#motherfucker I’m reliving that whole night and it wasn’t fair

[gay-kurapika]

A thing about me is that I let people take things way too far in terms of how badly I let them treat me and then when I do finally stand up for myself I sound like the craziest bitch alive for flipping out about something small when in reality there’s been a mountain of things that led to that tipping point. Like I sound crazy to myself when I try to explain what happened with Jayne sometimes, but like I’m the only person who was actually in that exact situation and knows exactly what happened. I’m dead fucking serious when I say I literally don’t feel like the same person I was before I met her, and absolutely not in a good way. I lost all sense of self identity trying to please her, because her moods changed all the time and I was so desperate to please her because I was convinced we were friends. I remember being passionate about things and I still haven’t recovered that about myself, I almost never feel passionate about anything anymore. I think of things she said or did to me every day. I internalized this constant stream of hatred for myself because she was always telling me how much people would be disgusted with me if they really knew me. I had been excited to move into my new house and she ruined every part of it for me. Everything that was mine got thrown away, she got more pets than I ever wanted, physically altered the house in very expensive ways, changed locations of every item all the time so I never knew where anything was, talked down her rent share by hundreds of dollars and eventually stopped paying it at all, ate all the food I would buy to the point that I was losing weight because there wasn’t anything I could eat, like it went on and on. She convinced me that my family didn’t love me, that my girlfriend at the time didn’t love me, that my coworkers all hated me. Literally these were all things she said to me! And so of course, on the night everything blew up, of course I sounded crazy. Of course I did. Because the argument started when I said I didn’t want to watch a reality tv show with her or go on a walk with her after I had gotten off of work because I was tired, and I said she could leave the garbage she wanted me to take out next to the door and I would take it out tomorrow morning before I left for work. After she had been sitting at home drunk off her ass literally all day, not contributing to rent or bills, not working, while I was trying to recover from my addiction and literally just wanted to watch tv after a 10 hour shift. I know I sounded crazy, I’m well aware that’s why the police report resulted in me getting arrested, but goddamn motherfucking hell it had been hours of her yelling at me, of course I was crying! It had been two years of her abuse, of course I had a low opinion of myself! Of course I did! I challenge any one of those fucking cops that were there that day to live two years with that woman, I’m fucking traumatized from her emotional abuse! She did drive me crazy, the literal night this happened she was telling me someday she’d walk in on me dead because that was the only end she could see for me, she was suicide baiting me that whole night! How was I supposed to be put together and rational! At one point I was on my hands and knees cleaning up broken dishes and food she had thrown around the kitchen because I was scared my cat would accidentally step on the broken glass or that her dog would try to eat the food and get sick. While she stood above me yelling. I was at a point okay? And still all I did was flat palm push her away from me, she punched me in the chest and pushed me into a wall in retaliation, did she face anything for that? Nope!

[renee-walker]

Yet another super incomplete, entirely incoherent, and most definitely not chronological list of my thoughts, this time on Stranger Things 2 eps 4-7

I will never be over my feelings about Joyce Byers and her love for her children. Obviously Will is the focus at this point, but omg the raw ferocity of her love and concern just leaps out of my tv and murders my mom heart. And wow, I could do this in every ep, but the most major shoutout to Winona Ryder’s acting chops. She never overdoes it for a second, which I think is a feat when she constantly has to convey so much desperation and terror. Amazing.

ALSO. Noah Schnapp, holy shit. I mean we didn’t honestly get to see hardly any of him in the first season, but wow I will never stop yammering about what a great job this show did in choosing the kids who make up the main cast. There’s not a weak link, and the scene where Will tells Joyce that the monster/shape/what the fuck ever that thing is got him pretty much broke me.

Ew, Dustin’s bizarre affection for his slug toy turns out predictably badly, but how awesome is it that by pure serendipity, he winds up with Steve? The second they got in the car together, S says, “I love the way this show always sticks together the characters you wouldn’t really expect to hang out,” and YEP, he is so right. And I mean, can we talk about Steve’s face when he asks Dustin how he knows it’s not a lizard and Dustin’s like, “I know because it’s face opened up and it ate my cat.” STEVE’S FACE. Just like, “Okay, fair.” I am die.

