#it doesnt give the same sweep sweep motion but i guess it helped?

[happyk44]

Every so often I remember that David occasionally uses a wheelchair, but she's also blind, so that thought also accompanies the vague image of her holding her cane out like she's jousting 😂

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

your transfem friend recommended a clinic to get your bottom surgery done at. she says its cheap, not gatekeepery, and the results are good, even if the doctors a little skeevy. youre at the address she gave you and are wondering how exactly your murder will go down. the door is on a third floor landing accessible only from a fire escape out of a back alley in the worst part of town youve ever seen. you knock three times and the door is answered by a ratty-looking woman with a severe slouch smoking something that doesnt smell like nicotine and doesnt smell like marijuana. her wavy blonde hair is unkempt. shes wearing an oversized grey hoodie that hasnt been washed in some time. you can identify blood on the left sleeve and vomit across much of her side, as well as other, more mysterious stains. you cant tell if shes wearing anything underneath the hoodie. the inside of the apartment - because it is, very clearly, her apartment - has a smell that you cant place but, if pressed, would probably call sweat, though you know that description is lacking something.

dr davis, you ask. she smiles wide, and her teeth are shockingly good for the state the rest of her is in. just call me riley, she says. never did get a degree.

she ushers you inside and sits you down on a sofa almost as stained as her hoodie. can i get you a drink she asks. a drink, you repeat, dazed. she says yeah. she says she has diet coke, beer, vodka, and coffee. says she used to keep tea around for a friend of a friend but she hasnt come by in a few years and the leaves are probably losing flavor by now. you say just waters fine. she shrugs and says your funeral. she comes back from the kitchen and sweeps some stuff off the coffee table. you see a stray scalpel, a roll of gauze bandages, a soda cup from taco bell, and various crumpled papers amongst the rubbish that she knocks aside before setting down your glass of water. she has a beer in her own hand and pops the cap off with her teeth, though the motion isnt quite how youre used to seeing people do it. she takes a big gulp before she keeps talking.

so what do you want your pussy to look like, she asks. you splutter a bit. she says you are the one who needed their bits redone right. you flush and say yeah thats me. she nods and says right so what do you want. you struggle to give a good answer and she starts asking questions. depth? width? color? clit size? you give your answers falteringly. she starts asking about labia. oh, you dont want dentata, do you, she says. that costs extra. you say you dont know what that means. she says dont worry about it. hey do you wanna get pregnant? you splutter again. not now she clarifies. well i can get you pregnant now too if you want that. doesnt even have to be human i think i have some horse sperm around here if you want. i just meant like ever in the future. you say you dont know. she says okay shell leave it out for now but come back if you ever want her to put the womb in. youre too stunned to reply.

she says oh do you want to keep your dick, i can do that. you say you thought they needed the tissue from the penis in order to make the vaginal lining. she laughs and takes another gulp from her beer. she says so is that a no. you say you guess you hadnt thought about it. she says she can reschedule if you need to think, no rush. you say no i guess i dont want it anymore. she nods and says come back if you change your mind.

she says ok, i think i can start operating now if youre ready. you say okay and she tells you to lie on your back and strip naked. you follow her instructions. youre still not sure if youre going to die today or not. she pulls on a big pair of rubber gloves. not latex medical gloves, they're yellow dishwashing gloves. she grabs a small jar of what looks like petroleum jelly off a shelf nearby. you cant help but notice that theres also lube, condoms, saran wrap, and a bottle of honey on the same shelf. you dont ask. she starts vigorously rubbing the jelly into your skin from the belly button down. everywhere it touches you instantly go numb. she keeps talking while she works. a lot of it is her telling stories about "her amy." you cant tell if amy is a sister, wife, or pet. she might be all three.

she reaches up to grab an empty syringe off the top shelf. when she stretches you notice shes naked under the hoodie. you look away bashfully. she doesnt seem to notice.

she fills the syringe with liquid from a bucket in the closet. the liquid is neon green. she injects it into your inner upper thigh. you are now certain you're going to die today, but you cannot make a break for it with your legs numbed, so you wait.

she says okay this is the part where a lot of people get squeamish so look away if you think you might get sick. she pulls out a set of knives. some of them look like dentistry tools, some of them are medical scalpels, and some of them are kitchen knives. you look away. she starts humming to herself while she works. the tune is pop goes the weasel.

hey, she calls out to you from between your legs, how many nerves do you want in your clit? you say uh i dont know, whats a normal amount. she says about ten thousand give or take two thousand in either direction. you say ten thousand sounds fine. she doesnt respond, just goes back to humming. its a different tune. shes humming old macdonald now.

she gets up a couple times to grab new drinks. you say should you be drinking during an operation? she says dont worry i know what im doing. besides i never took the hippocratic oath. she laughs at that, the sound somewhere between a giggle and a cackle. you don't think its that funny. she resumes her work.

this time shes humming the alphabet song. you ask how old are you anyway? she says somewhere between 12 and 47. then she laughs again. you decide to stop asking questions.

four beers, two diet cokes, three unidentifiable cigarettes, and five hours later, she stands up and announces shes done. she wipes her brow without taking the glove off, smearing unidentifiable bodily fluids across her forehead. she jabs another syringe into your other thigh and the feeling returns to your lower body. you're a little sore but other than that you feel great. she wheels over a full length mirror and tells you to take a look. its perfect. youre everything youve ever dreamed you would be. you cant describe how euphoric it feels to see a vagina, your vagina, between your legs. you thank her tearfully. she smiles awkwardly. of course, shes saying.

how much do i owe you you ask. she shrugs. iunno, a hundred bucks? im not in it for the money. you pay her the hundred bucks and leave quickly. you barely remember to get dressed again before heading out. you have never seen Riley again.

