#the other is a courthouse murder / suicide that happened right before his eyes ( in one of mika’s and my threads )

[bloodxhound]

What would your muse sacrifice to remove a memory that plagues them? If they'd opt to keep the memory, why? What's the memory that came to mind when asked?

In a way, this already happened to him. Ray suffers from dissociative amnesia in regards to the murder he has half-witnessed inside his father’s law firm as a child. Sometimes snippets of what transpired resurface in his dreams when he’s severely stressed, but apart from that he’s cut off from that memory. Later in life, when he is confronted with the truth of that incident, he quickly understands what was sacrificed in order for him to have stayed ignorant for as long as he has: the opportunity to put an end to his father’s machinations sooner. In his mind, he enabled the man by “forgetting” — unwittingly or not, it doesn’t matter to him. The knowledge of all the people who were needlessly hurt, killed, or wrongly sentenced to prison ( or worse, to death ) weighs heavy on him, but the whole situation also teaches him the importance of remembering, even if a memory is painful. In the end, Ray is someone who craves control and values his agency; giving up a memory to be spared its emotional impact therefore doesn’t appeal to him, because it could potentially cost him the possibility to make an informed decision in the future. Just like it did with his father.

[p-artsypants]

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (8)

Here Comes the Boogeyman

FF.net | Ao3

--

Dead ends. 

Nothing but dead ends. 

She went to the courthouse. They found the blueprints for the Agreste manor, put them on the table and unfurled the paper to pour over it. The building had three stories, of which, the lobby and her office were on the bottom floor. 

No basement, nothing close to a basement. 

“Can I help you with anything specific?” Asked the woman who had retrieved the plans. Obviously, Marinette’s distress was a little more evident than she wanted as she gnawed on her bottom lip.

“So, I inherited this house,” she explained. 

“Yes, you showed me the deed.” 

“But I was friends with Adrien, the son of the previous owner. He told me to look in the basement. Other family members said there wasn’t one, and I was hoping that maybe there was, and no one knew about it.”

The attendant gave her a pitiful look. “I’m sorry, Miss Dupain-Cheng, these are the only plans we have on record. In fact, most houses in Paris don’t have a basement.”

So what was Adrien talking about? 

The woman seemed thoughtful for a moment. “Although, if Mr. Agreste wanted to, I suppose he could have commissioned the building of a basement later on. He might not have submitted the documents for it, which is illegal, but it is a possibility.” 

“There’s a chance?”

“I suppose. Have you checked all over for stairways?” 

“Not thoroughly, not yet. I haven’t moved in.” 

“Well, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Marinette smiled at the woman, but ultimately didn’t ask anymore questions. They couldn’t offer her the kind of help she needed. She doubted anyone could. 

Children, have you ever met the Boogeyman before?

No, of course you haven't, for you're much too good I'm sure.

Don't you be afraid of him, if he should visit you.

He's a great big coward, so I'll tell you what to do.

Her next lead was the funeral director, Bill Hunkerson. He had been cagey with Marinette, but maybe his guilt would make him open up more to Ladybug. She just had to play it smart.  

She strolled into the Funeral home, suited up and ready to interrogate. Of course, she was quiet so as not to upset anyone if a service was in session. 

The receptionist spotted her immediately. “Ladybug? Is something the matter?” 

Obviously, it wasn’t common for a superhero to be spotted at a funeral home. The question was justified. 

“I need to have a word with Bill Hunkerson.” 

“Who?”

Oh no. 

“This is Armes-Hunt Funeral Home, right?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And a Bill Hunkerson doesn’t work here? As a director?” 

“Oh! My apologies. I’m rather new here. Mr. Hunkerson resigned just as I was starting, about a month ago.”

Ladybug felt her hands growing clammy under the suit. “Are you sure? He was directing Gabriel and Adrien Agreste’s funeral a week ago.” 

The receptionist looked at her, wide-eyed. “Really? We weren’t covering that funeral. I would have remembered something that important. Was he maybe doing it freelance? Maybe he was friends with Mr. Agreste and did the funeral with outside resources.” 

“The programs had your logo on them. The staff were wearing the logo too.” 

Stunned, the receptionist looked around the room. “Just a minute, Ladybug. I’ll get my boss.” 

This conspiracy was unraveling in her hands, slowly like a ball of twine. 

Hush, hush, hush. Here comes the Bogeyman!

Don't let him come too close to you, he'll catch you if he can.

Just pretend, that you're a crocodile,

And you will find that Bogeyman will run away a mile.

The receptionist was hurrying back to her, with an older man in tow. When he arrived, he gave her a comforting smile and held out a hand. “Hello Ladybug, I’m Johann Armes. Rachel said you had some information about Bill?” 

Ladybug rehashed what she had said to the woman, revealing that their funeral home had supposedly taken care of the funeral. 

As her tale went on, Mr. Armes went from confused to shocked to angry. 

“Rachel didn’t lie,” he clarified. “Bill did resign from here about a month ago. He worked for me for twenty years, and then one day told me the work was too much for him, and quit. This is a hard business to be in, so there is a high turnover rate, so I didn’t even think about it. But with what you told me…I wonder if he was being honest.” He pursed his lips into a thin line as he took out his cell phone. “At any rate, he wrongfully took a job from us. What if something had gone wrong? Our name was all over it! Bill better have some answers for me. If not on the phone, then in court.” He furiously scrolled through the phone until he found the contact and dialed it. 

He put it on speaker as it rang. 

Once, twice, then click.

“Bill? It’s Johann. I have some questions for you.” 

There wasn’t an answer on the other line. 

“Bill? You better start talking!” 

The phone clicked again, and the call ended. 

“The prick hung up on me!” Mr. Armes shouted. 

“Where does Bill live?” Ladybug asked. “I’ll go speak to him in person. I really need the information he has.”

“I’ll give you the address.” 

Say Shoo, shoo, and stick him with a pin!

Boogeyman will very nearly jump out of his skin.

Say Buzz-Buzz, just like the wasp that stings,

Bogeyman will think you are an elephant with wings!

Only minutes later, thanks to the speed of her yo-yo, Ladybug arrived at the address provided. 

Though, the dozens of emergency vehicles outside gave her a sense of dread instead.

As she landed, she was greeted by police and ushered to the front of the house. 

A woman in a shock blanket spotted her immediately and ran to her, flinging her arms around her. “Ladybug! Thank Christ you’re here!” 

Ladybug gave her a comforting squeeze and pulled back. “Are you Bill’s wife?”

She burst into sobs. “My Bill! My wonderful Bill! Who would do this to him?!”

Ladybug pulled her into a hug and patted her shoulder. “I know, I know it hurts. Can you tell me what happened?” 

“It just came in through the window! I only saw it leaving, but it was big and black! Like a huge spider!” She was hysterical, waving her arms around and letting the blanket fall to the ground. 

“Ma’am, why don’t you sit back down?” An EMT picked up the blanket and put it on her shoulders. “We can fill in Ladybug from what you’ve said.” 

“Bill! Where’s my Bill? Have you seen him!?” She cried as she was steered over to an ambulance. 

Big and black like a huge spider…was it an akuma? No akuma has set out to murder anyone before. People had turned into ice cream, glitter, and all sorts of things, but never just straight up murdered. 

“Ladybug?” A man in a vest asked. “I’m Detective Joseph Bertony, would you come with me please?”

“Of course.” 

He led her into the Hunkerson home, where every room they passed was spotless and not a hair out of place. 

“What you are about to see is shocking, if you need any time, please speak up.”

When they arrived in the living room, a huge red bloodstain on the wall caught her attention. Below it, the man she had seen at the funeral was propped against the wall. He had a hole in his forehead, and the back of his skull was missing. 

“Oh my god…” 

“It’s…pretty horrible, I must say.” Said the detective. “A couple of people have vomited already.”

“I can understand that.” She felt weak in the legs. If she wasn’t transformed, she probably would have collapsed as well. 

“According to Mrs. Hunkerson, the assailant was a huge black creature that looked like a large spider. She saw it as it was leaving the house through the window. How exactly it killed Mr. Hunkerson is unknown.”

“Do you think it could be an akuma?” 

He gave her a look. “Isn’t that why you’re here? Don’t you and Chat Noir listen to police scanners or something?”

She shook her head. “That’s not it at all. I was coming here to speak to Mr. Hunkerson about something else.” 

“Care to share?” 

She glanced around the room, taking stock of the investigators and police standing around, and decided to beckon him into another room. 

He followed her quietly, concern written all over his face. 

“I know I’m not a detective,” she began. “My job is to deal with akumas and Hawkmoth. But I’ve been running an investigation on my own.” 

“Concerning what?” His tone was sharp. 

Ladybug bit her lip, feeling like a student with late homework standing in front of a strict teacher. She just couldn’t imagine this going well. What should she disclose? Would he tell her to stop and leave it alone? 

Detective Bertony noticed her unease immediately, and gave her a minute to collect herself. When she only grew more hesitant, he rested a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright.” 

It was like talking to Adrien for the briefest moment. That's what this was about, after all. Justice for her Kitty. 

“It concerns the Agreste family.” 

“Gabriel and Adrien Agreste, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“I wasn’t involved in that case, but I heard about it. Murder suicide, open and shut case. Cut and dry. So what about it?” 

“I knew Adrien. He wouldn’t have done that.” 

“That's what people said about Jeffery Dahmer too. Not that there’s a comparison.” 

“Right. People have their vices and demons and Adrien isn’t exempt. But that’s not all.” 

He nodded once, indicating that he was listening. 

“Both Gabriel and Adrien’s coffins were buried empty.” 

He frowned. “Your proof?” 

“I saw it with my own eyes.” 

“They let you look?” 

“Nope. But Ladybug has her ways.” 

The detective scratched his chin in thought. “What does this have to do with Hunkerson?” 

“He was the director for the funeral. I think he knew that the coffins were empty, and that’s what got him killed.” 

“So…Hawkmoth is covering up the truth about the Agreste’s?” 

“Up until just now, I didn’t know what to think. But if Mr. Hunkerson was killed by an akuma, that’s what I’m led to believe. I was just at Armes-Hunt funeral home. According to Mr. Armes, Bill Hunkerson resigned a month ago, and yet he directed the funeral a week ago, under their name without permission. Mr. Armes called him and—“ she stopped, remembering a critical detail and pulling up her yo-yo. 

“What?” 

“Someone picked up.” She glanced at the time stamp on her search for his address. It had been 20 minutes since she left the funeral home. “When was he murdered?” 

He glanced at his watch. “Oh, about an hour and a half ago. Why?” 

“Someone answered our call 20 minutes ago. They didn’t say anything, but hung up. Did you find his phone?” 

“We can check the evidence. I didn’t see it.” 

“Would anyone have answered it?” 

“No, that would be tampering. But what does that have to do with this? Someone answered the call. If not, would you have sought him out here?”

“I probably would have come here anyways. I really wanted to hear what he had to say about their funeral.” 

“Tell you what. Since this has to do with my current case, I’m going to get more details on the Agreste murder. Is there a number I can reach you at?” 

“Here’s the number to my yo-yo, if I don’t pick up, just leave a message.” 

He put her number into his phone. “Now, if you don’t mind me asking, what made you start investigating this anyway?” 

“That’s a superhero secret. Sorry detective.” 

“Fair enough. But the more info you give me, the more help I can give you.” 

“I understand. I will consider it and give you as much as I can. But if an Akuma is killing people who know about the Agreste’s, I don’t want any part of my identity getting out.” 

“You have a point. Best not mention my involvement either.” 

“Off the record?” 

“For now, until we have solid evidence and the upper hand. We know nothing about Hawkmoth…unless you do?”

“Nothing. It’s been eleven years and we’ve only fought him face to face a handful of times. It doesn’t help that his akuma rate is slowing down too. At this rate, I fear he’ll retire before we catch him.” 

“I’m sure he’ll slip up soon.” He twisted up his lip. “Maybe he already did, and that’s why the Agrestes perished.”

“One more detail I can give you: Emilie Agreste, Gabriel’s wife, died about 12 years ago. Her coffin was also empty.” 

“You saw it?” 

“I…not personally, but I have a….trick that allows something to phase through solid objects. This ‘something’ reported back that the coffin was empty.” 

“And would this ‘something’ be willing to testify if we get to that point?” 

“Um…probably?” She grimaced. “I’m sorry I’m being so vague, I just…it has to do with the Miraculous, and that’s very sensitive information.” 

“Fine. I won’t pry. But thank you for telling me. I’m not sure how these deaths and Emilie’s 12 years ago could be related, but I’ll let you know if I find anything.” 

“Likewise, Detective. I better be off and see if I can spot this Akuma before it strikes again.” 

“Good luck Ladybug!” 

“I'm going to need it, I’m a little arachnophobic.” 

When the shadows of the evening creep across the sky,

And your mommy comes upstairs to sing a lullaby,

Tell her that the Bogeyman no longer frightens you,

Uncle Henry very kindly told you what to do!

Tonight would have been her patrol night anyway. Joint patrol, her and Chat. 

The third he had missed, and the second after she found out he was dead. 

The last time, she tried to call him. She was on the Agreste’s wall and she called him. He was there, staring right at her the whole time. Hadn’t he cared? Could he not see the frantic desperation on her face? 

She scanned the shadowed streets for the spider-like figure the police had described. It was still early in the night, and the streets were plenty full of happy Parisians enjoying the nightlife. 

If only they knew what lurked around the corner. If only they had seen what she had. The blood on the wall, the soulless gaze in Bill Hunkerson’s eyes. The absolute devastation of his wife. 

It was so messed up. It seemed like everyday since Adrien’s passing, Paris got a little darker. A little more sinister. 

Hush, hush, hush, here comes the Bogeyman!

Don't let him come too close to you, he'll catch you if you can.

Just pretend, your teddy bear's a dog!

Then shout out, "fetch him teddy!" and he'll hop off like a frog!

Ladybug paused to take a break at one of their checkpoints. Normally, if they patrolled separately, this is where they would meet up before splitting up again. And she couldn’t help but linger there for a minute or too, even though no one would come. 

Or so she thought. 

A thump drew her attention to the chimney behind her. It was a black figure, not like a spider, but like a person. 

A person with pointy ears on his head. 

She gasped. “Chat!” 

He whipped his head to look at her, his eyes glowing a solid green in the night. 

“Where have you been?! I’ve been worried sick about you!” 

As she stepped closer, he backed away, keeping his unblinking eyes drilled on her. 

“Chat? What’s wrong? Won’t you come down and talk to me?” 

He backed up farther before darting off into the shadows. 

She had just found him! She couldn’t lose him now! 

She took off after him, listening for the scrambling of his claws on the zinc rooftops. 

He was fast. Faster than normal, and it took every bit of strain to keep up with him.

Finally, she had a good shot and she threw her yo-yo out, snagging him with her rope. He wriggled and squirmed, kicking his legs as he fought for freedom. 

“Settle down, kitty cat,” she said, with annoyance, but concern. “I just want to talk to you.” 

He snapped his alien gaze to her and hissed, spittle drawing lines between his huge canine teeth. 

It made her recoil. 

“Chat? Kitty?” 

He wriggled some more before he got his hand free, then he brandished his claws and cut through her, previously assumed, invincible line. 

Then he bolted, scrambling into the night. 

After his reaction, she didn’t have the heart to chase him down again. 

It was Chat. It was Adrien. It was definitely him. But something was definitely wrong. 

At least she had an idea of where the Black Cat ring was. 

Just pretend he isn't really there,

You will find that Bogeyman will vanish in thin air.

[7-wonders]

Hey so i gotta plant this seed: Xavier actually lives and Y/N dies. Kinda like a trevor situation whwre he dosnt one abiut ghosts but comes back years later and is like "oh shit my girlfriend is still here". Fluffy, sad you decide. Just gotta give lots of love for a character I thought we'd see a lot more of x

Quick warning for mentions of suicide, as well as somebody dying and blood (y’know, the usual).

He has to do this.

Everybody, from his family to his friends (these people aren’t actually your friends, a voice in Xavier’s head reminds himself, your real friends are all dead), reminds him that this is not something he has to do. Xavier wants to argue with them, telling them about the “healing power of revisiting the site of trauma,” or whatever other accurate bullshit his shrink says, but he chooses instead to say that he wants to do this. And he does.

Xavier wants to do this, he needs to do it, but he’s fucking terrified nonetheless.

The closer that he gets to Camp Redwood, the more Xavier’s hands shake on the steering wheel. It’s two years to the day since the second massacre on those grounds, yet he still misses his trusty Vanta-C, which had been trashed that fateful night upon a failed escape attempt that was thwarted by one of the three serial killers roaming the grounds. He starts to think that he should have taken up one of the numerous offers to join him on his journey, but there’s no going back now.

He has to do this.

Refusing to acknowledge what had happened two years ago had done Xavier no good. He was irreversibly altered from what he had seen and experienced that summer evening, and ignoring what he had gone through only made the nightmares and flashbacks worse. Attending Brooke’s trial had been the first step towards healing, he had realized as he walked out of the courthouse feeling like a small weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He knew what needed to be done in order to achieve true closure, and so, Xavier Plympton vowed that he would return on the anniversary of the day that he was nearly murdered.

The day that you were murdered.

Xavier drums his fingers against the dashboard, staring at the carved ‘Camp Redwood’ sign that hangs above the entrance to the camp. His chest tightens with panic, and he nearly puts the car into reverse before reminding himself that he’s safe. Ramirez and Brooke were on Death Row, and Mr. Jingles was dead. There was nothing to harm him except for his own memories. 

Two years. 730 days. 17,520 hours. He’s kept track of the hours and days, although he hasn’t wanted to. No matter how the time is counted, Xavier steps into Camp Redwood for the first time in 729 days, 14 hours, 54 minutes, and 12 seconds.

The eerie quiet of the campground reminds Xavier of a cemetery, before he comes to the sobering realization that it basically is a cemetery. Although the bodies of his friends (of his love) may not be buried here, their last moments were spent here. The fear that they felt must linger on some level. Xavier’s not sure what he believes in, but emotions that powerful must leave a mark on physical places.

Xavier’s heart jumps into his throat when he sees certain landmarks that stand out in his short residence at the summer camp. The campfire, long-since put out, where he entranced his fellow counselors with the ghost tale of Mr. Jingles, all of them blissfully unaware that he truly was lurking in the nearby woods. The boys’ cabin, where he had shared a joint with you while listening to Chet complain about the Olympic games. The pit where Chet had been impaled. The clearing near the lake where Xavier held you as you took your last breaths.

The air forcibly leaves his lungs upon seeing the place you were last alive, the force of his emotion forcing him to his knees in the dirt. His mind begins to show him your final moments, and he squeezes his eyes shut while muttering that it was just a memory in the hopes that he wouldn’t fall into a flashback. The pull is too strong, and soon, he feels the chill of that night once more.

Xavier jumps out from the tree that he and Chet are hidden behind, Trevor staring triumphantly into the spiked pit where he had just pushed Mr. Jingles to his death.