Tbh I really don’t see the point of Max’s brother. He’s a dick and apparently a giant racist and I guess he could be there just so Max can have that heart to heart with Lucas on the bus but idk. I just really don’t find anything about him interesting or compelling and I’m super confused as to why he’s always so goddamn shiny. Also did I just hang with the wrong crowd in the ‘80s or did all parents just let their kids sit around in their living rooms, smoking and drinking beer while lifting weights? I didn’t know any of these parents, but my best friend’s mom did let us have wine coolers when we were 13 so clearly I was a giant fucking rebel.

Hopper and El’s fight sucked a whole lot of ass, and although I love Hopper, I seriously wanted to hit him myself when he called her a brat. Yes Jim, I get that you have manpain AND I LOVE YOU but holy fuck this is a traumatized child who’s entirely isolated from the world. I don’t blame her for taking off.

And then of course we have another episode of Poor Life Choices With Jim Hopper, in which he decides the best idea ever is to dig into the upside down all by himself, without telling anyone what he’s doing or where he is, and that’s bound to turn out super great, RIGHT? Spoiler alert: It does not turn out super great. I still freaked when the vines got him, ngl.

Omg, Bob. I know what’s going to happen to him and I hate it so much I can’t deal. HE’S SO FUCKING CUTE. And as @faith5by5-1013 said in a comment on my last post, I just love that there’s no love triangle bullshit here. Like Hopper is (more or less) happy for Joyce and Bob and Bob accepts Joyce’s history with Hopper and it’s just refreshing is all. ANYWAY Bob breaks me because of course he figures out the map since he’s Bob the Brain and his ridiculously adorable instant acceptance of all this wild fuckery is the stuff that dreams are made of. Get yourself a guy like Bob Newby, is all I’m trying to say.

The entirety of everything with El and her mom was just well, the worst. I’d assumed that Brenner had done something like electroshock on Terry, but assuming and watching are two different things. And for fuck’s sake, Eleven is a CHILD, which I think is something that’s very easy to forget with Millie Bobby Brown’s precociousness and her wild acting skills. Watching Eleven pretty much relive her mother’s horror is the worst, and it only makes Eleven’s eventual choice NOT to kill Otis (oops wrong show, lmao) even more meaningful and poignant.

Erica Sinclair is everything. The end.

MAJOR ASIDE. I could not get over the gajillion ways in which this show is using Paul Reiser’s character to remind any viewer familiar with Aliens of that movie. I mean, shit. He repeats phrases that are almost verbatim dialogue from Aliens, there’s the motion tracker stuff when the demodogs attack the ambushed lab dudes, there’s the “Stay frosty.” Yeah, Aliens was 1986 and this is supposedly 1984, but nobody can convince me that all this wasn’t intentional. That said, I’m starting to have the feeling that Dr. Owens isn’t going to turn out to be as awful as Carter Burke.

I used to use Faberge. Like, I was DYING.

SO, both my kids pretty much hated ep 7, and while it certainly isn’t my favorite of the eps I’ve seen so far, I really appreciated a number of things about it.

Like, I never stop thinking about the fact that Eleven has spent her entire life in a lab. Her face when she sees the city lights at night is just everything. There are so many aspects of life this child has never had the chance to touch, and it makes me hurty inside just thinking about it.

I do think the ep was too long, but whatever, this isn’t the kind of issue I’m gonna be mad about. Since the beginning of the season, the show has been riffing on what could possibly be “home” for El. This ep is so important if only because it answers that question for her in a deep and final way. Kali’s gang was honestly pretty dull and I didn’t give much of a shit about them, but I did give a lot of shits about El finally answering some very specific questions about her past and learning to make her own choices with this new information.

Look, one of my greatest fictional kinks ever is That Person Who Chooses To Be A Wonderul And Good Person Even Though Every Single Thing In Their Life Suggests They Should Absolutely Be An Axe Murderer. And of course El is exactly that. There’s nothing in her past that should make her choose mercy, but when it counts, that’s exactly what she does. And I could not love her more.

Also lbr. I pretty much died when she figured out that Mike, Hopper, and everyone else were in danger and was just like, peace out motherfuckers, I gotta save my friends and family. Not all heroes wear capes. Some of them wear a lot of eyeliner and hair gel:)

Final thoughts: I’m super surprised they waited this long to reunite El and Mike. I really do not want to watch Bob Newby die. I’m glad Jonathan and Nancy are together but I still find my interest waning whenever they’re the focus. Omg WHY AM I LOVING STEVE HARRINGTON?