[bourbonboredom]

A Reason To Believe Chapter 6

Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous  undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 4,339

Warnings:  brief N$FW moment, brief mention of violence

When I'm with you

It doesn't matter where we are

Or what we're doing

I'm with you, that's all that matters

(x)

Flip was surprised when he ran his tongue over his lip and it brushed his mustache. He was trying to get a stray crumb but instead was met with the taste of pussy. Elle's pussy. Guess he missed a spot when washing his face that morning. He fought back a grunt as the tartness melted on his tongue, a reminder of his night. And the night before that. And the night before that.

After he'd spent that first night over in Elle's apartment, he was there almost every night for the next few weeks. The only time he elected to stay at his own place was when his undercover case had him up at weird hours. He'd go back to his lonely apartment, sad to sleep in an empty bed. He used to purposefully wake up before his date, prying himself from their bed and leaving before they even noticed.

He was a big guy and would prefer to have the bed to himself. But the way Elle's body curled up next to his just felt right. He'd wake up to the smell of her hair and the feeling of silky skin under his hand. If anything, it made it harder to leave in the morning. But he could control himself, he assured himself. They both had jobs to do, no sleeping in allowed.

He'd be fine at work most of the day, paperwork kept his mind busy. But little things brought his thoughts back to Elle. He'd catch a whiff of her perfume on his collar, or a stray piece of hair on his shirt, or her cum in his mustache.

He'd fought he urge to call her the first week and a half or so. He'd see her later in the day, there was no point of stopping what he was doing to call over to the hospital. It wasn't until his job kept him from seeing her for three days did he finally swallow his pride and call.

Jimmy had caught him at his desk. Flip thought everyone had gone to lunch, and used it as an excuse to 'call the hospital' to 'get more info on Kukowski's medical status'.

"You're smilin' an awful lot to be asking about a perp's condition," His partners eyebrows were raised as he clutched his coffee mug.

"It's confidential, if you'll excuse me for a minute," He put his hand over the phone so Elle couldn't hear, though the giggling in the background made him think she still could.

"You're talking to that cute nurse aren't you?" Jimmy's smile took up his whole face.

Flip furrowed his brow.

"Thank you for the update ma'am, have a nice day," He put on his authoritative voice, making Elle laugh harder on the other end.

"Alright officer, you too. I'll see you at the diner tonight," She responded before the line disconnected.

He hung up the phone and stood up to get more coffee from the break room.

"Get all the information you needed detective Zimmerman?" His partner called behind him, voice full of smug glee.

He was just met with a middle finger as Flip left the room.

——

"I wanna take you out," He mumbled against her breast.

Post-coitus, Flip had taken to resting his head on her chest. It gave her easy access to run her fingers through his hair, and let him use her breasts as pillows as he came down from his high.

"Like a date? We were just at the diner yesterday," She reminded him.

"No, like a real date. We can go to this nice Italian place on my side of town. They have candles on the tables and they dim the lights and stuff,"

"I mean if you want to. I don't think I've been on a real date in like a year," She mused, fingers scraping along his scalp in a soothing motion. He was practically purring under her touch.

“I’d say it’s just about time then,”

“When was the last time you went on a date? A real one, not picking up a girl at a bar,” She turned her head so she could look at him.

Her curls, which had been fanned across the pillow moments before, were gathered in to a braid and thrown over her shoulder. He was playing with the end of it, dragging the hair across her skin and watching her try not to act ticklish.

“I don’t know, maybe a couple of years ago?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t like the question, but why aren’t you married?”

His head rose from her chest as he propped himself up with his elbows. He looked at her, analyzing her face as he thought about how to answer.

“I am married. You’re my mistress, didn’t you know?”

“Phillip,” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. You’re a great guy, respectful, good in bed, you got a good job, I can’t figure out how you haven’t been snatched up,”

“I’m married to my job is the short answer. Being on the force is hard. I work long hours, I can’t always be there, and I have to keep a lot of secrets,” He bit at his lip as he thought of what he wanted to say next.

There were some things he wasn’t quite ready to share with her, mainly that he was an undercover officer and not just a regular guy on the force. If they were truly keeping things casual, he wanted to keep her away from the more dangerous aspects of his job. If they kept this going and got more serious, he pledged to himself to have an honest conversation about his position, and what it could mean for their relationship.

“I had a long time girlfriend when I joined the force. Linda. We started dating right before I was accepted at the academy. She helped me through it, staying up studying with me, going to my graduation. My mom kept asking me when I was going to propose. I thought I wanted to, maybe in the next year or so. But police work kept getting harder. I’d be working long nights, had to cancel a few dates. Linda was okay with it at first, but it kept happening. I’d try to make it up to her, but I was new to the team and a lot of the grunt work would fall on me. Eventually she broke up with me, said she couldn’t take it anymore. She never knew where I was or if I was safe or whether she was going to see me that night. I understood, tried to tell her it would get better, but I knew I couldn't make her happy anymore,”

“So I kept on with work, tried dating a few other girls after that but it was the same problem. They wanted me home for dinner every night and being a detective just doesn’t allow for that. Flings have just been easier,”

He didn’t realize he’d looked away from her while speaking, vulnerability bubbling up in his chest as he spoke. He looked back at her to see she’d been watching him the whole time. Her brow was slightly furrowed and her eyes tinged with sadness.

“I’m sorry that happened,” She started. “You deserve someone who understands,”

“You have pretty well,” He offered.

“My job is just similar is all. Long shifts, late nights. It’s a pain in the ass to work around, you just gotta find the right person. I thought I had, back in Indiana. I was seeing this guy, Abe. He worked at the university nearby and never complained about my job. He was the first guy who didn’t immediately try to get me to quit and become a housewife. He seemed to get that my job was important to me, that I really love what I do,”

“But?” Flip asked. Elle sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“But once I got the opportunity to come work here in Colorado things started to change. Abe even talked about moving with me at one point, him getting a job at a state college down here. But the closer the moving date got, the more keen to stay in Indiana he was. It was just talk to him, a fantasy. He never really intended on moving, and never thought i’d actually want to go. When he realized what I really wanted, he begged me to stay with him. He gave me his grandmother’s wedding ring and asked me to marry him,”

“He didn’t really know you all that well then, huh?”

