#which is fair. p dark. very traumatic. but it's a type of darkness that's very interesting to read bc at least it's symbolic yknow?

[daz4i]

i have a hard time reading fics lately but there's still one I'm following whenever it updates. i took a break from reading it bc the recent updates have been very dark, and then in the next update the author notes said "this chapter is the darkest one yet" so i bailed for a bit and then now in the last few days i actually read this chapter and another 2 posted after it. and let me tell you. this author has a very different definition of dark than i do

[alisnmoon]

WINTER TASK + SELF PARA : : But. But!  

Who : : Carmichael Davis, Allister Davis, and Gigi Brandt

Location : : Scotland and wherever Gigi is 

Timeline : : December 24th, 2020 to December 27th, 2020

Word Count : : More than three

“ But. But! “ Premise : : Carmichael Davis goes back to Scotland to spend break with his younger brother Allister Davis while their uncle Montgomery Davis is still undergoing physical therapy. Their time together starts off nice and the two catch up, sharing details that have happened during the months they spent apart. However, due to the careless words said by Allister Davis, an argument and physical fight breaks out between the two. Carmichael Davis then calls Gigi Brandt as he leaves Scotland, heading back to Gallagher earlier than he expected. tw: death mention and violence

This is strange, the feeling of lost. While Cyrus wasn’t his friend or anyone close to him, he was still a fellow student. He’s heard of the deaths during the spring semester and over summer break, how the students just expect for someone to lose their life while attending Gallagher. Death shouldn’t be the norm, not while you’re in school, that’s what he thinks. Out in the field, actually working as an agent, death is something you prepare yourself for. But as a student who’s simply learning? You should be safe and feel safe while at school.

“They’re traumatized,” he says to himself, staring outside of his cab window. “Normal students wouldn’t think like that, agents in training or not.”

He feels bad for them, the Gallagher students, but he would never say that out loud. The others would only look at him strangely, think that he’s gone soft. Honestly, he’s sure that they already see him as soft, weak even because of his relationship with Gigi. Which he guesses is fair, maybe he is soft but what’s wrong with that. Not like he’s the only one in relationship with someone or even keeps another person close to them.

Maybe they’re all soft and none of them wanted to admit it? Who even cares at this point.

His cab comes to a stop, the driver telling him that they arrive at his stop. Stepping out of it, he thanks the other as he drives away, before he turns to look at his surroundings. North Berwick, still the same small town that he’s grown up in. With the same neighbors, homes, and barking dogs. And that very similar dark red, two story house whos ground plan he memorized. Of course he did, it’s his home after all.

Unlocking the door and walking inside, Carmichael is met with an abnormally quiet house. “I thought he was going to be here,” he says to himself, closing the door behind him. “I guess I was wro—“

His words fall short, as he hears someone say “ ow “ farther into the house. Tilting his head to the side, he goes to where the voice came from, careful steps taking him to the kitchen. There, he sees an all too familiar back, one similar to his own. “Allister?” He calls out, the other’s actions pausing before he turns around. In that moment, Carmichael is met with a face that mirrors his own. With the same long brown hair and deep blue eyes filled with curiosity and fire. Eyes and smile that instantly lit up at the sight of the older boy.

“Carmie, you’re home!” And in a flash, the younger of the two throws his arms around his brother, bringing him in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Carmichael doesn’t hesitate to hug him back, pulling him in tightly. When was the last time they were able to hug like this, July maybe? He misses it, his brother, breathing and able to walk on his own. Alive and well.

Allister is the first one to pull away, a wide grin on his face as he looks over his older brother. “Look at you! You look good— wow, I can’t believe you look better in that shirt than I do.”

He laughs gently at that, shaking his head at the others words. “No way, I can’t pull off your clothes like you do,” Carmichael assures him. “Your crop tops? Still can’t do them, I feel weird in them.”

“That’s just your inner toxic masculinity talking! You’ll get used to them in no time.”

“This is coming from the straight twin, I see…”

“Why you…”

Jabs and nudges, loud laughter, smiles, eyes that shine brightly, and an instant connection that the two missed. The Davis brothers are back together and nothing could top that moment of serotonin for them. “Come on, I’ll help you unpack! We can talk while we do so, oh, tell me all about Gallagher.”

“I’ve already told you everything—“

“Yeah, in our chat and over the phone but it’s not the same! I want to hear you talk about in real time, to see your reactions about everything,” Allister says, already taking the lead to the stairs. “Come on, I need something that isn’t hospital gossip.”

“There’s such a thing as hospital gossip?”

“Yes and it’s terrible. I mean, it’s interesting but only for so long.” A dramatic sigh leaves his lips just as Carmichael just rolls his eyes. “Now come on, tell me everything!”

So he does exactly that, tells Allister everything. About his progress when it comes to the mission, to the people he’s met, to working with the other agents, and also his classes. Allister listens carefully as he pulls out shirts and pants from the suitcase, creating a separate pile for dirty and clean. He’s focused, not just on the task at hand but also the words leaving his older brother’s mouth. Carmichael knows that he’s storing each information quietly into little mental drawers in his head. For someone so destructive and disorganized, he’s somehow good at what he does. Carmichael wishes that he was like that too.

“So Cecilia knows, about us?” Allister asks as his brother nodded his head. “Oh boy, this doesn’t sound too good for me. I bet she’s extremely angry.”

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it.” Though, Carmichael takes most of that anger is at Allister than him. Well, actually at both of the Davis twins. “She said that she won’t tell Eva and Cole, so it’ll be a secret between us.”

A moment of silence as Allister picks up the dirty pile and places it into a hamper. “Trust her, Cecilia isn’t the type to break a promise like that,” he says, talking as if he and the younger Casragi are close. “If she told that she won’t, then believe her.”

“And what if she does?”

“Then kill her.”

His heart stops, eyes growing wide at the serious tone and expression that his brother is displaying. But only seconds later that the younger boy cracks, laughing hysterically. “I’m just kidding,” he says in between laughs. “If she tells then she tells, no need to go crazy over it.”

It’s a joke and he should laugh at it but he can’t bring himself to do so. He’s reminded of Suzume, the Japanese princess that pins him to the wall in one of the secret passageways. How she tells him that he tried to murder her years ago, that she could never forget his voice or accent. Of course, he doesn’t believe her, unable to even fathom that Allister Davis could even try to assassinate someone. But hearing his brother’s voice, seeing the look in his eyes and how serious he was, he almost believed it. Because that joke sounded too real, as if he’s already done this before.

And it scares Carmichael for a minute, that Suzume could be right. That his younger brother, the goofy and dumbass twin, had done it. But the thought doesn’t last for long as he shakes the idea away. He knows his brother, better than anyone else in the world. Carmichael knew everything about Allister, he trusts the younger boy. Why would he trust the words of some random girl?

“Just hope that you’re able to get into the school’s system before the two find out your true identity. Don’t want them screwing up your name mid conversation.” Clearing his throat, Allister put on his best British accent, pretending to be Cole in that moment. “Oh hey, Carmichael there you— Oh, bloody hell, I meant Allister not Carmichael. Let’s hope that no one else heard that.”

He laughs then but it’s softer and not as strong. Almost forced. Worry clouds his senses. Worry, doubt, questioning, all of it. He wants to ask his brother about it but he couldn’t figure out how to say it. So he leaves it out, the information about Suzume and his failed assissnation. He’ll do some research on it later, whenever he gets the chance.

“Are you hungry? Because I am.” Carmichael stands to his feet. “Let’s go out into the town, yeah?”

“Yes, of course, you don’t have to ask me twice!”

. . .

The rest of the day is spent looking around their small town like old times. Talking to their neighbors, going to the grocery store together, and then eating out. Despite his own tiredness and desire to just rest, Carmichael remains awake, enjoying his time with his brother.

He doesn’t say it but seeing others at Gallagher with their siblings, especially twins, made him miss Allister even more. It’s like the old times again, where they’re inseparable, glued to the hip like when they were children. One of the locals even made a comment about that. “Haven’t you boys tried to spend anytime apart?” The twins gave each other a look, trying their hardest not to snicker loudly.