[thebrokenwolfe]

The words I never told you

I refuse to do anything other than love you. I don’t care how it turned out, you were, are, and always will be worth it. Worth the effort. Worth the sleepless nights. Worth the butterflies. Worth the pain. I wanted to be the one for you. The one that made you laugh. Made you smile. Made you happy. Made you whole. I guess something was always missing. I wish I was a better man for you, I’m sorry I wasn’t. I thought that maybe it was just the situation that was the problem the first time. I could understand what you meant when you said you had to, I really could. And I tried doing the right thing by stepping back, letting you really try to make your marriage work. I thought about it a lot, you, me, the whole situation. I figured that the best way for you to be happiest is if he saw how he was mistreating you and started trying to treat you right, treat you the way you deserved to be. And I knew that I couldn’t survive much more of the back and forth with you. So… I stepped away, I gave you room to really work on your marriage and I honestly prayed that you would be happy. That was all I wanted for you. Even when it meant I couldn’t be part of it. So I stepped away. I tried to get you off of my mind. Out of my heart. Not all the way, because I knew you would always have a place there, but, out enough that I didn’t feel like I was dying without you. Every time I caught myself thinking about you, I hammered myself. Told myself what a fucking idiot I was, how fucking stupid can I be?!? You were gone, you chose him, not me. You wanted him, not me. You did not want me. I was your cold feet. I was your last wild out. And you got it out of your system. You wanted him, not me. Because I wasn’t worth it. Obviously I wasn’t, you didn’t want me. You might have said otherwise, but, you were a nice person, that’s what nice people do, they try to soften the truth. But, I already knew the truth. If I had been worth the chance, you would have been with me. And you weren’t. Case closed. And I couldn’t soften that truth. Hell, I took that truth and swung for the fence. But, you were still there. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I couldn’t stop looking at your Facebook page, reading every post, hoping I had done the right thing and you were going to be happy. And then I saw you saying exactly that…with a picture of you and him…and you were smiling so big… And then I’d go to your page and stare at your profile picture because I was too scared to scroll down and see you so happy with him again. I couldn’t leave your page, and I couldn’t scroll down. And I was killing myself with it. Finally, I got to the point that I knew I had to unfriend you. I had to get drunk to do it, too. Very drunk. And I tried to survive. That was all I could hope to manage…survive. I don’t think I exactly survived, but, I did the next best thing which is “not die” And that had to be enough, because I couldn’t do any better. I could “not die” and I could pretend I was doing okay so people would stop asking if I was okay. Because even I didn’t believe it when I told them I was fine. But, then you were back. And saying how it didn’t work and you left him. And my first thought, very first thing to pop in my head…was all the pain and shit that I went through with my divorce… and about you having to go through that… and NO! This wasn’t fair, this wasn’t right, you were supposed to be happy, that was the deal, I take the shit and pain and you get to be happy. You weren’t supposed to have to go through that. You weren’t… this wasn’t…. …fuck…. And there I am in the middle of my family at a party, frozen midstep looking at my phone screen and I couldn’t hide the panic and pain and confusion on my face. I couldn’t hide the tension and nervousness in my movements. I couldn’t hide that I wasn’t really there anymore. I was half a country away, terrified that you were going to be walking through what I walked through. And I wanted to be there for you and I wasn’t. I wanted to protect you and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything for you. And that very night, I’m having nightmares. I always have nightmares, but, I’m used to those, but, these… God, these nightmares were some real motherfuckers. Because they weren’t some made up horror idea my mind rehashed. No masked machete wielding killer chasing me when I can’t run. No monsters, aliens, possessed dolls. No apocalyptic dystopian world. These were memories. From right after my divorce. I’m reliving the worst fucking moments of my life, except, it’s not me this time. It’s you. You’re in my shoes and I have to watch. I have to watch you carry my pain, and I can’t…. God, I can’t take it. I have to watch you drink shot after shot just trying to quiet all the questions in your head so you can at least sleep. I have to watch you punch the stud in the wall until your knuckles start bleeding because maybe that pain will dull the hurt inside, or at least distract you from it. I have to watch you sitting on the trunk of my car in the middle of a dark field with the barrel of a 45 in your mouth while you try to decide if you’re trying to talk yourself out of it or into it. And I’m right there beside you, begging you to put it down. I’m right here, I’m right beside you, I won’t leave you alone so just, please put it down. But, you can’t hear me. You can’t see me. You don’t even know I’m there. And I can’t do anything for you.