“No, I guess not,” Elle let out a dry laugh. “If I wanted to marry him, I would have by then. I think he thought it was romantic, a sweeping declaration of love. It really just cemented my decision to leave. I gave him the ring back and told him I was sorry. I took a Greyhound to here a week later,”

“I guess we’re both married to out jobs then,” Flip set his head back down on her chest.

“I do have to wear white everyday,” She noted, stifling a laugh. He chuckled at her joke along with her.

“We don’t have to worry about labels or anything right now. We’re just two busy adults having a good time with one another. No weddings or family heirlooms involved,” He assured her, his hand reaching up to play with the pendant sitting near the hollow of her throat.

“You’re the only guy I’m seeing right now,” He could feel the vibrations from her voice as she spoke. “I’m okay with this being more casual, but I thought you should know,”

“You’re the only girl I’m seeing right now,” He left out the part where even if there were others, he’d drop them in an instant to be with her. He knew he should take it slow, for both their sake, but he couldn't help but feel this was a little more emotionally invested than just having a good time together.

“Wow, we’re really bad at this,” She teased.  “So, as two casual-but-currently-monogamous professionals, when is the best time for us to go on a date?,”

“Maybe Saturday night after you get off work? I can pick you up,” He knew he'd be meeting ‘the organization’ at Felix's house earlier that day. It would be his first meeting with the whole bunch, but he didn't expect it to last into the night.

“Only if we go dutch with the check,” She pointed at him.

"Of course," his palm rubbed against her bare breast catching her nipple. “Now do you think we can fit one more round in before midnight?”

She gasped under his touch, giving him a sly smirk before pulling him into round three for the night.

-------

If Flip knew he was going to spend his Saturday being forced to take a lie detector test at gunpoint, listen to his partner throw a rock through the window of a klansman's house, and then have to chase after said klansman to make sure his partner wasn't shot, he would have chosen a different night for his date with Elle.

But here he was, heart rate still trying to even itself as he drove home hours later. He would've been fine if Ron didn't throw a rock through the window of Felix's house. He would’ve talked his way out somehow. What was he even thinking? A black man instigating an attack while the house was crawling with armed white supremacists? He'd spoken to him about it at the station after he left Felix's, it didn't go great.

Ron was more focused on trying to make Flip impassioned about the cause. Trying to get him to feel the same way as he did, even though that wasn't him. He didn't let personal stuff get in the way of his work, he couldn't if he wanted to do a good job.

“Doesn’t that hatred you’ve been hearing the Klan say doesn’t that piss you off?” Ron had asked him in the dimly lit records room before they headed out for the weekend.

“Of course it does,” He’d responded. It was an easy question to answer, but it felt much more complicated under the surface.

“Then why you acting like you ain’t got skin in the game, brother?”

The Rookie’s words were frustrating. He didn’t understand what it was like for Flip growing up. His family pushing away their religion and their culture to fit in, until they were left with nothing but a name and some disregarded family heirlooms hidden away in the closet. Him never feeling like he really fit in with his Christian classmates, but also unable to relate to any Jewish people he met. He was always stuck in some middle ground, somewhere between what his parents wanted him to be and what they tried to keep from him.

Of course he had skin in the game, when the Klan talked about hating Jews, they were talking about his family. They were talking about Eliana. They were talking about him. Ron wasn’t considering how maybe it was so easy for him to slip into the roll of ‘White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, cherry pie, hot dog, white boy’ because it was all he ever knew. It’s not like he’s parading around with these racists and heading on home to Shabbat after, he knew nothing about the culture the Klan hated him for being apart of.

“Rookie, that’s my fucking business,” He gritted out, making direct eye contact with Ron. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore, especially not with his partner.

“It’s our business,” Ron responded.

Fuck that. He left him standing there in the back of the room as he lit a cigarette. It’d help calm him down.

Flip took a deep breath in an attempt to clear out all feelings from his work. He decided to focus on the night ahead. A date with Elle. A real date with Elle. He'd picked out his clothes earlier that day, his nerves getting the better of him. The black slacks and white polyester shirt were lying on his bed with a pair of dress shoes on the floor.

He slipped out of his work clothes and took a quick shower before re-dressing, his large hands buttoning the shirt with a practiced ease. He took a look in the mirror, smoothing down his damp hair into his usual center part before adjusting his cuffs.

All he could think when he looked at his reflection was of Felix pointing the gun to his head. It wasn't the first time it had happened. He'll, he'd been to war before he was on the force. And he'd been an undercover officer for the last three years, he'd had his fair share of close calls. But this was different. That gun wasn't to his head because of something completely out of his control; his heritage. Something he didn't even see as a big part of him.

What would have happened if they somehow found out who he really was? Would he have been shot over something so trivial? Was it trivial if someone wanted to kill him over it? He wasn't even a practicing Jew. But would that have mattered?

He laced up the dress shoes and shrugged on his sherpa jacket before leaving his quiet apartment to pick up his date. He tried hard to push his work out of his mind, turning up the radio to let a Chicago song take up the overworked parts of his brain.

Time passes much too quickly 

When we're together laughing

I wish I could sing it to you, oh no

I wish I could sing it to you

He pulled up to Elle's right as she was walking out the front door. She beamed as she saw his car pull up. He put it in park and was about to climb out to open the door for her when she yelled over for him to stay inside.

Perplexed, he sat in the drivers seat as she got in the car and settled in the passengers side.

"You don't need to get out of the car just to get back in, I can open a dumb door by myself," She explained, giving him a peck on the cheek after.

"If you insist," He caught her face before she turned away, pulling her into a longer kiss on the lips.

She hummed with content as his lips pressed against hers, an emotion he felt himself. The world disappeared for a second, his problems evaporating when he could smell her perfume permeating the air around them.

They broke apart and it took him a moment to drift back to reality. With one hand on the wheel and one hand resting with hers in the median, he drove off toward their destination.

Giuseppe's Italian Restaurant was a tiny whole-in-the-wall joint, with decor that hadn't been updated since they opened in 1940. But they had some of the best reviews in the city.