If only he knew.

Carmichael took notice of how his brother was walking that night. How the other walked with more care and slower than usual. He would take his time, sometimes even falling behind the other, to where Carmichael had to slow down for him.

Oh, how much have changed since the accident.

When they finally arrived back home, a movie was put on in attempt to watch it. But Carmichael ends up falling asleep on the couch after ten minutes. By the time he does wake up, it was when the TV was shut off and a blanket was placed over him.

The next morning rolls around, being the start of Christmas day. Gifts are exchanged between the two boys, Allister going first as he pulls out a large bag. “I swear to God, Al, if it’s something weird—“

“It’s not, I promise! You’re going to love it!”

He’s not too sure about that but doesn’t say anything else. Pulling apart the wrapping paper and then opening the box, his movements come to a pause at what’s inside. “You got me… a skateboard.”

“Not just any skateboard, a signed skateboard! And it’s custom made with your virus logo on it, turn it over.”

Pulling it out of the box completely, he turns the skateboard over to see what his brother is referring to. And right there, he’s met with the logo that he created at the age of ten. It’s a creepy smiley face with drips leaking from it’s mouth, eyes, and the bottom of its face. Right above it is Sam Beckett’s signature. “H-how did you get this?”

Allister shrugs his shoulder, obviously proud of his purchase. “Oh, you know. I just reached out to my best friend Sam and he signed it with no problem.”

Carmichael smiles. “Thank you, Al, I really appreciate it.” Putting the skateboard to the side, he then pulled out his gift for his brother. “Here’s yours, hopefully you’ll like it.”

“I’ll love anything you get me.” Beat. “Unless it’s clothes, I would kindly ask you to return them. Sorry, Carmie, I just can’t trust you when it comes to— Oh.”

It’s in the middle of his rambling that he sees the gift. A beautifully painted picture of Allister and Carmichael Davis, from when they were fifteen. One of their best pictures where the two boys had shoved cake into each other’s face, angry with each other over something stupid. But seeing how ridiculous they both looked, the boys laughed loudly, their anger instantly disappearing. Without their knowing, Montgomery had snapped a picture of that moment.

It became one of Carmichael’s favorite pictures with his brother.

“How did you—“

“Let’s just say that I know an artist.”

The two laugh at their words, gifts are put away, clothes are put on, and they’re both out the door. There’s one member of their family that they’re missing so of course they have to go see him.

“Oh, you got a text,” Allister says, phone in his hand as Carmichael drives them to the hospital out of town. “From Gigi, oh, your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Allister says, smirking. “She’s my girlfriend, thanks for reminding me.”

He doesn’t like that either, frowning slightly at his brother’s words. “Whatever. What did she send?”

“Just a generic Merry Christmas text and her saying thanks for the gift— what did you get her?”

“Just jewelry, nothing much.”

But it was much to him. Gigi was his first friend from Gallagher and someone who he cared for deeply. He still remembered how she tried to help him find his earring, how serious she was that day. Because of that moment, and many others, he got her earrings. Very small and simple, he was sure that she would throw it out after one use.

Carmichael wants to offer the idea that him and Allister have. Where one wears one earring and the other wears the second one. Though, he realizes how that might be too much for a relationship that wasn’t even real, so he went against it. Swallowing that idea into the depth of his mind.

“I told her Merry Christmas and that she’s welcome,” Allister says. “Anything else you would like me to send, Mr. Boyfriend?”

“Al, shut up!” But the younger of the two doesn’t, he’s laughing loudly at his brother’s reaction. It was not that funny, goodness.

Time goes on until they’re at the hospital and are able to see Montgomery. Carmichael gives him his gift, which is a painted picture of Montgomery with Eleanor when she was still alive. The two were so young and proud, even despite their living conditions. It’s definitely one of Carmichael’s favorite pictures of the duo, so it’s no wonder that he gets it painted. Allister gives him a gift too though Montgomery doesn’t like it too much. But it doesn’t matter too much, as long as they’re all safe and soft.

The rest of Christmas becomes just him cooking as Allister cleans. Time is set to the side to FaceTime Gigi and letting her talk to Allister pretending to be Carmichael Davis. It’s strange, being here to watch his brother pretend to be him. So used to seeing it over the phone, this is completely different. It makes him feel nauseous for a bit that he’s glad that he’s able to take the phone from the other and go to his room.

He almost makes the mistake of going into the room belonging to Carmichael Davis, that he remembers to go to the one belonging to Allister Davis. There he talks to the other for a bit, just sharing details about their winter breaks and Christmas gifts that they got. He thanks her for his gift ( whatever the fuck it is ) and she thanks him for hers.

He’s happy right then and there. But the happiness doesn’t last long as his brother knocks on his door, asking if they can talk. So he hangs up on Gigi, telling her that she’s more than welcome to call him later whenever she wanted.

“What’s up?” Carmichael asks, throwing the phone onto the bed.

“We never got to talk about the mission in full,” Allister says, putting on a serious demeanor. “Has Mr. Stewart given you further instructions?”

“Yeah, it’s right here.” He goes into his book bag, pulling out the letter that he received just before leaving Gallagher. Giving it to Allister, he watches as the other carefully reads over the letter. “My mission is still the same, nothing about it has changed.”

“I guess that’s a good thing…” Allister says, handing the letter back to him. “I wouldn’t expect him to give us a new direction, it would be pointless. We’re the only hackers on the team, it wouldn’t make any sense for him to do that.”

Carmichael doesn’t let the pronouns that his brother uses go over his head, how the other made this about them. About Agent A/C instead of Agent Carmichael. “I know but I’ll be able to get through it, just trust me.”

“I’m not sure about that.” He raises an eyebrow, watching as Allister crosses his arm over his chest and closes his eyes, deep in thought. “If you couldn’t get through the system this semester then who knows if you’ll be able to in the spring.”

His jaw tightens at that. “You don’t think I’m capable enough to do this?”

“Honestly? I don’t,” Allister says. “Which there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just more difficult than either of us were expecting. I should be able to get through, don’t worry.”

“Oh wow, thanks,” Carmichael says, frowning deeply at this point. His mind was reeling and heart is racing as the words fall from his mouth. “Happy to know that you actually believe in me.”

“I do believe in you but—“

“But. But!” Carmichael’s voice is raising, catching both him and Allister off guard. “But he says! But as in he’s going to disregard his previous message about me. But! But what, Allister?”

The other boy furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Because you don’t believe in me,” he continues. “You don’t believe that I can do this.”

“I do believe in you—“

“But you said but! That means you don’t!”

“No, I do believe—“

“But—“

“I—“

“But—“

“Carmichael—“

“But—“

“Would you shut the fuck up and let me talk!”

It was a game, a power struggle between the two of them, as they try to one up the other person the entire time. Their anger showing in their expressions and voices. Carmichael wants to feel silly for letting his emotions get the best of him, to break away and apologize but he cant. Because these are emotions and thoughts that have been sticking with him for months now. Of feeling unworthy, unwanted, incapable, and more when compared to his brother. So to have the other say that, he cuts him deeply. Deeper than anything else.

“God, what’s gotten into you? Why are you angry at me?”

“Because you think that you’re better than me,” Carmichael says, getting into the other’s personal bubble. “You don’t think that I can do this like you, that I’m going to fuck this mission up.”

“I never said that—“

“You implied it! You implied that I would mess up and get us all caught—“

“God, Carmichael, now you’re just putting words into my fucking mouth. I did not imply that or anything.” He can see it, the passion in the others eyes, the fire that burns brightly and violently. Of how hot it was and how it could easily consume him. He should’ve stepped back, not test the other anymore than he was but he doesn’t stop. He keeps pushing because he’s a fucking idiot.

“You did imply it, that’s why you want to switch back.” Something he does not want to happen. “Because you just know that you can wrap this mission up faster than anyone else. Way faster than me apparently. Admit it, that you think that you’re better than me.”

“No, I won’t—“

“Admit it—“

“Carmie—“

“Admit it!”