[bondedbrotherhood-blog]

The chat

Written by @AmauroticKing and @LordshipHalogen #Warning #MatureThemes #TriggerWarning Mentions #Torture #Rape *~*~*~* Lassiter: Patience used to be a strong suit. Cause fuck, when you live this long? You learn to both take your time, savor time, and forget time. So it bothered the ever loving fuck outta me that waiting to speak to Wrath was a feeling equivalent to sitting on a live wire while resting my feet in an acid bath. Fucking /brutal/. I was surprised I hadn’t worn a hole in the carpet with my pacing. Raw as I was after that recent chat with Butch, V, Adrian and the King, the last thing I wanted to do was prolong the torture even further. As I bypassed the door again I snapped. “Fuck it.” Snatching at the door handle, I darted back out into the hall and beat feet down the stairs, back along the main hall and straight to the Kings doors. My knock was more a courtesy than a request, because I didn’t wait for the answer, walking straight in and shutting the door firmly behind me. “You wanted to talk? Well I can’t wait for that. M’ sorry, but shit’s hard enough without having to worry about going over this all again at some undetermined time.” Wrath: [Shit was a wormhole these days. It sucked you in and spit you out where whim decided and this whole fucking sitch with Lash ramping up on Angel blood, OUR angel's blood, and becoming some kind of super vampire wasn't flying well with me. And let's give wings to the fact, since I'm on the subject of the flying fuckers, Lassiter thought it a good idea to keep that shit that went down between him and Lash a secret. Not really my biz unless it happens to affect the entire race. Case in point. Lash held Lassiter captive, tortured the winged bastard, as much as we all knew (some more than others, thanks to the fucking human doctor-patient confidentiality bullshit I allowed to pass) any number of things that the male had kept to himself. By which, if I find cause that hiding said things puts my shellan and my son, my fucking race, at risk of annihilation or exposure, I'll pluck and gut the male with my own bare hands and fangs. Don’tcha just love stewing in a toxic soup that sets your very skin to boiling. And let's not forget the very reason why for this tasty treat. Fucking Lash. Damned hindsight says I should have let Qhuinn finish killing the bastard back when he nailed the fucker for teasing JM. My bonded male was going apeshit possessive as fuck and demanded nothing less than I demat right now and shred that piece of shit; if I knew where to find him, Vishous nor Butch would be able to stop me, I would bathe in that bastard's black blood for a fortnight. Logic fucking overrode that. Fucking fuck. Rubbing my temples, I knew Lassiter was pacing outside. I wouldn't push the male to talk until he was ready, but Scribe help me, once we start I wasn't going to hold back. And fuck I was tired of waiting. Tired of waiting for Lash to make his next move, tired of waiting for V and Cop to get their shit sorted, tired of having to hunt the Lessers that chose to hide like fucking cowards instead of dying on my warrior's blades like the worthless pieces of shit they were. Tired of… The rap at the door jerked my head up. FINALLY! ABOUT FUCKING TIME! Lassiter's getting to the point was music to my ears. I sat back, folded my arms over my chest and focused on where the male was standing.] Don't leave out any details. [I dropped my arms to the desk, exhaling a breath as I leaned in and dropped my voice.] Unless necessary, nothing said leaves this room. [Meaning, unless if was life or death, whatever Lassiter was going to relay of his time with Lash would stay between us. I owed him that much at the very least.] Lassiter: Wrath looked about as done with this shit as I was, but the King had a lot more to lose than me, even if I thought this family was also mine. I wasn’t mated to them; they weren’t my shellans, my hellrens, or my children. But Creator damn it… I still thought of them as mine… How did I explain that? How did I make him believe they mattered to me more than my life mattered? I didn’t fear dying at Lash’s hands… I feared being forced to exist under their constant ‘care’; a caged bird that he’d delight in stripping of it’s feathers, of teasing with freedom then breaking wings. “I d-don’t know how to say it in the first place.” My pulse thundered as I looked at my feet, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. It didn’t feel fair, to have to do this. To have to relive it again and again. I thought I’d escaped Hell by being made an Angel, but this still /felt/ like Hell, so what was the fucking difference? I got to have fluffy wings? Please. “You’re pissed at me I didn’t say something sooner,” I tried instead, prolonging the inevitable. “Like I kept all that fucking shit to myself to be selfish. Am I right?” I looked up, and even though I knew he was blind, I met his gaze. Sightless or not, he knew where I was, and he knew I’d be doing it. There was no crown on his head in this moment, behind these doors. There was me and a male