Flip let Elle get out of the car on her own, taking a good look at her outfit for the night. Her hair was down, her dark curls contrasting against her fair skin. Her necklace rested against her clavicle as always. She was wearing a floral dress, made of a flowing material. The neckline was tight and plunged, showing a fair amount of skin, but the skirt came to mid-calf and was gathered. It wasn't something he'd ever picture her wearing but she looked fantastic.

"A dress?" He placed his hand on her lower back as they walked toward the entrance. "Weren't you just protesting by wearing pants to work?"

"I'm not at work, am I? I can clean up nice from time to time," She wore a sly smile as they were escorted to their table.

Wine was ordered with dinner, the plates of food so big that they had to move the candle to the side of the small table. Everything was going great, the two of them talking in hushed tones and laughing in not-so hushed ones. They picked off each other's plates, earning the occasional side-eye from some of the more refined diners. Elle would raise an eyebrow at them and they'd turn their attention back to their own table.

He was about to take another bite of pasta when he saw a man walk by the window who looked awfully familiar. Blonde hair, slight build, gaunt face, Felix-like. Flips blood suddenly ran cold. His eyes trained on the front window as the man walked by, trying to get a better look at him.

The man walked by, not bothering to look inside the restaurant. After a few seconds of studying his face, Flip determined it wasn't Felix. He breathed a sigh of relief, trying to yet again push the image of a gun to his head out of his mind.

"Flip?" He heard his voice called.

He turned his head back to the table to see Elle staring at him, brow furrowed. She'd rested her hand on top of his, something he hadn't even felt her do.

"You drifted for a moment there, are you feeling okay?" She asked.

“Yeah, just thought I saw someone from work, sorry about that,"

"Do you want to leave? We can eat the rest of this later if you'd like,"

"No, no, let's finish our date. I'm fine, really," He squeezed her hand, hoping to reassure her.

She gave him a look before continuing to eat. They filled the next couple of minutes with small talk, his mind still half at work as he thought about what happened at Felix's.

"Tell me more about your family," He found himself saying.

"Uh, what do you want to know?" She asked, looking at him with uncertainty.

"Why did they come to America? You said it was before the way right? Why America?"

"It's the land of opportunity. Coming from 1930s Germany, where they weren't even considered to be citizens, America was a paradise,"

"How were they not citizens?"

"Jews weren't citizens under the Nuremberg laws. Even if they'd lived in the country for generations, like my family. Before the war even started, dozens of restrictions were put on Jews to prevent them from contributing. We had to identify our businesses, we had to be in a registry, we couldn't marry outside our race-"

Flip's brain clicked. Jews were considered a race, not always just a religion. He knew this, but something in the way Elle spoke of it brought back memories of events he hadn’t really considered before. The way "Jew" was said by kids in grade school on the playground. The way it was said in a hushed tone by his mother's Bridge Club when she's host them at their house after carefully hiding all family relics. The way it was spat like venom by members of the Klan, said like it was the lowest thing a person could be.

"What were the Nuremberg laws?" He asked.

"What are they teaching out here?" She half-muttered, looking concerned. "They were laws to systematically enforce discrimination against Jews. The holocaust didn't happen overnight, the government worked for years to get Germany to see us as inferior. These laws prevented us from working and socializing outside our communities. Many fled, like my mother and father. They left in 1937, and had to give up most of their wealth in order to be allowed to emigrate. The rest of the family stayed behind, and were eventually taken to the camps,"

She grimaced as she spoke, rubbing her pendant between her fingers.

"My mother's brother was the only survivor we know of our family. He came to the US to live with us after he was liberated. I'd never met him before the war but mama says he wasn't the same when he came to live with us. He rarely talked about his time in the camps, and held a lot of survivors guilt. He watched everyone around him die, I can't imagine what he had to do to survive,"

She had looked down while talking, and looked back up at Flip when she finished, seeming startled.

"Sorry, this is really heavy conversation for a date,"

"No, I was the one who asked. I guess there are a lot of things they don't teach about the holocaust in school,"

"It's a shonda, how can people be expected to learn from it if they don't even know about it?" She slapped her hand on the table, drawing another look from a nearby table.

"They teach enough for it to never happen again," He said

"I hope you're right," She sounded unconvinced. "But either way, my family came here with next to nothing. At least they got here, a lot of people who tried to come to America as refugees were turned away at the border. They had to go back to Europe, where many died during the war. My parents were fortunate to have friends here to help get them on their feet,"

"I don't really know where my family came from. My grandparents on my fathers side came from Russia, but my mother never talked about her family. She said they'd passed away when I was a baby. We didn't really talk much in my family if you can't tell," He tried to make light of the situation.

"Maybe you could find some records at your parent's house. Or you could talk to your grandparents, if they're still alive,"

"They're not, but my parents inherited a bunch of their stuff, so I could ask," He said, thinking to himself about how that might go. They should be more open to talking about family stuff. He was an adult for fucks sake.

He considered how different his life was from Elle's. An assimilated military family in middle America versus an immigrant family from the biggest melting pot city in the world. Vastly different lives that somehow became connected. He caresses her hand with his thumb as he took it all in. The two of them sitting in this tiny restaurant in the candle light, talking about their lives openly.

"I like you, Eliana, a lot," He confessed, unable to find the words to fully express his feelings.

"I like you too, Phillip,” She stopped the movement of his thumb so she could hold his hand. "And this date is nice, but I can think of some place I'd rather be,"

"Oh?"

She leaned across the table, lowering her voice for his ears only.

"In my bed, with you on top of me, fucking me into the mattress until dawn,"

He was grateful his hair covered his ears because they for sure just turned red. He felt his cock stir in his pants, his hips shifting to try to adjust.

"Were in public, you know that right?" He smirked, lacing his fingers with hers.

"I can't help it if I want you in me 24/7," She pouted, letting her big brown eyes work him over.

"Is that so?" He leaned forward, letting his lips press against her ear as he spoke.

