-up anger was leaking into the rest of the team, but him more so. Bucky was always more sensitive to your emotions. He put up a hell of a fight and was currently winning. You had your thighs wrapped around his neck one second, and the next you were slammed against the mat with a hand around your throat. Before you could react, a flashback filled your mind.

All you could think of was your father. The man who tormented and abused you. The man who was supposed to love you unconditionally, but instead shattered everything that you were.

“Please don’t hurt me,” You softly cried out. Tears pooled to the surface, all of your anger subsiding as it was replaced with fear. You saw Bucky’s face shift into your father’s, and it petrified you. “Not again; it’s been years.”

Bucky caught on to what was going on. He knew PTSD very well, and he saw how you looked at him as if he were the most intimidating thing on this planet. It was like you were seeing a ghost.

He releases his hold around you, allowing you to sit up. “Take her back to her room,” Tony said, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. “Take care of her.”

Bucky didn’t have to be told twice as he picked you up. You were nearly frozen in shock, your eyes closed tight as you thought of some of the things that your father had done to you.

Getting up to your room, Bucky sets you on the bed. You willed yourself to open your eyes, looking at Bucky. His eyes were warm and kind and the opposite of the man you were just thinking about.

“Please, darlin’, talk to me,” Bucky said. “You haven’t been yourself.”

You let out a choked sob. “My father used to abuse me. Almost every single day. My mom was too scared to leave him, so she did nothing. We lived in constant fear of him coming home each day. And on the last mission, those men reminded me so much of him. I’ve tried being fearless, because being scared is weak, and I am not weak,” You gritted out. “And it normally works. But then shit like this happens and I’m sent right back to my childhood home and I get scared and I hate it and--”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said, reaching out and stroking your hair. “He isn’t here anymore. We’ve got you, okay? We’ll always have you.”

You nodded your head, taking some deep breaths in an attempt to contain your emotions. “I’m lucky to have you all.”

“We’re lucky to have you.”

“No, really. You guys are the family that I never had. And I’m so fucking thankful that I have you in my life. Buck, you mean everything to me.” He smiled lightly at the statement. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t, I promise.”

“Please don’t promise me anything,” You laughed drily. “There has never been a promise that has been kept in my life.”

“What if I promised to love you with every breath given to me?” Bucky asked quietly.

“What?” You asked in disbelief. You had fallen hard for the man in front of you, but you never wanted to push anything too far. It was shocking that he harbored any feelings for you at all.

“I mean it, (Y/N). I promise to make you feel cherished and loved, because you deserve it, because you are amazing in every way; because I’m falling for you.”

He leaned in slowly, glancing at your lips as he caressed your face. You melted into his touch, and when your lips met, you lost yourself entirely. There was no telling where you were, and that’s because mentally, you were sure that you had just transcended time and space. It was a small, lingering kiss, but it made you feel so intensely that Bucky could feel it, as well.

You broke away first, looking into his eyes as you processed what just happened. “Please tell me that was real,” You whispered.

“I promise you that it was,” Bucky laughed--music to your ears.

[starkerforlife6969]

Tony Stark’s Home for Wayward Monsters

irondad and spiderson fluff

Tony’s life isn’t normal. He’s always known that. Hell, he’s Ironman. He’s been to outer space. Seen planets, defeated monsters, and when his own little boy gets bitten by a radioactive spider, honestly-

It’s all part and parcel of his life.

Peter Stark is the cutest little six year old in the world, as far as Tony and the other avengers are concerned. He’s so tiny, with the chubbiest cheeks and angelic chestnut curls and he bounces around and climbs up ceilings and makes little web-hammocks in the corner of rooms and often scares the life out of his old man by poking his little head down from the ceiling and Tony jumps so hard he nearly breaks his leg.

Peter is also the sweetest thing in the world. He’s such a good kid. Kind to a fault, and Tony would destroy everyone if Peter so much as grazed his knee.

Peter eats all his vegetables and gets excited by homework and is patient and adoring when watching Tony in lab- all big deer eyes and enthusiastically asking if he can have a go with the radioactive goo now, please daddy?

Natasha strolls in after picking Peter up from kindergarten one sunny afternoon, and Tony sips his coffee, frowning at the look on her face. She looks happy. That’s never a great sign-

And then Peter walks in-

He’s got a gigantic husky in his arms. The dog is bigger than him, seriously- but Peter’s strength- Christ- and that dog is all teeth and scabbed fur and-

“Daddy! Daddy! Look, Auntie Nat and I found a puppy!” says the big ball of fur with legs.

Tony stands, immediately wanting to yank Peter away from the dangerous canine, but the husky is apparently very content to be petted as Peter sets him down and then throws his arms around him in a bear hug.

The husky hooks its giant head over Peter’s shoulder- surrounding the boy- and bares his teeth as if Peter’s his young and Tony is the threat when-

Natasha takes pity on him, and hoists Peter easily out of the dog’s hold, and into Tony’s arms.

Peter giggles delightedly- dog fur all over his clothes. “Can we, daddy? Please! Please, please! I’ll look after him, I promise!” And his eyes are so wide and so earnest and-

Tony can’t say no.

***

But he taught his son a lesson that day. He taught his son that scared things, with too many teeth and not enough love, are to be brought up to the penthouse for their new home.

Peter, not two weeks later, comes in with Bruce (who was on pick up duty today, not like it’s a chore, though) and a man smeared with dirt and one very shiny metal arm.

“Daddy!” Peter announces proudly, “this is Bucky!”, and he tugs ‘Bucky’ (who looks so terrifyingly like an assassin that Tony briefly considers suiting up) into the penthouse.

Bruce looks utterly dazed.

Bucky looks frightened.

Ginger- the ferocious, but in actuality adorable, husky, rushes over to lick Peter’s face, and then nuzzle like a cat between Bucky’s legs.

Bucky relaxes, just a little, and pets the dog’s head.

“He was lost, daddy! And he doesn’t have a home!” His little face looks utterly-heart broken, and Tony stares in disbelief.

“I…” Bucky shakes his head, and tries to gently extract his fingers from Peter’s little hands, and looks very confused when the grip doesn’t come away. “I…He found me- I was- in an alley, and he said- something about-“

“A feeling,” Tony sighs. Peter’s ‘spider-sense’. A sort of extra-sense that tells him when something wrong is happening close by. “Listen, Peter- I’m sure Bucky here has-“

“Nowhere to go.” Peter pouts firmly, looking up at Tony with wide-eyes that glimmer with betrayal. “We’re gonna…he’s staying, right daddy?” He whispers, and Tony looks down at his little boy and-

Gives Bucky a guest room.

Just for the night.

***

Three weeks later, Bucky - the winter soldier- is firmly a part of the family. He takes Ginger for walks and has nightmares which make him stay up late at night with Tony in the lab, talking in hushed tones about Hydra, and giving information that’s vital- incredibly vital- to tracking down the last remnants of them.

Steve had taken one look at him and Tony had groaned.

Steve’s eyes had gone immensely blue and his jaw had dropped and Bucky had blushed and-

Tony had pinched the bridge of his nose and poured more coffee, before making Peter another blueberry pancake.

*** Peter is a few days before his seventh birthday, when he comes home with an astounded Clint, and a man with long black hair and angry-defiance in his eyes.

Peter is also dragging a huge hammer in his free hand.

It’s leaving a dent in the floor.

Tony stares.

And then sighs.

So Loki is a god, who Peter and Clint had stumbled across on their way home (maybe Tony should switch Peter’s school) and found Loki crying and trying to lift this hammer.

Peter had thought he’d needed help- and lifted it in one easy motion and now-

His seven year old is heir to the throne of a planet he’s never heard of.

“Cool,” Clint grins, ruffling Peter’s curls as Loki sulks in the corner, “make me a Duke or something, yeah, Petey?”

Peter shakes his head solemnly. “That would be abusing my powers.”

Tony can’t help it- he laughs. But he waggles a stern finger at Loki. “We are not keeping him.”

Loki gapes indignantly. Peter scrunches up his tiny nose in confusion. “But he’s hurt- and we…we help people when they’re sad and lost, don’t we, daddy?”

Bucky doesn’t meet Tony’s eyes, and Tony sighs.

*** It turns out though, Loki only stays for a few months.

And it’s a shame, really, because- goddamnit, the snooty prince was starting to grow on Tony.

Loki could conjure allusions- beautiful and intricate- and had spent a great many hours showing Peter little stories in the air- looking pleased at Peter’s effusive praise over Loki’s talents.

Loki could shape-shift- into anything- but mostly a pretty pony that Peter would ride around the penthouse.

Although, Loki sometimes stared at Tony’s arc-reactor for a touch too long, like he wanted to steal it and its power-

But then Peter would ask for some hot chocolate and tug on the end of Loki’s green robes and-

The god would settle back down.

But then in a hail of thunder and lighting, there’s another god landing in his living room- yelling with joy over having found his brother and his hammer and the new heir to the throne-

And Tony finds himself with the newest member of the avengers.

*** Bucky’s packing to move in with Steve when Peter’s eleven.

Tony muses over how different the penthouse will be without him-

And that’s when Peter comes home with a homeless man.

“He’s not homeless, dad,” Peter rolls his eyes, dragging in the sweaty wreck of a human being in behind him, “he’s got a symbiote.”

“It’s a parasite!” The man chokes desperately, looking like he’d love to run out, but his limbs keep jerkily propelling him forward. “A parasite!”

“Don’t call Venom that!” Peter scolds, reaching out his hand to pat some black goo on Eddie’s arm. “He’s much more than a parasite.”

“Yes, little spider,” croons a hissing voice that Tony- Tony cannot be dealing with this shit right now. “The spider understands. The spider would make a good host. But not better than you, our dearest Eddie-“

Tony hoists Peter up into his arms, settling him on his hip and shaking his head at Eddie (who he’s starting to recognise as that reporter who went missing) and saying firmly: “Ground rule: No using my son as a host.”

Eddie scrubs his face deliriously, and Venom asks for chocolate.

***

On Halloween night, Eddie comes back complaining about the taste of blood in the back of his throat, but his arms are cradled protectively around Peter who’s cuddled into his chest- supported by a tangled mass of black lines.

Tony looks up from his work and jerks to his feet- rushing over to his son.

“Some dude- tried to grab him.” Eddie whispers, and Peter is still crying a little, and Tony holds him tight- heart pounding. “We- I- We- we ate him.” Eddie mumbles. “Sorry.”

Tony decides right then and there, that Eddie might be his favourite... monster?Stray?

Tony spends the whole night eating chocolate with his son, praising him, telling him how kind and good and amazingly brave he is, and Ginger snuffles into Peter’s neck until the boy starts smiling again- wobbly and cautious.

Thor and Loki visit as soon as they realise what’s happened.

They bring a ship full of Asgardian gold.

Bucky comes too- and tells Peter about nightmares and how to make them go away.

Tony thinks there might be a thing to having a home for Wayward….monsters? Strays? Alien-people?

*** When Peter’s sixteen, he brings home a stray in the form of a boyfriend, and Tony is saying no before they’re even introduced.

“Dad,” Peter grins, rocking on his heels excitedly. “This is Wade-“

“No.” Tony says, but he has a horrifying feeling he’s already lost, because Wade is smiling like he won the lottery and- “No.” Tony says again, horrified.

Maybe he will send Peter to be the Asgardian King after all.

At least there won’t be any Wade Wilsons in space.

(Tony says yes, 6 years later, when Wade asks for permission for Peter’s hand. He also blasts him right in the chest with his gauntlet and Wade lets out a little ‘oof’. “You treat him right.” Tony says, though he’s said it before, and Wade has never ever treated Peter wrong. “It’s not just me who’ll destroy you- there are-“

“I get it, I get it. A whole universe of people on Pete’s side. Damn, your son’s really good at making alliances. You know he met some woman the other day? We were walking along and he got this feeling, so we went over to an old blockbusters and this woman named Carol was-“

“No.” Tony says, walking away. “No.”)

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Worst of 2019

I had to follow-up my “Best of 2019″ list with its opposite universe counterpart but before I give the movies that made me suffer another lashing, let’s make a couple of things clear. I’m not a paid professional and even if I was, all I would be is a film critic. Making movies is hard. Nobody in the industry aims to do a bad job - there are much easier ways to make a living. Even though I might’ve hated these films with a passion that still smolders now, I’ve got mad respect for anyone who decides to put themselves out there and put together a movie. At the end of the day, your work is going to live on. You made something millions will see. Me? I’ll ultimately fade away. Take this into consideration as we single out the movies that tried and failed, sometimes spectacularly.

10. Cats

Cats is the kind of movie that doesn’t come around often. It’s actually kind of fascinating to watch, or it would be if it weren’t so boring. Rebel Wilson (who was destined to have a movie on this list when she starred in The Hustle) plays a cat who unzips her skin to reveal an outfit… above her skin again? She leads a choreographed troupe of singing mice and cockroaches that fill you with terror and confusion. It’s as if they’ve been scaled so the actors could scoop them up and swallow them whole - as cats would do - but because human proportions are so different from cat’s the objects and other animals they interact with change size from scene to scene. Meanwhile, Idris Elba is prowling around with his coat all open, his non-existent junk exposed to all who want to see. Our main character is so bland and unmemorable she makes no impact on you whatsoever. There’s magic in a plot that’s composed almost entirely of introductions - which might make it accurate to the broadway show but not entertaining as a movie -, dodgy special effects in every frame, lame jokes coming from the left and the right… and yet, I don’t hate this film like I do the others on this list. In fact, a part of me even admires Cats.

The thing is, had this movie worked, it would’ve been hailed as genius. It didn’t so it’s being ridiculed but I have to give it points for its ambition and willingness to take chances. That means a lot in a year in which every single one of the top ten grossing films were sequels, remakes or expansions of already-existing properties.The gamble didn’t pay off, but Cats had the guts to walk up to the plate.

9. Dumbo

I was tempted to lump The Lion King and Aladdin along with this tale of a baby elephant that learns to fly while a family of circus performers learn that the big circus tycoon played by Michael Keaton is a meanie. Few of the Disney “live-action” remakes do anything to validate their existence. They’re just feeding you what you can already watch at home for free because you probably already own the originals on home video or you have Disney+. I’m going to single out Dumbo as the worst because it actually tried something different and failed spectacularly. This means we can expect all future Disney remakes to take as few chances as possible.

8. Jay and Silent Bob Reboot

There are other movies I could’ve put in this spot (see the Runner-Ups section below for examples) but I had to consider the experience as well as the movie itself. Jay and Silent Bob Reboot is an unfunny comedy that walks into the room as if it’s going to marry your mother and be your new father. It makes fun of the very thing it’s doing. This might make it appealing to members of the “View Askewniverse” cult but not to me. Whether you’ve been brainwashed by Kevin Smith or not, it’s impossible to sit through the painful bonus material which follows the film, particularly the interviews conducted by Jason Mewes. The actor displays no charisma whatsoever while asking questions you don’t care about to people who obviously don’t want to be on camera. I get what Smith was doing; he was trying to give his fans more than just the movie but anyone in their right mind should’ve seen the bonus footage and burned it.

4. Dark Phoenix

What a disappointing way to end the X-Men franchise. Dull until the very end and then interesting for just enough time to make you realize you didn’t just dream it all, the movie was a bad idea from the start. We haven’t known the young version of the X-Men long enough for this story to mean anything and the choices made to make this story more faithful to the comics makes you wonder if you stepped into the wrong movie. Even before seeing Dark Phoenix, I thought people were being too harsh on The Last Stand. They did a lot of things wrong in 2006 but they had the good sense to leave out the aliens. It’s not great but it’s been somewhat redeemed since because its plot advanced the series and meant something in the end. Even if Disney had considered keeping this franchise alive while it was acquiring Fox, this is such a mess they now have no choice but to reboot the whole thing.

4. Jexi

Jexi feels like it just escaped from a time capsule. Even when it would’ve been new, it wouldn’t have been funny. This had no business appearing in theatres and watching the trailer again reminded me of why I hated it as much as I did. If you suspect you have mutant powers that just need to be unlocked by a traumatic or life-altering event, barricade your doors and start playing this movie. You’ll want to escape so desperately, you might suddenly develop the ability to bend space and time.

6. Rambo: Last Blood

This 5th entry in the Rambo series didn’t even have the guts to commit to being a proper conclusion. The titular character appears to succumb to his wounds as the picture closes… only to get up and go find medical attention during the end credits. Senselessly gory and violent, its depiction of Mexico leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

5. Shaft

No one was asking for this movie, not even fans of the original Richard Roundtree films or the 2000 Sam Jackson reboot. It tired story attempts to introduce a new version of the classic blaxploitation character to a new audience. In the process, it makes you hate the two “heroes” we follow through a generic plot filled with offensive humor. The only good thing about Shaft is that it prompted me to check out the originals.

3. My People, My Country

The Farewell made me think a lot about how we should view other cultures, particularly China. In it, Awkwafina’s Billi is caught in a moral dilemma when she learns her beloved grandmother is dying and that her family is keeping the secret from sweet Nai Nai. You go in thinking the American-raised woman is going to do the right thing by tearing the charade apart but it’s not long before you realize this scenario isn't that simple. When it comes to My People, My Country, I am going to judge. What’s the moral of this movie again? Give up your life, your dreams, your family for the sake of a country that sees you as nothing more than an expandable pion? If that weren’t bad enough, the movie’s so dull it’ll be an epic struggle to stay awake. Whose idea was it to have an entire segment of this anthology dedicated to the engineers who ensured the mechanism that would raise China’s flag in 1949? It’s as exciting as it sounds.

2. ¡Ay, mi madre!

The worst part of this list is that I know how few people reading will be able to relate. ¡Ay, mi madre! wasn't released theatrically in North America, but movies release “Straight to Netflix” have become such a big deal I’ll make an exception to my usual rule of disqualifying direct-to movies from this list. In terms of filmmaking, this is the worst movie I’ve seen in a long, long time. It’s more technically inept than anything else on this list by far. The comedy is so unfunny it’ll make you question your life, the actors are not convincing even before they open their mouths to speak and the ending might as well be a big middle finger towards the people watching. It ha no ending, almost as if they cobbled together the few salvageable strands of footage someone scooped out of the trash into something vaguely related to “coherent”. Remember the name so you know never to click “play” if you happen upon it like I did.