ready to do anything to protect his loved ones. I respected it, even as I loathed having to revisit anything I’d endured with Lash. Wrath: I’m pissed that Lash got close enough to Beth he could have.. [Trying to stop the growl from vibrating through me and across the desk would have been akin to trying to stop a 1000 foot tsunami from making landfall with a fishing net. The edge of the desk fared not much better, the wood cracked and groaned under the pressure of my fists as I held back as much as I could. This wasn’t wholly Lassiter’s fault. This was Lash’s doing.] Yeah, I’m pissed you chose to keep most of what happened to yourself. I know from Jane that you were seriously injured, but the deets were kept… confidential. That is, until our little meeting about Lash getting souped up on your blood and going apeshit on you. THAT part, you didn’t think was a little more, oh, I don’t know, a need to know detail that should have been passed along? [After the initial blow-by reliving Lash being near Beth calmed, I worked to keep my voice low and even. Lassiter wasn’t the enemy here and biting his head off, literally, wouldn’t do me, or the others any good. But fuck me if I didn’t want to in some moments.] So why don’t you… why don’t you start with how Lash managed to acquire your “company” the night you disappeared? Lassiter: Bless. Jane. I know I’d given her an orgasm or two recently, but maybe I needed to consider more extravagant gifts, knowing now that she’d kept the details of my torture completely to herself. The fact she’d kept it from Wrath, the King and orchestrater of this whole domain, spoke volumes to her doctor/patient confidentiality ethics. It meant that other than Q seeing the damage, nobody else knew the extent of what Lash had done to me. “Sure, I bet it seems so easy to you,” I mutter bitterly, “just tell all the big, strong vampires that one of their former trainees turned son of the bad guy caught you, broke you down and destroyed you.” I let out a bark of laughter, but there was nothing in it but the pain, humiliation and misery this whole conversation inspired. “Sorry if it wasn’t super high on my to do list after shit hit the fan…” Turning away from the male, I moved toward the fire place. The heat failed to warm me. To be expected when the depths of your soul felt ice cold. Taking in a deep breath, I braced one hand against the mantle and closed my eyes. I’d told myself I’d do this… and I was gonna do it. But fuck if every word wasn’t gonna feel like razors in my throat. “It started when I went after Blaylock,” I said quietly. “When he was… corrupted by the Omega. I thought I’d sensed something wrong. Something off. I thought I could talk to him. Bring him back into light. But when I went to see him that night… he was talking to Lash. I tried to intervene and Blay… he left,” I muttered. “And Lash and I fought.” Wrath: [Lassiter’s hurting sarcasm was expected, so I let slide the fact that his tone wasn’t exactly reverent at the moment while reliving his nightmare in captivity. Listening carefully, it was another tidbit of surprise that Blay was involved in any of this. And again I wasn’t kept apprised of the shit going down until the whole fucking building came crashing down and everyone was back at the manse and accounted for. My molars ground but I didn’t say anything until I Lassiter took more than a pausing breath.] You could “sense” the Omega’s presence in Blay, but you didn’t have the forethought to bring it to my attention. [I half wondered that if the Angel had sensed it, if Butch had as well since he still retained the parting gift the Omega bestowed on him all those years ago: the ability to suck down a lesser to destroy it so it’s energy wouldn’t revert back to the Omega. My mind made a quick wander. Would Cop have been able to suck the evil corruption from Blay when it was first found out and leave the male in one piece, or would it have killed him instantly since he was alive whereas Lessers were basically ass-powder-smelling meat sacks?] And you caught him /talking/ to Lash? [My voice rose, that earlier bit about my bonded male wanting to decapitate the motherfucker and shit down his neck was still waiting on the command GO. Biting down a growl, I gave a sharp nod to the rest of it.] Must have been some fight if Lash got the drop on /you/. [More molar grinding, wood cracking and some chair creaking as I attempted to lean back and pretend to be at ease. Right.] How. I want to know how he caught you. We now have TWO angels, fucking Scribe help me, and I need to know how Lash managed to not only catch you, but keep you from escaping. [I was a little privy to knowing that Lassiter and friend had a type of dematerializing, but that they could also fly. With wings. And that sneaky fucking invisibility bullshit too (just because I couldn’t not “see” them go invisi didn’t mean I didn’t have the intel on it), so they weren't helpless as humans. If Lash managed to get his hands on Lassiter once, what was to stop him from grabbing up Adrian or Lassiter a second time? Fuck.. Just the thought of