"If you want my fat cock in you, you're gonna have to listen closely Trouble. We're going to get out of here, get in my car and drive home. You're gonna be a good girl, I can't be getting pulled over by a coworker because you can't keep your hands to yourself,"

Her breath hitched as he continued.

"When we get back to your place, I suggest you take that dress off before I tear it off you. And then you'll get what you want, do you understand me?"

"Ten-four, detective," She whispered.

A few seconds later he felt her bare foot ghost over his lap. She must have taken off her heel while he was talking, and was now rubbing him through the fabric. The little minx. He raised an eyebrow at her, holding her foot steady with his hand. He was suddenly thankful the tablecloths were long.

"You said I couldn't touch you in the car, were not quite there yet, are we?" Her eyes glinted and her mouth twisted into a devilish smile.

"Check please!" He choked out.

_______

NOTES

There aren’t a ton of notes for this chapter, its more of just dissecting Flip’s feelings and struggle with understanding his identity. Where Elle grew up very sure in her cultural/religious identity, Flip didn’t really “grow up Jewish” as he mentioned in the movie. I think he’d definitely struggle with his identity, especially when confronted with so much hate regarding it. 

Here’s a basic idea of what Elle’s dress might look like (center dress)

I mentioned the Nuremberg Laws in chapter 4, but if you want to hear about the atrocities of the holocaust listen to the Mengele episodes from Last Podcast On The Left. It’s a three-part series and a little hard to stomach at times. I have a pretty strong stomach when it comes to true crime but this one got me a few times where I had to take a break (definite TW).

A shonda is yiddish for a disgrace/scandal. Its great vocab for overdramatic people such as I.

Thanks for reading!

[thelifetimechannel]

JAKE: Hello there ms kanaya! KANAYA: Hello KANAYA: Jake Right JAKE: Thatd be me! The one and only! JAKE: Or the one and only now haha. JAKE: So uh... weve not had a chance to talk yet. JAKE: Cool chainsaws? KANAYA: Thanks KANAYA: I Had A Lot Of Time To Alchemize More And Better Chainsaws During My First Session KANAYA: It Was A Good Way To Be Passive Aggressive I Think JAKE: If you displayed them on your wall itd make for one hell of a first impression. Imagine being like the dad in the movies whos sitting on the porch polishing his shotgun when his daughters new boyfriend comes over. JAKE: Though ive never heard of anyone displaying chainsaws in the first place... KANAYA: I Will Install Several Pedestals For That Exact Purpose With Tasteful Backlighting KANAYA: They Are Probably Too Heavy To Hang On Most Walls I Wouldnt Want To Cause An Accident JAKE: I say go for it! I think it sounds like the bees pajamas. KANAYA: I Dont Know About The Fashion Predilections Of Insects But Alright KANAYA: I Dont Think Youll Need To Display Weapons Provocatively To Intimidate Potential Suitors If Reports Of Your Recent Activities Are To Be Believed KANAYA: Our Hope Hero Styled Himself Formidable But I See Now He Barely Scratched The Surface Of The Aspects Capabilities KANAYA: Most Of Which I Accidentally Awoke In Him Anyway KANAYA: Which Is A Lesson To Never Be Facetious If Youre Not Willing To Put Up Your Dukes About It So To Speak JAKE: Yeah i learned that the hard way. JAKE: Sometimes you really do just need to tell your problems to fuck off! Whether or not you actually punch them in the face. KANAYA: I Am One Of An Elite Few Who Has Not Faced Off Against An "Evil Clone" Yet KANAYA: Im Almost Disappointed JAKE: Maybe some day? KANAYA: One Day I Enter My Hall Of Chainsaws Only To See One Pedestal Is Empty KANAYA: I Look Down The Hallway And See An Ominous Shadow Advancing KANAYA: The Shadow KANAYA: Its Me JAKE: Like youll get your own version of venom or manbat or something whos your vampire nature run amok! JAKE: ...i did hear correctly right that youre a vampire? KANAYA: Our Term Is Rainbow Drinker But The Idea Is The Same KANAYA: Im Trying To Reform JAKE: Aha. A vegetarian vam- er, rainbow drinker? KANAYA: Vegetables Are Pretty Great KANAYA: Ive Lived On Donations But The Whole Thing Is Kind Of Ridiculous KANAYA: The Sort Of Arrangement That Looks Intriguing And Romantic In Storybooks But In Real Life Is Kind Of A Pain In The Neck JAKE: Literally! KANAYA: I Walked Into That One Didnt I KANAYA: I Was Hoping We Could Edge Gingerly Around That Obvious Pitfall But Instead We Are Charging In At Full Speed JAKE: You made a dive for the window but alas that spotless pane was stronger than anticipated. KANAYA: Im Used To It KANAYA: The Individuals I Traveled With Would Leave No Conversational Stone Unturned Without Wresting Every Wriggling Wordplay Grub From Its Snug Cocoon JAKE: You were with dave and rose right? KANAYA: Yes KANAYA: And Karkat And Terezi KANAYA: And The Clown JAKE: I cant speak for your fellow aliens but for your human companions i daresay it runs in their family. JAKE: Roxy can do incredible things to typos so watch your spelling around her. KANAYA: Spelling Is An Important Part Of Our Brand On Alternia But Ill Watch My Step JAKE: I mean alien typing quirks is a concept im familiar with thanks to the cherubs. Im more talking about bungling the spelling of the words themselves. KANAYA: Understood KANAYA: If There Are Genetic Similarities Between That Group Does That Mean You Take After Those Dreaming On Prospit KANAYA: I Havent Interacted Much With John But I Did Help Guide Jade Through Her Breeding Session KANAYA: That May Not Be Long Enough To Establish True Closeness But Its My Best Frame Of Reference JAKE: As a matter of fact i do. JAKE: ...though the only time ive seen the planet with my own eyes was a few hours ago and i had higher priorities than enjoying the sights. JAKE: Like not leaving my soul flapping in the wind or beating the snot out of the maniac who stole its original getup. KANAYA: Ill Try To Draw Independent Conclusions Based On Your Behavior Rather Than Trying To Match You Up To Any Of Your Ancestors Or Descendants Then KANAYA: Im Not Used To Meeting This Many People KANAYA: Or Any People KANAYA: Fives Been A Crowd JAKE: A feeling i know very very well... JAKE: I mean i seem to remember you were there when we all came across each other in the dreambubbles! KANAYA: In The Dreambubbles KANAYA: ... KANAYA: You Were The One There When We Met The Empresss Previous Form KANAYA: The One Who KANAYA: Uh KANAYA: Attempted To Defeat Her Ghost In A Bout Of Fisticuffs JAKE: Yes. JAKE: That. JAKE: Haha... man that was embarassing in hindsight. KANAYA: If It Makes Any Difference She Was So Addled By The Revelation Of Her Tyrannical Supremacy I Dont Think She Noticed JAKE: Possibly. KANAYA: Actually It Provided Good Conversational Fodder KANAYA: Any Topic Becomes Stale Given Enough Sweeps To Mull It Over So New Stimulation Was Welcome KANAYA: When Dave And Rose Were Together She Frequently Tried To Draw Him Into Speculation About Your Characters KANAYA: He Never Liked To Engage For Some Reason JAKE: That was the first time id been around that many people in my life! JAKE: So i guess that added pressure to impress in a sense. KANAYA: I Grew Up Alone On An Oasis KANAYA: The First Time I Ran Into Crowds Was During This Game JAKE: Likewise! Except it was an island not an oasis. JAKE: That seems to be a trend doesnt it? KANAYA: Jade Told Me Something Similar KANAYA: Maybe Its Easier To Leave The World Behind Without A Second Thought If You Had Fewer Ties To It JAKE: I couldnt agree with you more though its sort of sad when you stop and think about it. JAKE: The game seems to take a lot of lonely chaps doesnt it? JAKE: Or... maybe it sets them up that way. KANAYA: Believe Me As Someone Charged With The Creation Of Life In Our New World The Prospect Weighs On Me KANAYA: Enough To Take Rose Up On An Offer Most Would Consider Suicidal KANAYA: But Then Most Of Her Schemes Are JAKE: O: JAKE: What is it rose is plotting? KANAYA: Oh Hasnt She Gotten To You Yet KANAYA: She Will KANAYA: Especially With Your Capabilities KANAYA: Im Not Clear On The Details Yet But Im Sure Those Will Come In Eventually KANAYA: Probably In The Heat Of The Moment If Our Other Adventures Are Any Indication KANAYA: Mostly It Involves Defying The Status Quo KANAYA: Which Is What Almost Everything She Has Done Since Ive Met Her Boils Down To JAKE: I mean she did help us get calliope back so if theres something she needs me to do id be happy to help lend a hand! KANAYA: I Believe Shes Intending To Bring It Up To The Group Once Weve Finished This Round Of Discussions KANAYA: So Youll Hear About It Then JAKE: Oh boy more mysterious plots. Look i may be a guy whos always eager for the next adventure or whatever but id like to propose a motion that we at least get a siesta first. JAKE: Three super over the top throwdowns in the space of a few hours tuckers a guy out! KANAYA: I Will Back You Up On That KANAYA: If We Bundle Her Up Well Enough She Will Be Unable To Escape And Will Be Forced To Give In To Relaxation JAKE: My grandma used to do that when i was a wee tyke and didnt want to go down for naps. KANAYA: Good Then Youre Familiar With The Technique JAKE: We just need a person three to four times her size and itll be a snap! JAKE: Oh hey jade can handle that. KANAYA: Now That I Have Restored Her First Guardian Abilities I Will Ask That Her First Action Be Restraining Rose For Her Own Good Before She Hurts Herself JAKE: Sounds like a smart idea but given what ive heard of her im not about to volunteer to be the first in her sights. KANAYA: Would Deaths Incurred Be Heroic KANAYA: Im New To These Rules JAKE: Im... not sure. JAKE: Perhaps its best not to chance it. KANAYA: Hopefully We Can Talk Her Into Taking A Short Break JAKE: Surely even a god tier has to take a load off every now and again. JAKE: Unless rose just runs on anarchic fervor and dreams. KANAYA: I Wouldnt Put It Past Her JAKE: Well calm her down and then help her out with her next revolution.