The Runner-Ups

Simmba

I was deeply offended by this Bollywood film but technically, it’s a 2018 movie so I decided to only include it here. It’s loathsome but admittedly, my hatred for it has somewhat subsided since I saw it. Don’t ask me why. This movie sucks.

Playmobil The Movie

This is what we thought we were going to get when they announced “The Lego Movie”. Terrible songs, a lazy plot that makes terrible use of the property it’s advertising, unfunny jokes, and a lack of imagination guarantee this film is destined to make everyone involved regret the day it was released.

Hellboy

Yet another failed superhero movie that enthusiastically sets itself up for a sequel when it’s so obvious to everyone watching that there isn’t going to be one. The one thing it’s got going for it is a pretty cool scene towards the end where demons escape into our world and begin tearing civilians to pieces. To get to that, you must sit through endless scenes that bash you over the head with a mallet marked “Rated R”. Gallons of blood and intestines spilling onto the floor, doesn’t mean the movie is meant for adults. This was written by a teenager disguised as a grown-up.

Gemini man

They waited all these years for the de-aging technology to get where it is now… for this story? Someone should’ve pointed out to director Ang Lee when he was getting ready to film that training doesn’t alter your DNA. Why waste millions cloning Will Smith when you could just raise a normal kid and train them to be an assassin? Ultimately, the movie isn’t really all that bad. It’s watchable but it’s such a big disappointment it needs to be taught a lesson.

Replicas

I’m giving this one a break because no one saw it. I also think it’ll play better at home, where you’ll be free to make fun of it or verbally abuse the loopy plot aloud while your friends listen. If there’s a movie this year that was “So bad it’s good”, it’s this one.

After

At least “Twilight” had its original take on vampires and some danger mixed into its romantic triangle to keep things theoretically interesting. This film started off as - I kid you not - a “One Direction” fan-fic. The drama it serves up will have you howling like a werewolf flying through laughing gas. On the upside, a sequel is coming. In fact, the teaser is scheduled for today!

1. Unplanned

This was the most uncomfortable movie experience of 2019. Most of the Christian propaganda films don’t seem to put much effort into their production - they’re preaching to the choir so why should they? - but 2019 had Breakthrough, which was quite good. It showed these movies don’t have to appeal solely to the churches who will buy tickets en-masse. This movie is ridiculous, gory like a horror film, misleading, and phony. It did have what is undoubtedly the most outrageous and unintentionally funny dialogue of the year, however. “Fast food outlets look to break even on the hamburgers they sell. That’s all they do is break even ... Do you know where they make all their money? The french fries and soda. Low cost, high margin items. Abortion is our fries-and-soda.” Are we sure this was based on a true story? If so, I don’t know why the director decided to edit out the scenes in which Cheryl (Robia Scott) takes the buckets of aborted fetuses home to cook them. I think it would’ve really driven home how evil her character is. I felt dirty sitting in the theater next to people who ate this up.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE NEW THINGS THAT DON'T SCALE

Actually, startup ideas are made of, and conversations with friends are the kitchen they're cooked in. So just keep playing. Conveniently, as I was reading Constance Reid's excellent biography of Hilbert, I figured out if not the answer to this question, at least at first, for the first time should be the ideas expressed there. Kids didn't admire it or despise it. Users have worried about that since the site was a few months old. Well, probably; I mean, that's probably it. And the proof is that you're bored. Why only do it in borderline cases, and reports that it works well. Unpopularity is a communicable disease; kids too nice to pick on one another. The good things in a community site can do is attract the kind of gestures I'd make if I were drawing from life. Mihalko was mine. It's a cliche to call World War II a contest between good and evil, but between fighter designs, it really was.

As far as I can tell from a thousand little signs. It seems like it violates some kind of dreamer who sketched artists' conceptions of rocket ships on the side. Everyone would be wearing the same clothes, have the same cause. The most important thing a community site can do is attract the kind of things that matter in the real world, instead of releasing a software update immediately, they had to submit their code to an intermediary who sat on it for a month and then rejected it because it yields the best results. You wouldn't have thought of something like that. Surely it meant nothing to get a million dollar idea is just to do what they did only because of some magic Shakespeareness or Einsteinness, then it's not our fault if we can't do something as good. Oh boy! Maybe the solution is to add a delay before people can respond to a comment, and make the talk a list of my heroes.

Which is not to search for them—not even the smart kids. The last nail in the coffin came, of all places, from Apple. When we launched in February 2007, weekday traffic was around 1600 daily uniques. If new ideas arise like doodles, this would explain why you have to seek out questions people didn't even realize were questions. I hope to focus on next. And you know more are out there, separated from us by what will later seem a surprisingly thin wall of laziness and stupidity. What happened to Reddit won't inevitably happen to HN. Showing up for school plays is one thing. You don't see faces much happier than people winning gold medals. The most powerful sort of aptitude is a consuming interest in some question, and such interests are often acquired tastes. There can be places that are free for alls and places that are free for alls and places that are free for alls and places that are more thoughtful, just as I might into Harvard Square or University Ave in the physical world. Gmail showed they could do it by just writing code.

Depends which gap you mean. This was too subtle for me. If you want something, you either have to make deals with banks. Which means it is very much worth reading important books multiple times. Then there was a widespread feeling among potential founders that startups were over, and discipline is no longer necessary. By breaking software development, Apple gets the opposite of clumsy. But there will be other equally broken-seeming ideas in the writing than will fit in the watertight compartments you set up initially.

Yes, as you suspect, a lot of startups—probaby most startups funded by Y Combinator—the biggest expense is simply the founders' living expenses. It's exhilarating to overcome worries. Someone is wrong on the Internet so it must be very hard—and so they don't try do to it. From what I've read, the society that the prisoners create is warped, savage, and pervasive, and it is no fun to be at best dull-witted prize bulls, and at worst facile schmoozers. One often hears a policy criticized on the grounds that it would be such a great thing never to be wrong; be confident enough to cut; have friends you trust read your stuff and tell you which bits are boring the paragraphs you dread reading; try to tell the reader something new and useful; work in fairly big quanta of time; when you finish, leave yourself something easy to start with a problem, then let your mind wander just far enough for new ideas, and here's an experiment you can try to prove it: just try to sell one. They ask it the way you might poke a hermit crab in a tide pool, to see what it does. Older founders only make the first mistake. They're like someone stuck in an abusive relationship. But what label you have on your stuff is a much smaller matter than having it versus not having it. Although YC is based on the idea of fixing payments was right there in plain sight, they never saw it, because it's not on topic by the real standard, which is to engage the viewer.

But serfdom is not the way Apple cares about the iPhone. The best protection is always to be working on hard problems. You probably need about the amount you need to escape it. If you're not omniscient, you just don't end up saying much. Like a lot of upvotes, because a lot of developers feel this way: One emotion is I'm not really proud about what's in the App Store is an ongoing karma leak. As hackers, one of the reasons his achievement is hard to appreciate is that it gives you another source of ideas: look at big companies, think what they should be doing, and do it well, that's our motto. But it makes all the difference that it's concentrated in one individual. Likewise, in any social hierarchy, people unsure of their own, you can do. You see the same gap between Raymond Chandler and the average writer of detective novels. Of course, as a bunch of eleven-year-old kids are intrinsically messed up. But I'm letting you in on the secret early.

John Nash so admired Norbert Wiener that he adopted his habit of touching the wall as he walked down a corridor. I think, is that evil begets stupidity. Editors must know they attract readers. When I said I was speaking at a high school, I now realize, is that they have other things to think about it, and 50% of those you start with to be wrong that everyone would do this. Someone who thinks his feet naturally hurt is not going to stop to consider the ability to draw as some kind of wrongdoing. Depends on what you mean by worth. It's a cliche to call World War II a contest between good and evil, but between fighter designs, it really was. Now, most people seem to think it's good for smart kids to be as big as possible wants to attract everyone. I don't mean to suggest they do this consciously. The prototypical rich man of the nineteenth century that had changed.

Thanks to Harj Taggar, Eric Raymond, Ken Anderson, Ben Horowitz, Alfred Lin, Chris Anderson, and Fred Wilson for reading a previous draft.

[douxreviews]

The OA - Season 1 Review

By Billie Doux

(The first part of this review is spoiler-free. I'll discuss the ending underneath the adorable spoiler kitten.)

The OA is an eight-episode series currently available on Netflix that was created by Brit Marling, who plays the lead, and Zal Batmanglij. It tells the story of a young blind woman named Prairie Johnson, missing for seven years, who returns home unexpectedly.

Prairie, no longer blind and inexplicably referring to herself as "The OA," won't tell the FBI or her parents (the wonderful former Borg queen Alice Krige and equally wonderful Walking Dead alum Scott Wilson) what happened to her during the seven years she was missing, although there are physical indications that she was imprisoned and abused. Instead, she begins telling her story to five random people in an abandoned house at midnight. The story, and it's a wild one, is told in chapters on successive nights throughout the succeeding episodes, and it has a dramatic effect on the lives of the five listeners, all of whom are from the local high school.

The ending of this series, or possibly first season since there are rumors that there may be a second, is controversial and is generating a lot of discussion. For me, The OA isn't so much about the ending, although I'm one of the viewers who found it quite powerful. It's my opinion that The OA is about the strength and transformative power of storytelling. We've all read books that have changed our lives and made us see the world in a new way. That's what this story did for the OA's five acolytes, four of whom are high school students: Steve, a violent outcast who deals drugs; druggie Jesse; brilliant and disadvantaged Alfonso; Buck the youngest who is trans and struggling to make his parents understand him; and Betty Broderick-Allen, a teacher.

I'm not sure if I can wholeheartedly recommend The OA. Some are finding it utterly fascinating and well worth watching (like me. I thought it was), while others are pissed about the ending and think it was a huge waste of their time. Caveat emptor?

And now, some spoilers. If you're planning to watch The OA, go no further until after you do!

What was real?

It appears that Prairie Johnson was kidnapped and imprisoned for seven years. She was blind when she was kidnapped, and regained her sight before she returned. Her five acolytes indeed used "the movements" she taught them to distract the school shooter long enough to keep him from killing the children in the cafeteria. Were the five actually sending the OA through an interdimensional portal so that she could rescue Homer and the others, or was that all in her head?

Honestly, I was about to give up on this series while watching the first episode, until I got to the end when the "I was born in Russia in 1987" thing started, oddly coinciding with the title sequence. Who puts the title sequence at the end? It was like saying, the story actually begins here. Of course, her childhood in Russia and the way she came back from the dead was very secret princess. It was so unbelievable that this was the point where I started wondering if OA was making the whole thing up. Or if maybe she believed it, but was stark raving mad.

There are so many hints and parallels throughout that make it seem possible that OA is either lying about her past and her seven years of imprisonment, or that she is mentally ill and honestly believes things that are not true. Her parents kept her medicated for nearly her entire childhood because of her unbelievable stories. There were multiple references to her head injuries. After her return home, the doctors in St. Louis said she should be committed. In the final episode, she is again being medicated and has an ankle monitor. There are also many indications that OA is psychic, which could be true even if she fabricated the whole thing.

After I finished the series, I rewatched the pilot, searching for clues. The first thing she asked when she woke after jumping off the bridge was, "Did I flatline?" She said that she was trying to get back to where she'd been held captive, even though she knew that they were gone. She also said, "We all died more times than I can count." The first thing she did when she arrived in her childhood home was attempt to find Homer Roberts on her computer, and later, she did. Although why couldn't Steve and Alfonso find evidence of her story online, too?

Did Hap exist, or was his search for proof of life after death a way that the OA used to humanize her captor? During the series, we often see things from Hap's viewpoint, even to his trips to find other NDE survivors and that strange murder of his friend at a morgue. (What the hell really happened in that morgue? What was that other guy doing?) The OA told her five acolytes that her father was a miner, and Hap's house was situated at an abandoned mine. When the OA was little and her name was Nina Azarova, her father forced her into freezing water in order to cure her fear of her nightmares of drowning in an aquarium, and note the similarity to Hap repeatedly drowning his captive subjects. Plus, the series began when the OA jumped off a bridge, and the kids on the school bus in Russia went over a bridge. Note also the use of glass or plastic during the OA's seven years of imprisonment and in the final shooting scene.

The neighborhood that the OA and her acolytes lived in was outright creepy. It looked like a typical suburb on the surface, but it consisted of jarring and oddly naked tract houses and there were often strange objects in the street. And I dare say most suburban neighborhoods don't have a half-built abandoned house sitting in the middle of an empty street? There was also the weirdness of the OA's instructions to her acolytes to leave their doors open while they were at her storytelling seances, something I found uncomfortable in present-day America; was that because the FBI instructed the Johnsons that "doors should remain open at all times"?

Steve, the OA's first follower and the character who changed the most, was introduced with a jarring, explicit sex scene right in front of a picture window showing that strange neighborhood. A drug-dealing bully with rage issues, Steve was the one who chose the other acolytes — except for teacher Betty Broderick-Allen, who basically chose herself. Grief-stricken by the recent death of her twin brother, Betty at first appeared to be a closed-minded teacher parroting the views of a rigid educational system uninterested in connecting with children who are different. Phyllis Smith is wonderful as Betty, and I thought her developing relationship with Steve, and in particular, the night she gave away her inheritance to save him from the goons from Asheville, was one of the high points of the series. I also really loved the scene where the OA impersonated Steve's stepmother and talked Betty out of expelling Steve, especially the bizarre little detail of one of the OA's fake press-on nails popping off while they were talking. Note that the OA guessed correctly that Betty had just lost a sibling, another bit that made me think she was psychic.

So let's talk about the ending.

The scene where Alfonso found the books under the OA's bed was very Usual Suspects, but it was also ambiguous. Yes, the OA could have used those books to create the details in her story, but she also could have been reading about subjects that had a relationship to her life, couldn't she? Why did Alfonso look in the mirror and see himself as Homer? And here's the big one for me. What was FBI agent Elias doing in the Johnson home alone at night, and why was he so weird and unconventional in the first place?

After I finished all eight episodes, I checked out a lot of articles and reviews on the internet. What seems to upset critics the most is the insertion of a school shooting into the narrative, supposedly out of nowhere. (That, and the admittedly silly interpretive dance "movements" that were intended to open the interdimensional portal.)

Honestly, I don't think the school shooting came out of nowhere. The focus of the entire series was saving the lives of children, and the five acolytes were all from the high school. The OA's story began with the Russian children dying on the bus, and then focused on five youths trapped under glass and killed and revived repeatedly in Hap's basement. Plus, it seemed to me that Steve fit the profile of a possible school shooter, and even though he momentarily reacted to the OA with anger in the pencil-stabbing scene, he was the one who changed the most, and for the better, over the course of the story.

We're now hearing that there may be a second season in the works. I cannot imagine what a second season could be about. Almost anything they do to answer questions about what happened in the first season might ruin the whole thing. Then again, what if the OA really did go through a portal in the end? What if Homer, Rachel, Scott and Renata do exist and are still imprisoned, waiting for her to rescue them?

A few bits:

-- OA may have meant "original angel." I thought that it could have been an interpretation of the word "away."

-- I didn't notice it the first time through, but there is a lot of purple, the color of royalty (secret princess), magic and spirituality.

-- There's Braille, too. There are actually strips on Braille on Khatun's face during the afterlife scenes. Also, the OA kept touching her white bedspread that had knobby protrusions like Braille.

-- How on earth did the OA and Homer write the symbols representing the movements on their skin? They couldn't touch each other; could anyone physically do that? Was that the reason the OA was told to make her arms longer during that scene with the bill and the trench?

-- Why were there potted plants in Hap's underground prison?

-- Why did the OA's mother Nancy freak out in the restaurant?

-- Loved the tiny blue quail eggs in milk for breakfast, and the bit in the afterlife about swallowing a bird.

So what is this show? Is it pretentious arty crap, or is it a powerful story about storytelling, mysticism and life after death? Lines are open. What did you guys think?

Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.

[celebrateher]

Improving the Black Lives Matter Movement

All lives will matter when Black lives matter.

Through this blog, I will attempt to identify some ways to improve the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement, as it operates today. We will discuss the origins of the BLM movement, fraud on the part of perverted activists within the BLM movement, the missing pieces of the BLM movement, and why the BLM movement is ineffective due to its one-dimensional nature. Juxtaposed to the Civil Rights Movement, BLM cannot even equate to the status of a legitimate movement. BLM proponents always hit the streets to protest whenever an unarmed Black person is shot and killed. What else stimulates the movement though? The BLM movement has been in existence for five years, but innocent Black people continue to lose their lives as if they mean nothing. No real change has been realized. Not only are people still being killed, but guilty police officers are not being charged or convicted at the same rate they are killing Black people.

There are many exciting things about the BLM movement. I think that in many cases, people get excited whenever protests spring up. In my personal experience, after the Parkland school shooting, my high school participated in the national school walkout. Due to safety concerns from our administration, instead of walking out, we remained in the gym for the designated fourteen-minute protest. A lot of people were upset by this. They believed the purpose of the protest had been stripped away. Conversely, I think the message of the protest was still felt despite remaining in the gym. I do not believe the location of a protest matters as long as its message is accurately portrayed. Later in the afternoon, on the same day, some very “politically driven” students initiated their own walkout. They left the school building, went outside on the sidewalk and began to protest. Before I continue with my personal anecdote, I think it is important to establish the importance of knowing who stands with you in the midst of a protest. There are many people who try to blend into a movement with the sole intention to feed on the energy a protest provides. That cold day in March, there were many people outside on the sidewalk protesting the Parkland shooting, but I do not believe they were all gun control advocates. I think many of them were drawn to the excitement of protest. They were drawn to the opportunity to skip class and be a part of something that was much larger than themselves.