“Car—“

“Admit—“

“Okay, fucking fine, yes I think that I’m better than you. No, I know that I’m better than you,” Allister says, giving into his own rage and chaos. “It’s not like you were put onto this mission in the first place. Mr. Stewart put me in, not. This is my mission so yeah, I should be the one to go back and finish it.”

There it is. He switches from “ our “ to just “ my “, of course he would. Because it’s their mission when it’s Carmichael out there but it’s only his mission when Allister is the one out there. “Are you happy now?” Allister says, voice lowering just as quickly as his change into the rage and chaos. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

It is but at the same it isn’t, he’s not sure anymore. He’s silent, eyes hard and cold as Allister just sighs deeply before putting on a smile, attempting to lighten the mood. “Look, I’m sorry for saying all of that and I do believe in you. It’s just… Mr. Stewart did give me this mission because he knows that I can do this so that’s why I’m acting like this, that’s all.” He reaches for the others' hands, squeezing them gently. “Now come on, let’s go downstairs and start cooking, I’m starving.”

He tries to pull Carmichael to the door but the other doesn’t try to budge. So grounded and feet rooted into the ground, he doesn’t want to go anywhere. There’s a numb and hollow feeling in his chest that he hates it here. The numbness travels throughout his body, controlling each part of him. Mouth included as words that he’s been trying to keep to himself fall out.

“Is it true that you tried to assassinate Suzume Minamoto?”

Allister goes still and tense, his grip around Carmichael’s wrist going limp. “How do you know that name?”

He doesn’t mean to say it, he wanted to figure it out for himself and to see if it’s actually true or not that. But the words are already out of his mouth and there’s no going back. Especially when Allister doesn’t try to deny it. “So is it true?”

“Carmichael,” he says, disregarding the other’s question. “How the fuck do you know that name?”

“S-she’s a student at Gallagher,” Carmichael says, pulling his wrist away from the other. “I met her, well, apparently she said that we already knew each other. That she could never forget my face or my accent, even said my full name without me introducing myself. Well, she said your name, Allister Davis.” It has a bitter taste to it. “So answer me, is it true that you tried to assassinate her?”

The look is back, the one from earlier when he joked about murdering Cecilia. “It’s true,” he says. “Emphasis on ‘ tried ‘ since obviously she’s walking around still. More of a reason why I should go to Gallagher so I can finish the job, or maybe I should notify her father about this.”

“Are you fucking serious right?” Carmichael shouts, obviously appalled at the others' words. “You want to go back to assassinate her again? Are you fucking crazy?”

“She knows who I am, Carmichael! We have to get rid of her so she doesn’t get in the way of the mission.”

“No, we can’t do that. One has already died, Allister, they’re undergoing an investigation right now. If you murder her then you’ll only make the situation worse for the team.”

“Minamoto walking about, alive and well, will make the situation worse, trust me,” Allister says, the wheels in his head turning. “I need to get rid of her—“

“Stop talking like you’re a fucking assassin, Allister.” His chest is tight and he feels nauseous because of this. “We’re agents, double agents to be specific. We don’t murder people—“

“I’ll do anything for Caledonia.”

And he grows silent, no words able to fall out. “Do you want to know the difference between us?” Allister continues. “The reason why Montgomery comes to me for missions is simple: they come to me because I’m not afraid to die. I’m not like you, a boy who fears death. I’m the boy that death fears.

“That’s what makes me a better agent and so loyal to Caledonia because I’ll put my life on the line for it. That’s why I’m the better agent because of—“

He punches him, right in the mouth with no sort of hesitation. Allister falls to the ground, not expecting it, before his eyes cloud over with anger.

The commence the fighting that breaks out. The two boys throwing and punching at each other. Allister is still weak but puts up a fight. It’s Carmichael who gets the most punches in and wins, throwing his brother down to the ground one last time. They’re both breathing heavily, eyes watching each other before Carmichael walks out of the room, going straight for his own.

. . .

He doesn’t sleep that night, he can’t actually. Instead, he’s packing his bag again, just putting random clothes into it, not even caring to figure out which belonged to Allister Davis and what belonged to Carmichael Davis. He just throws it into the suitcase before wheeling it downstairs. He found a plane ticket to head back to the states at the last minute, it cost him a lot of money but he didn’t care. He needed to get out of this fucking house.

Once downstairs, he pulls out his phone and calls Gigi because honestly, he just needs to talk to someone. And the main person he usually reaches out to is the one he’s pissed at.

“Hey babe,” she says once she answers. “What’s up? Why are you calling me so late?”

“Just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving Scotland early,” Carmichael tells her, looking out the living room window to see if his ride is waiting for him. “There’s been a change of plans.”

“What, why? Did something happen?”

Hands run through his hair, groaning softly. “I just… I got into a huge fight with… Carmie. A really bad fight where we both said some hurtful things about each other. Don’t really feel comfortable with staying here anymore.”

“Are you serious right now? Do you want me to go after him for you? Because you know I can and will.”

He laughs gently at her words, grateful that she wants to fight in his honor. Though, he’s not sure if he likes it that she wants to fight ‘ Carmichael Davis ‘. “No, it’s alright, seriously,” he tells her. “I kinda already did that already….”

“OMG, you fought your brother? Like, a physical fight?”

“Why do you sound so surprise—“

“I don’t know, you just don’t seem like the type to hurt someone! I just see you as that weak computer nerd—“

Their conversation over the next few minutes revolves around the two of them joking and poking fun at each other. It’s something he needed to pull his mind away from his argument with Allister and he’s glad that Gigi doesn’t ask him about it, though, he knows that she will once they’re back on campus. And it’s not like he can open up to her about it, about the real reason why he fought with his brother. He would just have to come up with a lie until then.

“My ride’s outside,” Carmichael says to her, sitting up from the couch. “I’ll text you when I get to Gallagher.”

“Okay,” Gigi says. “You know, if you want, I can meet you there too—“

“No, enjoy your break, I know that you’ve been looking forward to this. I’ll just see you when you get back,” he tells her. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” A beat before she continues. “Hey Allister?”

“Hm?”

“I’m here for you, you know that right?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, just blinking a few times before smiling widely. Not an Allister Davis smile but a genuine Carmichael Davis smile, one that he doesn’t display that often. “I know,” he says. “And I’m here for you, Gigi.”

The two hang up and he grabs his luggage to leave the house. As he rounds the corner, he’s met with Allister standing in front of the door, giving the other a hard stare. The corner of his mouth is no longer bleeding which is good, he guesses. “You’re leaving.” It’s a statement not a question.

“Obviously enough since I’m not welcomed here.”

Allister opens his mouth, ready to say something to make it worse but stops himself. Instead, he just unlocks and opens the door. “Then leave,” he says. “And remember this Carmichael. You’re on your own from this point on. If you fuck up, it’s on you so good luck with my mission.”

Carmichael shoves the other out of his way, walking out of the door and to the car waiting for him. No byes or love you’s are said, the two boys just leave each other on a bad note. The door is slammed shut and the car pulls away, neither one of them looking back at the other.

And in this moment in the car, away from his brother and Gigi, it’s when he finally brings himself to think about what happened. How his own insecurities got the best of him, pouring and spilling before his brother, prompting the other to admit that he was better. Just because Carmichael Davis is weak, constantly pushing himself down as he compares himself to his brother. No one else is comparing the two, other than him!

But it doesn’t excuse how others genuinely like the other more and trust him with things. From Montgomery and Mr. Stewart who gives Allister missions, ones where he basically puts his life on the line every time. How Gigi, Ting, and Cecilia like the personality belonging to Allister than his own. That even Cole and Eva likes this version of him more than anything else, that the two like Allister over Carmichael. Or maybe it’s his version of Allister that they like but either way, it’s Allister Davis over Carmichael Davis.

And he hates that so much.

Then final piece to this fucking puzzle is the fact that his brother tried to assassinate someone years ago. How he swore up and down that his brother would never, ever do such a thing. But there he was, standing there and admitting to his crime, not even ashamed of it. ‘ they come to me because i’m not afraid to die ‘, the words replay over and over in his head.