[ethereal-mists]

Of Fame and Misery Ch.2

Summary:

Trevor is a fighter in an underground ring. Adrian is an actor and model for his father’s esteemed agency. It seems unlikely that their paths would ever cross, until Adrian starts receiving death threats with no idea who’s sending them, or why.

With his son’s life at risk, Vlad Tepes hires him a bodyguard. Though they don’t quite get along, Trevor and Adrian are stuck with each other now, and with the help of Adrian’s co-star Sypha, they will find a way to keep him safe.

( Also on Ao3 )

***This is chapter 2. If you’d like to start from Chapter 1, please click the link under the description***

                                                      Chapter Two

It's early, almost noon, and the sun is shining high in the sky, reflecting off the windows of the buildings that surround him. It might not be considered early at all for someone with a regular job, but to him it’s way too early. And yet Trevor finds himself awake by some miracle, dressed in the nicest clothes he owns; a white long sleeve shirt, his one pair of jeans, and an old worn bomber jacket that he fished out of a thrift shop bin two summers ago. He gets the feeling that it won’t be up to Carmilla’s standards - if how she was dressed to a shitty bar fight is anything to go off of - but that’s her problem, not his.

Honestly, it all feels like something he dreamed up in a drunken stupor, like something out of a fairytale where a beautiful fairy Godmother appears out of nowhere and sweeps him up out of his miserable life, offering him a chance for something better. Something more than a bug-infested apartment with barely any room to move, and eating cold spaghetti straight from the can because the fucking stove doesnt work, just like everything else in his life. Its a stupid analogy, but some fairy Godmother magic would do him good.