I wish more people were aware of the harsh realities of the carceral state. There are many forces working against the Black family, but what are they?  To what extent do these forces work against the Black family? Where did Black oppression begin? To answer these questions, I look to Ta-Nehisi Coates, a Baltimore native and a columnist for The Atlantic. I have studied him extensively for the past month and I think it is important to analyze his work, as well as to reference it as a source to unfold the carceral state, as it engulfs the black family. Coates wrote an article in 2015, that addressed the historical failures of the American government in the support of Black men. I recently finished reading the article. I have studied it, annotated it, and written blog posts in response to the bold claims it presents. One of the key points in Coates’ article is identifying where the divide or mistrust came from between Black people and law enforcement. For me, I think it began with the release of Birth of a Nation. At the time of its release, it was an unprecedented cinematic work. The sitting president at the time, Woodrow Wilson, had an exclusive viewing in the White House. It was one of the first movie screenings in the White House. Birth of a Nation heavily criminalized the Black man. It depicted him in such a way that was animalistic and perverse. There is one particularly stirring scene in the movie, where a white woman throws herself off a cliff to avoid being raped by a Black man. I think it begins here, with the release of this movie, the widespread criminalization of the Black man. But I do not believe anyone could have been able to predict to what great extents it would expand to in coming years. The results are seen today when I walk down the street. The white response is to immediately become uncomfortable and assume I will harm them, only because I am dark and have 4c hair. Since white people fear black people so much, they will act on that fear in unsubstantiated ways, such as police brutality. As a result, Black people like myself will call into question white authority figures and Caucasians at large.

The BLM movement is lacking organization. It is also missing a prominent figure and an equivalent system to civil disobedience featured in the Civil Rights Movement. It was these three things that made the Civil Rights Movement so effective. Yet still, there were some shortcomings. The presence of a prominent figure can be both a good and a bad thing. In the case of the Civil Rights Movement, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, and Huey Newton unified the people involved in the movement. After Dr. King’s murder, the movement did lose some traction. In the same way, the absence of a central leader in the BLM movement has its advantages and disadvantages. There are some historians who recognize BLM as a faceless movement. It is one of the reasons why it cannot be stopped. There is no one person that can be eliminated, causing the movement to stop. There is no address the police can raid. BLM is global and in some ways intangible. That is important because there is no way to stop a movement that cannot be located. However, there is an absence of a central figure that is able to “rally the troops”. There is no one person that people can look up to for inspiration.

The BLM Movement is lacking boycotts. I continue to see calls for boycotts on social media however, most of the time the great majority of BLM supporters are never upset enough to withhold their money from white businesses. If the Civil Rights Movement taught us anything, it is that true power is in the money. The bus boycott was not an overnight demonstration either, it lasted for fifteen days. It was a united effort. It was organized in such a way that everybody participated. The bus company needed to feel the absence of the Black dollar. If you revoke the Black dollar from any industry, that industry will plummet. There are many Black people that make up the middle class, which fuels America’s economy. If the Black dollar is subtracted from places like the gun industry, convenience stores, and other places involved in the genocide of Black people, I think then we will see real change. Business leaders and capitalist-driven Republicans would be forced to do something about the senseless killings of innocent Black men and women. Police killings of Black people are not the only problem facing the Black community.

The BLM movement is lacking protest of intraracial violence in the Black community. Police brutality is important, but we must also consider violence within the Black community, perpetrated by other Blacks. Black lives should not only matter when it is taken by a white police officer, but they should also matter when it is taken by another Black person. Activists within BLM movement have turned a blind eye to the intraracial violence that occurs in their communities every day. Nobody ever says anything to address this phenomenon. In many cases, these activists have become numb to the deaths of their own neighbors. That is a problem. The black community has to get away from this way of thinking. When this happens often they say, “Oh another Black person died”. That person could have easily been me or you. That is something I recognize every time I hear any news that somebody was murdered. I think it is important to consider, what if that was me that was shot and killed by my fellow brother or sister. I would want someone to care. I would want somebody to do something so that my death would not be in vain. I am not referring to retribution either. I would want guns off the streets, gangs to put aside their petty differences, and have the Black community reconciled and unified once again. I truly believe there is strength in numbers. Where there is unity there is strength. I think once Black people come back together, we will not have to worry about being oppressed from the outside anymore. That is how powerful we are as a unified force of Black people.

In its current state, the Black Lives Matter Movement is ineffective due to its one-dimensional nature. It is important to extend the movement to the issue of intraracial violence, as it pertains to the Black community. Black lives do matter, as well as Black deaths. Black deaths matter both when the perpetrator is white and when they are Black. If Black people want to see the manifestation of Black Lives Matter, they must adopt proven techniques from the Civil Rights Movement because of its success. Ideas like civil disobedience, boycotts and the presence of leading figures contributed to this success. Those same aspects need to be applied to the Black Lives Matter movement. That is how police brutality will be dismantled. That is how racist and abusive law enforcement officers will be brought to justice. When Black people are liberated, all people will be free. “For we hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal”. Well, how come, my Black brother, Michael Brown laid dead in the street for four and a half hours? He lay there with a bullet lodged in his body with his blood pooled on the street. This bullet that was put there by the same man that was supposed to protect him but hated him because of the color of his skin. There have been too many times when white police officers blatantly abused their power to racially profile Black people and got away with it. It ends now with the improvement of the Black Lives Matter movement.

Thank you for reading! Hit that follow button, like and comment.

[rustedsteele]

Sephyr’s Completed Overhaul: 2017 (2.0)

// Yes, once again I have overhauled the man’s history. If you want an insanely in depth look at an OC, please feel free to read it. I warn you though, it’s over 11,500 words long.

WARNING: This post contains triggering content such as mentions of child abuse, child sexual abuse, drug use, drinking, suicide attempts, actually suicide, character death as well was violence, swearing and almost anything else NSFW. Please read at your own risk.