what that motherfucker could do with /one/ angel’s blood was enough to give me a migraine even the SV couldn’t take away. But if Lash had /both/ angels and an unending supply of super-blood? Not something I was willing to think about.] Lassiter: “I didn’t sense the Omega,” I corrected sharply, eyes narrowing as I looked back to Wrath, frowning. “I sensed darkness. Indecision. Conflict. It wasn’t like Butch, or Lessers. It was something else. I couldn’t have known it was the Omega until it was too late.” Which, ironically, was exactly how it had happened. And boy, if Wrath’s voice doing the little octave climb was any indication, he was furious. How much was V or Cop telling him after shit hit the fan? Were they sparing his blood pressure? I’d have made a comment to as much but the reminder of Lash jumping me had my jaw clenching. “Hold your fucking royal horses, Wrath,” I managed, forcing the words out. “I’m getting to that part and I legit can’t tell it any fucking faster or I’ll have an aneurysm, alright?” Where was Fritz when I needed him? A drink that was a hundred proof would be perfect right about now. Fuck, I’d settle for a glass of water if it gave my hands something to hold and stop shaking. Squeezing both of them into fists, I stared at a spot past Wrath’s shoulder and kept going. “I tried to leave. There wasn’t just Lash. Blay left and then the Lessers came. They ambushed me. I summoned my wings to leave and… and Lash got a hold of me. Apparently, his dear dad also got a hold of angel restraints.” I thought of the manacles, of my wings forced to stay out and exposed, and I shuddered. The rustling sound they’d make rippled through the room, even though I didn’t dare summon them anymore. “Angel manacles, crafted by demons, can contain an angelic being and their power. Like steel can keep vampires from dematerializing? These things can make sure an angel can’t access their power or the power gifted them by the Creator.” I rattled it all off like it was facts, and it was, but underneath the history lesson was the cold, hard truth that once an angel was in those things, they were subjected to whatever a demon wanted. Whatever Lash wanted. I cleared my throat. “Once I was in those I couldn’t get away. Lash had the Lessers truss me up like a turkey and throw me in the back of a van. I was bound, gagged and blindfolded. I had… no idea where they were taking me,” I add quietly. I could still remember the taste of that rag, the frantic thumping of my heart. Wrath: [Patience was not my virtue, not by a long shot. But I gave Lassiter what minute piece I had left. Which wasn’t saying much. That I believed the angel when he said he didn’t sense the Omega /in/ Blay was a good sign that the warrior hadn’t been as corrupted as we’d all feared. But the disrespectful snark earned the angel a low warning growl, otherwise I kept quiet until the male was finished.] You forgot the first rule of engagement. Never go alone. [Even the angel, case in point, wasn’t invincible. Beyond that. These chains? If Lash still had them, it meant he had a weapon we couldn’t fight against if Lassiter or Adrian were caught up in them. If either of the males were hung up in the manacles, they’d be helpless as humans. Fucking Omega and his spawn. ] I don’t suppose you’d know if anyone picked up the chains before that warehouse went up? [I knew no one had, V’s report back after he torched the place was beyond thorough, but I still needed to ask. There wasn’t anything left, and unless Lash took the chains with him when the fuck escaped, the high possibility that they had melted into the ground was all I could hope for. If Lash no longer had them, it might take him a little time to get another set. One could only send a prayer to the SV that another set would never be found/made. The Lessers and Lash had a penchant for torture, like it was their specialty. Bella had endured a similar gruesome experience that nearly drove Zsadist beyond the point of no return. Every available body had gone to rescue Lassiter, but he wouldn’t let anyone but Qhuinn and Doc Jane near him for a long week after they brought the male home.] Lassiter: I grimaced and shook my head. Whatever became of the chains… I had no idea. I wanted them to be gone. Destroyed. Preferably while wrapped around Lash’s throat. But I rarely got what I wanted. After a second I remembered that Wrath couldn’t see me shaking in the negative. “No. I don’t know if anyone picked them up. I have no idea where they are or what happened to them.” Taking a breath, I curbed all the attitude I wanted to throw out there until my voice was perfectly toneless. “And I didn’t forget the rules of engagement. I went to talk to Blay. Not to fight Lash.” I looked at Wrath, even if he couldn’t see my eyes. “Killing that fucker is supposed to be for all of you.” Though now I definitely wanted a piece of it. I wanted Lash’s death more than I’d wanted anything in a long time. “Rest assured, your Highness,” again, still no mockery, no attitude. No emotion at all. “You have a new soldier to help bring him down now. Even if