It feels as though he’s finally meeting his brother for the first time. He’s always sworn that he knew everything about Allister, that he knew every little secret and small fact about him. But this, right here and now? He feels like a stranger when it comes to his own twin brother. Nothing about him makes sense anymore, he’s not even sure if he can trust the fucking guidebook that the two of them made for each other. It’s probably filled with fucking lies too!

What more is the other hiding from him, he wants to know. He needs to know because what the fuck even is the point of no secrets between family? Between brothers, between twins? Because all of this is absolute—

A tear hits the back of his hand, pulling him away from his thoughts. He didn’t even know that he was crying, so out of it, so numb. And they don’t stop either, the tears continue to fall like a soft stream before pouring out. No matter how much he tries to wipe them away, they keep coming. He finally gives in, just letting the tears continue to fall and his head down, not wanting the driver to see him so vulnerable.

That’s how he feels, vulnerable. Weak, useless, incapable, insecure, dumb, unloved, broken, and so many more things.

So he cries and allows for those emotions to consume him. What else can he do? Nothing, nothing at all.

[lovely-little-bull]

Character Bio

«« BASICS »»

« Full name »

Taura Caterina Andreas

« Meaning »

First and middle names mean "pure and innocent bull"; last name means "manly, brave, or warrior".

« Nickname »

Catie

« Reason for Nickname »

It was easier for her childhood classmates to spell and pronounce

« Age »

14 (can vary if RP takes place before/after ToA)

« Birthday »

April 27

« Gender »

Demigirl (she doesn't feel totally connected to the female gender, but she doesn't have a label for it yet)

«Sexuality »

Panromantic Asexual (also doesn't have a label yet)

« Species »

Demigod (¼ Monster)

««Appearance »»

« Height »

5'3

« Weight »

152 lbs

« Body Type/Build »

Mesomorph

« Hair Color »

Golden Brown

« Hair Style »

Wavy/Curly mix; usually loose or tied back with a thin rope

« Eye Color »

Brilliant blue, just like her father's

« Scars »

Various scars spread over body, mostly along torso and arms

« Birthmarks »

N/A

« Tattoos »

N/A

« Piercings »

Ears (Closed)

« Skin Tone »

Fair; lightly tanned

« Other Distinguishing Features »

A pair of nubby ivory horns has begun to protrude from her temples, ending about ¾ of an inch off her head

«« PERSONALITY »»

« General Personality »

Taura is very clever and shy. She comes off as a bit mysterious, preferring not to talk about herself or her past. Despite that and her tendency to keep to herself though, she desperately wants to be accepted for who she is and to feel like she belongs somewhere. She is also very understanding, and she tends to see the good in people. In fact, she'd probably be extremely loyal and kind to her friends if she had any. Still, she is capable of disliking others, usually if they’re rather mean without a good reason to be. Despite all this, Taura is not one to mess with. When she gets too upset, she goes into a blind fury, attacking anything that comes near her. She also suffers from depression and anxiety; she feels as if she is worthless and will constantly get nightmares and traumatizing flashbacks of her past. Taura rarely feels at peace and will run off when she starts getting upset, so that she can calm down and avoid losing control. She has an incredible amount of patience though, so she rarely gets to her breaking point. Given time, her strong sense of imagination will lead her to be a very creative and artistic individual.

« Typical Mood »

Apprehensive

« Triggers »

Mentions or images of car crashes or Tartarus

Unprovoked hatred/violence towards monsters or similarly misunderstood people/creatures

Violent deaths

Can also be physically triggered during a fight if someone takes things too far

« Likes »

People getting along

Things that remind her of home (certain foods, scents, surroundings, etc.)

Reflections of light and other light effects

Nature (although, not so much the sea)

Animals

Different forms of art

Hearing stories

« Dislikes »

Violence

Bullying

Being alone

Matadors

Beef, leather, etc.

Complete darkness 

Her looks (especially her horns)

« Fears »

Zeus, Poseidon, and their children

Tartarus and the possibility of ending up there

Becoming emotionally attached to people

Losing people she cares about 

Losing control of her anger

Socialization with new people

« Accent »

Greek

«« RELATIONSHIPS »»

« Father »

Apollo

« Mother »

Calantha Andreas

« Grandmother »

Damaris Andreas

« Grandfather »

Asterion (The Minotaur)

« Relationship Status »

Single

«« COMBAT »»

« Weapons »

None currently; Trained with a battleaxe and naturally talented at archery (undiscovered)

« Armor »

None currently

« Powers/Special Abilities »

Heightened senses (except for sight)

Increased strength and stamina

Ability to talk to bovine animals

Slight control over the mist

Minor healing abilities

«« BACKSTORY »»

Calantha's Story

Taura's grandmother, Damaris, was a skilled artisan and witch based in Rhodes, Greece. At the time, the Minotaur lived in some ruins near her house, and she came across him one day after he had injured himself. Seeing only the blurred figure of a distressed man, Damaris treated his wounds and found herself rather enamored with the strong, silent nature of the stranger. She made offerings to Aphrodite and Hera in order to have a successful relationship with him, and a year later, Calantha was born. She had developed her father's short temper, which got her into plenty of trouble throughout her adolescence. It didn't help that her mother was virtually blind and her father was constantly going off on his own.

When Calantha turned nine, her father was killed and sent back to Tartarus. To her and her mother, it seemed he had just disappeared. However, they got through it, and Calantha gained a new sense of maturity. She took care of her mother and learned to sew, so that she could sell clothing in her mother's shop.

In high school, Calantha was an outcast. Rumors had been spread that her father was a murderer who fled the country, which wasn't too far from the truth. People were scared of her and constantly avoided her. Even the teachers felt uneasy around her. So, as soon as she graduated, she headed to an arts college in New York. There, she reunited with her father and fell in love with a man she met at a poetry bar. That man turned out to be Apollo. They dated during her last year of college, but eventually, he had to leave.

Later that year, Calantha moved back to Greece. She was planning on bringing her mother to New York to visit her father, but she was forced to stay home when she discovered that she was pregnant. Soon, she gave birth to a beautiful baby who she named Taura Caterina, in reference to the child's astrological sign.

A few years later, Calantha was offered a job in New York. One of her friends from college had gotten into the fashion industry and wanted Calantha's help starting a new line of clothing. She decided to take the offer and moved to New York with her mother and daughter.

After visiting the Minotaur, Calantha's mother, who had been sick for quite a while, passed away. Calantha became more determined than ever to make sure her daughter had a happy childhood. She amassed a decent amount of money from all her hard work and used it to open a successful clothing boutique. For the first time in her life, everything was going perfectly. Unfortunately, that all came to an end when she lost her life in a tragic accident.

Taura's Story

Taura was born in Greece, where she was raised by her mother and grandmother. When she was a few years old, they moved to New York. Her mother had no way to contact Taura's father and let him know of her existence, but Taura was able to meet her grandfather, the Minotaur, for the first time and he grew rather fond of her. She brought out a side of him that most others didn't see. Her grandmother, receiving her final wish of having her family reunited one last time, passed away a few days later.

When she was five, Taura started being able to heal small wounds, such as cuts and scrapes. However, she found herself unable to save her mother, who died in a car crash caused by a drunk driver. She survived the crash with minor injuries and was taken in by her grandfather. Despite his brutal nature, he had a soft spot for young Taura. He taught her how to fight, and when her horns started growing in, he helped her understand her heritage. Although, she wasn't able to learn much, because a few years later, her grandfather was sent back to Tartarus after battling Percy Jackson.

Afterwards, Taura lived on her own. She was careful not to be seen by others unless she needed to go to the market for something. She always wore a hat in public and stayed away from anything that smelled dangerous. Taura also managed to learn quite a bit of English, but she's still not completely fluent.

Everything was okay until Taura found a strange archway labeled Camp Half-Blood as she was wandering around in the woods. She attempted to go through it, but was unable to, due to her monster heritage. She has since become fascinated with the archway and has returned to it every night for the past week.*

*This backstory only references everything Taura has been through up to the start of this blog and does not include events that may have happened in any threads since then. Overall, this character bio is just to get a sense of who Taura is, but I fully expect her to grow and evolve over the course of roleplaying.