“Holy shit dude, that was awesome!” Xavier exclaims, slapping Trevor’s outstretched hand. Trevor’s grin begins to slip, but before Xavier can question him, an ear-piercing scream sends his heart plunging into his stomach.

“(Y/N)!” He’s running as fast as his weary legs allow, following the heart-wrenching sound of your terror as he dodges tree branches and jumps over roots. He shouldn’t have left your side in the first place, but you had encouraged him to go when you heard Chet calling for help, assuring him with a smile that you would stay put and hidden. He had left you there, by the shores of the supposedly bottomless lake, and now he could only hope that you weren’t in danger.

When he reaches the clearing where he had last seen you, Xavier’s shoulders sag in relief. There’s no serial killers around, and he’s hopeful that you managed to scare them off and are still hiding. Those hopes are dashed when he hears a weak cough and sees you slumped against a tree.

“(Y/N).” Xavier can’t feel his legs as he falls beside you, your half-lidded eyes struggling to stay focused as you look at him. “No, no, no!” Blood shines on your hand in the moonlight, and he gingerly lifts your arm away from your abdomen to reveal a deep stab wound.

“Xav,” you rasp, bloody hand reaching up to stroke his cheek, “you came back.”

“Shh,” he soothes, ripping off his jacket and placing pressure on your wound. “You don’t need to talk, babe. Save your energy, okay? I’m going to get you out of here.”

Your glassy eyes stare widely at him. “It’s too late.”

“No, what are you talking about? I’m here, it’s not too late.” When you cough again, blood dribbling past your lips, Xavier realizes that you’re right.

“I’m cold,” you whimper, tears streaking down your face, “and I’m scared. I--I don’t want to die.”

He wants to reassure you that you’re not going to die, but he can already see the light in your eyes dimming. The only thing he can do now is comfort you, so he gathers you in his arms as if he’s going to carry you and holds you to him. “Here sweetheart, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“You need to get out of here, okay? Tell everyone what happened here tonight.”

“I will.” Your eyelashes flutter as water hits them, Xavier realizing that he’s crying.

“I’m sorry that we didn’t have more time, I--” more coughing cuts you off, a gurgling sound emanating from your chest.

“I know.” His eyes flicker up, and he laughs softly. “Look at the stars, (Y/N). Remember how you always complained about not being able to see the stars in the city, and that you would show me the constellations when we got here?”

You nod as your breathing becomes more shallow, yet you somehow manage to clutch Xavier closer to you.

“I did research on constellations, because I love you and I wanted to impress you.” He points up at a cluster of stars. “That one’s Orion. I only know that because you told me about his belt--”

You shudder against him, and Xavier looks down in horror as you take one last breath before the light fully leaves your eyes. The hand that was touching his cheek falls, landing in your lap. “(Y/N),” Xavier says hoarsely, shaking your body. “(Y/N)!”

“It’s not fair,” Xavier mutters, remembering your death in vivid detail. You were supposed to have so much time together. You’re the first relationship that’s ever made him consider settling down, and he was going to give it all up, the drugs and the partying and the casual sex, for you. Now, he has nothing. “It’s not fair!” Xavier yells up at the sky, pounding his fists against the ground.

“Stop, Xav. You’re going to hurt yourself.” The crooning of a soft voice that he hasn’t heard for two years stops him cold.

“You’re not real, this is just a figment of my imagination.”

A hand, warm and real, gently lifts his chin up, until Xavier’s staring into your eyes that are once again full of life. “That would probably be better than what this really is.”

“(Y/N),” he gasps, looking you over as if you’re going to disappear in front of him. Really, you don’t blame him. You look exactly the same as you did that horrible night, minus the stab wound and the blood. 

You laugh in delight as Xavier lunges forward, standing up with you wrapped tightly in his arms while he spins you around. After a year of wandering aimlessly and another year of deep, unending anger, this is a welcome change. 

“I’ve missed you,” Xavier cries into your hair, hands roaming up and down your body to confirm that you’re real. 

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Although he looks a little different, more worn-down, he still smells the exact same. Irish Spring Soap, cinnamon gum, and a hint of marijuana. 

Xavier pulls away to look at you once more, still keeping a tight grip on you. “How are you--I saw you die! How are you alive?”

“Baby,” you smile sadly, “I’m not.”

“But you’re here.”

“We’re ghosts. Everybody who died here is trapped here. I don’t know why, or how, but we’re still here.”

“If you’re a ghost, why didn’t you come find me?”

You start crying now, and Xavier holds you to his chest once more. “I tried, Xav, I promise. I spent a month trying to figure a way out of this fucking place, but we can’t leave. We’re physically tied to these grounds.”

“It’s okay, I don’t blame you.” As Xavier sits there, finally feeling complete once more, he realizes what must be done. He hasn’t felt this happy for two years, and he’ll never feel whole if he’s missing half of his heart. 

He has to do this.

“I want to stay here, with you,” Xavier says.

“You can’t. I won’t let you stay, this place has a way of affecting the living.” Xavier remains silent, instead pulling a knife out of his backpack to show you what he means. “Xavier, no!”

“(Y/N), I can’t live without you. These past two years have left me a shell of a man. I finally have you back, and I won’t be able to go on if I know you’re here.”

“I won’t let you k--” you cut yourself off with a sob, slapping your hand over your mouth. “I won’t let you do this to yourself.”

“Don’t you want to be together?”

“Of course I do! But you have a life to live.”

Xavier shakes his head. “Life’s not worth living if you’re not in it.”

Closing your eyes, you remain silent for a minute before finally nodding. “I can’t stop you from what you want to do. If this is what you want...”

“I have to do this.” Your eyes glisten with tears, and you kiss his forehead. “Does...does dying hurt?”

“Only for a moment. Then, you’re just cold. There’s nothing, and suddenly, there’s something. It’s like falling to sleep.”

He nods, turning the knife around so the blade is facing his abdomen. As he looks down, he realizes that his hands have stopped shaking for the first time since the massacre. 

“I’ll see you on the other side, (Y/N).” Xavier’s lips meet yours as he pushes the knife into his stomach, ending his life while simultaneously starting an eternity together with you.

[gvbejvmes]

Task: Love Song Drabble

Title: #1 Crush Rating: Varies. Let’s go with R to be safe Characters: Mostly just Gabriel James-Michaels and Jonathan James-Michaels Pairings: Gabe/Johnny, vague Johnny/Joan Warnings: References child abuse, assault, murder, suicidal ideation Summary: To be a part of you 'cause I believe in you. Song Inspiration: #1 Crush by Garbage Notes: Behold my latest insanity. 12 drabblettes based on different lyrics from #1 Crush. These are not interconnected. And each section stands alone.

I would die for you

It’s not very often that Gabe goes to the courthouse. With all the time he spent in and out of court it’s put a bad taste in his mouth. Sometimes though, when it’s been a tough trial, he’ll meet Johnny and drag him off to dinner. This case was particularly bad, and he isn’t entirely surprised that the steps surrounding the courthouse are packed. There’s media coverage, protestors, and people just trying to figure out what’s going on. It’s absolute chaos and for a moment he thinks about maybe waiting until his husband makes it to the car. He doesn’t though.

He finds his husband easily enough, and his security detail lets him through. It’s when he’s standing next to Johnny that he sees what’s going to happen. There was a gap in security. Something that was missed among the crowd of people.  If it wasn’t for the way the muzzle caught the reflection of the late afternoon sun he wouldn’t have noticed. All he knows is that it makes perfect sense to step in front of the bullet intended for his husband.

Pure madness erupts around him. There’s screaming and just so much noise. The only thing Gabe really has the ability to process is that the front of his shirt is soaked in blood. Somehow he winds up on the ground of the courthouse steps, his head cradled in his husband’s lap. Everything becomes white noise, and all he can focus on in Johnny trying to talk to him. He has no idea what he’s trying to tell him, but it’s nice just being able to see his face as the world fades away.

I’ve been dying just to feel you by my side; to know that you’re mine.

Gabe can barely breathe, but it doesn’t matter. He just needs to make it until Mr. Michaels gets there. He’s not an idiot. He knows that he’s not going to survive. At this point he’s too far gone. It had been an ambush. The shiv had hit him just right and, well, an inmate dying in prison wasn’t an unusual tale.

The people around him keep trying to tell him that it’ll be okay if he passes before Mr. Michaels gets there, but it won’t be. He needs to see his lawyer one last time. It’s the only thing he can say; it’s the only thing he can think about. They’re trying to make him comfortable in the prison infirmary and all he wants is to see his lawyer one last time.

He didn’t get to tell him before, and now it’s almost too late. He needs to say it before he passes; he doesn’t want to be a ghost. He can’t die until Mr. Michaels knows he’s in love with him. It’s the only thing he needs to do; he feels it in his bones. 

And when his lawyer flies into the room, looking wild and not like himself, it’s with his last breath that Gabe says, “God, I love the fuck out of you.” Vaguely he can hear Mr. Michaels screaming his name, but that’s okay. It just means that he heard his last words.

I will cry for you.

This is his routine: he gets up, makes a cup of tea, lets the dogs outside and makes breakfast. Some days he drags himself into the shower; most days he doesn’t. He dresses in a sweatshirt that still faintly smells like his husband, and walks to the cemetery. He’s not supposed to be a widower. At least not at his age. He’s not even pushing fifty, and he’s alone. The kids say he still has plenty of life ahead of him yet, but they don’t understand it. Not really. He doesn’t have a life without Johnny in it.

The dirt is still fresh and there’s no headstone yet. There’s always flowers there, but he doesn’t know where they come from. They could be from one of the kids or they could be from one of his coworkers or friends. He’s never asked, but they’re always there, and they’re always fresh. He’s not the only one who has been visiting his husband’s grave.

He sits there for hours. Sometimes he sketches the scenery around him. It really is a pretty cemetery. Most of the time he cries for a love that was taken from him too soon. He never remembers how he gets home, but he always wakes up in his own bed, an empty bottle of whiskey next to him. And then he starts the cycle all over.

I will pray for you

He’s sitting in the ‘chapel’ of the hospital. It’s really just a small room labeled ‘chapel.’ It feels like any of the other waiting rooms. The only difference is that this room has pictures representing the different religions, and the lighting is turned down low. He’s sitting in what he supposes is supposed to be the Christian side. There’s a picture of who he assumes is Jesus and one of those kneelers he’s always seen in Catholic churches. He kneels down gingerly.

“Me and you.” And he feels stupid as hell for praying, but Johnny was in surgery, and the doctor didn’t sound very optimistic about his husband’s outcome. “We’ve never gotten along. Mom believes in you, but you never gave me a reason. I used to think that if you were real you would have saved me from my dad. Now, I don’t know what I think.” He closes his eyes. “Give me a reason to believe in you. Save him. I’ll never want anything else from you. I promise. Just save him. Please.”

I will sell my soul for something pure and true; someone like you.

It’s a no-brainer. Five years of happiness with his husband or watch as his husband slowly withered away from cancer. He doesn’t know if he can handle watching him die. At least this way they can have five good years. It’s probably a chicken shit thing to do, but Gabe thinks it’s practical. This is the best option for both of them to be happy and healthy.

That’s what brings him to the crossroads. And when the demon appears, he doesn’t hesitate to seal the deal with a kiss. He never saw himself as the type of person who would sell his soul, but everything has its time and place. And saving his husband’s life? His soul is the least he can pay.

See your face every place that I walk in.

The first time he sees the blue-eyed guy, Gabe walks into a trash can. He’s the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. He tries to catch up with him, but he walks so quickly that Gabe loses sight of him. It’s such a huge college campus, and he already knows he’s not in any of his classes. He has no hope of seeing him again, except… he sees him over and over again. And every damn time he sees him, he can’t keep up with his fast-walking ass. 

He sees him in the dining hall, but by the time Gabe makes his way over to where he is: he’s already gone. One time he sees him in his residence hall at the end of the hallway, but slips into a room before he can reach him. He swore he saw him in the library once, but he got distracted by Velvet and when he looked up again, he was gone. One time when he was sneaking out of a sorority house, he saw him as he slid off the roof. 

The guy moved so fucking fast that he was never able to catch up with him, and then one day fate intervened. He was looking for a seat in the dining hall, and there he was! Immediately he sat down across from him. “Why the fuck do walk so fast?” He asked in greeting.

Obviously startled, the other guy looked up at him. “What?” And he was just staring at him.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for like a month.” 

He blinked at him. “Why?” And he didn’t look like he believed Gabe.

“Because you’re hot as fuck.” Gabe enjoyed the way the other man’s face flushed. “And being able to talk to you is the fucking highlight of my day.”

I will burn for you.

He can’t see; tears are blurring his vision but he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s heartbroken as stares into the bonfire. This was supposed to be it. This was supposed to be his final relationship. This was the man he was supposed to grow old with, and yet the love of his life was having a kid with someone else.

It’s enough to break him. Johnny had tried to explain what happened, but he couldn’t listen to him. He just needed to get the fuck away from him, which was what led him here to the fire. Everything Johnny had ever given to him, every picture, every letter, every stolen sweatshirt - he’s throwing all of them into the fire. He doesn’t want any memory of this man. If he wants to have a baby with someone else, then he doesn’t need Gabe in his life.

And it’s that thought that has him putting his hand into the fire. If he’s burning everything that’s Johnny’s, he might as well burn himself, too. Not that he makes it far. He barely feels the stingy heat when suddenly a pair of strong and familiar arms pull him away from the fire and into his chest. 

Vaguely he can hear Johnny ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but all Gabe can manage is: “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” He thrashes against his (ex?)boyfriend, trying to get away from him so he can throw himself into the fire like the dramatic bitch he can be.

And still, Johnny holds onto him as he screams and cries until he can’t speak any more. Somehow they both wind up on the ground, Gabe in Johnny’s lap. His face is buried in the crook of his neck, and someone must have called the cops on them because he can hear the sound of sirens. And the thing is he’s absolutely furious with him, and yet he knows that in spite of everything, he’s still stupid in love with him.

Feel pain for you.

“Where is he?” Gabriel ignores the question and instead focuses on being anywhere but his current situation. As terrible as it was to think about, his childhood had prepared him for this moment. 

He didn’t need training to know how to withstand torture. His whole life had been leading up to this moment. He sure as hell doesn’t know who these guys are, but he knows two things. One, his dad could give these guys lessons on true torture. And two, it didn’t matter what they did. There was no way he was giving up Johnny’s location. He’d rather die than give him up.

I will lie for you.

He doesn’t know why he does it. All he knows is that this guy looks really uncomfortable. A blonde woman seems to be trying to chat him up, but he is not into it. And the woman? She was definitely not understanding the word no. So, Gabe walked through the crowded bar, up to the man, and kissed him in greeting. “Hey, baby. Sorry I’m late. Who’s your friend?” 

The man just looked at him not in disgust, but in surprise and a little bit of wonder. The woman suddenly looked embarrassed as all hell. “Oh my God. You’re gay. I am so sorry.” And with that she scurried away, off to find her next victim.

“Sorry about that.” He tried, but the other man was still just looking at him. It was like he was trying to figure him out. It’s that look that has Gabe tagging on. “I shoulda bought you a drink first. Can I buy you a drink?”

A smile slid onto the stranger’s face. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

I can steal for you

Gabe is nervous as fuck as Johnny opens the gift he got him. He knew it was something the other boy wanted. That wasn’t what he was worried about. He was more worried about what reaction he was going to get when his boyfriend saw what it was, and realized just what Gabe had done to get it for him. 

And sure, enough, Johnny likes it. It’s a leather braided bracelet with silver wound throughout. And it was expensive as hell. His boyfriend had looked at it in a store at the mall, but when he saw the price tag he’d put it back. They were fresh out of college. They could barely afford beer let alone an expensive birthday gift.

“Did you sell a painting?” And Gabe’s face must have given away how he had gotten it because suddenly Johnny looked disappointed. “Briel, you didn’t.” And he’s shaking his head. “I can’t keep this. You know that.”

He nodded. “But tonight, let’s just pretend that you can. Okay?”

His boyfriend kissed him softly. “Okay.”

I would die for you.

They’re walking down the street. It’s late at night, and they probably should have taken a cab, but the weather is mild and they felt like walking. 

He hears the car before he sees it, but he’s so detached from his past life that he’s not prepared for what happens next. He hears: “Yo, James! This is for Lefty.” 

And then there’s bullets everywhere. As the car peels away, he’s able to process what happened. He’s on the ground and Johnny is on top of him. He’d jumped in front of him when the gun was pulled 

“Jay?” And he’s shaking his husband but there’s no response. There’s a hell of a lot of blood, but no response. “JAY!”

I'd do time for you.

“I’m going to New York next week.” 

Sitting on this side of the glass partition was a little weird. Gabe had wanted to talk to his husband in the private visitation room, but there wasn’t an accessible path of travel from the visitors' side. It had been a month since Gabe was beaten and assaulted within an inch of his life, but he still couldn’t walk for long distances. He was a free man, but his freedom had cost his husband his. At one point Gabe’s heart had stopped, and Johnny had… reacted. The people involved in Gabe’s attack were now all dead, allegedly due to a hit his lawyer husband had put out. Which meant that for the second time during the length of their marriage one of them was going on trial for murder. 

“My doctor has finally cleared me to fly.”

Johnny didn’t say anything, he was too busy studying Gabe. Every time he came to visit, it was like he was drinking the sight of Gabe in. The first time he visited, he offered to get their marriage annulled since he was going to be in prison indefinitely. He’d shut that down real quick. It wasn’t like being separated by bars was anything new; this was fine - for now. 

Since then, he’d taken to studying Gabe as though he was visually checking that his wounds were finally healing. Mostly he seemed to get stuck on his ear more so than his wheelchair, most likely because the wheelchair was only temporary. He’d never get full function of his right leg back and he’d always have to wear a brace to support his left hand (his motor function was never coming back there), but his ear was what Johnny always fixated on. He’d never get his hearing back in his left ear, and his cauliflower ear was permanent. 

“Baby, are you even listening to me?” Gabe asked with a wry smile. “The guards feel bad for me so they let me stay longer than they’re supposed to, but they’re eventually going to wheel me out.”

His husband at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry.” And then he blinked as Gabe’s sentence hit him. “I’m sorry, did you say you’re going to New York? Why?”

Gabe grinned at him. “Because your mother is a terrifying human.” He admitted. “She doesn’t like the idea of me living alone while you’re here. She thinks the doctors are better in New York, and she thinks I’ll be safer living with her and your dad. She’s almost giddy. I’m actually really terrified of her, but she said this will also give me a chance to get a home all set up for us so that when you’re out all you have to do is come home.”

Johnny just stared at him. “You’re moving in with my parents.” He sounded like he was in total disbelief, but there was also something else in his voice he couldn’t quite place. It was… relief? “I’m going to have to give you a list of places my mother isn’t allowed to take you to. They’re places I want to show you.”