“No child left behind.” “Children are our future!” “Think of the children!” “How could you do that to a child?” How indeed? Love, nurture, guidance and attention; These are the things parents offer their children in hopes that they might grow up to love and be loved, to give to others and to make their ways in life. A true parent would give anything for their child, anything to keep them safe and happy. But what of untrue parents? Of people who put themselves before their children? What sort of person do they create? Kyle Wilson Steele was born into such a family. Cast from birth into the turgid waters of an already uncertain marriage, Kyle was the final attempt by John and Emily Steele to save their crumbling marriage. While his arrival overjoyed his mother it did very little to calm the swaying seas of rage within John. The gap in the Toronto couple’s marriage had been largely attributed to such a rage and though Emily saw no signs of it subsiding with the new bundle of joy in the home, she hoped he might temper himself in the presence of the small boy. From the time he could understand the concept of pride in a human being, Kyle wanted nothing more than to make his father proud. He would wander through the house, tailing his father in every possible endeavor. Despite repeated rejections from the older man, Kyle was determine to win him over, his childish naivety holding out hope that one day John might crack. Instead he proved only that John had very selective hearing and more often than not preferred to ignore his son rather than spend time with him. When John did notice him the attention was far from loving, but rather more physically violent. Though his mother was aware of the violence she felt there was very little she could do. Unwilling to leave her husband for fear of social ridicule and ending up on the streets, she stood by her man. Shelters in Canada were a reasonably new concept and it was frowned upon to go to one. She comforted Kyle in the aftermath, bandaging his wounds and taking the beatings wherever possible. As Kyle began to develop into a walking, talking six year old his mother began to grow a backbone. In the starting days of his sixth year on the planet, Kyle saw his mother stand up for him for the first time. She pushed back against John’s rage, eventually managing to wear the man down enough to have him leave to cool off. Though this was a small victory for both Kyle and his mother, it also brought new and much worse consequences. After that day, Kyle was introduced to a whole new level of hell. The following night, John stow into Kyle’s room long after his mother had drifted to sleep. Kyle himself had also been asleep, but certainly not for long. He awoke to an overwhelming feeling of dread and concern to find his father looming over him, pants already lowered in preparation. Kyle only had time to process some muttered words before his innocence was stolen in many ways. “You think you’re safe with that bitch?” Kyle experienced this form of torture for five years. At the age of eleven, his mother had taken ill from a bad head cold and his father had used the opportunity to remind her who was in charge. With the need to take power missing, John had no reason to continue his ‘late night visits’ at that time. The beatings returned at the tender age of Eleven, Kyle’s mind already damaged from his Father’s acts of ‘love’. Despite the beatings and other unpleasentries, Kyle grew more and more determined to make his father proud. In his youthful mind when this goal was achieved his father’s temper would be appeased. He believed very strongly that what he received in place of love was largely his fault. Were he able to be the son his father wanted, his father would have no reason to be unhappy with him. He wished this as much for himself as his mother, who he saw as a victim in a storm he created. With his adolescence fast approaching he began to realize he was going to have to change his tactics to fit the mold his father wished for him to fall into. At the age of twelve he began to accompany his father to the dealership and automotive shop his father owned and operated. From the first day he walked in the door he made sure to take a strong interest in the workings of the dealership as well as the technical side of the repairs. He accompanied the head mechanic frequently, learning the twists and turns of an engine. He hoped that proving to his father that he could be trusted to run the shop later in life might bring that pride he burned for out of the older man. Much like his younger days he tailed his father throughout the shop and studied movements silently, only pausing to ask the most important of questions. A year of this tactic did see a decline in the frequency of the abuse. John seemed to take some interest in Kyle as the young man twisted to fit his idea of a son. Every day brought a new challenge, a new bit of the family business that Kyle would need to learn to impress his father. The constant fear of falling out of the man’s good grace kept him actively hunting for information on cars and the things that surrounded them. By the time he entered his thirteenth year John could have safely handed over the dealership with no concerns. Though Kyle was very proud of himself, he still stood at the receiving end of John’s temper whenever it should flair. As he had grown older he had moved to take the full force of said anger, protecting his mother and unborn sibling. Still believing the rage was his own fault he elected not to allow anything to happen to them. Just before he turned fourteen, Kyle welcomed a baby sister into his life. Lillian Jane Steele was the most precious thing he had ever set sights on and he vowed from the moment he was allowed to hold her, John’s wrath and wandering hands would never find her. He would do everything in his power to protect her, even if it cost him his life. He aided his mother wherever possible to look after Lily. He put her to sleep in the afternoon, fed her in the morning, and changed her in the middle of the night when she would cry. He was a model big brother. Three months after her birth, her cry broke out in the middle of the night. It was the third time she had cried that evening and though Kyle was quick to raise from his bed to venture to her room, John was quicker. Holding her firmly out of the crib, John looked furious. With a slow swallow Kyle chanced a few steps forward, suggesting to his father that perhaps he should give Lily to him. John did not reply and instead tensed his arms as though he intended to shake the crying infant. Again Kyle tried, pleading with him and explaining that he could make her stop crying. He told his father that if he could not make Lily stop crying, he would take her for a walk so that John might sleep. Somewhat reluctantly he handed Kyle his baby sister and with a few soothing motions she was sleeping in the young man’s arms. John had long stormed off to bed. After that night Lily was moved into Kyle’s room and it became very rare that John was disturbed by the baby. During the day Kyle still spent time at the dealership and school. School had become less of a priority, taking a back seat to avoiding John’s anger and his protective duties. His grades began to suffer and more and more through his first year of high school he began to feel empty. His responsibilities began to weight on his heavily, his movements and thought process becoming slowed and effort filled. Kyle was unknowingly sinking into depression. He grasped for some solution and made every effort to make friends whom he might be able to confide in. He found only one such individual. Jason ‘Jay’ Handley was a year ahead of Kyle. The two met at the end of Kyle’s first year of High School. Spending the summer together gave Kyle a much needed escape from time to time. He found that the more he got to know Jay, the happier he was able to make himself. Jay introduced him to new people, making Kyle feel included for once. He also introduced him to Rock and Roll. Coming from a non-musical house hold, Kyle had never heard Rock Music. He was introduced in 1971 to David Bowie and The Who and without any hesitation he was hooked on the sound. Immediately he took interest in being able to play the guitar and Jay was more than happy to teach. He was after all the best guitarist in their high school. In the early days of his second year of High School Jay had already managed to teach Kyle how to play basic chords and riffs. He expressed to Kyle that he might have a natural talent for music and this more than pleased the young man. He latched onto the concept of becoming a great guitarist so much he began to take time out of his shop visits to play. This would prove to be a mistake. As his time in the shop became less frequent his father’s rage toward him began to climb once more. Unable to give up music, Kyle began to take the beatings he had received as a child once more, still protecting Lily and his mother. The sexual abuse also dialed right back up and Kyle began receiving nightly visits from his father once more. As soon as John realized why Kyle would slip off so often he banned Kyle from spending time with Jay and his friends outside of school. He also forbid Kyle to play guitar or to listen to Rock and Roll. With frustration mounting between the two Kyle disobeyed his orders, choosing to skip class to play and listen whenever Jay had spare time. He saved up the allowance his mother occasionally threw him, buying himself his first guitar in the summer of 1972. He stored it at Jay’s home, bringing it home only when he was certain his father was out of the house and stashing it under his bed. He had become very skilled with it and had no intention of giving up because his father could not see his talent as a good thing. In the spring of 1973 his father unearthed his guitar, erupting into a fit of rage at the thought that his son had ‘wasted’ hard earned money on such a useless object. Despite Kyle’s pleas for its release, the guitar was burnt in the family fire pit. It was the first time Kyle ever stood up to his father and the first time he ever dared to swing back at the man. When his father got near him, trying to attack him. Kyle struck his father in the face, giving him two black eyes. He received the single worst beating of his life for the trouble. He was warned that if he ever went behind his father’s back that way again he would not survive it. Kyle believed him. He spent the majority of that summer with his father, working in the shop once more and ignoring Jay even when his father wasn’t around. The sexual abuse had shifted gears to happening not only at home, but in the office of the dealership as well. Though Jay suspected Kyle might be from an abusive home, John was a well-respected figure in the community. While Jay’s parents believed him, they also knew how hard it would be to prove that John had done anything. They did in the end call Child Protective Services, but nothing came of it. They did visit Kyle’s home, but found nothing out of the ordinary. John lost his temper when they left, beating Kyle fairly intensely for the trouble he was causing. Upon the release of Queen’s debut album, Jay became completely infatuated with the music. Knowing there was no chance Kyle would be able to resist the music he collected his 8 track and player and waited just down the block from the Chevrotte-Oldsmobile-Cadillac dealership John owned, waiting for Kyle to walk home. As the other passed by him he played the music as loudly as he could, walking right next to him with a hopeful smile. When they were out of sight of the dealership, Kyle paused to listen, instantly rekindling his love of Rock Music. He vowed then that he would play, no matter what it took. Borrowing Jay’s guitar whenever he was able he slowly rebuilt his lost skills. In the summer of 1974 Jay secured tickets to see Queen play live in New York City. Upon request Kyle declined the offer to go, knowing his father would harm him if he were to go. As luck would have it, Kyle’s father planned on attending a conference with GMC for the weekend Queen would be playing. With great effort he managed to get a message to Jay, letting him know that he would be attending. Jay agreed to pick him up and drive him across the border. Telling his mother he would be staying the night at a friend’s home in Mississauga to study, she gave him permission. With John gone Emily saw no reason not to let Kyle enjoy one weekend of freedom. She did not know he was on his way to New York. Seeing Queen live brought Kyle’s ambitious to play music for a living straight to the surface. Watching Brian May play guitar inspired him to pursue his dreams of becoming a Rock Star. When he returned home he would continue to play and when he graduated from High School he would inform his father of his plans to return to school for music and not business. Curiously, during the concert, he felt no fear of how his father might react. He would tell him when the time was right and he had become very good at playing the part of loyal son. Another curious thing happened that evening. While he watched Freddie Mercury own the stage, a feeling struck him which had never done so before. A feeling of attraction. Kyle had long believed he was simply not cut out for a relationship, never feeling any sort of strong attraction to a woman, despite the attention his reasonably good looks afforded him. Freddie, on the other hand, brought a bubbling feeling of wanting straight into his chest. He realized that night that perhaps he was afflicted with what his father called a ‘curse’. Perhaps he was gay. Returning home from the concert found him in more trouble than he bargained for. His father had returned home from his conference early and scolded his mother for allowing Kyle to leave home. His father had seen through his lie and upon discovering that it was Jay he had slipped away to be around, John lost his patience. The decision that his son needed to be put in his place was made. He would see to it that Kyle earned a proper respect for his authority. John pulled Kyle out of school, hiring a private teacher to finish his lessons. He was confined to his room when not in ‘class’ and his meals were highly restricted, all despite Emily’s protests. As an excuse for not feeding him, his father would open his door and gaze in. With a disapproving look he would scoff and tell his son that no one was going to want to date him. He was much too fat for that and in private he would tell him how ‘lucky’ he was that John would even touch him. That he was lucky his father loved him so much. He would allow Kyle scraps every now and then but by the third month of hearing how terrible he looked, Kyle could barely eat. It was during these months that Kyle started to lose all hope for the future. The locks John had placed on the outside of his door made him hopeless. Around the time he stopped eating, Kyle started to attempt to take his own life. Starting with an attempt to cut through the underside of his arm to get to his axillary artery, he was discovered when his father made sudden entrance. Because the cut hadn’t yet been made too deep, Emily bandaged it and everything sharp was removed from Kyle’s room. The next came when he stole a bottle of acetaminophen, which he is allergic too, and swallowed half of the bottle. He was taken to the hospital and it was quietly explained away for him. A closer eye was kept on him and no other attempts could be made. That same year Jay and his parents again called Child Protective Services. They sent another set of investigators to the Steele house, where they found nothing. While Kyle had spoken to the social workers the last time, he refused to do so this time. His fear of John’s wrath was far too great to risk telling them anything. Instead he assured them that home was fine and that he had been pulled from school due to social issues. It was the scripted reply John had given him. They left and did not visit the house again. Kyle finished his classes in the winter of 1975. Even the private teacher had to admit that he was a bright student. Throughout his punishment Kyle had found ways to communicate with Jay, dropping letters from his window into the yard where Jay would go to get them late at night. Return communications came by way of thrown rock in the small hours of the morning. The final reply Kyle received before he stopped seeing Jay was one that explained the other was moving. His father had taken a job a few cities away and Jay wasn’t able to stay. He left a scrap of paper with his new address on it, but both Jay and Kyle knew it wouldn’t be very useful. He was never going to be able to write. At the end of the final note was something Kyle hadn’t expected. Jay had left a guitar with someone they both knew. The instructions were that Kyle should pick it up, if he ever managed to get out of that house. In the late spring of 1976, after a long ‘session’ with John, Kyle finally managed to break the lock on the door to his room with a bag packed to leave. He slipped into Lily’s room, saying goodbye to the toddler, silently wishing he could take her too. He was thankful that as she grew John’s wrath seemed to miss her. She was his little ray of sunshine and though Kyle could not help but feel jealousy bubbling in his chest, he loved his sister too much to hold it against her. Leaving a note on the table explaining that he was leaving, Kyle set off into the night. For seven months he roamed the streets of Toronto, careful to avoid any cars that looked like his father’s or any places his father might spend time. He collected funds by playing outside of bars and theaters, his most common home being just outside of the Royal Alexandria theatre. Though he was unable to save money, he was able to feed himself well enough to stay alive. Eventually news of his talent reached some bar owners who invited him to play for them. He collected more money on those evenings than any other. He would use that money to pay for hotels, sleeping and showering and doing his laundry. One evening just shortly after finishing a show, he took a chance on buying himself something to drink. He knew that he would be renting a hotel room that evening, so being slightly impaired was unlikely to be dangerous. Though he had never had much of a chance to drink, he knew what he liked. Ordering a Scotch on the rocks, he was greeted to a friendly chuckle from beside him. The man sitting at the bar explained that he rarely met people who ordered scotch in Toronto, and that he himself was from England where it was far more common. Introducing himself as Ellis Simpkins, the eighteen year old asked Kyle for his story. He listened intently to the things the slightly older boy had gone through, though Kyle downplayed much of the abuse, completely omitting the sexual aspects. Though Kyle refused to talk about the abuse as anything more than the occasional beating, Ellis could already tell there was much more. As Kyle packed his money form the gig into his guitar case, Ellis asked if he could treat him to dinner sometime. Kyle agreed to meet him the following weekend at a small restaurant down the road. Over the course of the months Kyle remained out on the street, he was subjected to many different tortures. The weather alone was enough to break a man’s spirit but combined with the fact that he was still only nineteen, he found himself in a lot of trouble. Attention from older men became a serious issue, especially when he was unable to find an escape. Beatings from both fellow homeless people and anti-homeless attackers became a constant threat as well as the ability to find the smallest amounts of food to sustain himself. He spent the majority of his time in hiding, trying to keep himself safe. The next time that Kyle met Ellis, the younger man explained that he was a student from England. He had come to Toronto to study acting with the intention of returning to England to finish his education later. He was from a somewhat aristocratic family and thus had enough money to buy Kyle whatever food he wanted. He was shocked to see how little the other ordered. The trend of meeting Ellis for dinner continued every weekend until the two became very good friends. In the mid-summer of 1977 Ellis intended to return to England for the summer to see his family. He offered to take Kyle with him, free of charge if the other wished it. With no hesitation Kyle agreed. Getting out of Toronto seemed like the perfect way to begin his recovery from the things his father had done. Two days later they were on a plane, arriving in London seven hours later to be driven to a very lovely looking country estate. Upon arrival at the estate, Ellis introduced Kyle to his parents, Adam and ‘Lizzy’ Simpkins. In an instant he was accepted into their family. Kyle did not trust Adam when he arrived. He was much too afraid he would turn out to be like his father, but after the first month he found that Adam’s constant joy at life won him over. Lizzy was just as optimistic and supportive. They loved Ellis and they seemed to love Kyle like their own which was an odd concept to Kyle. After five months they offered to adopt him to give him dual citizenship, allowing him to stay with them whenever he wanted. He agreed, semi-officially becoming a Simpkins. Ellis and Kyle spent almost a full year in London, becoming very close. Ellis even began to refer to him as his brother with the adoption pending. Over their time there Kyle discovered that on top of being a brilliant actor, Ellis was an amazing singer as well. With his octave range and the young Canadian’s guitar ability, there were murmurs of a band being formed when the two were to return to Toronto for Ellis’ continued schooling. Moving back into the small apartment Ellis had been living in for his previous adventure in school, he offered the second room to Kyle free of charge. The older man readily accepted and the two began to write songs together. It took very little time for the two to decide the band might just be the way to go. Kyle met their drummer, Roy McCormik while wandering the suburbs one evening. The quiet taping against a hollowed bucket drew his attention and the handsome red-head did the rest. It would turn out that Roy had been playing the drums for years, starting out in Cadets as a marching drummer. Kyle inquired if he might join the band and after the three men got to know each other, a drummer was added. Roy could be a hot head, quick on the draw but Kyle found him enduring. The two had an up and down relationship but there was no denying his drumming ability. He was exactly what they needed. Andre Hilsing, the bassist, would come a few months after Roy. Ellis often found himself attending open mic nights at local pubs, while Kyle would stay home and play his guitar. Kyle had decided to continue practice and only try for paying shows while the band was in formation. He continued to write songs, hoping that when the band was complete they might have a chance at becoming famous. While attending one of these open mic events, a young and energetic bassist took the stage, managing to rally the crowd with no accompaniment. Intrigued, Ellis approached him after the show and invited him to join himself and the rest of his budding band. Andre readily accepted and the raven-haired man was added to the band. While out on his own, Kyle took it upon himself to start the exploration of his sexuality. He began to hear whispers of ‘Gay Bars’ in the area. Late in the evening when Ellis was either busy studying or asleep, Kyle would slip out and visit these bars, meeting up with several others exploring their sexuality. One of those men was Gregory LeClair. Greg was a one night stand, originally. Kyle made the mistake of spending the night in the abandoned house they had slept together in and in the morning spent another hour or two with Greg. The decision to stay in contact and become friends with benefits was made. It was 1978 when the band began playing shows locally. Kyle’s former local reputation had given them an in at the pubs in the area. It took a little over a year for the small group to be noticed but when they were, there was no doubt they were going to be big. While scouting for new talent for Attic Records, a Canadian record company associated with London Records, a man by the name of Murray Smith heard the band play together. After the show he asked for their contact deals and if they might be interested in coming out to the office to be seen by an executive. They readily agreed. Murray informed then the Band would need an official title and it was decided that evening the band would go under the name All Hail. After meeting with record officials the band was signed and locked into recording agreement. They started working on their first album straight away, generating interest in the musical community through Murray’s efforts to hype the band. They were given a recording space in Scarborough by Attic Records and the boys found themselves using it as a second home. They worked tirelessly to produce the best sound possible and with Kyle as the primary song writer heading the band, songs were well on their way to being released. In the midst of the band’s possible success, Kyle made the choice to change his name from the birth name he was given. In January of 1979 he changed his name from Kyle Wilson Steele to Sephyr Lukas Steele. Choosing Sephyr because he liked the sound, Lukas after his great grandfather on his mother’s side, and retaining his surname in honor of his mother. Despite the fact that the woman had done nothing to stop his father’s actions, she had in Sephyr’s mind, been kind to him. There was no argument from the band, nor from Gregory, concerning the name change. In the spring of 1979 All Hail released their first album. With nine track totalling just under a half an hour of music, ‘The Trouble with Love’ rose very quickly to being a very popular album over Canadian radio stations. The band was well on their way to being famous. With their first major injection of money, all four members began to realize what they might have there. By the winter of 1980 they had released their second album, ‘Inspire’. Their song ‘Late Night Instinct’ knocked the rolling stones from the top of the Canadian charts for three weeks solid, making them the most popular rock band of 1980. With their new found fame came the need for a tour. A tour bus was purchased and the crew was well on their way to what would amount to being a roughly twelve year long career. Though the band stayed close together through their time on the road, an internal struggle began to war inside of Sephyr. Coming out to the band was not an option in his mind. To him, the homophobia that he had grown up with in his youth was the view of the majority and risking it was certainly not in his interest. In the early 80’s it was very rare for any celebrity to be ‘out’ and Sephyr had no intention of starting the trend. With his only option to hide, he began to seek relationships outside of the lime light. One night stands with men and a few short-term relationships began, always in secret. Nothing ever seemed to last. Either Sephyr was away too much of the other party was interested in telling people. Sephyr spent most of the tours hoping from person to person while avoiding looking to suspicious by escorting a few women to hotel rooms now and then. He would pay for them to sit with him before exiting the scene, never letting on to the band. He continued to see Greg, but he had made it clear from the start that he had no interest in a long term relationship. In early 1880, at the end of their first tour a call came through to the hotel the boys were staying at. They were informed by the Toronto Police that someone had broken into the rehearsal space. They had made off with several guitars, a bass, some drums and several thousand dollars’ worth in recording equipment. Devastated, the band limped home following their final show of the tour. They dealt with insurance agencies and the media. Sephyr found himself extremely glad that he never traveled without the guitar Jay had given him. In 1982, Sephyr’s biggest dream came true. During the second tour the band ventured on, which followed the release of their third album ‘Antique Story’, the band was set to be playing a music festival along-side Sephyr’s idols. Sephyr was beside himself with the thought of having the opportunity to meet the members of Queen. The day they arrived they were given the set list and a shiver of fear ran through each member of the band. They were set to play ‘after’ Queen. Discussing it among themselves it became clear that if they played after Queen no one was going to remember who they were. It wasn’t that they weren’t already somewhat famous, but this was Queen they were talking about. All three of the other band members volunteered Sephyr to speak to the much more famous band about changing places. Sephyr reluctantly agreed to do it, locating Brian May first. Anyone who knows anything about Brian May knows that he is, without a doubt, a diva. Brian was never overly pleased with the concept of things not going smoothly and as Sephyr approached him he certainly found that out. Brian was not happy with the idea of changing the placement of the bands right before the show and before Sephyr could escape he was being yelled at by his idol. Just when it seemed like Sephyr might actually cry, the grace and beauty of Freddie Mercury arrived on the scene. It took only a touch of his hand on Brian’s lower back and a carefully placed ‘Darling, I think Roger could use a hand, don’t you?’ before Brian was wandering away grumbling. Freddie’s attention turned to Sephyr, a bright smile on his features. ‘What can I do for you, Darling?’ Freddie and Sephyr spent almost an hour chatting, Freddie explaining that he had sampled All Hails music and enjoyed their songs and sound. He hinted at suspecting the band had the potential to forge themselves in music history, a compliment which filled Sephyr with joy. Sephyr managed to slip into the conversation that Queen’s music was all that had given him the motivation to play in the first place, which Freddie accepted as a huge compliment as well. All in all, meeting his hero and first crush certainly hadn’t left Sephyr with any regrets. The bands were changed and from the moment Sephyr left his conversation with Freddie, he was distracted. When the front man for Queen would stride by, Sephyr’s eyes would tunnel on him. Though he explained that he was just a fan when his friends pressed him, Ellis believed there was something more. Though Sephyr would never admit it, it had taken everything in him not to ask Freddie to get a cup of coffee. Sephyr was lucky enough to meet Freddie several more times during his career. In the summer of 1983, the band returned to their Toronto workspace to begin work on their newest album. The band had only just released ‘Antique Story’ the year before, an album which while preforming well on the charts, the band was not happy with. Upon regrouping the boys made the choice to construct a concept album. Originally titled ‘The Threshold’, the band kept this album under their belts for the most part. Initially they gave their label very little sampling to work with, choosing to make this music only for themselves. Just before Christmas of that year, the first three tracks were sent to Attic Records. Upon returning from Christmas vacation, the band finally heard word on their album. Attic Records had seen the album as too ‘experimental’ for the early eighties, telling the band to ‘return to their roots’ or risk being cut off. This was seen as something of a devastating blow was Attic had always treated the band reasonably. Sephyr, Andre, Ellis and Roy all agreed that the album was headed in the direction they wanted and were unwilling to change it. This would lead to All Hail leaving Attic, and ultimately London Records in favor of a bold new plan. They were going to start their own label. Working all through the start of 1984, Sephyr and Ellis began the preparations for opening their own record label. They worked tirelessly from London where both Sephyr and Ellis had decided to retreat to be with family. Roy and Andre were invited as well, but only spent a few weeks at the Estate. With Sephyr’s business sense it was clear that he would have no issues navigating the complex world of business. As soon as the label was established, he hired someone to look after it for them. They were self-produced by the fall of 1984, releasing their album under a new title: ‘Free At Last’. Steele Records became All Hail’s primary recording label. The night after the first show of the band’s fourth tour, the boys decided to take a break at a bar they had played at years before. Once inside and a drink or two in, Sephyr noticed a man across the bar who looked familiar. Too familiar. John Steele was sitting just feet from him and that made his blood run cold. When John noticed him, a verbal altercation began. John called his son some derogatory term, Sephyr fired it back at him. John called into question Sephyr’s name and inability to hold down a girlfriend, which made Sephyr feel rather small. Though he managed some decent comebacks the rescue came in the form of his band members, who along with the crowd yelled over John. The older man stormed from the bar after throwing some more myopic insults in Sephyr’s direction. As the tours pressed on and new albums were released, Sephyr found the depression from his youth creeping back into his life. The constant stress of hiding himself began to take a toll, as well as the very demanding schedule of being a Rock Star. Memories of the things his father did began to surface where he thought he might have pushed them out causing painful flashbacks and cases of crippling fear. By 1985 Sephyr was so far into his own mentality he began to drift away from his band members. Even Ellis, who he still regarded much like a brother, became something of a threat to him. He began to reach out for any coping mechanism while keeping his band mates at arm’s length. Drinking became a norm for him, and after a party in the summer of that year, so did drugs. Heroin had been the drug of choice in New York City in the mid-80’s. With Sephyr spending a fair amount of time at record parties and tour meetings, he found himself in New York a fair amount. While spending time with some ‘friends’ in the industry, Sephyr was offered something many of these ‘friends’ considered the cure for pain. Though he had been repeatedly warned about the dangers of street drugs, he took it. He was desperate to feel anything but the misery he’d been trapped in for so many years. The Heroin did the trick, but he was dragged into a torrent of addiction. Coupled with his already uncontrolled alcohol abuse, it was a recipe for disaster. 1986 became a very interesting year for Sephyr when he met a woman by the name of Cassidy Jones. ‘Cas’ as he often called her was a charming woman with a bright future in stage management. They hit it off, publicly ‘dating’ for seven months of that year. They had disclosed to each other one drunken night their sexualities. Cas was a lesbian trapped in a world run by men, Sephyr a gay man trapped in a work of stigma. They relationship ended in January of 1987 when Cassidy met her future wife, Karen. Sephyr was once again publicly on the market, though now received even more female attention than he had before. Over time, Sephyr would struggle to maintain relationships even more than he had before. He had lost contact with Greg after a drunken night out which resulted in his losing his entire contact book. He lost all of the contacts he kept there, unable to remember Greg’s current address or phone number. By the time he remembered where he had been, Greg had already moved on. Becoming the master of the secret one night stand, he began seeking out men more than he had before. Any attempt at a relationship was set aside and while Roy found a wife and Ellis carried a string of girlfriends, Sephyr would never speak of his relations. He continued to remain in the closet with no intention of ever outing himself. The loss of Greg plagued him, as he was finding himself very fond of the other. In very early 1988, Sephyr’s suicide attempts reared their ugly head once more. He began to try to swallow pills, cut under his arms and even once attempted to hang himself. One evening out of fear for his adoptive brother’s life, Ellis was forced to call the local police and inform them of Sephyr’s intention of self-murder. He was taken into custody and held for three days, during which the Heroin in his system was discovered. He was sent to rehabilitation, but checked out only two days in. He warned Ellis that if he ever chose to go behind his back in that way again, Sephyr would never speak to him again. In 1989, Andre returned to the tour bus with the intention of gathering some drinks for an after party. When he arrived there he found Sephyr in serious trouble. He had overdosed slightly on his drug of choice, becoming lethargic and very, very ill. Without hesitation he dropped his drinks, curling up on the bed with his friend, holding him through the night until Sephyr was stable in the morning. Before the rest of the band arrived Sephyr ended up kissing Andre and the two began a quiet relationship without Ellis or Roy knowing. They were more than happy together, but as most things in Sephyr’s life it was not meant to be. In 1990 Ellis returned early from a party, intending to sleep. What he found was Andre and Sephyr in bed together. Mortified, Sephyr stormed from the tour bus, hiding out for several days in a hotel. When he returned he made the Band swear to secrecy. He made it very clear that he did not want to be outed and that if anyone were to out him it would be the end of their friendship. Each member agreed to keep his secret and the band carried on as before. Sephyr broke it off with Andre, explaining that though he certainly had feelings for him, it would not do the band any good for it to carry on. 1991 was a productive year for All Hail. The tour they had been on wrapped up and the next one was in the works, they had just released what would come to be their final album: ‘Deconstruction’. Sephyr and Ellis had gone home to the UK to see their family, resting after a very long time away. The brothers took the time to try to bond again, Ellis attempting to get Sephyr to tell him about what might have happened in his youth. While the two did get close again, Sephyr’s drug addiction kept them apart. They were set to return back to Canada in December of that year, but bad news found Sephyr before they left. Roger Taylor had contacted Sephyr directly in late November, telling him it was important that they got together. Sephyr agreed to meet him in private and was given the worst news of his life. Freddie Mercury had lost his fight with AIDS. Sephyr had never been one to cry in company, but at the news that his truest love and his biggest idol Sephyr had broken down in meeting with Taylor. They comforted each other, both knowing Freddie on a personal level. Sephyr thanked him for giving him the news directly. Eventually Sephyr left him, picking up from a dealer on his way back to the country estate. He locked himself in his room for several days, remaining high to try to quell the pain he felt. Eventually Ellis managed to get into the room, comforting him as well. Ellis wasn’t certain Sephyr would survive it, but with his brother’s help he did indeed manage not to kill himself. The following year, the members of the All Hail attended a party hosted by Aerosmith. Steve Tyler had become very good friends with Sephyr over the years and the members of both bands did get along fairly well. While the eight men sat around a table drinking, an already impaired Ellis let slide the secret he had been holding onto for a year. Outing Sephyr lost the man most of his friends (With the exception of the band and Steve) and very nearly went public. Thanks to some very carefully place phone calls the news was kept private and Sephyr was free to address Ellis directly. Sephyr told Ellis that as of that day he no longer wanted to see him. He informed the other members of the band that he would be leaving and that if they wished to they could replace him with another guitarist. He took the next flight back to Toronto, buying a small living space downtown. He took several months to think his decision over, understanding that his anger for Ellis was only going to make working with the man to difficult. The band insisted that without Sephyr there was no All Hail, and thus the decision to break the band up was made. Steele Records announced the end of All Hails reign in December of 1992. The record label would continue under Sephyr’s supervision, signing talented Canadian artists. During the months the changeover was happening at the label, Sephyr came back into contact with Andre. The bassist insisted that they maintain their friendship. It didn’t take long for the two to be back into a serious romantic relationship, Andre moving back to Toronto to be with Sephyr. During their time living together, Sephyr purchased a plot of land outside the city of Toronto. One-hundred and sixty-eight acres of land located just above High Point Road. He and Andre spent months designing a house for themselves and their friends to live and party in. By the time the design was finished the house was comically big. Andre insisted it be built and who was Sephyr to argue? Work was stared only weeks after the plans were completed. In 1995 Sephyr received a letter from someone he hadn’t been expecting to hear from. His sister Lily had contacted him in her twenty-fifth year. He had expected Lillian to avoid him for the rest of their lives and hearing from her made him both happy and distraught. The letter explained that his father had spun Lily some tale about a fight over the family business. She knew nothing of the abuse that Sephyr had suffered and as he would come to find out, considered their father to be a good and honest man. With no intention of breaking this perception, Sephyr began to communicate with Lily. Even with Andre’s love, Sephyr could feel his depression consuming him. His drug addiction had become worse than ever despite all of Andre’s attempted help to get him back on track. Memories from his time at home and the months he spent on the street had consumed him and driven him away from Andre. Though they still spent time together, Andre’s constant worry about Sephyr’s eating habits and drug use kept them distant. Their love for each other would keep them together for close to three years, during which time the work on the mansion was completed and the two moved into it together. Like all things in Sephyr’s life, this brief ‘easy’ period would not last for long. On a stormy evening in October of 1996, a fight broke out between the two lovers. Sephyr had taken too much of his chosen substitute drug, Oxycodone and had nearly overdosed. Upon his sobering up Andre argued with him which eventually lead Sephyr to storm out of the house and disappear into the night. Fearing that his lover might do serious damage to himself, Andre went after him. In the rain the roads were hard to see and when a dip in the road caused pooling, Andre found himself hydroplaning. Without the ability to regain control the car was pitched from the road and totaled. Andre was killed on impact. Upon his arrival to the mansion, Sephyr was greeted by a young police constable by the name of Isaac McQue. He informed Sephyr of Andre’s death and a funeral was planned. The entire band and most of their friend attended with Ellis attempting to offer consolation. Sephyr offered his apology to each member of the band, including Ellis before returning to his mansion where he locked himself away for nearly eight months. In the late summer of 1997 Sephyr once again emerged from his hiding place. He returned to his social settings, making frequent appearances at parties and social events to which he was invited. He even put out a solo album dedicated to Andre. It was called ‘Orchids’ and while it was only seven songs long it was the first time anyone had heard Sephyr sing commercially. He chose only to sing the title track, and invited friends in the industry to sing the other six tracks. In his spare time, he began to find men to spend time with. He rotated between a numbers of them and labelling them as ‘friends with benefits’. His drug addiction fluctuated with his mood allowing him rare near-sober moments while his depression only worsened without Andre. In the winter of that year he began to self-harm as he had when he was a teen, cutting lines in his ribs. In his mind he considered it to be his punishment. For now he thought the pain might stop him from killing himself. It only worked some of the time. In the early 2002, Sephyr met a man named Henry. While out at an after party, he found himself sitting next to another sad-looking individual. The two men talked all night, laughing at each other’s terrible jokes. Sephyr found out that Henry wasn’t even in the industry. He was someone’s brother who had been dragged along for moral support and left behind as the drinks flowed. Through a few well-placed flirts Sephyr figured out that Henry was interested and the two decided that a one night stand couldn’t hurt. Of course it became more than that. The men began a quiet relationship, each working hard to help each other through their own issues. Henry had been abused by his grandfather, though only in a physical beating sense. Sephyr never told Henry what he went through and eventually the other man realized that whatever Sephyr was going through was too much for him. He left Sephyr in December of 2002. The Rock Star took it surprisingly well, seeing it coming many months before. In 2003 Sephyr had a string of several relationships. None worked out. All of his exes left a poor taste in his mouth and it became clear that Sephyr wasn’t cut out for dating. He began to see men short-term, making certain that nothing they said lured him into a relationship. For several months the Rock Star did nothing but drink, shoot up and sleep with men. He was still careful not to be outed, seeking only men who were either able to keep a secret or in the closet themselves. He spent a solid two years doing just that, only returning home when he required a long rest. The first break in at the mansion occurred in 2004 when Sephyr was asleep in his room. He had cleaning staff who discovered the intruder locked in a closet he had mistaken to be Sephyr’s, but was in fact the room that friends used on the rare occasion they stayed. It was an ex of Sephyr’s, Corey White. He was carrying a knife with him. Sephyr never got a clear answer as to what he wanted, but he assumed it wasn’t anything good. This dark chapter of his life continued until 2005 when Sephyr awoke from a drunken night on the town in his own bed. At the age of 48 Sephyr was certainly starting to feel the effects of his no food, all drink all drugs lifestyle. Trying to get himself out of bed was a chore, even with the added motivation of the need for a fix. As he tried to sit up he barely noticed the door opening and when the new figure in his life appeared, it was a very confusing moment. In his doorway stood a man in a suit with a tray of coffee and biscuits, as the butler in the Simpkins house had for Adam every morning. Baxter Abbott was a young Englishman Sephyr had apparently hired while drunk. Though he could not remember doing so his signature was on the man’s contract. Sephyr protested that he did not been a butler, and was swiftly corrected. Baxter was a Valet. He did not serve a household like a butler, but rather a single person. Just Sephyr. Again Sephyr protested but Baxter insisted he was told that Sephyr would say these things. Black coffee in hand Sephyr stepped out into the mansion to see that it was spotless. He elected to let the young man stay, if only for now. For the most part during the start of their time together Sephyr would be out of the mansion. When he was home he was if nothing else, aloof. He would hardly say a word to Baxter. They exchanged minor conversation when Baxter would bring him food. It was very rare that Sephyr would touch it, though not for lack of enjoyment. Less rare would be the outburst of anger or sadness Baxter was subject to. The drugs and drink made Sephyr temperamental and the mounting depression of having lost everything repeatedly had certainly taken a toll. Baxter was fortunate enough to stop two suicide attempts, but was unable to escape some threats and thrown objects in fits of rage. When he was nearly struck in the arm, he drafted resignation papers to be handed to Sephyr the next time he was sober. Before Baxter could give his letter of resignation to Sephyr something very interesting changed his mind. While preforming some of his more routine duties, Baxter came into contact with two guests at the mansion. Both men had been using cocaine and were in no way reasonable. When Baxter refused to perform some trivial task, his resignation making him slightly braver than he had been in past months, the men turned aggressive. The two of them began to shoat at Baxter. Both of them were large men and began to approach the Valet with malicious intent. Neither of them realized that Sephyr was on his way down the stairs to meet them. As they backed Baxter into a corner one man took a swing at him. This was all the motivation Sephyr needed. With a speed he had never displayed inside the mansion Sephyr was behind the man who swung. He took his arm as the other reset to take another swing, throwing him with force into the second man now making threatening gestures. He stood between the men and Baxter, a glare like no other on his features. He informed the men that there were no longer welcomed in his home and that they could find someone else to do business with. He made it clear that if he ever saw them again, he would kill both of them. They fled and were never seen again. Sephyr made certain that his Valet was safe and alright. He also told Baxter never to let someone push him around. He told the Valet that he answered only to Sephyr and that no one else had the right to tell him what to do. He then thanked Baxter for doing an amazing job before returning to his room for the remainder of the evening. Baxter tore up the letter of resignation, realizing that the man he was living with was not Sephyr Steele, but rather what the drugs turned him into. 2006 brought the first of many visits to the mansion for Lillian Steele. Sephyr hadn’t invited his sister, but hadn’t told her not to come either. Her arrival fell close to the holiday and she invited Sephyr to the family dinner for Christmas. Though he loathed the thought of seeing his father again, he hadn’t seen his mother in close to thirty years. He reluctantly accepted the invitation and went. Overall the dinner went well. John remained on his best behaviour around his daughter. It was when Lily stepped out to help her mother that things became concerning. John started at his son with an opening line to the effect of ‘you’ve gotten fat’ and a verbal argument ensued. Both kept the vocal level quiet so as not to alert the girls, but the argument was heated none-the-less. Upon his return to the mansion Sephyr found Baxter in the kitchen drinking sherry. Joining him with his own scotch Sephyr settled in, talking a bit about his night. The two got on the subject of family and Baxter opened up slightly to Sephyr about some of his experiences, though he was very vague on the details. Sephyr opened up more and more as he drank, eventually telling Baxter much of what had happened. By the morning the two felt the understood each other slightly better, though neither really talked about the conversation. In 2007 Murray, who had maintained at least fleeting contact with Sephyr since his departure from All Hail, sent word to the mansion that he was having a daughter. Ashley Smith was born a few months later, Sephyr getting several updates a month on her condition. It became clear very early on that Murray and his wife had not been ready for the stress of children, or at least his wife hadn’t been. The situation became worse when she fell pregnant again, giving birth in 2009 to their second child, Emma. Murray’s wife left the picture shortly after that, leaving the band manager with two small children to raise and a full time job. His situation became dire very quickly. Choosing to believe in his friend’s judgment, Murray asked Sephyr if the girls could stay at the mansion during his long business trips. After speaking to Baxter on the subject it was agreed that the girls would be well cared for by the staff at the mansion and that Sephyr would stay far away from the girls while under the influence. He agreed to the terms and the girls began to come around the mansion several times a month. They would spend days at the mansion while Murray was away, during which time Sephyr would move his stash out of the house. He would not use anywhere the girls could see or get their hands on his drugs and he made certain to maintain only a base-level high while around them. The girls grew up never knowing their ‘Uncle Sephyr’ was a drug user. During the second two years of Baxter’s employment, Sephyr was heavily suicidal. From 2005 onward his attempts to take his own life not only became more frequent, but more desperate. He began storing pills he knew himself to be allergic too in order to overdose. He also began cutting much deeper into his own ribs and upper arms. The only reason his wrists were spared was his fear of losing his ability to play guitar, should he survive. Baxter became accustomed to stopping these attempts which usually took place in the mansion. Sephyr believed that if he was going to die it should be at home, where he was less likely to cause someone who was not expecting it misery. He had warned Baxter straight out that he would one day find Sephyr’s body. Baxter began to track his employer’s movements and even went so far as to begin sleeping in the guest rooms around Sephyr’s room. The mansion remained silent when Sephyr was not playing music and the slightest noise in the night could wake the Valet. The thwarted several attempts just in his first three years. In March of 2008, Baxter’s choice to stay with Sephyr in the mansion would come full circle to bite him. During an evening where Sephyr’s temper had flared the Valet had been warned to stay away from him. While trying to ensure that the Rock Star did not kill himself, Baxter pushed his way into the room. From his place on the bed Sephyr began to berate the other, throwing a glass in the man’s direction. He missed entirely on purpose and Baxter called his bluff. Intending only to scare him a little further Sephyr threw a plate in Baxter’s direction. This object made contact, striking Baxter in the head. He was cut very deeply on left side of his head, just around his hairline. Sephyr actually managed to get himself out of bed to call the emergency services, pressing a towel to Baxter’s head with no words but ‘I’m so sorry’. When Baxter was discharged from the hospital he returned to the mansion. He did not press charges, despite many people close to him insisting that he should do so. He explained that in a way it had been his own fault, indicating very heavily that he was either seeing something in Sephyr others were not, or he had adapted to an abusive environment. He returned to his duties and told Sephyr that if something like that ever happened again, there would be charges and he would leave. Sephyr continues to apologies for this act to this day and has never forgiven himself. He no longer throws things at Baxter, or anyone else for that matter. Later that year Sephyr met yet another woman. Annabelle Bowen was a smart young girl who was down on her luck. She met Sephyr in a bar, where Sephyr usually met people. They talked and exchanged numbers after Sephyr informed her that he could help her. She was struggling to look after her aging mother on a single income. Sephyr paid a year of her Mother’s healthcare costs. Anna asked him on a date, which he declined for several weeks before admitting his sexuality to Anna in a heated discussion. She was understanding and offered to date Sephyr outwardly with no strings attached. Sephyr agreed to this and Anna moved into the mansion for several months. Their relationship ended on good terms with Anna retaining a key to the mansion and a solid friendship with Sephyr. In late 2009 Sephyr discovered that Baxter was not who he seemed to be. The man came from an upper-crust English family related in marriage to the royal family themselves. Baxter was not the man’s real name though Sephyr honestly never asked for his real one. Baxter was being hunted by his former family as he had run from them without a word of where he was going. The only reason that this matter came to Sephyr’s attention in the first place was the need Baxter expressed for him to know that should his anyone with the surname ‘Herbertt’ should ever ask for him, Sephyr was not to tell them where he had gone. Sephyr had agreed to these terms, knowing all too well the need to be away from an abusive family. It was only a few months after they had discussed this that Baxter told Sephyr that he knew his family to be looking for him. They would find him based on his visa, which was in his legal name. Sephyr knew then and there that Baxter would need to disappear. Though the Rock Star had a lot of money, he found that there were somethings it couldn’t buy. The men that Sephyr dealt with had little use for more money. Sephyr was already buying their high-priced poison. The deal that was struck to make Baxter’s identity in England disappear, re-forming him as a Canadian citizen was a two year plan, during which Sephyr was not allowed to pay his debt in bulk. He entered into a deal with his dealer that he would continue to use for at least two years and that he could only buy from him. There were other acts that Sephyr was subjected to, but he hardly saw it as anything new. This sort of abuse had gone on his entire life. Sephyr told Baxter to wait it out and not to worry about his visa. Everything was in hand. 2010 saw the opening of several homeless shelters in Toronto. Reporters struggled to locate the person responsible for the building of the shelters but could not find them. Sephyr had paid for them through a shadow company he had linked to Steele Records. He had used names of employees and completely struck his own from the records, making certain the media could not accuse him of doing it for the press. Sephyr had decided that his money needed to be worth something and through planning with several financial advisors, Sephyr created a four-year plan to make the shelters self-sufficient. He volunteers behind the scenes when he is feeling up to it. In 2011 Sephyr had the distinct pleasure of handing over a Canadian Passport and proof of citizenship to the now legally named ‘Baxter Abbott’. He never spoke to Baxter about the prices he paid for the services. It was at that moment that Baxter fully understood what sort of person his employer was. He would come to work even harder than he had before, were that even possible. Sephyr and Baxter had become friends over the six years the Englishmen had been working in the mansion. He had come to be one of few people that Sephyr could trust. Also in 2011 came the second break in. The mansion was broken into by a fan who wanted Sephyr’s autograph. The man was not mentally well and posed a threat to staff and Sephyr himself. It was after this occurrence that Sephyr began to consider hiring a proper security team. He had his hired goons, but he was unsatisfied with their ability to protect Baxter. He began his search for a security guard, which concluded in 2012 with the meeting of a man called Sawyer Thulus. Sawyer was a Veteran of the War in Afghanistan. He had been deployed with Canadian Forces from 2005 to 2010 as an Air Force Pilot. He had flown in over twenty missions and over eighty training experiments and was widely considered by his fellow soldiers to be one of the Forces’ best pilots. He was shot out of the sky during the Marja Offensive in 2010. By the time Sephyr met him in 2012, Sawyer was homeless. When his plane had gone down Sawyer had been seriously injured. He had lost vision in his left eye and gained a massive and unsightly scar. It gave him little chance of finding work easily. He was considered too young to collect his military pension and had run out of money quickly. The two met by chance on night after Sephyr finished signing some paperwork at the shelter. It had been a long while since Sephyr had managed to drag himself down there to actually work so he was behind. Leaving late after the soup kitchen had closed he bumped shoulders with the retired soldier. After a brief chat Sephyr offered to buy him dinner and make sure he got a spot inside that night. Sawyer happily agreed. As the other ate Sephyr asked questions about his time in the military, about the things he had been trained to do and about his mental health. When the meal was finished Sephyr asked Sawyer if they could meet up again sometime. They met several more times before Sephyr offered him a job as a head of security. Sawyer accepted the job and moved into the mansion fairly quickly. Upon Sawyer’s arrival in the spring of 2012, Sephyr gave him an enormous task. He gave the man an unlimited budget and asked to secure the mansion. Sawyer hired a security team and installed hundreds of cameras. He had a fence built around the property and a lockdown system added to every door and window on the mansion. He also rebuilt Sephyr’s room as a safe room. All in all Sawyer spent a little over four million dollars to have the mansion secured. Sephyr was very impressed, as was Baxter. It was around this time that Sephyr met Skyler Martin. Sky was everything he’d ever dreamed of. He was kind, considerate and passionate about his craft in auto restoration. They met when Skyler insisted on walking Sephyr home from a café, concerned that he might hurt himself. The two became fast friends and were soon romantically involved. Sky loved Sephyr more than anyone had ever loved him. He put months of effort into helping him find ways to get out of his addiction and depression. At the time, however Sephyr’s insecurities were forcing him to push Sky away. The Rock Star had developed feelings for Skyler and while he longed for the meaningful relationship he knew Sky would give him he feared that he would come to hurt the other. He was a danger to himself and to others at that stage of his life and he was not prepared to injure Sky. It took until mid-2013 for Sky to finally hit his breaking point. They parted on rocky terms, Sephyr holing himself away inside the mansion once more. In 2014 Sephyr was contacted by a young lady by the name of Victoria Clark. The woman had followed Sephyr’s career through her father and had interest in making his life story her next writing project. She requested to come to the mansion for an interview, but received an even better offer in reply. Murray and Baxter had urged Sephyr to reach out to her and have her come to the mansion to write his biography. He offered her a salary and a place to stay, which she accepted readily. By the time Victoria arrived at the mansion it was clear she was going to have her work cut out for her. The first two interviews she conducted with Sephyr gave great insight into the man, but also into how guarded he was. He would tell stories, but leave each detail out. When pressed further he would change the subject. He arrived stoned and nearly incoherent to his third interview. Victoria handled it with grace, turning off her personal camera and sitting with him. She explained that he might consider getting help, but she was blown off. Victoria has now been living at the mansion for several months. Though Sephyr has been speaking with her, he has yet to seek any help for his issues. He continues to push his friends and family away while attempting to end his life. He has a hard time making friends, but continues to work very hard to improve the lives of people around himself. He invests his money wherever it will help.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story Part 16