Template based on:

http://aminoapps.com/p/q7z85f

[terresdebrumestories]

One night only

FANDOM: DCEU, but I guess more specifically BVS. SERIES: - RATING: Explicit for safety. WORDCOUNT: 7 333 words PAIRING(S): Superbat CHARACTER(S): Bruce Wayne & Kal-El GENRE: Brief encounters of the sexy kind. One night stands. TRIGGER WARNING(S): None that I’m aware of, but it does contain sex and the vaaaaguest hint of strength kink. Also touch!starved Bruce. SUMMARY:

Bruce crashes on an unknown planet as he returns from a League-related mission. Fortunately for him, he manages to survive the accident with nothing more than big bruises to show for it. Even more fortunately, he finds himself rescued by the hottest alien he's met so far.

OR: Bruce Wayne rescued by beefy alien.

DEDICATION(S): To  obviously, who provided the very sexy prompt for this fic, and also to @lorata​, who handled the SPAG betaing of this. I, sleep deprived and unused to GDocs on mobile, may have clicked on the “refuse” button on a couple of corrections so assume any typo left is my fault :P NOTE(S): I don’t know why I was convinced my posting date was July 18th, but I was, which means that the final version of it got finished at 11pm on the 17th, which was a bit of a cardio workout. Thank fuck for timezones giving Lora enough time to hunt my typos without too much pressure :P

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

The cockpit almost looks like a Christmas tree: it blinks in increasingly bright and urgent colors, the high-pitched beep of panicking instruments loud enough to drown Bruce’s thoughts as the jet plummets toward the ground. There are interminable seconds of falling, Bruce’s soul scrambling to think of Alfred, Dick Jason MomDad—

Lead on his eyelids, a ton each at the very least. When he finally maneuvers them to half-mast the light around him is loud enough to hurt. He closes his eyes. Tries again. The bright gold echoes like a bellow between his ears. Wince. Persevere. The world around is too much and too little, loud light and bright noises. He blinks and blinks and blinks until something warm licks at him, and then another noise, salt in the air and oh, Alfred, I really messed it up this—

Blue, blue, blue, blue, the world moving—a voice above, deep and tense, dark fringe over a frown…Jas—

When Bruce wakes up for the third time, there is something floating above him. An oblong shape, dark against the light, and close enough to touch if Bruce’s arm had any strength left in it. It remains there for a while, trembling until Bruce’s eyes finally shape it back into a face. It seems calm for now, not attacking or moving in a suspicious way, but it does stay where looking at it makes Bruce’s eyes water, so it’s probably best not to discount the risk of hosni—hossi—ill intent. Bruce blinks, slow and sluggish, while the head moves and melts into some kind of silhouette.

Bit by bit, the light grows quieter, and Bruce sighs, squinting to make out limb-like shapes—only four, thank fuck—as the presumed-head leans down—and then recoils as Bruce’s hand strikes at it...or, well. Tries to. It gets stopped halfway through, easy as breathing—Bruce winces, breathes in. Blinks until the shape moves around him, the hold on his wrist firm but not painful. Once it’s out of the backlight, the head looks human enough: curly black hair, eyes just a shade too blue to feel real. The kind of jawline you could sharpen a battarang with.

Bruce blinks harder and, in a bout of stupidity barely excusable even in his state, he glances down—wool-like garment, reminiscent of a sweater, but close-fitting enough to let him know he wouldn’t blush at having abs like that—and says:

“I always thought I’d go to Hell.”

The world fades again.

*

The fourth time Bruce wakes up feels like it’s the one that’s going to stick. He’s healed up enough to remember what he said last, for one, and while that’s embarrassing enough to make him groan—religion, really Bruce?—it’s at least a sign of progress. For two: fucking ouch.

It’s a good thing that he can feel the hurt. Bodies that don’t feel it are either traumatized or permanently damaged, or both. Still, if there is a superior entity somewhere, Bruce is determined to make them pay for the fucking nervous system. Aside from his feet, pretty much everything hurts right now—nothing Bruce isn’t used to, though. Healing bruises, decades-old stab wound acting up in humid weather...all in a day’s work for Batman, really, so much as he dislikes the sensation it really isn’t that hard to find a semi vertical surface to prop himself against. The move makes his head swim, predictably, but at least now he can see the person-shaped thing move around when it comes back to the currently-empty cave. If it comes back.

Rather than sit and wait for an answer on that question, which could keep him there a long time, Bruce gives his nausea enough time to subside—he is pushing fifty there, and surprisingly interested on keeping going—swallows around his cardboard-thick tongue, and sets about slowly taking stock of his surroundings.

He can feel rough stone behind his back. There’s another natural wall at his front. Stalactites line the stone ceiling and, to Bruce’s right, slope down until they meet the ground with only a narrow conduit squirreling away under the bedrock. No exit there. Turning back to the left, Bruce discovers the cave widens for about fifteen, maybe twenty feet—depth perception: still AWOL—until wet-dark stone gives way to the sun-bleached gray of fist-sized pebbles and the ruckus of them rolling through the waves. The sea beyond offers a dull brown color tinged with silver, shining under the sleek pewter of the sky.

Bruce thinks, unhelpfully, of Gotham.

He doesn’t dwell on it too much: he’s unbound and, as far as he can tell, alone in the cave. If he’s going to figure a way out of here, now is the ideal moment, though he knows better than to make it too obvious he knows that, just in case there’s some surveillance he hasn’t found yet. There’s no fire, but the air isn’t cold, and when he looks down at himself he realizes there’s a blanket draped over the Kevlar that means he won’t be catching a cold just yet. It also means that whatever found him either has no malicious intent towards him or is very interested in pretending it doesn’t.

Obviously, he doesn’t trust the thing—person? Alien, definitely—that got him here. He’s lived through more than his fair share of people treating him exceedingly well for nefarious reasons, both as Batman and as Bruce; he’s not about to fall for it. Every second he pretends to, however, is more time to recover and plan his escape. It is with that certitude in mind that Bruce leans back against the stone and, keeping his ears focused on the sounds around him, closes his eyes to fake sleep.

He nearly curses when he wakes up to the sound of footsteps on rocks. Obviously, he’s well trained enough to reign the impulse in, but he’s got more than enough brainpower to recriminate himself while he checks out the entrance of the cave. It’s dark by now, which, assuming the days here are roughly the same as Earth’s, means several hours have passed, during which anything could have happened. Fuck. If Alfred learns about this, Bruce will never hear the end of it… At least he’s still up against the wall. Nothing’s coming at him from behind.

The alien doesn’t attack, though. It walks into the cave, familiarly bipedal, dressed disturbingly like the upscale version of a Hollywood fisherman—the sweater even sports a pattern reminiscent of a cable-knit. When it’s done setting up a rough circle of stone near Bruce—with its back to him! If he were at full capacity, that alien wouldn’t stand a chance—and dumping wood into it, it busies itself lighting a fire. Only when it’s done and the first licks of warmth reach Bruce does it turn around.

Bruce, shamefully caught with his eyes open, allows himself to swear internally. An alien it might be, but if Bruce weren’t profoundly aware of this fact it could have passed for a human easily: aside from the too-blue eyes, there’s nothing to make the alien stand out in a crowd. Or, well. There is, but GQ models aren’t generally considered dangers to the general population...although judging from the way his guts twist when the alien smiles at him, right now Bruce is rather inclined to review that particular assessment.

 Come on, Batman. Get a grip.

The alien, blatantly oblivious to Bruce’s internal battle against his...heart...approaches him with an easy smile and a soft voice, moving slowly, like it’s trying to calm a spooked animal. It makes Bruce want to show his teeth, but considering he’s not exactly in a state to follow up on the threat if the alien reacts aggressively, he decides against it. He does grunt though, just enough to show his displeasure at his current predicament, low enough that it doesn’t fall into outright aggression. Not that it matters: genuine or faked, the alien’s current persona seems too cheerful to mind, and it smiles as it speaks.