He couldn’t help but to nod. “You’re not mad that I’m leaving? She thinks I should stay out there until the trial, and I won’t be able to visit you and-” His husband put his hand against the glass. It was enough to distract Gabe, who pressed his own hand against his husband’s.

“It’s like she said. You’ll be safer there. And it’s only temporary.”

Gabe grinned. “Don’t worry. I still know a few guards that owe me favors. I’ll send you naked pictures.” 

A laugh was startled out of his husband. “Briel…”

[caltropspress]

Notes on Pink Siifu’s NEGRO

You and anybody else who wants to get their random vicarious kicks off White Power can stay the fuck away from me. 

—Lester Bangs

Tell a nazi he can suck my dick. —Pink Siifu, from “SMD”

My first contact with white america was marked by her violence, for when a white doctor pulled me from between my mother’s legs and slapped my wet ass, I, as every other negro in america, reacted to this man-inflicted pain with a cry. A cry that america has never allowed to cease; a cry that gets louder and more intense with age….A cry? Or was it a scream? —H. Rap Brown (Jamil Abdullah Al-Amin), from Die Nigger Die!

it is the hour of conflict, antagonism, struggle the world turning autumn in warpaint everything silently prepares to scream —Amiri Baraka, from “Disorder”

1.  

White institutional power operates to negate or suppress. To that end, white institutional power bestows awards on singular figures when it’s convenient. Let’s call one such example Kendrick Lamar. Pulitzer Prizing DAMN. is white institutional power taking cover. This, in no way, defangs DAMN. But it does provide crowd control. Pink Siifu, meanwhile, won’t be awarded a Pulitzer for NEGRO. If he did, I’m confident he’d pull an Adrienne Rich, telling President Clinton to choke on his National Medal for the Arts, seeing as how the U.S. gov’t drives “the demonization of our young Black men.” Siifu would be PE boycotting the Grammys on the grounds of Black invisibility. Or John Lennon relinquishing his membership in the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire because, well, empire (see: Biafra).

2.

NEGRO is what happens when Three 6 Mafia goes full bandolier, full decolonization, full Thomas Sankara. When the emphasis is on the 666 sirening[1] across white cop foreheads, reflecting off Makrolon face shields. Siifu cites and channels Sun Ra, June Tyson, Death, and Bad Brains, but you also hear the mass hysteria of Abbey Lincoln’s vocal cords trembling, of Max Roach’s We Insist! in a street brawl showdown with the LRAD. Basically, it’s Ornette blowing sax in a riot, harmolodics like incendiary devices.

3.

“FK” is the primal scream reaction of hearing the news another one of your people has been killed, snuffed out. Suffer through our screams, it says to the listener. And “out of body, out of mind” distorts what we see with what we witness. It’s the re-played, re-tweeted, re-shared visuals of Black death.

4.

At moments, NEGRO sounds like Aaron Dilloway organizing a chapter of the White Panther Party.

5.

Siifu’s lyrics are a Stokely speech draft. His artistry is prismatic, shattered pane glass: crust punk, jazz cat, marching band drummer, hood ballerina, noisemaker, bareknuckle emcee. His lyrics should be run off on the mimeo and saddle-stitched into a chapbook for Totem Press to publish.

6.

“SMD” samples from Ivan Dixon's 1973 film The Spook Who Sat by the Door (“Do you hear me, man?...I am BLACK!”). Just like dead prez sampled the dialogue before Siifu on “We Want Freedom.” Siifu and dead prez are bedfellows, for sure, but Siifu's head rests on a pillow of static. It’s the friction that electrifies.

7.

NEGRO is the art of de-arresting in audio form. As the comrades at Mask Magazine have stated, de-arrests “are beautiful,” reminding us “the law and the state are not supernatural forces.”[2]

8.

I’ve always felt uncomfortable using the word freedom. It’s a word that’s been co-opted and gutted to the point of parody. I subscribe only to a different form of freedom, one articulated in noise. Suicidal Tendencies’ “Freedumb” cuts it: “Peace through politics is a fallacy—that doesn’t exist.” Liberation more seriously expresses the extinction agenda. Poor Righteous Teachers taught the curriculum out of Trenton, on “Freedom of Death”: “Consciousness—it’s a must / Just avoid the wicked, wicked ways of this pale Caucasoid.”

Regardless, we see freedom, liberation, knife through even with Siifu’s orthography. Revolutionary thought requires revolutionary language. Ask the Combahee River Collective. Come correct. Fuck autocorrect. Remember womyn. Siifu spellings like: nxggas, eye, tyme, iono, and the evergreen ameriKKKa. The abbreviated words—eliding letters wherever possible—don’t reflect self-censorship so much as the mindmaze of a harried man. Deliberate typos demonstrate no faith in the system. It’s like if Bon Iver (see: “22 (OVER S∞∞N)”) decided to forgo BLM symbolic gestures (Mahalia Jackson) and straight-up encouraged looting. Siifu is CAPS LOCK happy, too. We’re witnessing the joy of militancy.

9.

To begin with, it must be said that former African slaves and their ancestors have been the avant-garde of everything in this country. There’s no culture in America, in this American wasteland, without us. There’s no classical music; there’s jazz, and that was invented by us. And besides that, America has nothing to offer the world and it never has. —Idris Robinson, from “How It Might Should Be Done”

Siifu in the audience of the Congress of Afrikan Peoples, and Baraka imploring him like, “Get up, Pink Siifu.” It’s nation time. But on “Nation Tyme.,” Siifu groans, I’m tired…can’t fall…asleep. Black rage, of course—but what of Black insomnia? The French revolutionaries abolished the calendar. CPT, so, is rightly weaponized. “I feel fettered by Western time,” Gregory Pardlo writes in “Colored People’s Time.” Punch clocks need punching, smashing. I saw Baraka roll up to a conference panel late as fuck once, cane-walking right down the center aisle, shameless, commandingly.

In a somnolent slur, Siifu says, “They treat me like I’m wasting away / I know I’m worth more than they pay.” What of these capitalist definitions of work? What of productivity? What does it mean to monetize every waking moment? He’s been quoted as saying, “I ain’t have to work for no white man.”[3] “Nation Tyme.” picks up there.

10.  Feel like deadmeat. They say I’m deadmeat.

“DEADMEAT” is a pig siren stuffed into an industrial-grade slaughterhouse grinder. It sounds the way Alan Vega's sculptures look—hazardous masses of electronic junk, like wires raveled inside a homemade bomb, like buzzing viscera. 

I want to see Siifu perform it at the Meat Locker, a cellar club in the underguts of Montclair, New Jersey (s/o the dramacydal Outlawz). The place is dingy and bedecked with feces—a venue befitting a GG Allin opener. GG Allin, a racist, who also hated cops. Who, on “Shove That Warrant Up Your Ass,” a track that appeared on the posthumous Brutality & Bloodshed For All album, sang, “You say I broke the laws in your state… / Your courts and cops should all be hung.” Allin hoists a headless, legless, armless torso on his hip in the cover photograph—a slab of meat. Like the Beatles with baby doll parts and prime cuts in their laps, bloodless butcher coats on the original Yesterday and Today (1966) artwork. Like the papal kill floor in Francis Bacon’s “Figure with Meat” (1954) with its tapestry of offal. But what you don’t get from Bacon, or the Beatles, or GG Allin is what Siifu needs us to hear. What Siifu tells us is the reality of corporeality is that cops continue to make carcasses of Black people.

11.

That cellar club can be scream therapy, can be cell therapy. Siifu brings us there—to the darkest, dampest corner of the Dungeon Family’s dungeon. Big Gipp, speaking self-defensively: “Try to separate me from the blood / Is disrespect like you coming in my home and not wiping your feet on the rug.” It’s echoed in Siifu addressing the question of his audience: “This [album] is for black people, but I know white people are going to fuck with it. I’m mad cool with that. I just want everyone to know, before they come through the door, that this is a black house and you have to respect my people.”[4] The theme of respect as it relates to a sense of home, to cultural tourism, is paramount in both. Everyone’s got to know their place. No listener should approach ignorant of the auction block. Siifu’s noise refuses the separation of kinsfolk and his stubbornness makes the dungeon shake—he is rightfully “tough, dark, vulnerable, moody,” and, on NEGRO, he has a “definite tendency to sound truculent.”[5]

12.  

“ON FIRE, PRAY!” eventually grinds the brakes to a cavernous slowjam pace. “Blood on my body / Blood on my face.”

13.

The racist dog policemen must withdraw immediately from our communities, cease their wanton murder and brutality and torture of black people, or face the wrath of the armed people. —caption on Huey Newton photograph

NEGRO’s album cover, painted by Junkyard, is a call-and-response. Pink Siifu is a portrait of exhaustion, slouched, shirtless like Huey was when he was released from the Alameda County courthouse in 1970. It’s a tableau like Huey in that rattan peacock chair was. Eldridge Cleaver orchestrated it, right down to the zebra rug.

If you squint, the glimmer of Siifu’s gold fronts looks like his jaw is wired shut. Of course, violent threats are routinely directed at Black people—that's how the system operates. Media is often behind the scope. Relentless orders to “shut up,” to silence yourself, police yourself. We know this from David Wojnarowicz, photographed with his lips sewn shut, blood dripping like shadows, in “(Silence = Death)” from 1989. The violent threats on queer life are kin to those on Black life. But Siifu, like Wojnarowicz, refuses the censorship. After all, those aren't wires—they're the glint of his grill. Siifu is dribbling blood, too, and those black splatters across the flag are like pen bursts—ink poisoning for all. If you squint, the mind’s eye might see the Pan-African flag.

The flag above his head recalls Jasper Johns’ flags: elliptical, non-patriotic, made slop-bucket sloppy from newspaper shreddings and other detritus, i.e. amerikkka is a trash heap. At least the stars are black in the “Flag (Moratorium)” rendition. Bullet hole dead center, too.

If all goes well, the riots going on—bless them—will go on interminably. Sly Stone’s customized flag with black in place of blue[6] and sharp solar-flared suns in place of Betsy Ross geometric stars is yet another parallel to Siifu’s flag. Like Sly, Siifu isn’t opposed to police ambushes. They both know you’ve got to grin at the gun of the devil. (“Don’t you mind people grinnin’ in your face,” Son House sings eternally.) Citizen takes on cop on “Thank You For Talkin’ To Me, Africa”: Bullets start chasin’, / I begin to stop. / We begin to tussle. / I was on the top. Just the same as Siifu on “SMD”: “Iono why eye ain’t shot ya.” Or on “run pig run.”: “Kill a cop / Left a pig dead.”

14.

We can't disparage any aggressive protest on the reductive grounds it's aggro or violent. I think of Pam Echols in Milwaukee in 1968. Siifu’s assertion of you are my enemy on “steal from the ENEMY” corresponds with Paris’s sophomore and shadowy album, Sleeping with the Enemy. Like on the corrode-ode “Coffee, Donuts, and Death”:

You get poached when you fuck with black folk. Said it ’til my voice was hoarse. I ain’t down with excessive force, But of course I wasn’t heard so I’m silent now. Black folk can’t be non-violent now. […] The only motherfucking pig that I eat is police.

Which is to say, try no pork, ameriKKKa.

15.  RE: punk

Think of Bad Brains playing CBGB’s in 1982. Lester Bangs writes of a woman in the scene who referred to Black people as “all these boons.” He tells us a Black friend of his believes the clubgoers “[strive] to be offensive however they can.” Anti-Blackness plagued CBGB’s and nascent punk like vermin, a pestilence. A white woman in the music business claims she “liked [Black people] so much better when they were just Negroes.” These anecdotes are culled from Bangs’ 1979 Village Voice piece entitled “The White Noise Supremacists.” He notes Ron Asheton’s predilection for “swastikas, Iron Crosses, and jackboots.” He cites Ivan Julian, guitarist for Richard Hell and the Voidoids—one of the few Black individuals to grace those inchoate punk stages—as saying “whenever he hears the word ‘n-----’…he wants to kill.” He calls Nico a “dumb kraut cunt” for her brazen, Third Reich-ish brand of racism, which was no industry secret. Bangs even implicates himself, quoting an earlier article: “…it’s the n-----s who control and direct everything just as it always has been and properly should be.” He meant this, somehow, as a compliment.

16.

On “we need mo color. Abundance,” there’s no innocence left in asking “tell me your favorite color.” Siifu answers rhetorically, parenthetically, melanin. Don't settle for forty acres of color—demand abundance. Take, loot in abundance. And don't be contained by the gendered parameters of “pink or blue.” “You can have any color you like” suggests the limitless possibilities if you move your mind beyond the imposed parameters.

The “favorite color” invoked on “we need mo color. Abundance” becomes abundantly clear on the following track, “BLACK!”

17.

“ameriKKKa, try no pork” starts in a slurry of radio static, news reports of Black death. Black, Black, Black, Black. Sped up. Slowed down. Drag the progress bar. “Progress,” ha.

18.

“run pig run.” See the pig / Run away / Run, pig, run. Like a Dick and Jane basal reader. Like picking your favorite color. Like a Three Little Pigs fable. Like huffing and puffing. These are childhood exploits for childhoods that aren’t allowed to be. As long as the Kenneth and Mamie Clark doll experiments keep providing the proof, there can be no childhood innocence. So it's a carnival game in the meantime: See a pig / Shoot a pig. Huffing and puffing: Run, pig, run.

19.

"myheartHURT" is the safehouse after the shooting. It's the cooldown, the chillout. The hypnagogic nightmare. It's vaporwave minus whiteness. We all know Biz had the vapors before Daniel Lopatin. As if DJ Screw was just an apparition, a codeine cloud. The fact remains, Screw's phantasmagoria hovers above all our heads.

20.

The wail of distorted police sirens introduces “Chris Dorner.,” a track gleefully indebted to Ice-T and Body Count’s “Cop Killer.” Repetition was a popular device and it still is: die, pig, die. Chris Dorner has achieved folk-hero status in anarchist circles and beyond since he waged asymmetrical warfare on the LAPD. His manifesto has been published as a zine.[7] “No one grows up and wants to be a cop killer,” he wrote. Begs the question.

21.

“faceless wings,BLACK!” nods to Frank Castle[8], a figure who may or may not be recoverable from militias and thin blue liners, despite Gerry Conway’s best efforts.

22.

White institutional power operates to negate or suppress. Pink Siifu, through NEGRO, refuses suppression and negation. Siifu delivers a hole in the head, and it’s sublime.

Footnotes:

1  “The Law comes sirening across the town.” Gwendolyn Brooks, “THE THIRD SERMON OF THE WARPLAND” from RIOT

2  “De-Arrests are Beautiful.” Mask Magazine.

3  “The Necessity of Pink Siifu’s Rage.” Marcus J. Moore. The Fader.

4  “Pink Siifu’s ‘NEGRO’ is a Riotous Mix of Jazz, Rap and Punk.” Max Bell. Bandcamp Daily.

5  Baldwin, the god.

6  “What did I do to be so black and blue?” (see: Armstrong); light a reefer and listen to the phonograph (see: Ellison)

7  Research and Destroy New York City. https://researchdestroy.com/

8  https://archive.org/details/PunisherPigs

Images:

Emory Douglas work (detail), courtesy of Sean Stewart archives | Makrolon face shield, Google Image Search result | Amiri Baraka performing at the Congress of Afrikan Peoples (screenshot) | Alan Vega light sculpture (photograph) | GG Allin Brutality & Bloodshed for All album cover | The Beatles Yesterday & Today album cover | Francis Bacon, “Figure with Meat” (detail) | Goodie Mob “Cell Therapy” (screenshot) | Splitting up a family at auction, Public Domain | Huey Newton Black Panthers Minister of Defense, photographed by Blair Stapp, 1968 | Andreas Sterzing, David Wojnarowicz (Silence = Death), 1989 | Sly and the Family Stone There’s A Riot Goin’ On album cover | Jasper Johns, “Flag (Moratorium)” | Pam Echols punching cop, 1968 (photographer unknown) | Sid Vicious, nazi (photographer unknown) | Emory Douglas work (detail), courtesy of Sean Stewart archives | Biz Markie Goin’ Off album cover | Oneohtrix Point Never Memory Vague album cover 

[bonkaisecretsanta]

Happy holidays @shayspencer from @fuckitimfangirling​!

Summary: They're doomed, probably. He still wants that heartbreak anyway. Warnings: Role reversal of sorts; pre-show/S1/S2 AU; alternative Salvatore backstory to fit the story and bc some things in canon did NOT fit Civil War era customs; bg DE; KC and SK if you squint; dark themes; abuse; bullying; murder; violence; underage not-quite-smut; dead and dying characters; angsty bullfuckery; mentions of suicide; anachronistic storytelling 💔🔫 = past, 💀🔫 = present (s1/2 AU stuff); de-aged Kai (b. 1991)

Grams makes her put on her nice dress, the one reserved for special occasions at church. It's pretty, yellow and red, and super fluttery - it makes Bonnie feel like a princess - but it's also too layered and itchy for the muggy weather. The AC in the old courthouse is down, and the windows are open while electric fans whir. The relief is transient when the rotating air cools her form. Bonnie, in all her seven year old discomfort, feels oppressed. Wearing so many layers of cotton and gauze in such heat is probably against the law. She'll ask Judge Kincannon.

But Grams had been stern and left no room for argument when she woke Bonnie early to braid her hair and get her dressed, so Bonnie suffers in silence. The older Bennett woman seems anxious, looking at her watch repeatedly as they wait for someone to arrive.

Truthfully, Bonnie is confused. They arrived nearly an hour ago and after speaking briefly with Old Sheriff Wilson and Mrs. Forbes, who quickly disappeared, Grams told her she would make a new friend soon. It was exciting news. But it's been an hour and she's bored.

Her legs kick the air in patterns. Left, right, left, right. The swinging makes them feel heavy and cold, like metal. Bonnie is made of steel, like Superman. She bet she could be a hero like him too, save lots of people and everyone would love her like they love him.

“Bonnie! Bonnie!” the crowd cheers in her mind. Her imagination is distracting, to the point she misses when Grams stands up. She doesn't miss the sharp swat on her shoulder or the side-eye from her Grams as she hops to attention. Bonnie smoothes her dress out and clasps her hands behind her back like they teach in school, and smiles pretty. Her knew friend must be coming!

Mrs. Forbes is back, this time without Old Sheriff Wilson. Bonnie can't really see him at first, because he's half hidden behind Mrs. Forbes’ legs, but then the police officer comes to a stop and Bonnie can see the little bruised hand gripping at her belt loop.

“Come on, honey,” Mrs. Forbes coaxes. It's the same voice she uses at sleepovers, when it's time Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena to settle down into bed. Blue-grey eyes peek out out from behind her, small face as bruised as the knuckles. The other little person is a boy, smaller than even her. Bonnie thinks he must run around a lot, if he has so many scrapes. Grams is always yelling at her not to run for fear of getting hurt.

The boy glances between her and Grams then retreats back behind Mrs. Forbes.

“No, no, Malachai,” the blonde officer states. “This is Miss Sheila Bennett, your foster mother. You'll be staying with her now.”