The building standing in front of him is tall and fancy; the kind of building he’s walked by a thousand times but never stepped foot into. It looms before him ominously, stern and immaculate like a tombstone with reflective glass windows, waiting for him to enter and meet this Mr. Tepes guy. Trevor briefly muses whether or not he could call him Mr. T, like that guy from TV, but quickly discards that idea. Maybe if this works out and he gets to know the guy a little better. Maybe.

If he’s being honest with himself, he’s nervous about the whole thing. More nervous than he's felt in a long time. It’s like asking out his highschool crush all over again; hands clammy, mind and heart racing, and thinking of all the ways that it could go wrong. Hopefully it wouldn’t go as badly. People walking by are staring at him, and he realizes that he’s been standing there for a while now, just staring and trying to gain the courage to walk through the elegant rotating doors. The same doors that are turning as a familiar figure comes through from the other side. 

Carmilla is dressed like she's a model instead of an assistant, as expected. Her hair is pulled up into some fancy braid-bun, and her black dress is adorned with bits of gold flecks that match her necklace and earrings. It makes Trevor realize that her outfit from their first meeting likely was her version of casual. A pit of dread falls in his stomach, weighing him down as he realizes just how out of his league this job probably is. He still needs to try, though. After all, he didn’t spend over an hour scrubbing at his shirt with a bar of soap at 4am just to give up before even walking inside. 

She stops in front of him and neatly crosses her arms over her chest. He gives her a small wave, and she gives him a frown. “Just so you're aware, this building has cameras and you’re lucky it's me coming out here to get you instead of security.”  she huffs, and continues, her voice incredulous, “Just how long have you been standing out here, twiddling your thumbs?”

If he had to place a guess, it's been about ten minutes. But he’s not telling her that. Not a chance. Instead, he shrugs. “Hello to you too. Oh I’m doing great, thanks.”

She sighs, clearly not in the mood. “Get inside. Mr. Tepes is waiting.”

She turns around and Trevor follows her towards the doors. “What do you mean he’s waiting? I’m…” he checks his watch, “fifteen minutes early.”

She halts and whips around to face him again. “Mr. Belmont, this is L.A., not some sweaty basement fightclub. Fifteen minutes early is considered barely on time, and on time is late. In the future, try to be here a half hour before your appointment. Do I make myself clear?”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” he says, wryly.

“Good.”

He expects her to turn around and lead the way again, but it's at that moment that she finally takes notice of what he’s wearing and looks him over, pale hair practically glowing in the midday sun as her mouth curves down in disapproval. Trevor can’t help but feel self conscious, and decides that examining the well-groomed bushes planted neatly by the entrance is suddenly very important. 

“Is that really,” she points to his shirt, or maybe all of him, “Your idea of being presentable?” she asks. “This is a job interview, not a Steak n’ Shake.” 

“How about I make you a promise?” he says more than asks, “When I get my first paycheck, I’ll wear whatever the hell it is you want me to wear. Until then, yeah, this is the best I’ve got. Is that a problem?”

She actually manages to crack a smile. “Not a problem at all.”

“Good.” He says, and they finally go inside.

When they enter the building, they’re immediately greeted by security. Upon seeing Carmilla, they sweep themselves aside to let them pass, and the lady sitting at what must be a security monitor gives Trevor a suspicious look that he ignores.

The whole place is extravagant. Marbled floors, and walls lined with elaborately framed portraits of famous actors. Trevor recognizes a few of them and notices that each one is signed.

“What's up with those?” he asks.

“Clients of Mr. Tepes. He owns and runs Tepes Talent. This,” she motions around them, “is our head office.”

This Tepes guy is sounding less and less like mafia and more and more like some snobby rich guy. That's perfectly fine with Trevor, though. The less involved with crime lords he is, the better.

They walk to the elevator in silence, and Carmilla presses the button for the eleventh floor. As they go up, Trevor looks at the mirrored walls boxing them in, watches the floor counter change as they go up, and avoids looking directly at her. 

“So, uh… What’s Adrian like?” he asks after a moment of prolonged silence. He figures he might as well know something about the person he’s supposed to be guarding.

“Hm. He’s… How should I put this?” she purses her lips as she contemplates. “He’s talented, but a bit spoiled if you ask me. It's no surprise, really. The boys been living in luxury since day one.” 

“Talented and spoiled, got it.”

“Oh please, you make me sound like I hate the boy.”

“Do you?” he asks, shifting his blue gaze to catch her reaction.

“No. Of course not.” 

It's hard to catch a glimpse of her face, but through the mirror he can see the harsh lines of her eyebrows knit together. “It’s just,” she sighs, “hard for me to deal with him sometimes.”

He wants to ask her what she means by that, but thinks better of it as they reach their floor. The elevator opens up to a lavish hallway decorated with beautiful landscape paintings and potted plants. He steps out and can’t help but marvel at just how… How clean the whole place is. Clearly he’s been living in squalor for far too long.

“Do you really think someone is plotting to kill him?”

She snorts, “No. No I don’t. But his Daddy is the overprotective type. So what I think about the situation means very little.” she sighs. “But you never know. There are crazy people out there.”

“Can’t argue that.”

They stop in front of a thick oak door. She knocks.

“Come in.” says a deep voice.

She opens the door and steps inside, urging Trevor to follow. Like the hallway, the room is impeccably tidy and well decorated, to the point where Trevor feels afraid to touch anything. There’s a few bookshelves and movie posters lining the wall, and hanging elegantly behind the enormous desk that takes up the centre of the room, is a beautiful oil painting of a family - a couple holding a young child. The scene is peaceful, serene, and Trevor can’t help but notice that the man in the painting is the same as the man sitting at the desk. However, unlike in the painting, he seems to be brooding over some paperwork, no sign of that serene beauty to be found. Carmilla clears her throat, and he looks up at her, and then to Trevor. Something about the way he looks at him gives Trevor the feeling that he’s being appraised.

“I’ve brought Mr. Belmont here for his appointment.” she announces. The man, Mr. Tepes, stands up to greet them, and Trevor is taken aback by how… imposing he is. And, oddly enough, familiar. 