At least, it sounds like there are words in its voice. Bruce’s Green Lanterns-issued translator is on the fritz, though: all he can do is assume the emotion projected actually is relief, closely followed by concern. It’s...not often, that Bruce is confronted with something like that after an injury. Neither Dick nor—Dick has always been the type to joke, and English blood means Alfred’s physical expressions of concern come in the form of tea and a duster served with the stiffest upper lip on the planet. To be the focus of eyes that blue, with that sincere-looking an expression on that face with that jawline is...Bruce swallows. Hard.

The alien says something else that Bruce, of course, doesn’t understand, and then it turns away to reach inside its bag and produce something round, purple and leathery looking. It might be a gourd or a fruit, Bruce has no way to know. He is parched though, and so he tries to dip down for a drink.

What happens instead is a hand on his shoulder, the pressure dulled by the suit, but there enough to realize he couldn’t easily get out from under it. Slowly, gently, Bruce is pushed back against the rock, intense blue eyes crinkling with a smile that, on a human, Bruce would almost describe as apologetic. One of the alien’s hands comes up to tip Bruce’s head back, fingertips lighting long lines of fire against his throat, catching his breath right in the middle of his chest until he’s tensing without meaning to. Bruce can still feel the path of those fingers against his skin, the phantom sensation pulling at his attention even as the alien’s other hand raises the purple sphere above his head. Bruce’s hand snaps up, catching on a wrist. There is a pause, as if the alien had sensed Bruce’s brief burst of fear through his touch—what if the liquid inside is acid? What if he’s about to be bludgeoned to death? —until their eyes meet. Something shifts in the alien’s face, and he stands up straighter somehow, resumes his movement with a slow grace that somehow makes Bruce want to get up on his knees. He allows the grip of his fingers to soften, thumb resting on the alien’s pulse point—it feels fast, under the thin skin—and watches the purple thing rise above his head.

It pauses right above Bruce’s face, the alien looking at him with something almost like a question in his eyes. Bruce meets his eyes head on, wishing he could think of it as defiance. Then, with his chest heaving and his body straining in the confines of his suit, Bruce tips his head back and opens his mouth.

The alien gasps when the juice—it’s too sweet to be water, despite the clear color—falls into Bruce’s mouth, the blood in his wrist speeding up. Lowering his head a fraction, Bruce meets his gaze again—or tries to. A few drops made their way past Bruce’s lower lips, dribbling down his chin and along his throat, and the alien is clearly too caught in tracking their path to meet Bruce’s gaze. He licks his lips, making Bruce shiver, and just when Bruce is starting to consider releasing the moan bubbling inside his chest, the alien takes the purple thing—the fruit? —away.

Juice splashes on the bridge of Bruce’s nose and he splutters, moment broken and yet still out of breath, fingers still clasped around a wide wrist. He takes his hand away, acutely aware of all the places where it’s not touching skin anymore, and breathes in deep, trying to calm his heart rate as fast as possible while the alien clears his throat and tosses the empty fruit shell away into the water.

He speaks again then, motioning upward with his hand, and although he’s clearly trying to look casual there is a faint dusting of pink over his cheekbones. Given the circumstances, Bruce decides to go ahead and provisionally interpret it as having the same meaning as on Earth. Once that’s done, he tries to follow the other man’s request: he barely makes it to his knees before he topples over, legs reduced to jelly despite his clear mind. For a moment, his rescuer—for lack of a better word—seems almost disappointed. Then he speaks again, slow and soothing, as he steps closer with his arms extended.

Bruce is caught in a bride’s carry before he can even attempt to protest.

For one hysterical second, Bruce’s mind provides an image of Alfred’s—or anyone from the league’s—face should he find out about this. It is mortifying and he vows to take the incident to his grave—but the thought only lasts for that: one second. Right after that, Bruce finally catches up with the fact that his companion is showing no strain whatsoever while carrying him and his thirty pounds of armor and— oh come on Batman, get a grip.

Batman does not get a grip. In fact Batman, who is feeling decidedly less Batmany than usual, slowly unravels as his companion carries him out of the cave and into the open air, the smell of clean seafoam assaulting Bruce’s nostrils while a gentle breeze blows the occasional droplets onto his cheeks. For lack of a more dignified solution Bruce lets himself be carried out to the beach, the view swiftly blocked by a tall cliff of white stone fringed with green at the top, fist-sized gravel crunching under the alien’s feet. There’s a short climb up a gentle slope to a wooden platform, and then Bruce watches as the beach grows smaller under them. The ocean, of course, is endless, but a look to their left reveals a badly damaged piece of rock, deep gouges in the ground leading the eyes to a short stripe of bent metal. There go Bruce’s hope of refurbishing the ship and using it to get off planet. Sure, Bruce is extremely lucky to even be alive right now, let alone as unscathed as he is, but even Batman is allowed a bit of hope now and then. As a treat.

Well, no use crying over spilt milk—or sulking about being stuck on an alien planet without a reasonable means of transportation. Bruce keeps looking. To the right, as far as he can see, is a forest. It rises from the ground in bushes and tall grasses at first, quickly shooting to the sky with ever taller trees that, aside from the height, wouldn’t look all that out of place in the English countryside.

Behind him—under him? Bruce is going to have to figure the logistics of this at some point—Bruce’s companion takes a turn toward the forest as soon as they reach the top of the cliff, and as they come close Bruce finally notices it. It being a tall dome-like structure made of wood and what he can only assume is something similar to glass. It rises out of the ground as if grown there, slender limbs turned to the sky in elaborate latticework, a band of colored windows circling the dome about halfway through.

The whole thing looks airy, the kind of place designed to create refreshing breezes and cool shades, which makes it look entirely incongruous in an environment where cold and damp seems to be the motto. Still, odd choices or no, there’s something appealing about the building. It feels...well, structurally, it is leaning more into something like the Taj-Mahal, which is impressive considering a touch reveals it is made of live wood. Yet as Bruce is carried outside and discovers the furniture—rich embroidered carpets of wool thick enough he could fall asleep there, luxurious piles of cushions in red and blues with the occasional gold accent—he can’t help but feel a little like he’s just entered a large, very elaborate treehouse. Everything, from the sitting space to what seems to be a cooking area to the central staircase—and how did Bruce not see any of that through the windows? He’d love to ask some technical questions about it—feels like it wants Bruce to lie back and relax, maybe even fall asleep. God, this house could probably have entire conversations on this very topic with Alfred—and Bruce is just about exhausted enough to let it.

The air inside is warm but not stifling, like a windy summer day: it chases the chill out of Bruce’s limbs, warms him up from the inside as he’s settled down on a cushion even he has to describe as ridiculously large. Bruce...kind of wants to lean into it. Sure, there’s still a chance he’s about to be hurt, but also it’s not like his host is lacking in strength. Why bother waiting when all the power is on your side? It seems probable that the alien is either genuinely uninterested in hurting Bruce, or playing the long con. Either way, there’s no reason for Bruce not to take the opportunity to rest a little.

“You can lean back, you know.”

Bruce blinks as the gentle golden glow fades from the windows, the seaside landscape once more unobstructed as he looks ahead of himself. It takes some effort to twist around enough to see his host, but when he does it’s—well. It’s worth it. The man has changed out of his Englishman costume and into a pale gold tunic that hugs both his arms and his chest before loosening just a little around the waist and falling past his hips down to his knees. Bruce notices the bottom of fitted crimson pants hugging absolutely lovely calves, and swallows before he asks:

“Is the house translating?”

“Yes,” the alien says with a wide grin. “I am quite relieved that it could do anything for us: you do not seem to hail from a well-known region of the universe.”

“You sound extremely formal,” Bruce remarks without thinking, and swallows again when his host laughs:

“Not to my ears, I assure you. I suppose, however, that where outdated technology is concerned, we had better be grateful we understand each other at all.”

Bruce inclines his head in acquiescence. Sure, he’d like the comfort of his usual translator better than having to deal with the whole house filling with his host’s words—if not his voice—but the perceptible delay between his host’s voice and the house’s isn’t enough to make him wish for the alternative of not being able to communicate at all. Even if going back to that after using the Lanterns’ translators feels a bit like trying to stream a movie with a poor internet connection.