I don’t have a hand in his death, I hope to Creator I’m there to see it.” Moving back toward the desk, I curled my fingers around the wood on my side. I clung to the emotionless state even though it was a lie, even though behind the facade every tortured emotion was screaming to come out. “Do you know what a blood eagle is, Majesty? Because if you don’t, I’m sure you know other things. Like how much greater the sexual high is, feeding while f-fucking.” My voice broke. But damn it. I couldn’t stop. “Lash was fond of it. And my wings. He liked those. He liked to break them, the bones. He wanted to build me a cage, so he could keep me. Keep me on tap for a constant energy source. To rape me whenever the mood took him. Which he did,” I whispered hoarsely, my knuckles white as I clung to the desk, clung to it like it was the only thing keeping me in the world. “That’s what happened… while I was gone. That’s what he did… to pass the time. He beat me. He fed from me. He fucked me. He broke me.” Just like that, the energy fled. The strength, the resilience. Everything. All the pieces I’d been holding myself together with vanished at the confession, the relief of it and admitting to someone just how bad the lasting damage was. My legs buckled. I dropped. Wrath: [Hearing Lassiter confirm that he was onboard with taking out Lash only made me “like” the male that much more. But the string of abuse that Lash dolled out to the male wasn’t a surprise. Lash was a sick fuck on a good day if you could list him ever having had one. Spoiled bastard, and then I let him into the program just because his parents held a high glymera status spoke volumes about me. That I allowed that fucker in and this happened. I wasn’t as stone cold as I made myself out to be. Each bit more Lassiter chose to bite out, and yeah, you fucking bet I could SMELL the emotion rolling off the male strongly as if he’d been drenched in some sort of cologne and set in front of a fan, seared the need to find and end Lash and the Omega once and for all.] Dammit. [Rubbing the space between my wraparounds and my eyes, I looked up at the male, and though I couldn’t “see” him, I could tell he was fighting to hide his hurt harder than he ever had.] I don’t have to tell you… Shit.. [Without sight, I dematerialized and reformed an instant behind Lassiter, catching the male before he hit the floor.] Easy man, I gotchu. [My voice low and soft as I lifted Lassiter. I didn’t need to see him to know how being held captive by Lash fucked a person over. Lassiter is just the lucky SOB that got to live to tell about it and is now gearing up to go back for more.] Lassiter: Wrath caught me. I’d expected it to be the floor. The King was the last person I’d thought to have a gentle grip and to handle me so carefully, but there he was, settling my shaking ass into a chair and moving like I was glass. It put a lump in my throat, a vice around my heart. It was a reminder that at the end of the day, this male and these families were why I’d endured everything I had. For them. To stay with them. Finding my voice, I no longer cared if it broke or trembled. Wrath knew everything now. What had happened, and the clusterfuck of emotions that came with it. I didn’t have to hide it. “M’ sorry,” I managed gruffly, my hands lingering on his arms to give them a thankful squeeze. “For… for dropping on my ass n’... n’ for not saying anything sooner.” Though, after my little meltdown thirty seconds ago, I at least hoped the King now understood exactly ‘why’ I hadn’t raced to share all the gory details. Reliving or thinking about this shit too often was bad for my health. “Qhuinn n’ Doc… they know cause…” Deep breath in, let it out slowly. “My broken wings had to be reset before they could heal and I could put them away. Q was the only one I trusted at the time so… I asked him to help reset them.” I hadn’t sensed it at the time, too lost in my own hell, but the male’s misery and rage at seeing me, at having to hurt me just to help me, had lingered. Not to mention the scar down my spine… “Not everything healed… The blood eagle…” I clenched my jaw just thinking about it. “It left scars down my back. That Lash treated with salt. To leave his mark,” I said bitterly, drawing in another breath like it might cleanse me. “So when I say I’m in this fight, Wrath? I’m fuckin’ in it. Not just to ghost around the edges or play to everyone’s strengths.” Wrath: [Taking the male, by memory rather than feel, to the nearest chair, was the least I could do for him. Fuck. And the feel of his grip to my arms? Yeah, clinch the fucking feelings shit too.] Yeah? Keeping /that/ kind of shit in isn’t good for anyone, even you. [When he released my arms, I gave the male a firm squeeze to his shoulder and stood, shuffling back until my leg hit the desk.] I’m glad you told me, it couldn’t have been an easy thing to do, but you know why I needed to know, Lass. [Instead of walking back around to sit in my chair, I leaned against the side of the mahogany piece of furniture that had once belonged to my father and crossed my arms over my