She moves herself so that she's standing behind the boy, her hands on his shoulders and patting soothingly. Bonnie can see the sling that holds his left arm and the patch of gauze taped to his head. His hair is buzzed short, to the point where she can see a scar zigzagging across the top of his head. It takes her by surprise and she can't stop the tumble of words from leaving her mouth.

“What happened to you?” the question sounds almost accusatory, even to her own ears and she flinches at herself even before Grams swats her again. The boy grimaces as well, looking down as Grams tells her to apologize. He swallowing hard and he looks like he's biting back tears. Bonnie is instantly apologetic.

She steps forward and tries to take his good hand, but he pulls it away from her. Bonnie doesn't pursue it.

“I'm sorry,” she says. “I didn't mean it. I'm Bonnie. Want to be my friend?” This time she holds out her hand, leaving the choice up to him. The boy stares at it and takes a breath and reaches out and Bonnie feels hope flutter. And die, when he pushes her hand down gently and walks past her to her Grams.

“May we go now, please ma'am?” He says politely. Grams looks between her and the boy - Malachai Mrs. Forbes had called him - and nods.

“C’mon Bon,” in her Grams’ voice, she can hear the implied try again later and so she follows dutifully behind, anticipating an awkward drive home. Bonnie's hand burns where Malachai touched her.

💔🔫

The drive is awkward and so is dinner. Kai (he asked to be called this instead of Malachai) is her age, but where he is polite and obedient towards her Grams, he all but ignores Bonnie when he can. When he must interact with her, his responses are short and he avoids her space like she's diseased. It's infuriating. He acts like she isn't there and it makes Bonnie’s temper flare. She wants to shake him and scream at him until he looks at her, says or does something. It's the most destructive feeling she's ever felt and it overwhelms her.

By the time her dad arrives to take her home, Bonnie’s fists ache from being clenched. She doesn't know why she’s so angry. He wasn't even mean - Tyler Lockwood had dumped a bottle of glue on her head once, the meanest thing anyone’s ever done to her, and they were friends. She shouldn't be so put out by Kai’s non-reactions.

But the anger is still there when she gets ready for bed, when her dad tucks her in, when she goes to sleep. It seeps into her bone marrow, takes over the fresh blood cells that enter her body. It remains when she wakes up the next day.

If Kai doesn't want to be her friend, fine. Bonnie will hate him like no one else has before.

💔🔫

Maybe he should've tried harder to be her friend. From Miss Sheila’s sighs and and heavy looks, Kai knows that she at least thinks he should have. But her perfect little granddaughter looked so pristine in her dress, like some sort of rose, green eyes pricking him like bramble. It was uncomfortable at best. Then she looked at him with something like disgust twisting her pretty face as she asked what happened to him, the likes of which she couldn't possibly fathom...Kai hated her in that moment. He'd never felt so low for what his dad did, never fell victim to self-blame, never thought he could have done anything to prevent it until that question.

What happened to you?

And shit (and he knows better than to use that word around Miss Sheila, he can tell how strict she is) maybe it was. Maybe if he wasn't what he was, maybe if he'd still been of any use to the coven.

What happened to you?

Joshua Parker did. It's not his fault. His dad was crazy.

Kai insists on doing the dishes, but Miss Sheila only allows him to clear the table because of his arm. He wants to help and his arm is healing nicely - it's his head that's killing him - but she hears none of it. When he finishes, the older witch shows him where he'll be sleeping and he gets ready for bed without prompt or protest. He doesn't want to cause any trouble. But sleep tugs heavy at him and his bad arm is starting to ache real bad along with his headache and he just wants to take his medicine and go to sleep. The faster he finishes his self-designated chores, the sooner he can do that.

When his head hits the pillow he decides he'll try once more with Bonnie. He'll apologize for his behavior and they'll be friends and when he starts up at school with her, she'll introduce him to her other friends and he can be himself without any worries about covens or merges or restoring family honor. It will be a fresh start, a new life better than the last. An adventure. Kai likes adventures.

His will start in the morning.

💔🔫

Joshua’s house is a gory mess when Jason finishes his walk through. He's back where he started, the spot where he found his brother attempting to beat his own son to death.

The Supreme feels sick, staring down at the small puddle of his nephew's half-coagulated blood.

He'd felt Melissa go first, then Josette quickly after. It was sudden and felt so violent that Jason doubled over from nausea and pain as he felt his coven members leave him. He'd summoned his Enforcers and the Board of Regents immediately then ported to his brother's house the second he was able. He'd been too late to save Joey and he'd barely been able to save Kai. Kai, his favorite of his nieces and nephews, whose tiny body felt so light when Jason had scooped him up. If it hadn't been for the boy’s shallow breaths and their faint connection, he might have thought his nephew dead like the rest. He can still hear his older brother's mindless, angry rants.

It should have been me, he had screamed. If you weren't an abomination, you could have made it right, he'd yelled at Kai.

Jason scowls at the memory. Josh hadn't ever deserved Kai. Any of his kids, really. His crazy older brother had been right in some respects. Coven leader was his potential birthright, but his own twin had died in a freak accident. Jason and Isla had been the spares.

But Kai was not an abomination and Jason would fight tooth and fucking nail to prove it to anyone who said otherwise.

He peels his eyes away from the browning puddle. Kai is safe now and the Gemini Supreme intends to keep it that way. Joshua is in coven holdings, preparing to be dealt with. Jason hopes he goes crazy trapped alone in the prison world he has ready for him.

For now though, there's an injured little boy that needs him.

💔🔫

He’s not able to talk to Bonnie the next day. She has school and he has a doctor’s appointment and a meeting with his uncle’s lawyer at the police station. The other man is a Gemini witch that Kai vaguely recognizes. He talks to him like he’s very slow and Kai doesn’t know how to tell him he has a prodigious IQ, that his dad’s break down didn’t erase it.

Although maybe his head injury did.

The police set up a camera and Kai answers all the questions as best as he can. Getting his head cracked open with bat didn’t make him dumber (luckily), but it made that night fuzzy. He can barely remember anything, just the fear and the stink of Joey’s pee. Even that memory makes him sad. He misses his brother.

“And where was your mother when you and Joey were hiding in the wardrobe?”

“She was with my dad in the room, trying to get him out. She was asking him to stop. She kept saying ‘calm down, Josh,’” Kai answers mechanically. He feels distant. Like he’s watching TV, but the TV is his body. His own hands don’t look real. The doctor used fancy words for it at the hospital. Trauma dissociation. Kai is dissociating because he suffered trauma.

He answers the rest of the questions like a robot, pretending he’s the Terminator. He wants to go home, back to Portland, before May ninth, before his dad hated him.

When it’s over, the lawyer thanks him and tells him he’s a strong boy. That he should focus on living a good life and that he’ll never have to worry his father hurting him again. Kai doesn’t want to know. Ever. The camera is off, so the lawyer blesses him and the familiar heat of friendly magic feeds Kai. The feeling wears off soon, but it’s enough to remind him of home.

By the time he gets back to Miss Sheila’s, it’s late and he’s started shaking. Kai falls in the older witch’s arms like the little boy he is and cries himself to sleep. He never gets to speak with Bonnie.

💔🔫

Kai doesn’t get to apologize the next day either. His head hurts and he’s sick from the magic being worked on him at a distance. Sheila explains that his coven leader is severing Kai’s connection from the Gemini Coven so that Joshua can’t track him that way. It’s for his safety, she assures. Kai still feels abandoned.

The boy cries himself to sleep. He never gets to speak with Bonnie.

💔🔫

When the connection breaks, it wakes Kai up. It’s very weird, like something he’s suddenly been dropped into ice water when he’s always been warm. He doesn’t like it. His back itches, feels colder than the rest of him, and it tastes like magic, so Kai gets up and goes to the restroom.

He has to take his sling off to remove his shirt and he jostles the cast slightly. He hisses quietly, rubbing at it until the sting fades, then he turns and twists so he can see his back.

There’s an intricate scar on his upper back. It looks like someone branded his skin with clock cogs, but when he runs his fingers over it, the skin is smooth and cool and sensitive to the touch. Kai shivers, retracting his good hand. The design looks very familiar, like something he might have read before. Kai racks his brain, but he’s tired and can’t think of it. It’s magic related, so maybe he can ask Miss Sheila later.

Curiosity satisfied, Kai puts his shirt in the bathroom hamper and goes back to bed. He feels better now, still a little sad, but he thinks tomorrow, he’ll finally be able to set things right with Bonnie.

💀🔫

Things never really get right between Kai and Bonnie. For that interim between when they first met to when they'd been able to spend more time with each other, the combination of Sheila’s initial focus on him and Kai’s dismissive attitude had poisoned Bonnie to the idea of building anything fruitful between them. Sheila’s refusal to divulge anything magic-related to Bonnie was another point of contention between all three of them. Kai disagreed with Sheila, but kept the secret, and Bonnie, nobody's fool, could tell they were keeping something from her, which led to her jealousy and resentment.

By the time Damon Salvatore swaggers into town with his bourbon and black leather and blacker moods, the animosity between Bonnie and Kai is a well-fed beast. Kai had resigned himself to merely keeping it contained between the two of them.

💀🔫

Bonnie didn't have a lot a people she cared about. She could count them literally on one hand: Elena, Caroline, her dad, Grams, and in some weird way, stupid Kai Parker. To some extent, she cared for Elena and Caroline’s families, but only in that they belonged to her best friends and were a part of them. Her relationship with every single one of her people was complicated.

Elena and Bonnie were closer to each other than Caroline, but they didn't always like each other either. Caroline was too insecure and competitive towards Elena and too dismissive of Bonnie. Sometimes, she preferred other cheerbots to them. Elena wasn’t coddling enough for Caroline’s ego and too often took Bonnie for granted. Bonnie wasn’t trusting enough towards either of them sometimes, because Elena was too selfish and Caroline was too controlling. Blonde and brunette both agreed Bonnie could be too ruthless or too passive with no in-between. They were best friend from childhood though, with a deep platonic love, and any of the girls would kill for the other two. It was a weird tumultuous relationship between the trio. Sometimes they were more enemies than friends.

Rudy cared, but he was a textbook workaholic. If Bonnie kept herself out of trouble and Grams didn't report any misgivings, Rudy Hopkins was content to give his daughter all the freedom and funding in the world. Grams was something weird. She was Bonnie's favorite person in the world, no doubt, but she was always lying to Bonnie about something big - something Kai knew about - and it angered Bonnie. At first, she figured it had something to do with Kai because whatever happened to him had been so bad that the records were sealed and the newspaper clippings had limited information regarding the events. Regardless, Bonnie had some resentment towards both parental figures.

Her dynamic with Kai was the most convoluted. They were arch-nemeses, their antagonism comparable to what Elena had with Jeremy, but worse. Bonnie used to do everything she could to get him kicked out, before she learned the timid truth. Over the years, they’ve had friendly moments, because he was Grams’ foster son and Bonnie was often at her Grams’ home when her dad wasn’t around. They’ve seen each other at their worst, in states no one else ever got to witness, not Elena or Caroline, or whoever Kai’s Elena-or-Caroline was.

But they were never friends. Bonnie can’t be friends with Kai, and he can’t be friends with her, and neither one can pinpoint exactly when the opportunity passed. No matter what weaknesses she sees and let’s him see, it was only ever between them. Bonnie had her friends and suitors who never stuck around. Kai had his little flings. None of their people were able to get in deep with them the way they got in with each other. So much of Kai occupied Bonnie, because so much of who she was hinged on negating him. It was the same for him, she could tell. There was no room between them for anyone else.

Bonnie cares deeply for very few people and she's not incredibly receptive to strangers. They tended to fuck things up.

💀🔫

Which is why, that Wednesday night when that bourbon-drinking, wearing-leather-in-the-summer freak shows up on Grams’ porch, she hates him immediately. Her mood is already at an all time low. Her Prius is getting a tune-up and because Grams’ works an hour outside of Mystic Falls, Kai is the one taking her home from Elena’s parents’ funeral.

Caroline had offered, but the blonde’s own absentee parent had showed up and Bonnie encouraged her to spend time with him. Between Bonnie’s AWOL mom and Elena’s orphan status, both girls wanted Caroline to soak up her parents’ presences.

Kai drives them from the funeral, says nothing to her and expects nothing from her. The air in the old Toyota is somber and Bonnie doesn't even look up from her phone until she hears him mutter “who the hell is that?”

He's squinting up at the porch, where a dark-haired man is sitting on the porch swing, elbows braced on his knees. Even in the dusky twilight air, his blue eyes are bright and piercing and focused on them. It unnerves her.

“Friend of yours?” Kai inquires. Bonnie wants to snap at him, but his tone is neutral and the question makes sense. She shakes her head in a negative.

“Let's go somewhere else,” she tells him. It's unlike her and Kai eyes her and turns off the car. She scowls.

Of all the times for him to be contradictory, it's when a potential murderer is gawking at them from her grandmother's porch. Typical.

She follows him out, sticking close. Bonnie hates Kai on a good day, but he's familiar to her. She trusts him to antagonize her, to annoy her, and hurt her feelings. She also trusts him to keep her safe. This guy? She doesn't trust him at all. He watches them watch him.

“Someone die?” he greets. Bonnie's opinion of him plummets more. Kai just hits him with the quirked brow. The Gilberts were a pretty beloved family - their funeral procession had been huge.

“Yeaaaah,” Kai stretches the word out. “Did you know the Gilberts?”

The guy's face does something weird. He appears mildly amused. “I knew some Gilberts, yes.”

His expression becomes serious and he stands. “Does Sheila Bennett still live here? I need to ask her something.”

Bonnie peeks from where she's been using Kai as a human shield and glares at the guy.

“What do you want with Grams?”

The guy assesses her, tilting his head and letting his eyes wander up and down her form. It’s predatory and makes Bonnie feel like meat before Kai rearranges himself between them. He's thumbing at his rings like he tends to do when he's agitated. The guy in leather smirks and answers her as though Kai wasn't there.

“Well, little bird, I'm in need of a Bennett witch.”

Bonnie almost laughs, but the way Kai's body stiffens in front of her chases off her amusement. She can see his default devious expression shift into something dark and angry. It sends Bonnie's belly to the floor.

With a grunt, the man follows Bonnie's stomach, crashing to his knees and clutching his head. Kai ushers Bonnie into the house, quickly following her.

“You need to leave,” Kai snaps at the stranger. “Your kind isn't welcome in this town, let alone at this residence. If you come back, I'll report you to the Council.”

With that he slams the door shut, leaving Bonnie with dozens of questions on her tongue.

💔🔫

About a week after Kai's banishment, his coven leader shows up on Miss Sheila's stoop. She lets him in with a smile, then leaves him and Kai alone with a pitcher of lavender lemonade and a round, blue tin of old lady cookies.

Kai picks at a thread hanging from his shorts. His uncle, feeling just as awkward, chugs two glasses of lemonade then plays with the cup. Man and boy peek at each other and are surprised to catch eyes. Jason makes a funny face and Kai chuckles. The tension eases.

“Kai,” the Supreme starts. “You know it's not your fault right? None of this,” he waves his hand around, indicates the general this. “Is your fault. Josh was sick and he heard something he didn't like and he snapped.”

Kai pulls at thread. “Dad said I was an abomination. He said if I'd been worth anything, the Regents would have let you name me and Jo as your heirs.”

Uncle Jason’s face gets dark. “That’s not really your fault Kai, no matter what anyone says.”

“If I was a normal witch and not a siphon, they would have said yes and dad wouldn't have done what he did.”

Uncle Jason grimaces. “Fuck Josh,” he growls lowly and runs his hand over his face. He looks so much like Kai’s dad (Like Jo and Joey. Like Kai.), it physically hurts Kai to look at him, some odd mixture of fear and longing hitting the child.

“Kai, I want you to listen to me carefully,” the Supreme reaches out and clutches his nephew's shoulders. The hold is firm and gentle and Kai basks in his uncle’s warmth.

“The Regents gave a conditional no. They wanted you to go through some intense training before naming you a prospective heir. Your dad was for it, but I vetoed the option.”

At Kai’s dismayed look, Jason wiggled his fingers under the boy's chin and smiles when Kai squirms.

“The training is very dangerous and an extremely outdated and prejudiced practice. The point is to overload a siphon with so much magic they absorb it permanently. It doesn't work. Most siphons die, slowly and painfully, because the spell leaves them open to all kinds of magical backlash, the constant influx of which causes deformities and madness. Do you understand? You would have been tortured to death by your own family.

“Trust me Kai, none of this is on you. Josh was sick. He was willing to let you go through torture and very likely die just for the prospect of being named heir.”

Jason ruffles Kai's dark hair. “You think I would’ve let that happen to my favorite nephew?”

Kai shakes his head. He feels happy and sad and angry and warm. He used to always wish to himself that Jason had been his dad. The thought used to fill him with guilt, but now Kai utters it without any thought.

Jason looks sad. “Me too,” he mutters. “But only if I just got you. No merge to lose you to.”

Kai feels...a lot. He launches himself at his uncle, who grunts, but hugs the kid. He pretends not to notice Kai’s sobs.

Jason strokes his back and stands, walking around and letting Kai cling to him. It's embarrassing. Kai’s eight, a smart and mature third-grader, not a baby. But he feels safe for the first time in months, so Kai lets the embarrassment go.

“No matter what, Kai, you've got me okay?” the Supreme rubs his back, where the intricate pattern adorns Kai’s skin. “This means you're safe. From the coven, the Regents, your dad. But you have me, whenever you need me, okay? Not just as your Supreme, but as your family. I love you, kid.”

Kai holds onto those last four words like a lifeline.

💀🔫

Bonnie screeches like a damn banshee when she's angry and Kai's tight-lipped disposition has her incensed. His ears are fucking ringing like bells by the time Sheila slips through the front door and takes control of the situation.

“Sit your behind down,” she calls after Kai when he tries to slip away.

Kai makes a face while his back is to her, careful not to let her see it. Sheila is a good mother, for all intents and purposes, but she's quick with discipline if she senses disrespect. It's mild to what Kai’s dealt with before, but she ran a tight ship that he’s careful not to rock.

“Now what happened?” she questions and holds up her hand for silence. when Bonnie starts up again about strange men, witches, and Kai being a freak.

“Speak up,” the Bennett matriarch commands him. Kai feels a headache coming on. He tells her everything about the visiting vampire anyway.

Bonnie’s obviously in a state of disbelief listening to him, except she had witnessed Kai drop the vampire with a thought. The mundane denial she'd been raised in wars against her nature and witch’s intuition. The inner conflict makes her waspish and snarky, to the point even Sheila loses her temper.

The fireplace blazes to life and the dining set levitates.

Bennett fire, Kai thinks watching Sheila watch Bonnie. Both generations of women are tense.

Instead of addressing her grandmother, Bonnie turns her attention to Kai. He's not even surprised. It's easier for her to spit vitriol at him than her beloved grandmother.

“Is this what you've been lying to me about all these years?”