“I guess you’re right,” he agrees. Then, because his mask was already lost in the sea and this is an alien, anyway, he adds: “I’m B.”

“Bee?” his host answers, evidently testing the sound. “That is an unexpected name. Still, I suppose different worlds have different tastes. You may call me Kal.”

Bruce pauses, eyes narrowing.

“Oh,” Kal says, as if guessing what Bruce is thinking, “I was not—names where I’m from are quite...long. Much longer than yours. ‘Kal’ is only a diminutive.”

“How long is ‘long’?” Bruce asks, eyebrows raised.

In front of him, Kal blushes, and Bruce refuses to admit it’s not exactly an unappealing sight.

“Well, they build up with our history,” Kal explains, still tinged pink but relaxing enough to step closer and sit next to Bruce on his humongous, satiny cushion. “As a man of thirty-five who has not been idle, mine has grown quite long… I am not reluctant to share it, Bee. I am merely aware that many cultures do not share our patience for it.”

“Mmmh,” Bruce says.

It sounds fair enough.

“Now that is sorted out,” Kal asks after watching Bruce’s lips a few seconds too long, “may I interest you in a change of clothing? I assume your uniform is meant to protect you, but it hardly looks comfortable and it seems to me like your body could use something softer to rest in.”

“I have to get off this planet,” Bruce replies.

Kal nods, accommodating, and leans back against the cushions. It’s Bruce’s imagination that provides the sensation of their arms brushing, the warmth of skin on skin—the batsuit won’t allow for anything less than a full punch to be felt. That knowledge doesn’t change anything to the sensation, though, and Bruce shivers with it, all his senses focusing on the area entirely against his will. His brain, for some reason, reminds him that it’s been at least ten years since he stopped playing the incorrigible playboy and sex-enthusiast.

“This is a vacation moon,” Kal says, voice perfectly even despite the heat creeping up Bruce’s neck. “There are daily shuttles for arrival and departures. When the next one arrives tomorrow morning, I can ask them to send you to the nearest Green Lanterns’ outpost, and from there you should have very little trouble going back to….”

“Earth,” Bruce supplies, and winces when that causes Kal’s eyes to widen.

“I have heard of this planet! Some of the more famous Green Lanterns hailed from your world and—ah. Forgive me, I can see you do not wish to be questioned. That is fair, you must still be quite tired from your ordeal.”

Bruce nods, careful not to look too relieved at the prospect. He is tired though. Not as much as he should be by any right, but enough that the prospect of having to balance and measure what he said about Earth to guard it against potentially hostile aliens sounds like more trouble than it’s worth.

“Well, then,” Kal says, still smiling, like nothing Bruce says can possibly alter his good mood. “Shall I renew my offer of clean clothes then? I promise not to touch or alter your belongings in any way. And after that, perhaps a light supper, and then to bed.”

Bruce swallows. Kal, it’s already been established, is not hard on the eyes. At all. He’s tall and broad shouldered, and in a human he’d be pretty much exactly Bruce’s preferred type. As an alien, he still is, but then there’s also the strength, and the entirely unembarrassed curiosity, and the possibilities provided with potentially different anatomies that Bruce has never considered before in his life but now...now Bruce is wondering if it’s a good idea to dress himself in loose fabric.

Then Kal’s eyes catch his, and Bruce decides if he’s only going to spend one night here and never see the guy again, he might as well enjoy it. He says yes, and keeps a very close eye on the way Kal’s ass pushes against his tunic as he gets up, and then retreats toward the stairs.

Of course, Bruce should know better than to let himself get distracted, let alone so easily. He’s still technically on a mission—well, on his way back from a mission—and if anyone on Earth realizes what transpired here, even if nothing else happens, he will absolutely never ever hear the end of it. Ever. And yet….

Well, frankly, maybe Bruce is just getting old, but he thinks he’s allowed to indulge himself here. He’s recovering from injuries that are frankly ridiculously light for the kind of accident he was in, he’s on an unknown planet light years away from home, his transportation is most likely assured—unless he’s really losing it and missing red flags in Kal’s behavior—and he hasn’t had sex in over eight years. He gets to indulge a little. It’s only one night.

“I took the liberty of picking night clothing as well,” Kal calls after a few moments, appearing at the top of the spiral stairs. From below, it looked like the bedroom was empty the whole time, which Bruce must admit is a neat trick. “I figured you would wish to change before retiring for the night.”

Bruce, clinging to the last of his fraying dignity—he’s indulging, that doesn’t mean he has to be proud about it—manages to hum instead of saying something that could be misconstrued as flirting, but Kal doesn’t seem to mind. He says something about preparing the meal while Bruce changes and ‘do not worry, I shan’t be looking your way’, and then leaves Bruce alone.

Peeling himself out of the suit takes more effort than Bruce would like, but it’s also far from the hardest he’s had it, and he gets re-dressed in a decent amount of time. By then, his legs feel less like jelly, and he’s actually able to sit up and scoot on the ground to gather his things in a manageable pile and set them aside in a corner where they should, hopefully, not be disturbed.

After a while, Kal reemerges from the cooking area with a large tray filled with over a dozen bowls of colorful meats and fruits, several things that look like root vegetables, and even a bowl of something that could be a sort of love-child of wheat and rice. It looks both perplexing—Bruce has never had a purple savory dish before—and familiar, which is probably why his hands twitch toward the food before he can remember to ask:

“Anything in particular to eat with?”

“Merely your fingers,” Kal says, rinsing his hands in a silver dish of lightly fragranced water. “Do clean them beforehand, however.”

Bruce makes sure to give him a “duh” look as he reaches for the dish and rinses his own fingers.

“According to the available information, these should be safe for you to consume,” Kal says, grabbing what looks like a grape but turns out, upon tasting, to be a piece of meat.

“Unlike that purple thing before?” Bruce asks, the back of his neck heating up when he thinks back on their interactions in the cave.

“The shell is dangerous,” Kal agrees, “and I didn’t have any way to explain. Doing the pouring myself seemed to be the safest option.”

“I assume you won’t be feeding me for this meal then,” Bruce says.

Then gives himself a mental slap in the face because, really? For anyone else, that would be one thing, but Bruce is, without false modesty, one of the best martial artists on Earth, an honors graduate from the best university the USA have to offer, and the fucking Batman...and there he is, making an ass out of himself just because it’s been a while since he got sexed up and he just happened to fall in the backyard of the most fuckable alien in the universe. Un-fucking-believable.

Kal, either oblivious or going for coy, gives him an amused smile and nothing else, although he does readjust his position until one of his knees points to Bruce, the other leg extended on the other side in a way that must stretch the crotch of his pants under the pooling fabric of his tunic. Bruce is kind of glad for his own, vivid-red flap of fabric at the moment.

“So,” he asks after he’s eaten enough to settle the growl of his stomach, “where are we exactly? You mentioned this was a vacation moon.”

“Indeed. Cidaris orbits around an uninhabitable planet, yet somehow retained an atmosphere for an extremely long amount of time. Kryptonian architects started thinking of kryptoforming it a few centuries ago… It has been a favored vacation post for several decades, now.”

“Are you Kryptonian?”

“I am,” Kal replies, a piece of the grape-like meat resting against his lower lip and staining it purple. “Although I don’t suppose someone whose family possesses as much as mine does can fairly call himself an ordinary one.”

Oh god. He’s a rich alien—for all Bruce knows, he could be a real life, genuine Brucie Wayne with the wits to match, and he sounds like he’s just escaped a Ren Faire. And the worst of it all is, none of that has any dampening effect on the burst of heat that goes through Bruce when their knees brush. There are times when Bruce hardly even recognizes himself.

“What is your home like?”

Bruce throws Kal a look, but he neither looks nor feels like he’s trying to wriggle information out of Bruce...and even if he were, it’s not like he can’t answer without giving away vital information about Earth. He takes a look around before he answers though: the tall, organic and yet intricately carved arches of smooth wood, the invisible shields that leave the eyes free to roam over the infinity of the ocean and a truly spectacular sunset. The quiet, the scent of salt in the air—the kind of atmosphere that makes you want to breathe deeper but quieter, as if it stole all the stress from your lungs and replaced it with a good mouthful of rest.