“Good.” he says, and Trevor freezes where he stands. He knows that voice, and knows why he looks familiar. He’s seen him before, in movies and on billboards. “Please, take a seat Mr. Belmont.”

“I- uh, yes. A seat.” he says, stupidly, eyes wandering over to the name plaque on the desk. Vlad D. Tepes. As in the Vlad Tepes, an accomplished actor whose career shot off when he landed the leading role of Dracula in Love Bites, a famous romantic tragedy that came out over ten years ago. Or maybe it was considered more of a horror than a romance - Trevor wasn’t sure. It’s been a while since he’s seen it, and all he can really recall are the fight scenes. Masterful choreography, really.

“Let’s get started.” He says, and they both take their seats. He looks at Trevor with those intimidating dark eyes of his, and then his gaze slides past him. “Carmilla, I need you to print out the forms for Mr. Belmont. I’ll need an NDA form as well - Adrian’s form, not the standard one. Thank you.”

“Right away.” she says, turning to leave.

“Oh, and if you could bring us some tea.” He adds.

“Of course.”

“No tea for me. Just, uh. Water. Just water.” Trevor requests, and gets a subtle glare in return.

Once she’s gone and the door is shut, Mr. Tepes turns his full attention to Trevor. “Now then… I’m sure you were told this is an interview, but I’ve already made up my mind. There are few people in this world that I trust, and Carmilla is one of them. She seems to think highly of you, and I trust her judgement.” He really doesn’t know what to say to that, but that's ok because his new employer doesn’t give him much time to respond. “I’m sure Carmilla has filled you in on the situation.”

“Yes. Your son-”

“Is in danger.” he finishes for him. Silence hangs heavily in the air between them, and Mr. Tepes suddenly seems tired and weary beyond his years, sighing and sitting half slumped in his seat. “I’m putting my faith in you, a complete stranger, to protect him. To keep him out of harm’s way. Carmilla has never lead me wrong, and despite my wariness, I feel I have no choice but to trust you. Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Mr. Belmont; I will not lose my son. I’ve lost too many people over the years. No more.”

“I won’t let anything happen to him.” Trevor assures him, putting sincerity and confidence into his voice. Mr. Tepes still doesn’t look too certain, though, and so Trevor hesitantly adds, “I… also know what it’s like to lose someone you care about. You won’t lose him. Not with me around. I swear it.”

It seems to work, because Mr. Tepes takes a deep, relieved breath, and relaxes a bit. “Good… good. Now, let's go over some of the terms of your employment, shall we?”

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

By the time Carmilla returns with their drinks and the forms, they’ve covered a great deal of the conditions. They seem fair and reasonable for the most part, but Trevor’s head is starting to spin the more he realizes just how much of his life he’s going to have to change for this job. No more fighting is a welcome change, but moving out of his dingy apartment is a bit overwhelming. It's not the leaving that bothers him, it's the feeling of starting something new and unfamiliar, like there's a wave crashing towards him and he doesn’t yet know if it'll sweep him off his feet or not. And even more daunting is that he’ll be sharing a living space from now on. He’s hopped from shitty apartment to shitty apartment over the years, and has always avoided having a roommate if it wasn't absolutely necessary. This new arrangement would have him living in a guest room, just a few doors down from Adrian. As someone who values his space and privacy, it's not ideal. But for the amount of money Mr. Tepes has proposed paying him… Well, he supposes he can manage.

“I’ll just need you to fill these out and sign them, and then I’ll send Isaac with you to help with the moving preparations.”

“My lease isn’t up-” 

“Isaac will handle it.” Mr. Tepes cuts in, voice filled with certainty. 

He shuts his mouth and doesn’t bother asking who the Hell Isaac is.

There’s a knock at the door, and Mr. Tepes calls out for whoever it is to come in. A familiar figure steps into the room, golden haired and wearing a floral-printed turtleneck, spotless white pants, and a pair of sunglasses which rest neatly on top of his long hair like a crown. It’s the same man Trevor has seen in TV ads for men’s cologne and slim-fit designer jeans. It occurs to him that he might run into a lot of celebrities in this new line of work. It’s not something he particularly cares about, really, but it’s an interesting perk.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting anything.” he apologizes. 

Mr. Tepes shakes his head. “Not at all. Couldn’t have better timing. Adrian, I’d like you to meet Trevor Belmont - Your new bodyguard.”

So this is Adrian. From how Carmilla spoke of him, Trevor was expecting a child, not a grown man. It’s… surprising. But at least he doesn’t have to watch his language or guard him in a McDonald’s ballpit.

Adrian looks at him, and Trevor almost feels offended by his immediate look of distaste. 

“I don’t recall asking for a bodyguard.” he says, clearly unhappy with the situation.

“Well, you have one.” Mr. Tepes says, firmly. 

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

Adrian sighs, and for a moment no one dares to speak. He pinches the bridge of his nose, as if suppressing a strong and sudden migraine, and says, “I get a few rude fanletters and you decide having some goon follow me around is the solution?”

“Oy, I’m not ‘some goon’.” Trevor interrupts, unable to help himself, and Adrian’s furious gaze is on him now.

“Then what are you?” he demands. Trevor doesn’t answer, no one does. “A nuisance is what you are. Nothing more.”

“That’s enough!” Mr. Tepes stands up, exuding authority. “I have hired this man to protect you, whether you like it or not. I’ve asked Hector to prepare his room as we speak. I understand you’re upset, but please,” and suddenly, he’s pleading and his gaze is full of sorrow and loss, “Let me do what I can to keep you safe.”

Adrian looks like he wants to argue, but then his gaze softens and his shoulders hang limp and defeated. “Very well. For your sake, I’ll allow this. For now.” He relents. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few things I’d like to do before my privacy is stripped away from me even more than it already is.” he nods politely at his father, casts one last glare at Trevor, and then storms off.

“Well that was a fucking disaster.” Carmilla states once he’s gone.

“You can say that again.” Trevor agrees.