There's a challenge in her eyes and a plea in her voice. Kai can't tell what she wants from him, but he gives her what he can. He ignores Sheila’s warning glare and tells Bonnie the truth.

💀🔫

Sentimentality and a sense of masochism made Damon stop at the bridge in the sleepy Virginian town again.

Mystic Falls was still a hole-in-the-wall, barely a blip on anyone's map. The grand return of The Comet was around the bend, bringing with it a slew of hatred and bitterness Damon had housed for the better half of a century. His grudge against Katherine Pierce had become a lifelong companion, his food, his bedmate, his liquor. Take away everything from Damon and he'd still have his hate.

His mood is dense. It settles on him like the fog he conjures and he thinks maybe killing someone would ease the hurt. It used to help. He'd find a pretty brunette and pretend she was Katherine and torture her to death. Soon enough the practice lost its appeal, but the indulgence of bloodlust was cathartic. Klaus had always encouraged it.

He sips bourbon a silver flask said Original has gifted him. Damon had been loyal to him for decades now - since the first Great War. World War. Whatever. It had been nice to meet another vampire on the front lines, to tell his story without any edits or omissions. To miss Stefan and have someone understand that depth of grief, how it had consumed him for centuries, how of course he could never forgive the conniving devil woman that led both brothers to their respective ends.

Imagine his surprise to learn that Klaus had also had it out for Miss Pierce. Petrova. Bitch wonder. Whatever.

So Damon agreed to work for him in pursuit of Katherine. The doppelganger had been his white whale, and he'd waited patiently for the advent of a new Petrova doppelganger. Imagine this surprise when that line guided him back to his hometown.

He almost didn't come. But he's already established that he's a sentimental masochist. Damon downs the last of his bourbon, stares out at the yellow DO NOT CROSS tape and orange roadblocks that wall off the broken bridge.

The night he ripped the human doppelganger out of the car...it had been his bad. He'd wanted to see her, wanted to frighten the family, have bit of a laugh before compelling them to forget the encounter. Instead he'd frightened them right off the bridge and into the water below.

Honest to god, he almost just walked off. He'd sped to the edge and spent almost two minutes just staring at them, wondering if anyone would come by and save them. When it became clear no one was around, he had dived in to save the girl.

Klaus would probably kill him if he found out Damon was the reason he had to wait another five hundred years to break his curse.

He pulled her out of the wreckage and breathed life back into the girl. Wet eyelashes fluttered and he compelled her to find help, that an animal ran out on the bridge and her dad instinctively tried to go around, driving off the bridge. He told her to stay safe because he was coming back for her.

And now he's stuck here, waiting for Katherine to show up like a mouse to a mousetrap. Waiting to give Klaus the green light to snatch her ugly heart out of her chest and for both men to get their revenge. Waiting until the Bennett witch (witches?) can be persuaded to lift Klaus’ curse. It's been so long and having the end in sight is a welcome thing. Soon it will be over and he can rest.

Damon is so tired after all.

💀🔫

He arrives after the kids leave for school. Sheila is tired and not in the mood for company, so she putters around inside before she finally decides to meet him. The vampire Kai described the night before is waiting on her porch swing when she steps out and Sheila pauses in her motions, facing him. He tips an imaginary hat to her.

“Morning ma'am,” he greets. “I'm Damon.”

The old antebellum accent he speaks with sounds completely natural on him, as at odds as it is to his appearance. Sheila studies him, her brow wrinkling in thought.

“You look like that Salvatore boy that runs the boarding house.”

He chuckles, seemingly surprised.

“Zach?” he questions, accent gone. “He's my great grandson.”

Sheila takes a seat in the rocking chair adjacent to him and indicates that he should continue. Damon licks his lips.

“You're not afraid of the big, bad bloodsucker?” he questions. His tone is something odd. Amused and apathetic. Bored and tempestuous. Even when he'd been hamming up the accent, he'd been both too distant and too emotional about it.

“I heard you were looking for me. Seems unlikely you'd attack if you need a Bennett witch to do your bidding.”

The vampire smirks, stretching his arms out along the back of the of the swing. His leather jacket sits in his lap, black like the rest of his attire. Boot-clad feet push the swing as he tips his head back, eyes closed. The gloom in his aura matches his look. Mighty handsome as he is, those angelic looks hid a soul blackened by the worst of human emotions.

“In 1864, I was doing quite well for myself. I'd done all a good first-born southern boy was supposed to do at the time. Married well, had a boy I adored, partnered with my father in the family business, funded and fought in war I didn't believe in, and came home due to injury,” here he pats his shoulder sardonically.

“The ideal Virginia gentleman, even though I hated myself for it. I never wanted to do or be any of that, but I loved my little brother more than life itself. I had few freedoms so Stefan could have them all. That's what older brothers are supposed to do, you understand.

“1864 was also a year when Mystic Falls was infested with vampires. It was quite unbeknownst to us Council members, but one of your mighty ancestors Emily had teamed up with a vamp named Katherine for one thing or another -”

“Safe harbor,” Sheila interrupts. “Suspicions about Emily being a witch were high, I'm sure you're aware. Especially after she turned down Jonathan Gilbert’s...employment offers. Katherine was to make sure Emily and her children made it safely to the Gemini coven in Oregon. She got the children there, by the way.”

The vampire stares at her and nods slowly.

“Noted. Anyway, Emily had made these nifty daylight rings for Katherine and her friends,” he waves his own through the air. “So they went undetected by the Council for a while. My own father housed Katherine as a refugee displaced by the war. It was during that time, she got her hooks in Stefan. When the Council discovered her true identity, she was captured with the other vampires with the intent of burning them all alive.

“Stefan attempted to rescue her. I attempted to stop him. But he was my brother and he fancied himself in love, and he pleaded with me to let them go. Said she was his heart…,” the vampire trails off, lost in thought. “I let them go, but my father was nearby and witnessed the whole thing. He shot us both to death rather than risk the family name being tarnished. Katherine ran off, saved her own skin - and your ancestors’ as well, I reckon - and I watched my brother die reaching out for a woman who didn't look back once as she left him there to die.”

Sheila is quiet. She can sense the anger brewing under his skin, but had Katherine not left the brothers, she and hers might not be here. She understands his pain, but it is what it is.

“Imagine my surprise,” Damon continues. “When I wake up in transition. Emily was there and explained that Katherine had been sneaking me her blood and compelling me to forget. I was to be a surprise for Stefan. Or leverage, depending on your perspective. To convince him to transition for her. She'd wanted him to choose to be like her, so he didn't have any vampire blood in his system when he died. But in doing that, she took my choice away. She left Emily behind to die as well - or whatever they had worked out - and your ancestor offered me a monster’s ring and told me what remaining options I had.”

“Why did you choose to be a vampire?” Sheila inquires, curious. “You seem to not be your kind’s biggest fan.”

Damon shrugs. “It is what it is,” he unknowingly echoes her sentiments. “I'd already lost everything - my father had spread word Stefan and I died trying to stop Katherine’s escape, so I couldn't go home. But I could have revenge.“

The silence that follows is heavy. Sheila absorbs his.story, filling in the gaps of his story with what she'd read in Emily’s grimoire. No matter how she turned it, Katherine’s role in moving Doris, Eileen, and Charles to Oregon had been fairly minimal. Emily had had back-up plans, which she wrote like Katherine had been aware of, so Sheila finds herself having a hard time condemning the man.

“And you need me for this revenge?”

Damon smiled coldly. “Why yes ma'am, I do,” he replies. The accent is back.

💀🔫

Bonnie ignoring him isn't anything new. Neither is her bullying him or encouraging her friends to bully him.

He doesn't know what he expected. This weird combination of making him miserable and pretending he doesn't exist wasn't it though. After he drops her off for summer cheer practice, she finally deigns to look up from furiously messaging on her phone to let him know Caroline would take her to pick up her car.

When she gets out, she greets Tyler who looks after her like a hungry puppy before turning a hard gaze on Kai.

Shit.

Kai tries to pull out but another car is blocking him. He's trapped. His car door is slammed open and he's yanked outside. No magic on mundanes, he tells himself right before throwing a punch at whoever had him gripped.

It's like six on one, but he refuses to be the only one leaving with bruises, so he doesn't bother holding back his temper. Kai is six feet, one-ninety pounds but the football players are all his size or bigger, so the fight back is difficult. He makes sure to nail Lockwood in the fucking face though. Jerk.

Tanner’s whistle blows and the players dissipate, leaving behind Kai and the asshole history coach. The two men eye each other before Tanner speaks.

“We have a wrestling team, you should consider trying out.”

Kai frowns at him. He can't tell if that was sarcasm or a legitimate pitch, but he doesn't care. He gets in his car and drives off, angry and biting it back.

Leave it to Bonnie to punish him for telling the truth. Nevermind his good intentions.

💔🔫

The next time he finally sees Bonnie, it's his first day at school. She's a grade below him, but she's one of the town’s three sweethearts, so everyone in nearby grades sat as close to her table as possible.

“Hi Bonnie,” he greets when he's able to push to the front. A blonde-haired boy eyes him suspiciously, but Kai ignores him. Bonnie, in turn, ignores Kai.

“I wanted to say sorry for the last time we saw each other. I was really rude to you and it doesn't matter what else happened, I shouldn't have been so mean to you,” Kai apologizes. Bonnie doesn't look away from her chattering friends. Kai's temper rises.

“Bonnie, listen to me!” he snaps, grabbing her wrist. Temper flaring, he forgets himself. He forgets that for all Bonnie's magic is latent, it’s still there, just beneath her skin, in her blood and part of her very soul. He forgets he's a soul eater. In his anger, Kai unintentionally siphons her.

Bonnie yowls, yanking her arm away, but Kai had thrown her away at the very first taste of Bennett magic on his skin. She looks at him with betrayal, clutching her arm to her chest. Everyone is staring at them in shock.

“I-I'm sorry. I didn't - I didn't mean to, Bonnie, I'm -,” Kai stammers. Bonnie interrupts.

“Go away! I hate you, just leave me alone! You freak!” At her outburst, the chatter picks up.

“Yeah, go away, freak.”

“Did you see what he did to Bonnie? What a jerk.”

“A monster.”

Someone grabs his lunch tray and dumps the contents on him. Someone else shoves Kai off the lunch bench.

“Go away.”

“We don't want you to sit here.”

“Disappear, freak.”

Food and wrappers are tossed at Kai, and he stumbles away, out of the cafeteria. Two lunch aids, talking to each other, stop him when they see him trying to leave. Kai says he slipped and dropped his lunch tray, and that he was going to the restroom to clean up. They let him pass.

Kai spends the rest of the lunch period quietly crying in the big stall.

💀🔫

She said no. Of course, she did, Damon had expected no less. Regardless, the comet is weeks away and Damon is on a mission. If Sheila won't do it, maybe her pretty little granddaughter might find incentive. He doesn't particularly care if Sheila gets the Council sniffing after his tail. He just needs the girls, the wolf boy, and Katherine, then finally, finally he can rest.

Through his ravens, Damon watches the Bennett girl and her blonde friend through cheer practice. The doppelganger isn't with them, probably still grief-stricken. They leave for the town garage and the blonde drops the little bird off. They make plans to meet at the Mystic Grill and when the blonde girl is sitting alone in her booth, Damon slides in opposite her.

“Mind if I sit here?” he croons, meeting her gaze. He watches as a familiar carnal hunger fills her face and her pupils dilate. Hook, line, and sinker.

It pays to be patient.

💀🔫

School starts. Kai is a senior, so his last science course is one of three electives and he chooses astronomy over psychology and forensic science. Kai’s had his fill of both over the years. Of course though, Bonnie is fast-tracked and an honors student. They're in the same class and Mrs. Galloway partners them for the course.

Kai’s still bruised up from two weeks ago, an ugly yellow settling under the bags if his eyes. Whatever. Prickwood’s nose is still splinted.

They get their syllabi and look over it as Mrs. Galloway explains the year long partner project. They're supposed to track the progression of a constellation over the course of the school year and make a presentation at the end of the year of what they tracked. And of course, because it's Mrs. Galloway’s class, she wants three written reports for the project, the first being a five-to-seven page partnered paper on their constellation’s history and the last two being individual reflective papers on the project that they'll turn in with their final presentation.

Kai sighs internally and considers dropping the class along with the other chattering seniors. He doesn't really want to do so much work in his last year, let alone have to partner with Bonnie. But Mrs. Galloway comes by with a cup of constellation names and a warm smile, and dammit she was Kai’s favorite science teacher. Physics with her had been bitchin’. Bonnie draws out their constellation and Mrs. Galloway writes down what they got.

Of course. They get Gemini.

💔🔫

A pretty little blonde thing opens the door when Klaus knocks. A frown mars her face.

“Who are you?” she questions, almost rudely. Niklaus is charmed.

Damon appears behind her, pulling a thin, black v-neck sweater over his damp hair. At least he seemed to be ditching his infernal jackets, Klaus muses as the younger vampire grips the girl's chin and makes her face him.

“Caroline, this is my friend, Klaus. Klaus, this is our host, Caroline. She was just about to invite you in,” he compels her.

“Please come in, Klaus,” Caroline says in that dreamy way compelled humans speak. Stepping inside, Klaus smiles at her and presses a kiss to the back of her hand.

“Please call me Nik,” he insists and gets taken in by her immediate flush. She'd be so lovely to paint. Damon rolls his eyes.

“The Bennett Matron said no, but she has a granddaughter on the cusp of an Awakening and a ward who also appears to be a witch. If she won't do it, I'm sure they can be persuaded,” Damon informs him, crossing his arms and leaning back against a wall. His eyes dart at Caroline, indicating to Klaus what he means by “persuaded”.

Klaus nods, then turns to Caroline, compelling her to forget anything she might hear them say and not to mention them to anyone at all. He tells her to occupy herself and she leaves them be.

Damon is staring at him.

“What?” Klaus asks.

“She'll probably die,” Damon states bluntly. “It's very likely I'll kill her at the end of all this.”

Klaus scowls at his friend. “I was just being friendly, since you seem to be your usual charming self.”

Damon shrugs. “She's a dead girl walking - what's the point in being pleasant? It's not like she'll remember.”

The Original is over the discussion and waves a hand, telling Damon to move on. The antebellum vampire reports everything, from his findings, to his confirmations, to his tentative plans, which they work through together. Klaus’ phone beeps and he answers without looking. Very few people have his number.

It's Elijah, informing him that Katherine has made contact about a Petrova doppelganger. The excitement in Damon’s face is immeasurable. Klaus soon ends the call and looks over his old friend and follower. He clasps his shoulder.

“Lay low and wait for my signal. Don't give away your presence,” he hands a stone beaded bracelet to Damon, who slips it in without question. “Let the witches think you left and wait for my signals. Soon, your hunt will be over.”

Damon nods, striking blue eyes practically glowing. He closes them off and sighs. “Just a few more weeks,” he mutters. “And it will all be over.”

Klaus heart breaks a little for Damon. But Damon Salvatore the man died over a century ago. In his place is little more than a vengeance seeking wraith. Death would better when it all ends.

💀🔫

It must be a year of bad luck, Bonnie muses. Maybe the town's chakras are misaligned. Maybe she should ask Grams and Kai, if they decide her worthy of any honesty.

She sighs, comforting Matt. She knows she's being harsh, but things are just so fucked up lately and she doesn't understand how two - maybe three, if her father knows - of the people she cared about more than anything else could lie to her face like that for so long. Maybe Kai, but it was unlike him. He preferred to hurt her with the truth than with lies. And he wasn't the type to use lies to protect anyone. He didn't care.

So that left her grandmother.

Bonnie almost wishes she didn't know shit. Ever since the night she learned about vampires, and witches, and werewolves (oh my!), shit in Mystic Falls had gotten so odd over the last few weeks and it seemed to center around her. First, Elena's parents. Then Tyler ends up hitting and killing a drunk and high Vicki Donovan when she wandered out of nowhere to end up in front of his speeding car. Matt is having a hard time looking at his best friend whom he both blames and doesn't blame for his sister’s death. Tyler's made himself scarce, wrestling with his grief and guilt in his own way.

On top of that Caroline has been acting weirder than usual, like all of this bad shit is just a pesky manicure that needs to be fixed and not, like, actual life and death.

And now, sitting in the police station holding a sobbing Matt, she overhears Sheriff Forbes talking to a distraught Jenna Sommers.

Elena’s been missing for 24 hours. No trace of her anywhere. Her phone, her car, and her keys left behind. Kidnapping is suspected.

Bonnie wants to rage. Apparently she has all this power, but she's never felt so helpless. Her people are falling apart and missing and lying to her and all she wants is to find a familiar place to feel safe. She thinks about calling Grams. Instead, she calls Kai.

💀🔫

Nervously, Katherine twists the napkin in her hand until it shreds. Her water, which she ordered for show, sweats for her in anticipation. She really can't stand Klaus. Waiting to bargain her freedom from him in a small booth isn't at all on her list of things she likes to do. But a small public diner is better than being alone with him.

A man slides into the booth seat opposite her.

“About time,” she mutters, looking up. Klaus smiles.

“I would apologize for keeping a lady waiting, but alas,” he indicates her. Katherine smiles tightly.

“Ha. Ha. I take it you found my information sufficient, then?”

“Indeed,” Klaus nods. “My people have apprehended the girl. Consider your debt to me paid.”

Debt, Katherine mentally scoffs. Choosing to live over letting herself be sacrificed for some stupid curse she had nothing to do with had put her in the Original’s debt. Only a Mikaelson.

“So if I leave, you won't pursue me? No revenge chase, no take backs, nothing? Our business is done?” the vampire doppelganger checks.

“Like I said, Miss Pierce - your score with me is settled.” His eyes flick over her shoulder. “With me, that is.”

A cool body flops down next to her. Katherine has time to take in black hair and clothes, pale skin, and flashing blue eyes before a butter knife is rammed through her wrist and into the table below. She cries out loudly, but no one turns.

A trap. Fuck, she should've known better.

“Hey, Kat,” Damon drawls. “Long time no see.” He slams her head into the table several times and the last thing Katherine sees before her world goes black is cold blue eyes shifting to a warm hazel. She almost calls his name, but then she remembers.

Stefan’s dead.

💔🔫

Bonnie can't stand her grandmother's foster son. Grams had gone out of her way to give Kai a nice birthday - taking them both to the amusement park in Whitmore, buying him a delicious mint chocolate chip ice cream cake - Kai's favorite, and gifting him with a plane ticket to Portland to visit family members who should've been taking care of him instead of Grams.

But he was ungrateful, and Bonnie can't stand him. He was turning unlucky thirteen, finally taller than her and about as sullen as can be.

His birthday is mid-April and it's warm as hell. Bonnie is sweltering in the eat, so she swallows down as much of the creamy Baskin Robbins cake as she can. Kai only picks at his. They're waiting for Kai’s case worker, and Bonnie has a mouthful ready to report about her “uncle's” living conditions. He's been extra snappish lately, escalating their usual bickering to all out brawls. He bruised her ribs, but she sprained his wrist - the same one he wore a cast on when he arrived almost five years ago. She'll lie through her teeth if it meant him finally being out of her life.