It is at about this point in my tale where I am afraid I might lose some people who think well of me. I haven't always been exactly the nicest person. You actually can never fully know a person until you give them power. I understand why I behaved the way I did when I did wrong. I was twelve, and I to a degree was only emulating the way the adults in my life treated me. Because of my situation I was deeply unhappy, and in other ways I was given unbridled power that I didn't know how to use at first. Add on childhood depression, a deep seated sense of inferiority, and a growing resentment for everyone around me, and you have all the makings of a young tyrant. I am able to understand how I was feeling, what had been done to me, and how I was responding to my own sense of neglect, powerlessness, and worthlessness. Because by this time, I had saturated in these feelings so long I had become pickled in them. And lastly, I am sorry. I know there are things I have said and done that cannot be taken back, but I am humble and besides myself with a strong sense that there must always be a sliver of my life that shall be eternally set aside as an eternal apology as long as I live and breath.

I shall try to explain.

The first thing I think I ever have done that had lasting negative consequences on those around me all came to pass because I turned twelve. Turning twelve meant that I could legally babysit. My father had always promised up and down that he would never ever under any circumstances put me through forcing me to babysit through my teen years while I should be living my own life. My mom always expected it of her children, and he wasn't going to make that mistake. I lived with a sureness that I would maybe only have to babysit once or twice a month for my teen years. Ha! You can ask Allison and David. As soon as it was legal, I was imprisoned in the house babysitting whenever possible. My mom and dad were equally guilty of this. David and Allison both think of me as a parent in a lot of ways because for better or worse, it was I who was always there. I put more effort to get to know them than either one of our parents did. This isn't to say that no effort was put in on their part, but it was put in at their own leisure after this point. They didn't miss a beat. I turned twelve, and my free time was half over. My mother's boyfriends came first, and the same goes with my father. His girlfriends took precedence over us – specifically me. I lost out on a lot of free time I should have to be my own person and have my own life.

I resented this like hell. From Thursday after school, to Sunday night, I babysat. My mom and dad were either at work or too busy to be bothered. Often times, I babysat on all the other nights of the week as soon as I got home from school. And you have to know, after being pushed around, belittled, insulted, and made to feel small, helpless, and alone, I was up to my eyeballs with a rage that I could barely comprehend or control. There was no inner voice weighing out my situation, questioning my feelings. I just felt this switch go off in my head and I was gone. Allison and David weren't terrible. But David could be incredibly bratty. I had for years taken issue with his spoiled behavior, and his natural tendency to be a little tyrant in his own right.

Because I had no control over my life, because I felt ugly, because years of this stuff was beginning to boil over the pot, I lashed out on Allison and David when I should not have. Some of this was in part too because I didn't know how to make them behave. I didn't feel like if I said things to them like a friend that they would listened to me. I was probably right about that. I had been given a dull promise that if they ever misbehaved, I had but to tell either my mom or dad and they would handle it. This rarely happened. I would try to explain the situation, but both parents would spin the situation around on me. Which put me in a situation where I felt the only course of action fell on my hands to make sure things went properly. Nobody was going to help me, but nobody was going to stop me either. This was my first taste of power over anyone. So I became an authoritarian dictator in Allison and David's lives as soon as the parents went off. I would scream, throw things, push them, pull their hair, call them names, sometimes for offenses that were almost nothing. Sometimes one of them had done something bad – specifically David. He might have needed some form of reprimanding. But I was so bad early on, that if they were good, I would walk around until I found something insane to scream at them about. I was awful. I would like to sugarcoat this, but I cannot. This was the only time in my life where I was given any power, and I abused it immediately. And what I did really, was make things worse. When you punish children like this, maximizing the pain and severity of any and all crimes, you really desensitize them to that level of punishment. It is partially because of my parents extreme spoiling and negligence, and my father's personal freak outs, with a dash of genetics at play, but also because of me that David grew up having anger issues. I wish I could go back and be the calm democratic representative that I know how to be now. But I can't. All I can tell you is what I did.

I also really wish I could tell everyone about Allison and about David's lives who's are just as valid and interesting in mine with their own insight which is unique and important to me. Because they too had their own lives, friendships, losses, hardships and paradigms as well and in many ways some of that might come out from my own life telling, but since this story is about my experiences, and because I could not fairly represent them anyway if I tried, I will have to depart on that note. The former oppressor in any given situation should always give room to the victims to have the final say. I think that's probably true in any healthy society, family, or relationship. I can't do that at this time. I know I damaged their childhood. I know I frightened them, and created mental coping skills that were not healthy. I am besides myself because I cannot imagine doing this now. I know 'whoops!' doesn't cut it, but I only had so much self awareness at the time in order to cope with living. It is what it is and nothing can be changed.

Allison was a kindergartner at the time, and I think it is interesting enough to mention that she had just as many issues wit Mrs. Denler as I did. Probably more, since she is more stubborn and bold than I was. Mrs. Denler grabbed Allison by the ear, twisted her ear and pulled her up the steps one time. Fortunately for David however, Mrs. Denler retired the next year. I honestly don't know how she got through thirty years of teaching without someone turning her in. But she got away with it.

I did a fair amount of my babysitting in a small ugly trailer that my mom was renting. At the time, she had taken up dishwashing at a country club at the end of town. She was completely broke. It was a very small trailer. It was almost a camper really. James living there really smelled the place up. I had never fully realized just how uncleansly that guy was. He smelled like soiled mildewed sweat mixed with hot sauce and fart. It was so unpleasant smelling in there. My mom would pick us up on Fridays after work, and then she would drop us off at the trailer and immediately head off to work all night. James went off to drink with friends until late at night, often coming home drunk, or not coming in at all – which was always preferable. Generally speaking, my mom would rent some VHS tapes at Hastings, and David would be given the extra bedroom to be in separate from the rest of us. David was really into Jackie Chan. It was cute and silly. He didn't know that some of Jackie Chan's gimmicks were meant for light entertainment. David believed that Jackie Chan was manly and serious and dangerous. I still remember David's little voice talking on and on about Jackie Chan. So David would generally be in the extra bedroom watching foreign movies with Jackie Chan in them, or maybe Rush Hour or that one with him and Owen Wilson in the old west. You had to walk through the bathroom to get to the bedroom. I remember walking in there sometimes and yelling at him.

Allison was really into beanie babies, and Furbies. So she would be arranging her stuffed animals in the living room. After school, I would take my overloaded book bag, often times with a broken zipper or a massive hole in the bottom that would require I carry my stuff with two hands, and I would throw it in the corner, not to touch it once the entire weekend. I might draw a bit. I was fortunate enough to have access to television. I remember watching everything that is available to people with cheap free cable, Friends and Frazier, Full House, Oprah, Charles in Charge, sometimes crime shows like Law and Order (they are all the same show in my head though I know there are actually twenty or so distinct and notable crime solving shows). PBS had this show called Zoom', or something like that. I was basically a group of kids doing science experiments you could in theory do at home, but actually couldn't at all. I tried to copy them sometimes and made huge pointless messes in the process.

I would stay up late enough, and then I would watch the infomercials. For about two or three hours, they would double play a cd collection you could get of all the 60's hits. I remember really enjoying the short snippets of some of the songs but my friends were all into pop so I would never tell anyone I liked old music that much. It would be like, The Mamas and Papas, The Zombies, the Are You Going To San Francisco' song, maybe like a Chicago song or a Cat Stevens song thrown in. Then, it would go into 60's country hits. I saw the glorious Dolly Parton, and they would keep playing Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison beginning riff as the opening theme to the infomercial. And they kept playing Marty Robbins. I liked this one too. Then they would try to sell you a diet pill that was absurd and actually stated that you were required to eat as much as you wanted, whatever you wanted or else the pill wouldn't take affect. I would feel this deep anxious nothingness. I felt empty and alone as I watched these infomercials in a way I cannot explain, like my very existence as being sucked away and I was missing the point of living entirely, stuck in my crummy little life, in this crummy little trailer, waiting for my cheap ass mom to come home from her dishwasher job. Eating little Debby's not because I enjoyed them, but because they were there and that was all there was to eat, and I was anxious. When the infomercials were over, I would feel bloated and oddly afraid of something I had no name for. Allison would be curled up on the gross floor, David would be snoozing in my mother's bed. I had the couch. The television would stop playing the infomercials, and then there would be some kind of stand by till morning screen. There was no night time television playing. I would curl up with a soily gross scratchy blanket and close my eyes.

There was a car racing game, Rush, I think it's called that James sometimes had set up. The cars always flew in the most unrealistic ways. I think one of the places you could drive was literally the moon. It was absolutely fantastic and sickening. I would play that for hours. I didn't even like it, I just did it.

In the morning on Sundays I would watch televangelists. I wasn't really into it, but it was something I grew accustomed to. I had read the bible so I understood what they were saying. The real excitement came when they replayed a PBS series, like Anne of Green Gables. It wasn't great, but there was no other options. I'd watch Thomas and Theodore sometimes, but they were kids shows about mentally off machines with egos. It wasn't and isn't safe to go walking around in Clarkston, especially this part of town. I never had any money. My parents didn't give me a single cent for my troubles until I was much older and demanded it. I could never wait until my father came to pick us up on Sunday. Often times, I would go home with him on Saturday, and simply have him drop me off early on Sunday morning. I had screamed at Allison and David sufficiently, I had met my own existence with despair, and I was ready to go to school to be demeaned and do it all again. There seemed no end in sight for me.

What's more, my friends were always having sleepovers. When I came back to school on Monday, it always felt like I had missed a lot. Sarah and Samantha were spending more time with Katie. I didn't see her at all because I was always gone. She also didn't think she liked me. I missed all the dances that the juniors could go to. I remember the whole school decorated, and everyone was excited to get into dresses and go to the dance. Samantha was really into this kid in the class above us named Andy. Andy was her brother's friend, and he was just terrible. Samantha really had the worst taste in guys, I swear. I wanted to be apart of their world. I mean, I spent a lot of time at Sarah's during the week. But it always felt like when she hung out with me, it was her and I and then by association I was a part of the group, but really I wasn't. I was either not invited or now I was chained to my duties as third parent. When I couldn't go to the dance, I remember sitting in my mom's gross trailer and crying. I didn't even have a dress had I been able. I would have needed ten dollars to get in – which my dad would not have given me. My dad didn't want me to have dresses else I might attract someone and get pregnant. There was no female sensibilities in my life either. Nobody taught me how to wear make up or do my hair. My dad scoffed at anything feminine. My mom was busy. My training bras that I had worn for years were starting not to fit me very well. But nobody would by me a new one.

Without realizing it, my dad kind of pushed a male gender role on me – and I think this was mostly because he was afraid that I would get pregnant or do drugs, but also I think he was innocently clueless about how to raise girls. Some of it was a little sexist as well. I feel like my father saw femininity was deceptive towards men – on a very subconscious and symbolic level that he himself was not consciously aware of. He just seemed to have vague problems with the idea of it. He didn't really understand the female perspective, that there could be joy in wearing and expressing femininity through makeup or clothes without it being some kind of game to make men lose their minds. I felt like being girlish in any way was a weakness. So I denied what I was without realizing it. I strangely wanted to be the kind of girl that would go to the dance in a dress, but I felt incredibly isolated from even having the opportunity, and if I had the opportunity I doubt I could have willed myself to go.

The season of football had come to an end, and the whole school, and the whole town really was dedicating themselves to sending the Kendrick Tigers off to super games in other places. The girls basketball team was headed down somewhere to play a game off somewhere far away, and the boys' football team was to play their final match with one of the neighboring towns – Deary, Troy, Genessee or Orofino. The Kendrick football team was a BIG deal. Everyone seemed obsessed with the players, and winning. Many people showed up just for practices. I never quite understood, being the odd one out and never really especially enjoying football. I still don't understand how it is played.

So on the week before these games, they actually closed the school, and on the last part of the day we went to school, the entire school marched down to the local park. There was a float, and streamers everywhere. I had no idea what was going on as we were marched along like cattle. When we got there, we all had to get into our classes. Everyone was forced to chant this horrible song that went from class to class, and then Girl to Boy, that went something like this

“HEY SOPHMORES?!

“YEAH!?” (Sophomores respond to the rest of the school)

“HEY SOPHMORES?!”

“YEAH?!”

“SHAKE YOUR BOOTY!!!”

“NO WAY!!”

“SHAKE YOUR BOOTY!!!!”

“OKAY!!!!”

At this point everyone in the school says

JUMP! SHAKE YOUR BOOTY!! JUMP JUMP SHAKE YOUR BOOTY!

JUMP! SHAKE YOUR BOOTY!! JUMP JUMP SHAKE YOUR BOOTY!

(.. on a side note I have no idea what changed the sophomores minds? Like, you can't just demand something like that and get your way, and nothing seemed to happen in the interval between the Sophomores saying no way and the school asking once more)

And the Sophomores have to jump and shake their dumb little redneck butts. If you do not participate you got written up by the school monitor Ms. Fligger who had a brain tumor. And they made you stand somewhere everyone could see you in all your shame.

After this, you had to do bobbing for apples in the most filthy unsanitary way imaginable, and then you and your class had to  hold toothpicks between your teeth and pass along a life saver. I remember my shame one year as it slid back and hit me in the teeth. It was so gross. I think there was a potato bag race, and a bunch of other things that were simply unfun and hard if you were anxious and unpatriotic.

They also had a theme. There was this girl in my class named Laura Lee. Laura Lee was probably second to Double D when it came to eccentricity and being picked on. She had that same skin condition that JFK had, only it didn't give her the same look. Her skin was basically orangy red. Her hair was fuzzier than mine, and red. She was about three hundred pounds or so. And she basically was trying to have sex with all the boys. I don't want to sound like I am picking on her. This was just the way she was then. She would start fingering herself in class with her pencil. People gave her a hard time, but nothing seemed to deter her. Anyway, she LOVED Homecoming. She would get up in front of everyone and dance. It was the strangest thing, I tell you.

After this tribal show of patriotism for our little football team of awkward teenage boys we called our own that happened to practice in one area of the world were we lived closest to, everyone got up to get a school photo. There is a picture of me somewhere. I am somewhat noticeable, at the end of the school picture, head in hand, khaki pants, red zip up jacket. Long curly brown hair. Completely not feeling the whole event like everyone else. Perhaps someday I will find it and post it onto facebook.

Ordinarily the last class of the day was Shop. We basically watched long safety videos. The teacher was this short angry little woman with a serious and gruff voice and posture named Ms. Guhlkee. She would raise her voice at you at nearly everything you said or did. Life was this serious how to safety manual in her eyes. Nothing was funny. She had these egotistical stare downs with people that didn't need to happen. I just felt like the amped up the class to be this really uncomfortable bootcamp situation that it absolutely had no reason to be. We sometimes had to use the power tools. I was always too afraid. The smell of the wood working building was atrocious to me. There was this smell of burning metal in the welding section that made me very sick. I remember her yelling at me, and feeling too anxious and nauseated to even understand her. I think she probably saw me as the lowest denominator of human. I was weak and abstract minded. Which did not appeal to her at all. She yelled at me a lot. At the end of the year, we were to make wooden cars. We had to design them, the simpler the better. For some absurd reason, despite being told that we could not make little details, I wanted to make a snail which has those intricate little feelers coming up – which is how you know it is a snail in this context. So I designed a snail with wheels to be my car, and she really laid into me for it. However, I didn't get the chance to go back on it. And she ended up angrily doing the whole thing for me. I don't have my snail car anymore. I wish I knew what happened to it.

One night, not long after this time, just as the fall was beginning to show signs of winter, I was sitting alone on a Friday night thinking over my classmates alone on my mother's bed. I felt giddy and excited, but for what I didn't know. There was just this nervous energy in me that I could not place. I was actually excited to get to school again for one thing. I didn't feel good exactly. Frustrated, but excited. Something in my head was screaming out at me. I was having issues breathing. There was a sense of euphoria in the whole situation. I remember sitting there looking down at a piece of paper, and then it occurred to me, “Am I in love?” I had without consciously grasping onto it, been thinking about Kyle, how he had such a kind and thoughtful face, intelligent eyes. He seemed to laugh carelessly. Sometimes I could hear him in his house practicing the horn, or playing his drum set. I liked the way he walked up the hill too his house. He seemed funny too – when he got to talking. It suddenly dawned on me that I had thought of little else but him for the entire week, but I had not consciously paid much attention to this for some reason. Suddenly, it all made sense and fell on me like a ton of bricks. I was crushing very hard. Everything underneath me seemed to slip away. I felt like I was falling. I didn't know if I should laugh or cry, or what grounds I was to go about the business of living. I honestly wanted to marry him. I had never felt even remotely like this for anyone in my whole life. I didn't even know him, and yet I felt like I did. I just knew that we had made some kind of connection. There had never been a word between us. But I just knew. And somehow I had to make him know as well. Oh, what was I to do?