chest.] Q’s been through some tough shit himself, and it must have killed him to have to help you like that. [Qhuinn’s father had sent those males after him to beat him, as per ritual demanded, but they’d nearly killed the male had Blay and JM not found him in time.] But you should know you could have trusted me, Lassiter. Everything leaves a scar, even the good stuff. I’ve heard of the blood eagle once. A very old Viking ritual that usually ends up with the victim 6 feet under before it’s completed. Sweet Scribe, Lassiter…. [Blowing out a low growl, not directed at Lassiter this time, but at Lash for putting the male through such pain and in the eyes and at the hands of others as well.] I’m glad you’re in. We’ll get this bastard one way or another. Lassiter: Q had been in enough pain without me adding to it, but the male had stepped up for me. I’d never forget it. And trust Wrath… yeah, I suppose I could’ve. But at the bottom of the well you’re oblivious to all the people above that could pull you out. You only see the light and desperately try to reach out for it. I bowed my head as even Wrath lamented the suffering of the ritual and all the shit I’d gone through. I entirely agreed with the growl. “What do you want me to do.” It was less a question and more a statement. Because I would be needed. I would fight. And there was always something to be done. Adding an angel to the battlefield changed the field itself. We were invisible and we were immortal. We had power that vampires couldn’t hope to reach. And I’d use /all/ of it to correct the balance in this world and rid it of Lash. “You wanted to know the sitch and now you do. And when it comes to the next fight I’ll be there. So tell me what you want to do.” Wrath: I want you ready to fight. [And was the long and short of it. We needed every available body ready to move when Lash showed his next target. And I’d be damned to hell if we were caught with our pants down again. And in this, I needed to show, tell, Lassiter I trusted him to trust me.] No one goes out alone. I want everyone in pairs, including you and Adrian, and don’t engage in the daytime, just scout and report back. When we’re ready to make a move, then we strike per the plan we’ll work up, no male left behind. [I leveled a look at the male from behind dark glasses without raising my voice. I didn’t need to.] You’ll sit in with Cop and V and myself each night when everyone gets their rotation orders once lockdown is lifted. Take Adrian with you and make sure he knows all the ins and outs of the place where needed as well as scope out some daytime Lesser haunts. Until then, I want you and Adrian to work out a schedule with Butch and Tohr to work with the trainees and get them as ready as you can. Push them to their limits and then push them some more. Lassiter: Nodding along with the King, I gave a murmur in the affirmative, so he knew I was all for it. I may have been a sassy, smart ass, pain in the ass, but on this I’d work with every male in the manse to make sure shit got done. We were in this for the same thing, and there were few more motivated than myself. Training trainees, keeping watch with Ad and going on rotation, fuck, I’d do it all. Taking a second to ground myself, I finally stood from the chair that’d been holding me n’ my emotional weight for the last few minutes. The shakes had stopped, my hands still, calm, in the wake of my new directive. “You got it. I’ll even see if Fritz can get me some bedazzled combat pants or something in leopard print. No reason I can’t look fabulous while totally fucking shit up.” And that, ladies and gents, was about the only way I knew how to transition from ‘emotional shitstorm’ to ‘I got this shit down’. And Creator, Scribe, whoever willing, Wrath would go along with that. “If you don’t need anythin else from me, I’m gonna go drink something strong. Unless you wanna join me?” Wrath: Thank the Scribe for small favors I can’t see /that/ shit. [Now there was the Lassiter that annoyed the fuck out of me on a daily. Chuckling low and nodding once, I stood full height. It felt a little less sour in here with the male’s sense of humor picking up a little, even if I knew he was still nursing both his outer and inner wounds, and would be for a long while. Salt was eternal.] You know what, I think I would like a drink. I’ve had a lot of shit to deal with in the last 24 hours and I’m fucking taking a royal break. But we’re taking one more male with us. [Reaching back and feeling for the phone on my desk, I picked up the receiver and spoke not two words before the door to my office opened. George’s yip and jingle of collar told me the golden-haired four-legged male was as happy as fuck to see me as I was to hear him. The instant the dog brushed against my leg, I reached down and ruffled his ears lovingly and murmured a few sentiments to the animal. His returning licks and whines told me plenty. “Don’t make me leave you again! I don't’ like it!!!” Straightening back up and taking George's harness, I nodded to Lass.] Let’s get that drink, yeah? #TheChat #BondedBrothers