Kai's case worker finally arrives and she joins the for ice cream cake and pleasantries. She even brought a gift for Kai, a small collection of graphic novels that he must have told her he liked to read. Bonnie is itching for their interview. Anything, anything, if it meant he'll be gone and taking this uncomfortable feeling he elicits in her chest with him.

Her plan fails. His case worker is looking at her pityingly by the time Bonnie finishes her rant.

“Honey,” the case worker says softly. “He can't go home to Portland. His family want him as far away from his father as possible and the one they trust with him is your grandmother. He’s not going anywhere.”

Bonnie snaps. “But I hate him! He's weird and quiet and mean, and he creeps me out! Why can't one of his family members move here? Why does he have to take mine?”

The case worker softens. “Bonnie,” she soothes. “He's not taking away from your family, he's adding to it. Give him a chance, I'm sure you'll find that you enjoy his company more than you despise it.”

The Bennett girl is stubborn. She may have no choice but to accept Kai in her life, but she refuses to enjoy his presence. The next day she looks up abusive fathers in Portland in 1999. She finds a short newsclip about a man named Joshua Parker who killed his wife and two of his three children. None of the children's names are released so as not to reveal the survivor's identity, who was first in protective services, than the foster care system. The child's records were sealed.

Bonnie eases up on Kai. He's still a freak, but at least she has a better grasp on why. She'll let him stay. It's not like she has to like it.

💀🔫

Kai had picked her up from the station, drove Matt home, held her through her break down, then guided her to his room at Grams’ place. The older Bennett woman is out with the search party. The Sheriff had issued a curfew for everyone 17 and under to be home by 7 p.m., so Bonnie's sitting in Kai's room so that neither teen is alone.

He turns on his TV, leaves it on Chopped Jr, then goes downstairs to make dinner. Bonnie's hands shake. She feels cold, even bundled up in her warm PJ's under Kai's down comforter.

His room is cozy and masculine, shades of navy and light blues and soft greys and creams everywhere. Framed comic posters are lined up sharply on one wall, between two neat but overfilled bookshelves. His bed is in the corner opposite his nerd wall and his desk, the second largest furnishing in the room, is by the bed’s headboard, lined under his window. There's a clean desktop computer and game system set-up on it. The TV is on the dresser between his closet door and the entrance, which are both on the wall facing across the windowed wall. There's textured fabric everywhere, down comforters, knit pillows, microplush throws, a rough carpet rug on the wood flooring - it makes the room cozy.  She's never really been in here before. It was an unspoken rule between them that bedrooms were off limits. His room is kind of like a nautical watercolor, themed and clean. Bonnie smiles to herself as she realizes just how domestic Kai is.

Think of the devil - her foster uncle opens the door. He has two bowls of mac’n’cheese casserole and he hands her one before sitting at the desk and wolfing his own down. He says nothing, watching the TV as though having a red-eyed Bonnie Bennett in his room were a regular occurrence and not weird at all. Bonnie picks at her bowl - it's good, Kai's a pretty decent chef - before she sets it on the desk next to him.

Her adoptive uncle looks at her from his periphery. It's a creepy little habit he's adopted, watching her while pretending he's not watching her while she pretends to not notice. Bonnie's done with pretending.

“Kai-,” she starts.

“Not hungry?”  he interrupts. “I'll go wrap it for you.”

Bonnie purses her lips, but remains silent when he grabs their bowls and disappears again. She can hear downstairs, but then it's quiet. She lowers the volume on the TV and waits. Almost three minutes pass. Nothing from downstairs. Bonnie glowers.

Did he leave?

She gets up and throws open the door only to find Kai leaning against the frame. She starts, clutching her chest. Watches him peer up through his lashes at her.

Something in her belly flutters and her pulse speeds. Kai's hot. Distantly, she was always aware of this, but it's disconcerting to push away her feelings towards him - the vast majority of them negative - to acknowledge odd truths like that.

“You leaving?” he asks her. His voice is soft in the hush surrounding them. Bonnie shakes her head.

“I thought you left. I was going to look for you,” she answers just as quietly. Kai smiles sardonically. Holds up his clocked wrist.

“It's eight-thirty,” he replies. Right, she thinks. The curfew. Kai straightens up and walks into the room. Too close to her personal space and she steps back at an angle. He follows. Bonnie stops when her knees brush the bed. Kai stops when his chest brushes hers. He reaches out and Bonnie closes her eyes.

“I'll scream,” she whispers. Kai’s hands cup her face. They're warm and large and a port in the recent crazy. She's fes safe, with Kai of all people.

“As loud as you can,” he agrees. His thumbs rub at her erratic pulse. Bonnie's breaths come in ragged and a heavy, loud in the air.

“I'll hurt you,” she mutters, finally looking at him. His eyes are dark and focused. Whatever he sees on her face must encourage him because he brings them closer. His lips brush hers, teasing when he whispers back.

“I'll like it.”

💔🔫

Jason had buried his sister-in-law, his niece, and one nephew two days after he sent the other nephew to Virginia for safety. Kai's visiting for his thirteenth birthday and the Supreme had wanted to see the coven members he failed before picking up the one he won't from the airport.

Three pristine headstones look up at him, the two smaller ones with dates that break his heart. 1993-1999. 1991-1999.

Joey hadn't even made it to six yet, dying a few months short of that birthday. Josette barely made it to eight. And the boy who shared her birthday? Jason can only hope he has many birthdays to come.

Sheila's calls had alarmed him. Kai was acting up, skipping therapy, flushing his meds, contemplating suicide. He was fighting and being bullied, one of the perpetrators being Sheila's granddaughter no less, although Kai never ratted her out. Sheila intervened when she could, forced them to spend time together, but fixing that relationship was between the kids.

Kai had a particular fascination with death and death mythology lately. It might have been a phase of it might be serious suicidal ideation. Either way, Jason and Sheila split the cost of a roundtrip ticket for Kai, so that the Supreme could spend time with his favorite nephew.

Jason picks Kai up and they go shopping first, because none of the clothes Kai has really suits his personality. Then they hit up Voodoo Doughnut and a Trail Blazers game and Jason relaxes when he feels the gloom and doom in Kai’s aura lift.

“What about girls?” he asks when Kai finishes telling him about what he likes about Mystic Falls. His nephew’s face falls.

“Or boys!” Jason rushes to assure him. He didn't think Kai was gay, but it's better not to assume anything. “Or whomever you like! I don't care! I mean, I care, but you know in support, not because I think anything's wrong with you or-,” he's rambling, but it's okay. Kai's having an uproarious laugh at his expense.

“I like a girl,” Kai says, still chuckling. His face falls. “She doesn't like me though. Pretty sure she hates me, actually.”

Jason looks over Kai, feels out his aura. It clicks.

“Oh damn, kiddo,” he says. Kai grimaces. “Is that why you never try to get Bonnie in trouble?”

Kai frowns. “No, it's because I'm not a snitch.”

Jason stares. Kai shrugs. “At least when she hates me, I'm on her mind. And she's weirdly possessive about me. It's better than her not caring.”

That….that is fucked up. Love isn't supposed to be like that, let alone someone's first love. Jason says as much. Kai shrugs again.

“I have her,” he says. “It's better than being Tyler Lockwood, who does everything she says in hopes she'll finally do something about his boner only to be disappointed every time she doesn't even notice. I'm in her and she hates it, but I'm there. It's better than every other guy who likes her, but doesn't even ping on her radar. At least she sees me and thinks about me.”

Kai shoves another doughnut in his mouth and Jason sighs, letting the subject drop. It'll either change for the better or get worse until it dies. He just hopes it doesn't leave either child too scarred.

💀🔫

Bonnie's mouth is painful on his and their embrace goes from warm to hot, and she's wet under him, then wet surrounding him. He has to slow down, first for safety (That safe driving slogan, “better safe than sorry” plays in his head when he slides a condom on.), then for consideration, because he hadn't realized popular, beautiful Bonnie Bennett had made it to her junior year of high school without letting anyone have her like this. She clings to him and his kisses soften from bruising to comforting when her tears come. He’s not small, and he never wished he was, but maybe she wouldn't be in so much pain if he had been. He rubs her back and holds her and when she wraps her legs around his waist and encourages him, he feels like he's finally come home.

It's good. Not great, but Kai's nervous and Bonnie's never done it before. He makes sure she cums. Touches her and licks her until she screams, just like she told him she would. Just like he encouraged her to. When they finish, he discards the bloodied condom and offers to run her bath. She shakes her head and holds him instead. Kai traces shapes on her back and closes his eyes.

“What's going to happen?” she says into the dark.

“We'll be safe,” he replies. She shifts, sitting up. Naked flesh moves on naked flesh and Kai's cock stirs awake again.

“How do you know?” Her green eyes glow in the dark like a cat's and he strokes down her dark curls. The sight of her like this makes him ache. Kai’s hated and loved Bonnie in equal measure for most of his life. He has no idea if this is her using him for comfort or her finally giving in to their weird chemistry now that she fears she might lose the people she loves.

He almost doesn't want to know. He certainly doesn't want to think about it.

So he tells her about his coven in Portland instead.

💀🔫

When Elena comes to, she has no idea where she is or how she got there. The house is unfamiliar, but nicely furnished and clean, if not obviously abandoned. Her head throbs and she assumes that's the reason for absent memories. Slowly, the brunette sits up and looks around. She tells herself to stay calm even as horror stories about human sex trafficking and slave trades come to mind. Checking her limbs and body over, Elena is surprised to learn that she's relatively uninjured and unchained.

Another girl with dark hair is slumped over in the corner. She’s looks like a similar height and build to Elena, reinforcing the girl's thoughts of human trafficking. Even her hair shade is very close Elena's own chestnut locks, the only difference being that the girl’s is curly. Unlike Elena, she is chained up. Maybe she fought. If Elena can help her get out of her chains, maybe they can work together to get free.

Looking around, Elena quietly makes her way across the room to the other girl. She's a few feet away when a voice rings out.

“Ah, ah, ah! I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

Elena starts, whirling around. A tall, dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes is sitting on a chair Elena is one hundred and ten percent sure was empty, just seconds ago. He looks comfortable like, he's been there for a while.

He cocks a brow at her. “She bites,” he informs her nodding at the form behind her.

“Fuck you, Damon,” a woman's voice replies behind Elena.

It sends a shiver through her body. It's eerily similar to her own and Elena recalls the obvious similarities she noted earlier. She whirls around and is nearly floored.

The woman behind her...looks exactly like her. Doe-eyes meet doe-eyes, one set surprised and the other mocking. It's like looking at a mirror. Or an identical twin. Except Elena didn't have a twin.

The woman mirrors Elena’s dumbstruck face. “Oh, poor girl. Not only are you not as pretty as me, you're dumb and mute too.”

Elena shakes her head and steps back, looking between the two dark-haired strangers.

“What the hell is going on?” she demands. The face-stealer grimaces.

“Not so loud,” she rebukes. “And you're a human sacrifice. Welcome to the not so glamorous life of a Petrova doppelganger. My advice is to go vampire and not look back.”

“Because that worked out so well for you, right, Kitty Kat?” At he man speaks up and stands. He moves to where Elena is and grips her elbow. She tries to pull away, but he seems unmoved, merely tightening his grip and staring at her unnervingly. His grip becomes blistering painful and Elena cries out, falling to her knees as she tries to get away. She hears the chains rattle behind her.

“She's not me, asshole. I'm right here. If you want your revenge so bad, meet your maker like a man and stop picking on little girls.”

Damon lets Elena go, turning his icy gaze to her... doppelganger?

“Hush, Kitty Kat. No need to act like a jealous old crone,” he sneers. Katherine smirks.

“No need to act like a jilted lover. So what Stefan chose me over you? Your brother was a man grown, not your child or your wife. You already had one of each, but apparently they didn't occupy you like they should've.”

Damon's face grows hard, dark veins filtering onto his face. The chains rattle again as Kat stands.

“You should act like your doppelganger, Katherine, and keep your mouth shut.” He smiles and it's not friendly. “You'll both be dead soon anyway.”

With that, there's a rush of air, and he's gone. The doppelgangers stare at each other. Katherine tugs at the chains but they merely creak in protest. Steam rises from where they press her skin and the woman hisses.

“I don't suppose you can grab me stiff drink, can you?” she asks Elena. Elena just stares and with a shrug, looks for a kitchen.

💀🔫

“Oh my god, I'm a South Park Canadian,” Bonnie says, pulling her sweatshirt back on.

“What?” Kai questions, amused. Bonnie shrugs.

“I'm an uncle fucker,” Bonnie smirks at him. Kai lets out a shocked chuckle.

“What?! I'm not your uncle,” he laughs. He's beautiful, but she is stupidly, stupidly disgusted with herself. Why, she's not sure yet. She strokes his hair and kisses his cheek.

“I don't know...my grandmother adopted you. For all intents and purposes, you're my mom’s white little brother.”

Kai laughs again, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her between his legs where he's sitting on the edge of his bed. He smiles up at her.

“I'm fostered, not adopted,” he corrects. “Therefore, not your white uncle or anything. No incest here, Bonster.”

She starts at the nickname. He used to call her that when he would catch her crying over her dad choosing to work on holidays than spend time with her. He rarely calls her that, and it's always said in soft tones of comfort, never used in moments when she's dead certain he probably wants to kill her.

“Well damn,” she teases. “There goes that forbidden factor.” Kai laughs again, then pulls her back on the bed, spinning so that he's on top of her. His hands nestle beneath her shirt, playing with her belly button.

He kisses up the column of her neck. “Still very forbidden, lover.” He nibbled at her ear. “Sheila would probably kill me for defiling you.”

Bonnie snorts, but it's like Kai's words were a summoning. The front door slams open and Grams is shouting her name. Both Bonnie's and Kai's eyes widen comically and Kai practically launches himself into his desk chair and grapples for the remote to turn the TV on. They both hear Grams start up the stairs and Bonnie wraps herself up in one of Kai’s many blankets and pretends to be immersed in Tony Stark’s misadventures.

Kai's door bangs open and both teens sit up with a jump, not even faking their startle. Sheila’s hands go to her hips.

“You two deaf?” she demands. “And since when are you hanging out in each other's rooms? With the door closed?”

Kai stares at her, convincingly innocent. If Bonnie didn't know better, she'd believe his next words. “We're just watching a movie. Waiting to hear news.”

Sheila snorts. “Mhmmm. And I'm Barbra Streisand. Both of you get your tails downstairs. There's much to discuss.”

Grams turns sharply down the hall and Bonnie and Kai glance at each other before following.

In the kitchen, Grams is heating herself up some of Kai's casserole. Her back is tense and Bonnie can see the weariness that lines her body. A bad feeling settles in the girl's bowels.

“Grams?” She ventures. “What's going on?”

Sheila sighs and turns around. “You eat already?” she asks them. Kai nods and Bonnie shrugs, and Grams nods like this was about what she expected.

“Sit down,” she commands. When they're seated, she crosses her arm and states matter-of-factly. “We've found that along with Elena, Tyler Lockwood and Caroline Forbes are also missing. Since all of the appear to be friends, at first it's suspected they've run away together. But there was blood found in Tyler's house that matched his DNA, indicating a struggle. Caroline went missing on her way home from the mall in Talon Falls. Her car was found in the parking lot.”

She keeps talking, but her voice is drowned out by a loud ringing in her ears. Her breaths come in gasps. Her friends are missing. Her friends are missing. Her friends are missing. The room is too light, then too dark and Bonnie feels clammy and cold. She grips the table in front of her. A sharp slap to her face snaps her out of it.

Bonnie rubs her cheek as Grams lowers her hand.

“You okay, sugar pie? I wasn't trying to alarm you but I needed you to know the truth. Have you noticed anything strange going on lately?” Grams asks her.

Bonnie shakes her head. “No,” she states, her voice cracking. Her face crumples into tears.

This is too much. First, the uncovering of the supernatural, now her friends dying or disappearing left and right. She's never felt so powerless. The afterglow from her time with Kai fades. The self-disgust from earlier settles. She was letting Kai fuck her while her friends were going missing. How could she be so selfish like that, seeking out happiness from a guy she didn't even know how she felt about when her friends’ futures became uncertain? Her distress overwhelms her and she feels hot, like fire was boiling in her veins.

Strong arms wrap around her. “You need to calm down, Bonnie,” Kai's voice rumbles by her ear. “It's not your fault, okay? I understand, but you need to calm down before you burn the house down.”

His words don't make sense, but when Bonnie looks up with teary eyes, she sees her grandmother frantically waving her arms over flames that keep popping up.

“Hold it together, Bonnie!” she calls out.

Kai grabs her face and soothes down her hair. “I'm going to have to siphon you if you don't calm down, Bonster. Deep breaths okay? Don't let your emotions overwhelm you.”

Listening to his words, Bonnie let's herself be calmed. The flames die down. The young witch looks around the charred kitchen.

“I did that?” she whispers. Kai smiles softly and nods.

“Happy Awakening, Bonnie. Let's figure out how to save your friends.”

💀🔫

Greta arranges the casting circle in the field and spells the occupants asleep. Damon dumps Katherine - the vampire, the Lockwood boy - the werewolf, and Elena - the doppelganger in the cages where Greta indicates they should go.

“Bennett blood needs to be spilled from the eastern end, where the comet will enter the Gemini constellation,” she informs Damon. When he looks at her blankly, she sighs and a flaming ‘X’ chars the ground several feet from them.

“Over there,” she tells him. Damon grins and salutes, then takes a moment to look around. The three main ingredients for the “sun and moon curse”, all trussed up and ready to die. How beautiful.

He can hear Caroline crying as Klaus gently guides her back to the field. Damon frowns at that. It's weird, Klaus’s sudden fixation with baby Barbie, but to each his own. Damon doesn't know and doesn't want to know what the hell is up with that.

Movement catches his eye and Damon turns to look. The human doppelganger is stirring. She's been eerily calm about this whole ordeal, taking to the supernatural like a duck to water. It’s nothing at all like Katherine, reminding Damon of his brother's calm disposition and his widowed wife's faithful practicality. Her dark eyes meet his light ones. Warm earth to winter sky.

They study each other in silence, before she breaks it.

“Do you think this will make you happy?” Elena inquires. Damon shrugs.

“It doesn't have to. It just has to be over. I get revenge on Katherine by handing her over to die in away she never wanted to. Klaus gets to break his curse. Klaus compels me to forget and I get to rest.”

“To die.”

“Indeed,” Damon shrugs. “I wanted revenge and now it's here. What more after that? I never wanted to be a vampire.”

Elena’s somber face twists him with guilt and he glares at her.

“Maybe you should learn to live again,” she said. “Save yourself like you saved me that night on Wickery Bridge.”

Damon huffs a laugh. “You know I caused that accident, right? I didn't save you out of guilt or some hero complex. I did it because letting you die then would be an inconvenience.”