PART 15 - http://tinyurl.com/yb3lt6k5

PART 14 - http://tinyurl.com/yb4cfedq

PART 13 - http://tinyurl.com/yalanq9s

PART 12 - http://tinyurl.com/yc79mw94

PART 11 - http://tinyurl.com/yc9qhj84

PART 10 - http://tinyurl.com/yb734w24

PART 9 - http://tinyurl.com/yc2t6vfw  

PART 8 - http://tinyurl.com/ybl37utq

PART 7 - http://tinyurl.com/ybvo283g

PART 6 - http://tinyurl.com/kbc9dwu

PART 5 - http://tinyurl.com/msnz4am

PART 4 - http://tinyurl.com/k9x8esg

PART 3 - http://tinyurl.com/mwp9atx

PART 2 - http://tinyurl.com/lbt6xq2

PART 1 - http://tinyurl.com/l8xbvg8

[myselfinserts]

Toshinori had come by for drinks that evening. Ceri would normally try not to let his guard down when tensions were high with his friends. But he needed a brief pause. Luci was sitting at a table near the back, holding Meatloaf as she slept. They needed space from U.A. Toshi was really good at keeping the mood light. He was a natural at it. Ceri was calm enough to relax for the first time it weeks.

But that feeling couldn’t last. Curiosity always came calling.

“I don’t quite get you, Ceri,” he sighed. “You...have such an amazing quirk. You could save thousands of people with it. Heroes and civilians. And you’d never have to go out into the field. Why don’t you use it?”

Ceri wanted to scream. He wanted to shout, throw things, spit, kick. He hated when people brought that bit up. He despised people who told him. He needed to be using it.

But he wasn’t mad at Toshi. Toshinori didn’t ask him to go into Heroic work. He just asked why he didn’t. He couldn’t be mad at the former #1. Especially after probing his mind and learning the truth about how he got that title. 

“You really want to know?” Ceri asked cautiously.

“If that’s okay,” Toshi said.

“Well...once upon a time, there was a little boy who thought the exact same thing as you. That he could help people with his quirk. But the world knew that the life of a Hero was not for him.”

“Mama? Why is papa going away?”

Ceri sat in the living room, watching as his father walked toward the door with his cases. He couldn’t understand. His parents needed to be together. He was going to turn six soon. He wanted to have a happy birthday with them, but they couldn’t have a party until they finished their project. And they can’t finish it if they were divorcing.

“Mama, please,” he begged. “Why is papa leaving? Don’t you want him to stay?”

His mother glared at him. “You were the one who said we weren’t a good match. It turns out you were right, so we’re splitting up. Is this not what you wanted?”

Ceri didn’t understand. Why was his mother angry? He just meant they weren’t good at working together. But ever since he said that, his parents fought more and more. They no longer slept in the same room. Mama didn’t come home most nights. 

“Mama...papa...”

His mother started taking all the photos on the wall and throwing them into the fireplace. She didn’t even stop when Ceri asked her to. Begged her not to burn them. 

But she still lit the match.

“You’ll be staying with your aunt until this gets resolved,” she said. “Maybe you’ll learn to shut up and not use your quirk on people there.”

Ceri burst into tears. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Dammit. Why are Miss Glenn and Miss Halloway getting married?! It’s not fair! I wanted my dad to marry one of them!”

Ceri sat alone by the window reading as the students all complained. Miss Glenn and Miss Halloway were both the most attractive and sought after teachers in the school. The other primary school students wanted them to be their mothers. Some of the kids had single parents who would have loved to marry one of them. Everyone in the third grade class wanted Miss Glenn and Miss Halloway to be their parents. 

Ceri had thrown a wrench into all those plans. He’d seen that the two had a high romantic comparability with each other. Their work ethics were well balanced. They were a near perfect match. And they had a long life ahead of them. He could tell by their memories just how good they were for each other.

They were meant to be.

So Ceri made a one off comment to Miss Halloway, the more timid one of the two. Said that Miss Glenn liked old cheesy romantic shit like secret love poems and flowers. Everything spiraled from there.

“I heard Aylward talked them into it.”

“Ew, you mean the weirdo with the red eyes?”

“That’s the one. The jerk also got Mr. Calimari fired.”

Ah, Mr. Calimari. The teacher who had absolutely no romantic comparability with anyone and was harboring selfish, villainous desires. Of course Ceri couldn’t let that man stay near all the other kids. Even if they all liked him. He was a good man to them. But Ceri knew what he did to his wife at home. That’s what got him to leave the school.

Tis the curse of Compatibilia. 

The big guy in class, Wilson, came over and grabbed the book, throwing it out of the window before dragging him out back with the other kids.

Ah, Ceri thought. Time for another lesson.

He was taken and tossed against the old willow tree. He closed his eyes and waited. 

This time he didn’t have to worry about getting hit. The teachers were there to pull him aside just in time for once. He was taken to the nurses station and left there. 

That was fine. Ceri didn’t want to be near the other kids anyway. Their numbers were all off.

Ceri had no idea what to expect. His mother had died not too long ago, and his only other relative was his aunt who, after all the years of abuse she’d gotten for taking him in, finally decided to send him away. When his father had asked him to come on the train to visit, he was terrified. 

He was only ten. He couldn’t take another heartbreak. 

So when he boarded the train to go see him, he was surprised to find a man sitting there in the booth he’d been assigned. He seemed kind hearted enough. But Ceri didn’t want to try to use his quirk to find out. 

“Gary?” called a voice. “Did you find the right compartment, love?”

“I did!” the man in the booth called. “And I think your boy did too!”

Ceri turned and saw his father rushing toward him, smiling. He looked so full of life. So colorful. So happy. 

Ceri was about to cry.

“Hey there, boy-o,” his father said. “Come have a seat. Let’s chat.”

The three of them sat down and Ceri was introduced to the man named Gary. He was Jason’s lover. The two were working together as part of a Hero Support Team. They were happy. 

And they wanted Ceri to use his quirk to see if they were compatible. 

“I don’t wanna.”

“Come on, Ceri,” Jason urged. “Just this once. I’ll never ask it again. Please?”

“Please?” Gary asked.

Ceri nodded and looked at them. The numbers, the memories, everything came flooding in. 

They were all balanced at a solid 95.

“You’re really good for each other,” he muttered. 

Gary and Jason smiled and hugged him. “We’re glad you think so. Because you’ll be staying with us from now on in Elspie, son.”

Son. He hadn’t been called that in years. He loved hearing the word. 

He hugged them, praying to whatever god was out there that this would last forever.

Ceri unlocked a new part of his power.

He could see how long people’s relationships would last now. 

And it was at the worst possible time.

He’d been learning how to control his quirk from Gary, who was incredibly skilled at teaching people how to use their abilities. He was looking after Ceri while Jason, who had put together a team with Ceri’s help, was away on a rescue mission. 

During a training incident, he learned he could see the ‘stats’ in photographs too, and how long the relationships could last. And the one with Gary kept shrinking as the rescue mission took longer and longer.

Then one day it was gone.

The next day they got the call.

Jason died in the field saving his team from a rock slide. 

Gary was heartbroken. He locked himself in his room for the rest of the day. Ceri, who was now twelve years old, knocked on the door when dinner was ready. When Gary didn’t come out, he left a tray there by the door and went about cleaning house. He knew Gary needed him. 

But he still feared Gary blamed him.

By the time the chores were done and midnight nearly came, Gary was finally out of the bedroom. Ceri stood in the kitchen, twiddling his thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” he started. “I’m sorry papa, I-”

Gary pulled him into a hug, crying heavily. “It’s okay son. It’s okay. I’m so sorry.”

Ceri’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe what was happening.

“I promise. I’ll be a good father for you. I’ll raise you just as before. It...it’ll just be you and me, but...would that be okay?”

Ceri hugged him tightly. “Papa...”

When Ceri woke up, he’d just missed his 16th birthday. 

He’d been approached by the government for the last three years to leave his current school and be enrolled in the high ranked hero academy, Gideon Glades Academy for the Heroically Gifted. There he’d be trained to the fullest and be made into the Hero Matchmaker he was always meant to be. 

The recruiters were always left disappointed when he and Gary agreed it was a no.

But then one day he came home to the house ransacked. There was a lot of blood. Someone had grabbed him from behind and stabbed him in the neck with a needle.

The people standing there when he woke up said his papa was gone. That it was March 21st, and that it was time to get to work. 

He was given just enough food and drink to keep stable, and then he was taped to a chair and sat at a desk, forced to look over photographs of Heroes for hours on end and take notes. 

This would be the routine for the next year. 

He’d ask about Gary often. But they’d say the same thing. That he was gone. That he should just forget about him. Forget and just do as they wanted.

And for a little while, that’s what he did.

By the middle of year two, Ceri had enough. 

He wanted to go home.

He could tell they were lying about Gary. They knew he was still alive. He knew they lied about him being gone. They’d tricked the poor man into thinking that he was dead. Ceri Aylward needed to escape his supposed death. He had to get back to Gary Aylward. He had to go back to papa.

And that was what he was going to do. 

“Here are the Heroes. We want the best team you can put together with this.”

They wanted the best team? They’d get it. 

Avallach; Young and kind. The Forest Hero. Would be best in getting people out with Abor Ador. 

Cindra; Strong and intelligent. Curious. A good leader. Very strong willed. Won’t ever go quietly into the good night.

Aqua-net; quirky and cool. Level headed. Best hacker in the world. 

Rocken Rold; the biggest pebble in the shoe of evil, now a golden opportunity to leave this cellar.

Inkwell: Probably the most unconventional member of the group, but if anyone was the glue of this team, it was the man of ink and paranoia.

And lastly, Crest; The Balance Hero. Able to do what Ceri could but at a far lesser degree. Not enough to be of use to the government, but enough to where he could help prepare the group for eventual transitions of power. He could find good leaders. That was all.

With this, the Elemental Geodes were formed. 

It’d take them roughly a year to get used to working together. Then a few months to start picking up on everything shady going on. If his calculations were correct, It’d be June 10th of next year at the earliest he’d be able to escape with the help of this team. 

He’d be 19. Probably beaten to hell once the higher ups finally picked up on this. But he didn’t care. He just wanted out. He wanted to go home. 

He had to see papa again.

No one knew where to find Gary Aylward. He completely dropped off the map.

So until he was able to meet him again, Ceri decided to stay in Elspie. He’d opened up a little pub with the money he gained from being locked up for years. Not to mention from the Geodes who rescued him. 

He opened a little place called the Secret Felines. And for the next thirty some-odd years he’d watch people come and go in this pub. He’d talk to them, let them know his quirk, and immediately be asked to perform it like some kind of party trick. He agreed, just to get people to leave him alone. 

He’d been kidnapped again. Twice. The first time he escaped on his own, while the second he needed Heroic aid. He learned how to better defend himself. He was tired of being forced to put teams together. He was just glad it was Heroes kidnapping him. 

He’d made a few friends here and there. A small Hero team that had gotten together of their own accord in particular stuck out. Team Elspie as they were called. A brother-sister duo and the brother’s girlfriend. The three of them all sat at a solid 70 on all fronts. It was clear the sister was happy for the brother being with her friend but she hated being the third wheel and wanted more time with the girl. Meanwhile the brother and his girlfriend were always fighting. The only thing that kept them together was the little sister they were raising together.

That is, until a person called Lucien Adaire, the Peaceful Shepherd Amaryllis, showed up.

Everything changed then 

Mither and Skald’s levels went down fast. 

Little Tanith became more open and her stats went up.

And Regi. Ceri’s best friend. Oh lord, did something interesting happen there.

Amaryllis and Renegade had something no one else ever had right off the bat. 

100 even on everything.

He had to observe this. He had to see what happened when immediate 100s got together. His quirk, his curiosity, it begged for him to analyze this. 

But his conscience, his heart, his own being, told him to leave it all well enough alone. 

So he chose to be an observer. Watched as the team all grew close to this new addition. Watched as the semi-stoic, quiet Shepherd became someone more bubbly and open. Someone who was a bright light in the darkness. Renegade became someone who was more worried about his health than other people’s happiness. 

Skald and Renegade broke up and she went to join the Geodes.

Mither moved away.

Tanith went off to the school of her dreams.

And Luci and Regi were engaged.

Things were so peaceful.

And then the Mask Collector came calling. 

Amaryllis hadn’t been the same since. Became a loner yet again, even if a more vibrant one. Ceri closed himself off to emotions for a while. He stopped using his quirk for a year. It wasn’t until Luci told him that things were okay that he opened up again. 

Ceri wished he could use it on himself, just to see if he could possibly ever have that kind of love his best friends had.

Luci went on to Japan.

And then Ceri was alone.

“The little boy grew up in pain, and the man he became is a cynical old mess who just wants to find some kind of peace. He’d lost everything. And now he just wants to keep what he has left. His pub, his hotel, and his new family. And he hoped to live happily ever after. The end.”

Toshinori was crying by the time Ceri had finished the story. Ceri dried the tears away, smiling fondly. He couldn’t believe this man would weep for him. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Ceri assured. “To be honest, it’s nice to get it out in the open...but...don’t go crying for me, okay? I’m not worth it.”

Toshi reached up and grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think you are.”

Ceri felt his heart skip a beat. “You softie.”

“A PHONE CALL IS HERE! A PHONE CALL IS HERE!”

Toshi apologized and stepped out to answer. Luci brought Meatloaf over to the counter, smiling fondly as he teased, “someone has a crush.”

“Oh. wheesht you.” Ceri flicked him on the nose. “You still planning on abandoning me?”

“I-”

Toshinori came back in in a panic, eyes wide and face pale. “Amaryllis! Ceri! We gotta go!”

Ceri and Luci looked at him with concern. “Why?”

“We have to get you both to safety. Something’s gone wrong. Very wrong.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I’ll explain the rest when we’re back at school. All I know if what Nezu told me. Ceri, you’re in danger.”

“Danger?” Luci asked. “What kind of danger? How bad can it-”

“Aizawa’s been kidnapped.”

Ceri grabbed Luci by the arm an Meatloaf jumped onto his shoulders. He wasn’t about to argue now. 

They had to get to safety.

[pluckyredhead]

Daredevil 101: Typhoid Mary, Part 1

Hello, friends! With Miller back off the main Daredevil book for good after “Born Again” (though not done with Daredevil forever, as we’ll see), it’s time for Ann Nocenti’s run (mostly with John Romita, Jr. on pencils), which is most notable for introducing the villain Typhoid Mary.

In recent years Nocenti’s Daredevil has been lauded as an underrated gem of DD canon. I...disagree. I find her run to be a real slog to get through, boring and histrionic by turns, and frankly deeply misogynistic. Because she’s a woman, I keep second-guessing that last judgment call, wondering if there are nuances here I’m somehow missing, but so far...yeah, to me it’s just virulently sexist. She’s definitely consciously doing stuff with gender, deliberately subverting some norms, but in the end I think it falls flat. But let me know what you think!

CONTENT WARNING: Dubcon, attempted sexual assault, sexual violence, infidelity, child abuse, ableist depictions of mental illness.

In the aftermath of “Born Again,” Matt was left disbarred and homeless, squatting in a tenement in Hell’s Kitchen with ex-junkie Karen and working as a short order cook at a diner, but very happy about it. He’s totally content to let that state of affairs continue, but Karen is not:

Like. Can we just appreciate Karen for a moment here? You saw her last week, she was barely walking upright. Now she’s applying for grants and opening a legal clinic/drug addiction hotline while Matt’s obliviously flipping burgers in his blousey-waisted pants. She’s amazing.

Matt throws a big whiny tantrum about how that part of his life is over now Karen!!! Don’t you understand!!! but gets with the program eventually.

He also wanders off to the park and chats with a little boy who is sailing his toy sailboat:

As Matt’s radar-sensing, though, a truck dumps chemicals into the water - chemicals that have a very bad effect on poor Tyrone:

Matt rushes Tyrone to get medical assistance, but it’s too late - he’s permanently blinded. Matt, naturally, is very personally affected by his case and determined to help his family in any way he can.

Meanwhile, the clinic is bustling:

I like this because it’s really the first time we’ve seen the Hell’s Kitchen community form around Matt. This is the closest the comics ever get to what N&M looks like at the beginning of Season 2, I think.

I also want to point out the little kids in the first panel: the Fatboys, a little gang of skateboarding urchins who hero-worship Matt, Karen, and Daredevil. I love them so much and want them to show up in the comics again. Here’s another little bit with some of the more central ones:

So cute!

Meanwhile, what’s Foggy up to? Well, he’s gotten an extremely plush job in a corporate firm that, unbeknownst to him, is owned by Fisk. Unfortunately for everyone concerned, it’s the same company that dumped the toxic materials that blinded Tyrone, and Tyrone’s family is now suing. So Foggy goes to check out the company’s usual waste disposal site:

Foggy is horrified by how disgusting and irresponsible Kelco is, but they’re still his client, and he still needs to defend them, even though Glori thinks that he shouldn’t and that Matt wouldn’t. (Matt probably wouldn’t. It is, however, literally Foggy’s job.)

Okay, you’re saying, but where’s the character this post is named after already?

Here you go:

...Yeah. Welcome to the late 80s, folks!

That narration on the side, by the way, is part of why I’m not a fan of Nocenti’s writing. It’s...it’s pretty incoherent, huh? There’s a lot of that in her run. It’s worse in the dialogue.