Elena's conviction seems to falter, but then Damon watches her literally arm herself with determination.

“You're not a bad person,” she insists. “And you can't convince me otherwise. I know what it looks like when grief kills who you are inside. To feel like the walking dead.”

Damon turns his back to her and closes his, but he's a vampire. He has super hearing.

“And I know that grief can be overcome. Maybe not now or tomorrow, but someday, you'll feel alive again and you can only do that if you keep trying.”

Damon opens his eyes. “What do you know?” he jeers lightly. “You're dying young.”

💀🔫

Shortly after her meltdown, Bonnie's phone rings and she hears Caroline's desperate voice pleading in her ear.

“Don't come Bonnie okay, they have Tyler and Elena and they want you to do something weird, please Bonnie don't come, they're gonna kill us, just call my mom.”

The phone gets taken away but she hears Caroline scream something about the woods and Bonnie writes that down for Grams to see. Kai grabs her hand when another voice, make and British, fills her ear.

“Nonsense, love. Caroline will live so long as you're willing to play your part, miss Bennett. All you need to do is prick your finger and recite some Latin. Very easy.”

“Who is this?” Bonnie asks. “You don't sound like that other guy.”

The man chuckles. “My apologies, darling. My name is Niklaus Mikaelson. That other guy was my associate Damon. He can be a little hard to like, I will admit. But he was only acting on my behalf. I need a Bennett witch for a favor, and I promise you handsome compensation.”

“Like my friends back home safe?”

“As many as possible, darling,” he replies. “But none at all if you or grandmother refuse compliance.”

Kai gets up and grabs his phone. He's texting someone furiously, listening as closely as he can to their conversation. He nods at Bonnie, backed by her Grams’ nod. Bonnie takes a breath.

“Okay,” she tells him. “I'll be there. You're in the woods?”

Klaus hums his agreement. “In a lovely little meadow near the falls. I'm sure you're aware.”

At Bonnie's quiet “yeah” he continues. “And I'm sure there's no need to tell you what will happen to any interlopers you bring along.”

He ends the call and Bonnie looks between the more experienced witches in her family.

“Who’s Niklaus Mikaelson?” she asks them.

Grams is eyeing the liquor cabinet. “Bad news,” she replies. “A very old vampire, one of the first.”

“An Original,” Kai said. He sounds excited. “I texted my uncle and asked him what an Original would need a doppelganger and a Bennett witch. He wants to break the hybrid curse!”

Both women look at him, unable to comprehend his excitement, or in Bonnie's case, what the hell he was even talking about. He smiles.

“It's enough for a powerful coven to run intervention. Like say, the Gemini Coven.”

“Let my coven stop the beasts. We're going to save your friends.”

💀🔫

The Original looks up when the Bennett girl and her grandmother step into the clearing. Damon comes to stand beside him and looks over the women.

“No Prince Charming tonight?” he presses.

“Your friend said no interlopers,” the younger one speaks up, glaring at Damon. He glares back.

“And you didn't even consider being non-compliant? Not to save your best friends?” The raven-haired vampire demands. This time the older Bennett woman smiles.

“Have you considered that we don't need them?”

Damon’s hackles, which had been raised all night, appear to settle.

“Touché,” he concedes and steps back.

Niklaus smirks at the exchange, amused. He nods to the Bennett witches.

“Ladies,” he greets. “This way if you will.”

Bonnie glares at him, but follows to where he leads them. It is Sheila who takes the spellbook from him, reading over the incantation. She looks at him sharply.

“You do know what you're asking, don't you?” she queries.

“Of course,” Klaus replies. “And I understand the risk you're undertaking. I promise to reward you well.”

Sheila scoffs, shaking her head but she turns to Bonnie and guides her through the beginnings of the incantation. Klaus watches them, puzzled, but goes to take his place where Damon is holding the human doppelganger.

“This is too easy,” Damon voices his thoughts. Klaus nods, agreeing. But magic is heavy in the air and it's affecting him like it should, do he decides to accept this lucky streak for the time being.

“We will watch,” he tells Damon. “And should they betray us, we will extract the price in their blood.”

Damon nods, still appearing tense and Elena stares after him pleadingly as he passes her along to Klaus.

“Please, don't do this,” she pleads, but Damon is stone tonight. His attention is focused on the older doppelganger.

He's barely focused on the younger one when he replies, “I have to.”

Klaus grins down reassuringly to Elena. “It's just a little bite, Elena. You’ll barely feel it.”

The magic is rough inside his body. The Bennett's reach the first crescendo and there's a cry from where Damon rips out Katherine’s heart. There had been a brief exchange between them, but Klaus was too preoccupied to take notice of the context.

The next crescendo comes and Greta raises her knife to sacrifice the world not. As it descends, Klaus's eyes close and he leans forward fangs extended for the last influx of magic. He can feel the chains on his inner beast being shredded and the world narrows to Elena's neck and the magic filtering his blood. The final crescendo hits and he bites into the doppelganger, who tries to flinch away.

But his body is breaking apart and coming back together all at once, so he doesn't notice Damon’s warning cry. Not until an ash-covered dagger is jammed in his back. Damon is rushing towards him, but as Klaus falls, he sees the other vampire fall to his knees, a magic whip putting bloody stripes down his back.

Klaus looks up to see Caroline, eyes teary as she grips Elena and pulls her away from him. Clutching her bloody neck, the brunette stumbles after her tall friend to the edge of the clearing. The desiccation takes hold and the last thing Klaus sees is a coven of witches apparating into the clear, glowing green Gemini mark overtaking the clearing.

No Prince Charming tonight? Damon had asked.

Therein lies their answer.

💔🔫

Joshua stares up at his little brother’s projection, the little crown stealer. The Supreme fiddles with his belt then sighs, stepping back to reveal the Ascendant. Hate surges through Joshua Parker

“This is Kai’s,” Jason informs him. “I modified the spell. Your little abomination will hold your life in his hands. This Ascendent will tie you to him, and when he chooses, your life will be sacrificed to fulfill whatever function he sees fit and not one moment sooner. This is your punishment.”

Jason’s projection begins to fade.

“Blessed be, big brother.”

💀🔫

Two weeks later:

Elena watches the weird new dynamic between Bonnie and Kai, before the witch (and that's weird as well, to think of her best friend in those terms) breaks away from his embrace to come sit with them. Caroline is still withdrawn. Her memories from her own kidnapping had returned slowly over the past two weeks. At first Damon had merely used her as a means of food and shelter, virtually ignoring her until he needed a human touch. With Klaus, her treatment had been upgraded, but it meant posing for hours on end for paintings. In their private moments, Caroline had said she can't really explain why the interactions with the Original left her so shaken, only that his attention both frightened and aroused her.

Oddly enough, both Elena and Bonnie could relate.

That night, Kai had murdered the witch working for Klaus and sacrificed his father to protect the Bennett's from the blowback of the spell. Elena didn't exactly understand it all, but she knows it meant a lot to Bonnie. Some tide had shifted between Elena's friend and her grandmother’s ward.

They have lunch. Elena's neck is still healing, but it no longer hurts to swallow or talk, which means she's ready for that spicy avocado ranch chicken wrap from the Grill. Which she's having now, because oh god, yeah. Caroline picks at her food, but she eats more than she has been. She's taking the supernatural reveal hardest, wanting nothing more than to go back to her normal life. But she can't forget and it's left her shaken to know how easily creatures that go bump in the night were willing and able to throw away her life.

She ends up leaving first, being picked up by her mom. Bonnie follows soon after, some kind of magical training she and Kai have to do now that Bonnie's magic is awakened. Elena waves after them, intending to enjoy a second wrap without judgement. It arrives quickly and as Elena takes the first huge bite she looks up to see blue eyes watching her with mild disgust.

She has to laugh at his expression.

“You came,” she greets. Damon nods, sitting opposite her.

“I did,” he said. “You don't think your little friends might see this as a betrayal? I'm pretty sure Blondie would be willing stab me like she did my oldest friend.”

Elena smiles. “Of course she would. You made her feel unsafe.”

Damon leans forward, bracing his cheek on his hand. He's almost devastatingly handsome.

“I'm not sorry,” he declares. Challenges. Elena meets it.

“Neither are we.” She takes a bite of her wrap. “How's living treating you?”

It doesn't sound right through her mouthful of chicken, but Damon seems to understand, making another face at her manners. He huffs and rolls his eyes.

“You shouldn't have interfered,” he chides. “You should have let the witches kill me.”

“What kind of punishment is that?” Elena teases. “Death isn't redeeming. You can't make things right with anyone from the grave.” She takes another bite. Damon watches her.

“I spent a century waiting to kill a woman who looked just like you,” he informs her. “When she died, she thanked me for giving back her heart right before I ripped it out of her chest.”

Elena stares at him and swallows her food. A lump stays in her throat. “Are you going to kill me too?”

He smiles. “Now, now. What kind of punishment is that?” He leans back.

“I think I'll stick around. Hang out with x-greats-grandson Zach. Uncle Zach?” he muses. “He looks older than me: I was only 25 when I turned. Uncle Zach.”

Elena smiles. “Well in that case: Welcome to Mystic Falls, Mr. Salvatore.” She holds out her hand. “I'm Elena.”

“Damon,” he replies after a brief hesitation, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

They share a smile. Neither really notices when he doesn't let her hand go.

💀🔫

Kai wakes with start when someone small and cold slips into his bed. He grumbles, but shifts so that Bonnie can make herself comfortable.

“Shut up, freak,” she mumbles and pulls his arm around her. Kai presses a kiss to her head. She's quiet, stilling long enough for Kai to start to drift off.

“Do you regret it?” she asks. Kai grunts, not opening his eyes.

“Killing your dad? Killing that witch?”

Kai shakes his head, burying his nose in her hair.

“Them or you, Bonnie. I pick you any day.”

“Even though I was awful to you for so long? Even though you hated me?”

Kai sighs. “I never really hated you. Hush before Sheila pops in to yell at us.”

She back-elbows him gently. “I mean it.”

“Me too,” he grunts. “It doesn't matter, Bonnie. I'd still pick you, any day. Over anyone. Even Grams. Even my uncle.”

Bonnie's quiet. “Why?” she chokes. He pulls her closer.

“You know why.”

With a sigh, she settles to sleep. “I never really hated you either,” she whispers. Kai hums, relaxing.

After a moment Bonnie sits up straight, wide-eyed and distraught.

“Oh shit,” she wheezes, scrambling out if the bed. Kai sits up slowly, somewhat cranky now.

“What now?” he croaks. Bonnie glares at him, then snaps:

“Our first constellation report is due in astronomy tomorrow!”

💀🔫

A/N for shayspencer: Hello shayspencer! I'm donutworry (fuckitimfangirling on Tumblr), your Secret Santa. Feel free to call me Allie. I hope you enjoyed your fic, it was pretty fun to write. It was a little tough to write, bc I think I tackled each of your topics at least once in other works and I didn't want to produce anything too repetitive. I'm also sorry for any typos, this is unbeta’ed and was written during bouts of free time - I work in healthcare and holiday season is the busiest. When I wrote it, I kind of focused on how Bonnie was the one to pursue the bad blood between them and Kai being the one to always offer the olive branch, even if it was after he hit back. I know the high school AU aspect was pretty loose, but I wanted to focus more on how their lives are supposed to revolve around school and how the supernatural disrupted that. Hopefully, I managed to do so.  Hopefully, the Delena was enjoyable. I did my very best, even though I'm neutral towards most non-Bonnie TVD ships. I know KC and SK where probs not what you wanted, but I think it's important to show how push-pull ships like this don't always work out. I did get pretty into Steferine because of you though, lol. It seemed you would be okay with darker stuff, so I went pretty emo because I wanted to bring you the feels. Did it work? If my sadism here wasn't enough, I've got two other WIPs inspired by your prompts to bring the pain. 😝 Happy holidays, enjoy any breaks you might have and any holiday pay you might make! Happy BK Secret Santa! I'll post this on FFN, Tumblr, and AO3 in 2018 after you've had a chance to enjoy for yourself.

[kaedekisaragi]

Kaede Kisaragi Watches The Flash S3E21 - Cause and Effect

Flash of Two Lives

Barry says Savitar is a time remnant of himself. Savitar exposits how, last year, to defeat Zoom, Barry sacrificed a time remnant to save the multiverse, while he went on with his merry life. But when Barry made Flashpoint, it changed everything. Future Barry created several remnants to stop Savitar, all remnants got killed... Except Savitar himself. And then, a funny thing happened: everyone, including Barry himself, shunned the remnant for not being the real barry allen. Just an Aberration. Future Barry didn't tell this to Barry. Savitar was broken, wanted the pain to end... And Gods feel no pain, so he had to become a God. All he has to do is kill Iris so Barry is forced into darkness and permits Savitar's birth... But the second thing he needs, he's gonna keep secret (I know, shocker, Barry Allen keeping secrets). BARRY ASKS WHAT HAPPENS IF HE SUICIDES, VIBRATING HIS HAND! Savitar reminds him how cause and effect (HA! HE SAID IT!) didn't work so good for Eddie. The more one time travels, the less its rules apply to you. Savitar says it will be Barry who is forgotten.

Then Barry uppercuts him and prepares to kill Savitar himself.

Then Savitar's armor smacks Barry away, being a cooler suit than his. The two face off, in their respective suits, using speed lightning, causing a massive explosion. Savitar escapes.

The team reacts shocked to the reveal. Cisco takes in all the info and manages to understand it, despite being appalled that HR didn't have Star Trek TOS but Voyager in his Earth. He rushes to the glass pane and proceeds to do a classic expository explanation:

-4 years from now, future Flash creates Time Remnant to fight Savitar. -Savitar lets that one live so IT can become Savitar. -Savitar is imprisoned in the Speed Force. -Remnant goes crazy, travels in time to the past, becomes Savitar. -Remnant creates the lie that he was the first speedster, spreading the myth and gathering acolytes.

This doesn't explain who came first, Remnant or Savitar. Because it is a closed loop. No beginning, no end. Predestination Paradox. Savitar exists because he's fated to exist by creating his own existence despite never originally having existed. Wally points out that a Remnant of Barry shouldn't want to kill Iris, but Barry has no answer to that.

Iris and Barry talk about Savitar. Finding out the monster isn't a monster isn't fun. Part of him was still Barry. The pain inside Savitar, Barry felt it when his parents died, how he wished he could be violent as they were to his parents. He knows he can be as evil as Savitar. Because he too lost someone. Iris reassures him he'll beat Savitar, reminding Barry that Savitar (and Barry) is not a god. Barry reflects that being a god is possible, when bad outweighs the good. It's not about being possible to do it, but about whether they should do it. What will he need to be to stop Savitar?

Cisco runs in with an awesome/worst idea. He wants to stop Barry from being able to remember what they're doing now by messing with his brain. To stop him from retaining new info, so Savitar can't learn what they're doing... Why do I feel this is why future Barry doesn't know who Savitar is? Barry agrees to it.

AND THEN THEY PROCEED TO GIVE BARRY AMNESIA! DAMN IT CISCO! THIS IS WHY CAITLIN WAS THE BRAIN SURGEON!

Amnesiac Barry is a bit hillarious, finding his official name (Bartholomew Henry Allen) kinda bad, and wondering if his name shouldn't be Bart (next season, man, next season) and being completely and realistically hysterical that they might be trying to steal his kidneys. Iris shows him photos of them. He doesn't even remember he is engaged to Iris. AND THEY ALSO MADE HIM FORGET HE HAS SUPERSPEED! And then Cecile calls, needing Barry at CCPD. AND WHY THE FUCK DID IRIS TELL JULIAN TO STAY?!? JULIAN WAS A FORENSIC GUY, HE SHOULD BE THERE IN BARRY'S PLACE!!!

HR, back to flirting with Tracy, sees she's having problems making the Speed Force Bazooka (awesome name) work. He tells her to stop being so obsessed with what's not working, and to step back to try and figure it out from a broader point of view. AND OMG, THESE TWO DORKS ARE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER, THEY ARE BOTH OBSESSED WITH COFFEE! AND THEY ALMOST GO FOR IT, BUT THEY BOTH STEP BACK LMAO

So, the emergency on CCPD: Lucius Coolidge, the Heat Monger, worst arsonist since Mick Rory went AWOL. And since his hearing is today, Barry needs to testify since he was the CSI on the case, to hold Coolidge for trial. BRUTAL DAMN LIFE WON'T LET YOU GET AWAY WITH A LITTLE AMNESIA! Cecile is livid that they did this NOW of all times, and tells them to hurry up, or else Heat Monger will be walking free. Barry can only cutely apologize, despite not having a clue why he feels this is his fault. And he warmly asks whether they've been busy planning the wedding, to Iris' utter heartbreak on realizing all the things they have not done.

Elsewhere, Savitar listens to Frost rambling about her problems with their plan... Only to choke her and ask her who is he... Ooooookay, interesting side effect. At least it worked?

Barry was in the anime club, he loved Dragon Ball Z. Badass. He and Iris are at Jitters and he's looking himself over on his mobile. The two laugh about how horribly nerdy he used to look and how clearly Iris never tried to help hard enough XD Iris is feeling amazed at how... light Barry is now. No worries. No burdens. No brooding. He's happy. And why wouldn't he be... He'll be with her forever, right? Iris is not amazed now. Barry leaves for the courthouse... WHY?!? HE STILL HAS NO MEMORY!!!

At the courthouse... Barry is  called to testify, but Cisco gives him glasses to wear... Why? Also, quirky music. This will be good. They are TYPING HIS ANSWERS ON THE GLASSES. GOOGLE GLASS. AND JULIAN IS MAKING HIM SAY SHIT. AND USING SMILIES. THIS IS A MASSIVE HILLARIOUS DISASTER OF A TRAINWRECK.

The testimony, despite stumbles, seems okay... But Barry is heating up something fierce. And it burns up so much he fizzles out the google glass. I can't even look. The case is dismissed. Heat Monger is walking free.

AND THEN FROST SHOWS UP ON THE LAB. AND WALLY LOST HIS SPEED! AND SHE DEMANDS THEM DO EVERYTHING SHE SAYS.

...fuck me... Of course. They made Barry forget everything. This means Savitar never remembered his plans. Which means he also didn't make Wally into a speedster. Cause and Effect. Time rules affect speedsters in all stupid ways.

Iris is glad at least Barry has the same 'wanna help' attitude without memories. He cannot see it in himself as being able to afford their big apartment or that he did the decorating. Also, he doesn't remember his parents :( Iris lies to him, saying they died peacefully. She comments how when they first met, he was the happiest boy ever. He says it might be because she entered his life, and they kiss. The kiss triggers his superspeed, and terrifies him.

Barry is psyched, actually, about having powers. At the lab, they find Frost, and Barry is dismissed (not before asking gleefully about Frost being a super villain). Frost tells them if she helps them fix Barry, all goes back to normal... But Iris says they could just re-teach barry everything. Frost claims this might be good... But currently, there's lots of villains and no flashes. Is it worth the risk?

HR and Tracy continue trying to fight their lustful desire for each other. They lose. Hard. They kiss. The kiss somehow makes her have an epiphany for her project.

Frost tries to act all serious and focused on her task, and Cisco casually talks about the past with Julian, clearly trying to make Caitlin return by talking on how they were three musketeers with Ronnie under Wells. He even casually namedrops Hartley (and how Julian was Hartley 2.0). And Frost remembers their funny stories about Ronnie. It gives her pause. She is clearly reluctant.

Joe and Iris bask on happy Barry running for funsies. Joe realizes he hasn't seen him this happy in ages... Or ever. The burdens of his past always weighing him down. He realizes Iris doesn't want him to remember everything. Joe reminds her that, without 28 years of experiences (OMG I HAVE BARRY'S AGE!), he isn't the same man she fell in love with. She can't help but wonder if maybe the city doesn't need the Flash...

Then Heat Monger uses a flamethrower. Damn it. Barry, even without any idea how to use his powers, puts on the suit and goes, for he needs to help. But he can barely even stop himself, how can he even rescue a whole building full of people? Frost wants them to use their plan: electroshocking his brain from the suit's sensors. Cisco activates the device, shocking Barry hard. It doesn't work. They need to kickstart his brain with a visceral memory... Iris knows what to do. She tells him how his mom was murdered. How he came to her house and was just shocked, not crying. And then she woke late at night and found him sitting and crying alone. And she sat there, letting him cry in her lap. That was the night they fell in love, realized how much they needed each other. She wanted to take it away, but she can't. And for every bad memory, he has a good memory to get him through the suffering...

Barry remembers everything. Savitar too.

Flash and Kid Flash put out the fire together. Heat Monger is caught. At the labs, Barry remembers all the nerdy tidbits, and also that he named his class hamster Alexander Ham Bell. Frost tries to leave, but the team try to persuade her to stay. Julian swears he'll try harder, no matter what, to fix her. AND HE SAYS THE L-WORD. But Frost says she never loved any of them. But as she leaves in the elevator, her eyes fizzle out briefly. She's fighting.

Barry wonders if Iris really wants him with his baggage. Barry comments how he had the chance to be free when he made Flashpoint. But he needs the pain to not forget who he really is. Iris is glad her Barry is back. They kiss. HR walks in. Tracy finished the Bazooka... But she needs 3.86 Terajoules of energy.

3.86 TERAJOULES?!? THAT'S MORE THAN THE SUN!!! WHERE ARE THEY EVEN GONNA FIND THAT?!?

Elsewhere. Red glowy rock. Big room... King Shark.

This episode was a classic character study. What is Barry Allen? Who is he as a person? Would you recognize him if I pulled his dark suffering away? Would you like him if he wasn't an experienced superhero? Would he be the same person? Well, the episode proved that, despite the excess suffering on future Barry or the lack of suffering of amnesia Barry, Barry Allen will always be a person who helps. That is what makes him a hero, not his powers, not his suffering. This was Iris' Flashpoint, the idea of letting him remain amnesiac was her last temptation. But like Joe, she too had to embrace the fact this is their 'normal', and she wouldn't have loved Barry better if he was a different person than the one she fell in love with. If anything, this episode gave Barry some good weightless fun to chill out before the big confrontation with Savitar. Likewise, Caitlin's showing more and more signs to still be inside of Killer Frost, and the chances are high she will keep on fighting harder from now on after Cisco's stellar work using their good times to remind her why they were friends.

Two episodes left!

[hottytoddynews]

Enjoy our “Reflections” post — one of many vignettes and stories featuring memories of days gone by. This installment is from J.W. “Jay” Mitchell of Coldwater, Mississippi, as seen in “The Oxford So & So.”

If you would like to contribute your own Reflections story, send it, along with photos, to hottytoddynews@gmail.com.

Jay Mitchell and his wife

Square: “A rectangle of equal sides.” No, I’m not talking about “A” Square. I’m talking about THE Square.: The Oxford, Mississippi square. City and town squares are found all over the world. For centuries it was the basic layout of many new communities. Some people think that the Italians made it popular but Southerners know that the American Indians gave us the idea. As usual I’m getting off the point.

The entire world now knows that Faulkner’s town of Jefferson, Yoknapatawpha’s county seat, is actually Oxford, county seat of Lafayette. Oxford is known as one of the top cities in America for retirees and a great place to live. Actually, it is not a city; it is still a small town. Yes – but very unique in many ways. I grew up there and I hope that I don’t sound cynical. I don’t mean to, in many ways just growing up there is the best thing that ever happened to me. So if I say something that does sounds like criticism just stay with me for a while.

When my family moved to Oxford back in 1945 the population was about 2,000. The University of Mississippi (Ole Miss) joins the city limits and has grown, over the years, at the same proportion as the town. I never understood this.

MOVING FROM THE DELTA AND OBSERVING THE SQUARE:

We moved from Crowder in the Mississippi Delta and I had never seen a building that was more than a single story! The Lafayette County Courthouse was the biggest edifice that I had ever seen. It sat in the very center of the town square and was surrounded on all four sides by two-story buildings. To a young country kid, it was like the redneck that went to the big city and almost broke his neck, looking up at the tall buildings.

The Federal Building and Post Office were just as big. On the east side of the Square, just behind the front row of two-story buildings was two cotton gins – Brown’s Gin and Avent’s Gin. In the fall of the year when they were ginning, the cotton lint made the square look like it was snowing.

The right of way on all roads leading to the Square in the fall of the year was covered with cotton that had blown off the trucks and wagons. I used to wonder if you could get rich just picking up all of this lost cotton.

The Square in Oxford had everything that a person could ever want to buy, and a choice of at least two stores of each kind to pick from, and four different drug-stores, really. New’s Drug Store was like a veterinarian clinic as well as a drug-store. We had two banks, three hardware stores, grocery, clothing, furniture, appliances, school supplies, bakery, restaurants, hotels, jewelry, barbershops, cleaners, and best of all: Morgan and Lindsey’s 10-Cent Store. I know that this doesn’t sound much different from other Southern towns at this time but this is through the eyes of a kid that had never been to town!

The Square had, and still has, six streets entering. Anything that wasn’t on the Square was only one block away. Entering from the North was the First National Bank, Colonial Hotel, Huggins Grocery, two car dealerships, a feed store and a dairy. Across the street was a flower shop, Dr. Bramlett’s clinic, the County Jail, a roofing company and a barbershop. (More about all of these later.)

Down the South was more of the same, except the jail.

Down one street to the West was our weekly (now a daily) newspaper, Oxford Eagle, with Editor “Moon” Mullins. They had the two best reporters of all time: Jesse Phillips and Nina Goolsby. Also on the street were two movie houses, plus two fine clothing stores, pool hall, a taxi stand and the bus station.

Churches weren’t on the Square but there were several only a block away. On another street coming from the West was our elementary school, a photography shop, our finest restaurant, the Henry Hotel, Phil Stone’s law offices, shoe shop and at the end, our fire station.

On the Square, all of these businesses were on the ground floor. Above, was a dance studio, the Masonic Lodge and VFW Hall and law offices. Oxford had more lawyers back then than any place on earth, and still does.

NOT LIKE “JUST ANY OTHER TOWN SQUARE:”

This may sound to you like any other small town. WRONG! Oxford was special. Some very special people came to the Square. You might run into some great world academics and statesmen. (Maybe William Faulkner, Stark Young and later Willie Morris or John Grisham.) At an earlier time you might have seen General Grant burning our precious Square, and in 1962 the Yankee troops returned – to enroll James Meredith at Ole Miss.

When I was growing up in the 1950s (and later) you might have seen some of America’s great All-American football players, like Charley Connelly, Archie and Eli Manning or Jake Gibbs. Or future major league baseball star Donnie Kessinger. I saw movies made on the Square, like “Intruder In The Dust” and “Home From The Hills”. Movie stars mixing with us home folks! The center of it all was the Square.

On the South side of the Square is the great Confederate Statue, where in 1960, I ran with a box of cigars, that I couldn’t afford, looking for a few friends to help celebrate my first born. To my chagrin, I saw Art Doty, a running back on the Ole Miss football team and a good friend, sitting there on the base of the Confederate Statue. In my excitement I offered Art a celebratory cigar, not noticing that there were about a dozen more foot players. Hell, they were not allowed to smoke, but they took all of my cigars. I know that doesn’t sound like much but that box of cigars, back then, was about a day’s pay.

There is something special about growing up around special people. It makes you feel special.

I don’t know why I have such a good memory, but I do. It was verified at our Fiftieth University High School Reunion (class of 1959). Not only did my classmates look older than me but they were so old they couldn’t remember anything about our childhood. The only thing that I can figure is that they were all busy studying, while I was making memories.

The Oxford Square would just be four equal sides if not for the Courthouse. It is majestic and makes it all special. It had the longest staircase, with banisters as long as a football field, well almost. On Saturdays when the Courthouse was full of people and the janitor was busy, we kids and a few grown people would slide down the banisters. It was as good as a carnival ride, even better. Best part was the long sweeping curve that’d throw you down the last twenty steps if you didn’t know how to lean correctly.

The worst part of our Courthouse was the men’s bathroom. I will never forget the smell, not that it wasn’t clean, it was all of those white tablets that the janitor put in the 30-foot long urinal. There was a sign over the urinal that said, “Don’t throw your butts in the urinal.” But people did anyway (cigarette butts.) Mississippi was a dry state back then but you would always see men passing a bottle. I couldn’t wait until I got grown and join them.

FOND MEMORIES OF THE LAFAYETTE COUNTY JAIL:

Another great thing to do on Saturdays was to go to the County Jail, about a short block north of the Courthouse and watch the Sheriff and his deputies destroy a whiskey still and pour out gallons of corn whiskey. It would make some of the grown men cry.

One of the saddest things I ever witnessed was when they tore down the County Jail to make room for a new one. The old jail was special to me because back then the Sheriff and his family lived on the ground floor. One of my life’s heroes was a Sheriff named Boyce Bratton. My dad owned a barbershop next to the jail and I’d shine shoes there from age eight until I was a young teenager. Sheriff Bratton was my favorite customer and he made me feel important. He would invite me over to the jail, eat with his family and take me upstairs to see the inmates! Many of the inmates were people that I knew and liked, it was always very informal, never was mean or cruel. We really didn’t have any real crime.

When they were demolishing the old jail they took three layers of bricks off the sides of the jail, they uncovered a huge log building, not just logs. I mean there were tree trunks, maybe three feet thick. The building should have been on the National Register, but it is gone now.

AND SAD MEMORIES OF THE JAIL:

Sheriff Bratton let me go into a cell one time and visit a black friend of mine that was being held for murder. His name was Big John Price. He had confessed to killing a man who had tried to rape his wife, Dolly. The man had tried to kill John by giving him some corn whiskey with battery acid in it. Big John told me that he was in horrible pain from the battery acid in his stomach. God, I loved that man!

He was the kindest man I ever knew (true story). John committed suicide before the trial. There was an old Army cot in his cell that had metal head and foot rails. John managed to get his head through the foot rail and flip over and broke his neck.

Okay, let’s get back to more pleasant memories.

ELECTION NIGHT ON THE SQUARE!

One of the most fun times on the Square was election year. Every four years we elected new governmental officials from State Governor down to the lowest county office. Just before Election Day everybody in the county came down to the Square to hear the candidates beg for our votes. Now the big shots that were running for state office could really make a speech. They all could talk and tell you what you wanted to hear. They were well educated and professional. The fun was when the local people, running for Justice of Peace, Constable, Supervisor, Coroner, maybe Animal Controller and even Sheriff, got up to speak. Many of these candidates had very little education and maybe had never spoken in public before.

A flatbed trailer was set up on the Square, with a microphone and with plenty of flood lights and the candidates were on their own before God and everybody else. I shouldn’t make fun of these people because it took guts and most were very sincere in what they wanted to do, but it was funny. They didn’t have speech writers or diction coaches. They were on their own.

Some were so scared that they couldn’t even get their names right, and some would just sit down. Some would get so fired up that they said too much! It was fun and it was America at it’s best.

NOW, IT’S GETTING EVEN BETTER:

One year a bunch of us young voters, for a joke, wrote in the Courthouse janitor for Justice of the Peace and he won – because the other candidate died just before Election Day. (True story.) The JP showed up for janitor work with a pistol strapped to his side and the Sheriff made him take it off. Another time he was trying a man for some minor offense and sentenced him to the electric chair!

The County Attorney told him he couldn’t do that, so he said, “I know what that I CAN do, I can turn the S.O.B. loose!” And he did (True story, again.) God, we had fun. But the best part was on election night. We didn’t have T.V. and very little radio coverage of the incoming votes, so the Town Fathers had a great board set up on the Square to record the election returns. All of the precincts were hand counted and came in very slowly. As totals came in, they would put the count on the board and the crowd would erupt. This went on all night. America at its best!

OUR OLE MISS “REBELS” GOT INTO THE ACT ON THE SQUARE!

In the 1950s and early 1960s, the Ole Miss Football team was a perennial top five in the nation. You would have to have grown up there to understand how special it made us feel to know that everybody in America knew who and where Oxford, Mississippi was. For over twenty years we held the record for consecutive Bowl Games. Our Rebels were special but we couldn’t pick up out of town games on radio. SO, the town fathers got a phone line hookup and broadcast the out of town games on the Square. EVERYBODY came to the Square to listen to the games. Man, that was great. 1,500 to 2,000 people sitting on their car hoods and screaming with every 1st down and score!

“WELCOME BACK REBELS!” PARTY ON THE SQUARE:

Best of all was the “Welcome Back Rebels Party” on the Square. Every year when the students came back to school, the town held a big party on the Square.

Everybody was there and it started when the incoming freshmen ran from the campus to the Square, with their freshly shaved heads and their new Ole Miss Beanie, many wore their pajamas. Then came the Ole Miss Band, with their world class majorettes and cheerleaders. People, that was almost more than a country boy could stand, you had to be there. You can’t imagine the thrill unless you were one of us. Until you hear a one hundred piece marching playing the “Rebel March” and “Dixie” on the Oxford Square, followed by “Hotty-Toddy” (sorry you missed it) and it will never happen again. (Thank you, God, for let- ting me be there.) Even today the Urban Dictionary says that “Hotty-Toddy” is the greatest college fight song in the entire nation.

When things finally settled down a bit, the dignitaries got the formalities out of the way. The Oxford Mayor would make his welcome speech, followed by the Chancellor of the University accepting and then Coach Johnny Vaught ! would kick it up a notch. Then the most respected Rebel of them all would be led up to the microphone. His name was “BLIND JIM” – a MOST beloved black man that most of us still think of as the original “Colonel Rebel.” The party wouldn’t start until “Blind Jim” said his most famous line: “I have never seen the Rebels lose a game – and we ain’t gonna start this year!” I have tears in my eyes right now remembering those great days. That was followed up with a street dance and a big time band.

UNIVERSITY HIGH FOOTBALL TEAM ALSO PARTIED ON THE SQUARE:

Some will remember the Friday afternoons before a home University High football game. We would decorate our cars, put the cheerleaders in a convertible and drive to the Square for a Pep Rally. Everybody would be there. (This was America at its best!)

A FEW PERSONAL THOUGHTS:

I maybe shouldn’t get into this in “The Oxford SO & SO” but I have never been accused of having good sense, especially when my emotions get stirred up and I am very emotional, right now. (Editor’s Note: Write on Jay! “SO & SO” strives to give everyone freedom of speech – you don’t receive it everywhere.)

My story is about my youthful experience with the Oxford Square and I should not stray, but I ain’t dead yet. I still occasionally experience the Square and things have changed. A big part of my life has been spent in the study of Anthropology. In my view, it is the study of man adjusting to his changing environment. I am not an academic, I am self-taught, very little formal education. I am not an expert on anything except my life’s existence. You may argue my opinions but you can not argue my experiences.

My Square has changed and not all of it is bad. I remember back when about five “Big Shots” ran everything in the county and town. They didn’t want to change. They wouldn’t let a factory move into Oxford because it might bring in “undesirables” or foreigners, plus a four dollar a day worker on the Square might leave and go to work at the new factory, for five dollars a day. and when movies were made there, they wouldn’t let the movie companies pay their normal wages. (As I remember it was $8.00 a day, for “extras.”) – Because some locals might leave their jobs for a bigger paycheck. We had the University and that was all we needed. That made us “Special.”

Is Oxford and the Square better off today than then, Hell, I don’t know. But I do know that it ain’t the town that I grew up in, maybe that isn’t so bad. I do believe that the good life that I experienced is because I had the privilege of growing up there, as it was then.

NOWADAYS:

I don’t live in Oxford anymore and all our family that lived there are now gone.

I still go back several times a year and remember. There was a time when I could walk around the Square and call everybody that I met by name, even Mr. William Faulkner – course he wouldn’t answer as he was weird. When I go back now, it is so different. I don’t know anybody, they are happy strangers and they do not remember me.

As a child shining shoes and working as a bell hop at the Colonial Hotel, I did aspire to be County Sheriff, like Boyce Bratton. But I made a few mistakes growing up and Oxford citizens don’t put up with skeletons in the closets. So I moved off and got on with my life. I don’t know who the Big Shots in Oxford are now, but somebody is doing a good job promoting my hometown. It is not the Square that I remember but it is probably more famous now than back then. BUT, they will never know what I know. They won’t see the pickups loaded with the home grown vegetables parked around the Square. They won’t see old men sitting on the park benches, playing checkers or whittling on a stick. They won’t remember seeing the great Chinaberry trees that were on the Square or the “Black” or “White” watering fountains. Even a few horses tied to a rail and in the summer when Mr. Avent sent a pickup from his dairy, full of free ice cream and popsicles to be handed out on Saturday.

They won’t remember another big event of the year – when the new cars were unveiled at the auto dealers and I do mean unveiled. The dealerships had their windows covered with paper until the big day. Maybe it didn’t take much to turn us on, but we got turned on.

Do people in Oxford know each other today like we did?? Is there a “Shine Morgan”, a “Sam Friedman”, a “Ben Jack Hilburn” or a “Boots Posey”? This is for the few old timers that might remember: “Tom Mistilis”, “Phil Stone”, “Barney Bramlett”, “Moon Mullins”, “Turk Walker”, “Sultan Quick” or “Ben O. Pettis”. What about “Clyde Huggins”, “Foxy McCarty” and “Barlow Brown”. There are just too many to mention.

SUMMING IT UP:

Several modern William Faulkner experts say that a favorite pastime for us locals was to guess who Faulkner was writing about and that is true! They were Oxford, Mississippi characters, the kind of people that Faulkner wrote about. (We knew them.) Oxford had many unforgettable characters, everybody knew everybody.

Well, I have gone on much too long. The periodicals that I write for will not print over 700 or 800 words. (EXCEPT for “The Oxford SO & SO.”)

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