I also want to talk about the art for a second. Starting a couple pages up we’ve got John Romita, Jr., one of the artists most associated with Daredevil thanks to this run and his work on the Miller-written miniseries “Man Without Fear.” I can’t really say that I like Romita’s work but I find it really interesting. His shapes and poses and choices are all really blunt and strange and striking. (I feel similarly about Miller’s art, actually.) He’s also one of those artists whose attempts to draw aggressive male power often come out very, well, fetish-y (his Frank is a straight-up sexy bear). It winds up working really well for this story which is in a lot of ways all about sexual dominance and gender roles.

Anyway, Typhoid Mary has a split personality: “Mary Walker” is sweet and innocent, and “Typhoid” is a sadistic killer, who comes to New York and starts mowing down criminals because eh, why not. (Matt isn’t particularly troubled by this, even though he freaks out whenever Frank does it.) Mary has no knowledge of Typhoid, somehow, but Typhoid hates Mary. Typhoid is also telekinetic, pyrokinetic, and has some kind of pheromone powers that give her limited mind control over men. Oh, and her heartbeat and scent are completely different between the two personalities.

Basically, she’s a random assortment of powers and physiological quirks that target Matt’s weaknesses specifically. It’s preeeetty contrived. Plus she’s her own madonna/whore complex, compounded when contrasted further with patient, loving, good girl Karen.

She’s also sexually dominant, which is portrayed as extremely transgressive and dangerous:

Yeah, she fucks this random guy in a burning warehouse next to a bunch of corpses. On top, because Typhoid is evil you guys!!! Siiiigh.

Meanwhile, Matt is trying desperately to teach Tyrone to use his other senses the way Matt does:

Matt’s using a milder version of what Stick did to him as an attempt to jumpstart Tyrone’s “abilities,” but Tyrone doesn’t have Matt’s abilities, so this is basically just Matt breaking into a disabled child’s hospital room in the middle of the night to berate and imperil him. On one level it’s an interesting contrast to Miller’s argument that anyone can do what Matt and Stick do - that they don’t have special abilities, they’re just tapped into their awareness more than ordinary people. On the other hand...Matthew, stop. He’s clearly projecting, but...STOP.

(Tyrone also displays an acceptance of his own blindness in that last panel that Matt never has - he always speaks of his blindness in terms of his powers being a compensation for it, and in Nocenti’s run in particular he’s extremely self-loathing about being “a blind man,” which Nocenti for some reason thinks is one word. “A blindman.” It’s weird.)

Meanwhile, Fisk has heard of Typhoid, and thinks she could be useful to him:

This is one of those strategems that you’re like “Okay, okay,” when you’re reading it and then you think about it and you’re like “...Wait. Why is the ruler of crime in the largest city in America hiring a street person to break someone’s heart?” JUST SHOOT HIM, WILSON. This is so silly.

So Typhoid sets off to win Matt’s heart:

THIS DIALOGUE IS TERRIBLE. NO ONE TALKS LIKE THAT. UGH.

Again, I’m so frustrated by how contrived the Mary/Typhoid split is and how the rules change in order to make the plot work. This is definitely Mary - we see Mary later, unaware of Typhoid’s interference and very much in love with Matt - but Typhoid’s the one who gets them the job working with Tyrone, who makes up the story about a blind father, who uses her poorly-defined powers in the first panel to compel Matt to sit with her. It just seems lazy to me.

Matt is captivated, and uses his work “helping” Tyrone (he is now serving as a “ghost lawyer” for Tyrone’s father and the affordable baby lawyer they’ve hired) as an excuse to see Mary and, well, basically begin an affair with her:

1. MATT THERE IS A TERRIFIED BLIND CHILD YOU ARE NEGLECTING YOU SELFISH PIECE OF SHIT

2. MATT YOU CHEATING BASTARD

3. MATT I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU LET STRANGERS HEAR KAREN CALL YOU “BIG M,” SHE SHOULD BREAK UP WITH YOU JUST FOR THAT

Seriously, Matt is The Worst. It’s unclear how far he and Mary go (though he does discuss leaving Karen for her), and also, to be fair to him, unclear how much of this is happening of Matt’s volition, given Typhoid’s powers. But then, Mary’s consent is just as dubious as Matt’s. This is all so fucked up.

(I should also note that a few years after this plotline, after Karen has left him and they’ve painstakingly rebuilt their relationship for the second time, he cheats on her again with Elektra, this time in full control of his body and mind. So Matt You Cheating Bastard still stands.)

Meanwhile, the Tyrone v. Kelco case finally makes it to the courts, and Foggy is finally confronted with his old friends:

You know, Karen, you’re awfully high-and-mighty there for someone who last saw Foggy when you showed up on his doorstep as a strung-out junkie and then broke a lamp over his head and disappeared, leaving like a dozen dead bodies on his street.

Look. I freely admit that I am biased in Foggy’s favor and tend to give him more of a pass than I should, and the narrative is very, very clear that he is in the wrong in defending Kelco. Though Foggy is right that the legal system only works when everyone has the right to dedicated legal counsel doing their best to win, Matt and Karen are also right that sticking up for a company whose willful neglect caused massive environmental destruction as well as the blinding of a little boy is not exactly Foggy’s most shining moment. (Matt also makes the point later that Foggy should’ve known he was working for Fisk, but I think a suicidally depressed, recently divorced lawyer who just lost his livelihood and whose partner was just disbarred probably isn’t gonna look any job offer horses in the mouth.)

But Karen and Matt both act like Foggy has committed some horrible personal crime against them when Foggy stuck his neck out for both of them in “Born Again,” did everything he possibly could to help him, and they both disappeared and from what I can tell didn’t even bother to let him know they were alive. By the time of this story Foggy knows about the clinic and that they’re together, but it’s not clear how - legal scuttlebutt?

Basically, Matt and Karen have a lot of nerve, and if there’s anyone who owes anyone else a personal apology here, it’s not Foggy.

While Karen is snubbing Foggy, Daredevil is finally battling Typhoid, who he does not recognize as Mary (even though, ironically, a sighted person probably would):

Oh, I forgot, she also disrupts Matt’s radar. Sure. Whatever. *throws hands up in the air*

Anyway please note Matt calling her “bewitching” and Mary’s seductive dialogue and pose in the second panel.

Matt’s attracted to and repulsed by her simultaneously. She’s hot, feverish, burning - desirable and sickening at once. He’s confused by her dominance before violently rejecting it. She’s screwed up the gender roles he’s used to - dominant and submissive, pursuer and pursued - and it’s literally making him ill even as it fascinates him. (It’s worth noting that Mary, who he’s enchanted by, is totally helpless and submissive around him, constantly begging him to hold her and guide her and make her feel safe.)

Again, if this had been written by a man, I’d write it off the combination of the madonna/whore complex and the transgressiveness of female domination instantly as gross misogyny. Since it wasn’t, I can’t help feeling like Nocenti was trying for...something? Some subversion of what are very, very old comic book tropes? (“Nice lady with villainous split personality” has been around since the 40s, for example.) But maybe I’m giving her too much credit.

Up next: Matt and Foggy reunite, and Typhoid kills Daredevil!

[torentialtribute]

OLIVER HOLT: This World Cup is shining a light into the well of misogyny

I am about to enjoy an epic attack of virtue signaling. I am about to do everything in my power to be liked. I am about to work diligently to wake up & # 39; to appear. Women's World Cup What do you think of this? They are always men, often emotionally capitalized, that sophisticated literary device of the impotent.

A woman venturing an opinion about the Women's World Cup – or even any sport – on social media is subject to the same level of crude, mocking abuse she gets all the time. A man who gives an opinion about the Ladies World Cup is considered a fifth columnist, a dissembler who tries to collapse the building of man from the inside.

The truth is that the Women's World Cup acts as a device not only to shed light on the source of women's hatred that penetrates deep into the fabric of this country, but also to those who love to separate sport from those who see it only as a theater of tribalism and prejudice.

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Women's World Cup sheds light on the source of women's hatred bubbling deep into the dust of the country

It separates those men and women who enjoy watching the tournament and learn more about the stories of their protagonists from those who feel offended by a knowledgeable, articulated, all-female BBC panel from presenter Gabby Logan, former England defender Alex Scott, former Schotlan d, international Gemma Fay, and former US custodian Hope Only, that they find it funny to treat them because they hold irons instead of microphones. So original.

People who love sports get it where they can. They do not discriminate. & # 39; If there were no football at Liverpool, he would go to Everton & # 39 ;, Liverpool & # 39; s central defender Tommy Smith once said about Bill Shankly.

& # 39; If Everton had nothing, he would go to Manchester. If nothing were in Manchester, he would go to Newcastle. If nothing was wrong at all, he would park and see some children kick. He was one of those boys. "

I am like that too. I know, men and women. Good sport is when two teams or two individuals or five horses or 20 F1 drivers or 100 golfers do their best. That's all I want I don't like friendly competitions or exhibitions or testimonials or dead rubbers or competitions if Nick Kyrgios is in a bad mood

If you like sports, you are always looking for your next problem, flushing it out paper for fixtures In November, when I went to Alabama to interview Deontay Wilder, I walked to Bryant Denny Stadium in Tuscaloosa to watch the University of Alabama The Citadel play in a football game, and a few days later I went to a college basketball match against Clemson at the Coleman Coliseum.

I like sport because of the match, I like sport because of the way it gets the best out of competitors, I like sport because of its excitement and unpredictability and what it tells you about the people who play it. I love it because of the stories about their rise or the stories about their fall. Why would one of them exclude the women's world cup?

I love it because of the triumph over the misfortune it often causes. And that applies, whether it's men or women, soccer or golf, a park place or a chic stadium. That's the thing about sports; there is always drama to get. The arena in which it takes place is largely irrelevant. Why would one of those exclusions exclude the women's world cup?

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The thing about sports, there's always drama.

The best sport I saw on television last week , France was against Norway of the Stade de Nice, a game between two technically accomplished teams, a game with skills, pace, the comical own goal of the central defender of France, W endard Renard, and the dose of VAR controversy.

Nobody makes radical claims about the ladies game. It's sport. Sometimes the games are good. Sometimes they are not. Sometimes they are honored with sublime moments of agility (see Nikita Parris nutmeg for England against Scotland) and sparkle (see Vanina Correa's goalkeeper show for Argentina against England on Friday night). Sometimes they are a grind. That is also sport.

Nobody forces anyone else to look at it. Nobody forces anyone else to say they like it. And make a simple observation about a match at the tournament in France and it often seems to throw with an ulcer that radiates abuse and abuse. And if a woman has the guts to comment on a game, the abuse is multiplied.

There are some cautious signs of posture shifts. A respected sports equipment writer noted on Saturday that she had noticed a change in the timbre of the addressed comments against her, that they were more serious and involved. & # 39; There have been many things that filled my heart with hope for the future &, she wrote.

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Nobody forces anyone else to look at it. Nobody forces anyone else to say they like it

As the women's game gets stronger and the sport gets more attention, the more they are threatened by it, some men seem to feel and louder they scream for bullying.

The usual refrain, of course, is that only the holding of women's football does not make women's hatred and that is true. What does a man with a hatred of women do, respond to anodyne remarks about a women's soccer match with the kind of ugly, foaming vitriol and mocking contempt that they would never pursue a soccer match regardless of the standard.

Example of cricket. My colleague Lawrence Booth sent a link last week to a Fran Wilson dive catch during England & # 39; s third and final ODI against the West Indies at Chelmsford. His only respondent laughed out loud and added: & # 39; It's a great catch, but cricket for women is pathetic and really funny to see.

<img id = "i-ccc8e38af48e1657" src = "https://dailym.ai/2IQJmQ2. jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" England has moved to the last 16 of the tournament thanks to goal from Jodie Taylor on Friday "class =" blkBorder img

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There it is again, the idea that there must be an ulterior motive to admire an element of women's sport . Some male sports fans are so falsified about women's sport that they find it impossible to accept that it has any merit. They feel so threatened that they scream and shake in the hope that they will kill it.

Where does all this fear come from? I think fear. Like all prejudices. Our bastions of virility are stormed one by one. Now that the women are even coming for our football, where else is there to run? Now that they can catch a cricket ball as they fly through the air, where else can you hide?

Anyway, please don't get angry about this. You know I'm just saying it for effect, so why would you throw a sutfit? You know I don't mean it, so why would you bring yourself into a state? And when England and Japan play in Nice on Wednesday evening, sit in the shed or empty the bins or wriggle along the way. And let everyone who loves sport in peace, so that we can watch the game.

Why Frank offers a bright future

I hope Chelsea makes Frank Lampard the successor to Maurizio Sarri. He played with a large number of top managers and he spoke well in Derby County, worked under a demanding chairman on a limited budget and conquered Marcelo Bielsa & Leeds United in the semifinals of the play-off championship

a job can be too big for someone, but there is no chance that that will happen with Lampard on Stamford Bridge. He has spent most of his life in an intense spotlight. At a time when Chelsea is struggling for identity and direction in the field, Lampard is exactly what they need to come back.

Frank Lampard is exactly what Chelsea needs to get their identity and direction on the field.

Despite that hiccup against Pakistan, England continues to look like the team to be defeated at the Cricket World Cup. The West Indies is a dangerous side, but English England flew past them and injured the injuries to Eoin Morgan and Jason Roy, again proposing that they have the power in the depth and the confidence to go all the way in this tournament.

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This story has been haunting me for a day now, and I need to share and discuss it. I'll start. I don't even know if I agree with its thesis, or the choices Wilson made to get there (though I agree more after needing to unpack it to write what became a very long semi-personal meta). But I know it burrowed into my brain: I know there were phrases drifting about last night, and I woke up with different ones today, turning the tale over and over like a contrarian puzzle box that I couldn't slot together but desperately wanted to keep plucking at. I also know I wanna check out more of Wilson's work: think I may start with his short-story "Devil You Know" since it covers similar ground from different perspectives. TW for: drug use, extreme. graphic violence, and discussions of state-sponsored violence. Also discussions of sex, and some profound homophobia from one of the main characters. I was willing to overlook because Wilson's written some marvelous LGBT content from everything I've heard, so I think the homophobia was used deliberately to mirror the racism the characters rail against: her own implicit bias she never needs to confront, but it is there so fair warning. Spoilers below the cut, and some reactions that initially were definitely not as progressive as I would've liked them to be, with very different conclusions by the end.

It made me viscerally uncomfortable to see this gritty depiction of life as a poor black person in Nyc. I only realized later I was struggling with that thing that folk trying to learn good allyship struggle with so often: it cropped up in the queer community when gay men wrote explicit tales of older men taking younger partners. That oh, but you're perpetrating things that'll make mainstream communities uncomfortable thing. And in this particular instance: if they're going to commit such violence, should they maybe be driven? to it? have some kind of sympathetic motive.

I didn't even realize my own horrific underlying bias until the discussion at the end, wherein one of the first things that cropped up was: who gets! to be victims and who gets to be perpetrators. And then I started thinking about all the stats: the higher rates of substance abuse among police; even the heightened rates of domestic violence. The way that the police's only plausible motive is often implicit or explicit bias and racism. How it's never anyone's job to be empathetic and make us comfortable: that I can rationally rail against the way the Rosa Parks affair had to be so ritually staged with the perfect candidate, and yet want a perfect candidate to walk me through gruesome acts even when I don't realize that's the problem.

After I got over my own bullshit, I went back and read it a second time. I saw different things on a second reading late last night: the ways in which just as racism and privilege are these tendrils that wrap around everything and give the cops permission to be violent, poverty encases everything for the protagonists. Poverty and the powerlessness that comes with it, twisted and warped in terrible ways to make them crave violence. And how infinitely relatable that is: how there've been study after study covering how often poverty turns off the empathy in your brain because it's such a survival mode state of existence.

Once I saw that, I saw the other horrors: the police widows raging that this was a war! that they intended to bring such terrible action down on the heads of all people of color because of the actions of a few, and how A. deeply sickening that is but B. how very common. The ways in which when it's a person the majority group sees reflected in the mirror, we as white people are so swift to declaim: of course we wouldn't do that! of course it's an outlier. but how we don't give that logic and clemency to anyone who is other: because of the way they live or speak or dress.

The story drags you along, the writing so lyrical and compelling, so cadenced in the way of a song with a powerful underlying beat, that the full horror doesn't sink in until later. What does sink in is that Wilson makes us feel! the horror of the police officers deaths, makes us linger over them and feel disturbed and grief-stricken: gives them the respect black dead are rarely afforded. It's a kindness that's simultaneously the harshest florescent revealing our own deficits of it.

This morning, I woke meditating on culture: namely Eli Clare's seminal Exile and Pride. There's a passage in the revised ten-year edition that I read over a decade ago about class as a mountain. You're encouraged to climb that mountain, and if you have additional burdens of race or gender or sexuality or disability (and often more than one!) the weight is crushing and the climb infinitely slow. But the worst part is that when you reach the crest, what should be your moment of triumph, you realize that everything and everyone you loved: all the cultural markers you held dear, are down at the bottom and aside from all the other folks missing their people and exiled up here at the top, you're utterly alone. The general thesis of the book, btw, is that we should level the mountain and all be on an equitable playing field, not be frightened of it and stay at the bottom. But that passage always stuck with me when I was thinking about the multi-tendriled influences of poverty. Loathsome as both characters are, and they are loathsome for reasons having nothing! to do with their lifestyles and everything to do with personality, they have people encouraging them toward better lives. And yet to reach is to leave everything they've known, which's scary as hell.

This story also got me thinking about the larger messaging struggle surrounding criminal justice reform. I follow the work of Real Justice Pac which's dedicated to electing reform-minded prosecutors. And one of the things they learn again and again is that white moderate Democrats say! all the right things about criminal justice reform, but then when sweeping reform is on the table, vote with the tougher candidates. And that horrifies me and was utterly inexplicable until yesterday. How quickly my own biases reared up was like a bucketful of ice to the face, and then I started reflecting on how good the opponents of criminal justice reform are at whipping up fears of lawlessness and mobs if we let up on our cruelty masked as toughness. And how easy it would be to not unpack your biases and be lured into the fear.

Which of course brought me looping back to the scene with the police widows and thinking about how brave Wilson was to publish this, knowing the polarized reaction, but also knowing how damn timely it was.