“Not like this,” Bruce says to start with. “It’s a lot more angular. The buildings aren’t see-through, and you can’t see the stars at night. It’s...an old city. A wounded city. Frankly, with all the terrible things people do to it and in it, it’s probably a miracle it’s still standing.”

That’s...a staggering understatement, Bruce knows. But on the other hand: how do you even begin to explain Gotham to an alien? People who live less than fifty miles outside of it have enough of a hard time trying to grasp its essence as it is—they think it’s a blight on an otherwise very fine state...which, to be fair, it is. In some ways. That’s the easy part, though.

The hard part is trying to explain all the good side, like diamonds in the mud. The way so many people try to turn things around still, in little ways—insignificant ways, but also in the ways that matter most. How do you explain the dirty alleys with their gang fights and their kids laughing around firecrackers in summer? There are no words to convey all of that in a way that even begins to scratch the surface of what the city is—of what it means to Bruce. He knows: he’s tried. Even Dick never quite seemed to get it though—not enough to stay, at any rate. The only one who came close was—Bruce doesn’t have the words to explain it.

And yet, something must show on his face: by his side, still sprawling over the cushion like a particularly content cat, Kal smiles.

“And yet, you would not leave it behind.”

“Never in my life,” Bruce replies.

There’s something trying to creep in his throat as he speaks, and he manages to tamp it down but not before it pokes at his chest in a way he’s wholly unfamiliar with. it’s such a simple statement, and yet somehow, it’s something even his closest friends—inasmuch as he has any—have rarely heard from him, if at all. It’s an unexpected thing to find himself saying to a one-night stand, and Bruce would sigh if he hadn’t accepted the most likely outcome of the evening already.

“If this is a vacation moon,” he asks in a bit to shift the attention, “how come you’re here alone?”

Kal stiffens, and Bruce...deliberately doesn’t wince. He can’t truthfully claim that he hadn’t expected a sensitive topic, but Kal was more than polite about Gotham when, Bruce is very aware, it would have been easy for him to be less than polite about it. It seems...petty, in retrospect, to answer that with a barb.

“In the interest of not spoiling the good mood,” Kal replies with forced levity, “I will say that I was in need of some personal space, and ask that you allow me to stop there.”

Bruce nods. Even if he disagreed, he’s got a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t be all that hard for Kal to overpower him. The thought may leave him a little warmer in the neck than he’s ready to admit, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get rude about it. The real surprise, however, comes when Bruce hears himself ask:

“Would you like me to give you some?”

“Space?” Kal asks. He laughs, incredulous, when Bruce nods; the shift of his body making them sink closer into the dip of the cushion. “And waste all the good works of physics when I could just as easily have brought you to a bench?”

Bruce snorts, but it comes out short, almost surprised. He hadn’t realized he’d leaned in too, hadn’t realized how close they were to touching, and now his elbow is resting against Kal’s shoulder and even through the fabric it feels like that’s setting his entire torso on fire, the warmth of it slowly baking up his arm, his shoulder, his neck, until every breath of air on exposed skin feels like a caress. Bruce breathes in, deliberately slow, and then allows himself to sink back, just a little. He does, after all, know how to do this.

“You’re right,” he says, faux-nonchalant, “let’s not be rude.”

Kal smiles, bright and brilliant in a way Bruce has only ever seen on Diana before—it’s the kind of smile you don’t often see on adults, and it’s all the more precious for it. Not that Bruce would ever admit it. Still, combined with Kal’s jawline, the blue of his eyes, the circumstances...Bruce leans in closer, half expecting another witty exchange. Kal responds in kind instead and, after a heartbeat’s pause, presses their mouths together. Part of Bruce, up until then, had been expecting something a little different from the usual, but Kal’s mouth has a regular mouth taste, with a thin echo of that purple meat hidden in the flavor. Other than that, and the acute awareness of the damage he could inflict with those teeth of his, it’s no different from kissing a nice, smiley, really good looking human.

It has been roughly a decade since the last time Bruce indulged, though, and he is begrudgingly forced to admit that maybe that’s what makes it so intense, lips so sensitive they almost hurt with it, his chest heaving just from that one point of contact, the rest of his body tensing not to go overboard right away. Around them the lights dim a little, highlighting the transparency of the walls, and the heat spreads from Bruce’s head to his chest, to his groin, and every other extremity he has.

With a sigh, he goes back to kissing Kal, one hand coming up to push at his shoulder...and be met with resistance. He pulls back, body cooling fast enough to feel cold, and asks:

“Did I misinterpret?”

“Not at all,” Kal replies with a satisfied smile and a shrug. “I merely had a different image of the proceedings and failed to consider you might have your own opinion on the matter.”

“I can’t fucking believe I’m about to sleep with a guy who speaks like he’s in a Jane Austen space novel,” Bruce mutters.

If it wasn’t enough to stop him before, though, it’s certainly not enough to stop him now.

“What did you have in mind?”

Kal’s grin turns impish and, in the blink of an eye, he’s on his knees and hovering over Bruce’s lap.

“Do feel free to stop me at any time,” he says. “Things are so much better when both parties feel properly enthusiastic.”

Bruce kisses Kal again as a way to make him stop talking—he does have limits—and it works perfectly except for the part where it sets his skin ablaze again. He doesn’t complain about it though: he may be sensitive to the point of near pain, but he has no intention of giving up on the feeling, and revels in the intensity of it, the feather-light feel of Kal’s fingers against his wrists, Kal’s lips on his neck, Kal’s knees around his thighs.

Bruce sighs when he’s pushed down on the bed, and pushes his hips and erection up against Kal’s ass when he is given a few seconds to object. From there, the heavy weight of another body settles over him, and he pushes up again—the friction against Kal’s clad crotch sends sparks flying all through Bruce’s nervous system, pulling every hair on his body to stand as goosebumps overtake him before there’s even been a move made towards removing his shirt. Bruce really needs to do this more often.

He’s distracted from the thought when, after some awkward maneuvering that almost has them toppling to the side, Kal finally manages to get his hands under Bruce’s tunic and on his waist, barely waiting long enough to get consent before he pulls it off Bruce’s shoulders—Bruce is fairly sure he catches a smug look in his Suit’s direction and...well. Fair. He still reaches up to worry at a nipple in retaliation, satisfied with the reaction he gets right up until he receives the same treatment. Evidently, the days when he was perfectly capable of ignoring his own body until he was sure to leave his partner satisfied are long gone.

He can’t say that he minds too much.

It feels like an eternity before Kal’s mouth finally moves past his pectorals, kissing and caressing his belly, his arms, until it feels like Bruce could come just from that and he makes an impatient noise and pushes down on Kal’s shoulder. It feels a bit like pushing a brick wall, which turns out to be an extremely pleasant sensation, and so Bruce doesn’t even bother with performative annoyance when Kal lifts his hips off the mattress and slides the back of his pants over his ass.

“Oh,” he starts, pleased when he finds bare skin there, “I must say I find this detail very—what is that?”

It’s a good thing no one is here to witness Bruce blink dumbly at the transparent ceiling, or turn around to look past the furniture into the night, where there’s nothing but trees and grass to look at him. Eventually though, he does turn back to Kal and finds him staring at his crotch with a perplexed face. Bruce looks down at where his erection is flagging under the jockstrap he favors with the special fabric of his undersuit. Back up at Kal.

“Problem?”

“Where I am from,” Kal replies with the slow diction of someone trying not to offend, “one may go with underwear or without. This seems like a...an interesting in-between.”

“Do you want me to keep it on?” Bruce asks.

He’s done far more adventurous during one-night stands, and with people he found far less pleasant than Kal. It wouldn’t even be that big a deal. After a moment of consideration, though, Kal asks:

“Is your species capable of climaxing more than once during the night?”

“Yes.”

Given how his body has been reacting so far, Bruce is even cautiously optimistic about attempting a third round, should they be inclined.

“In that case, I should like to admire you in full just now, if you are amenable.”

Bruce has to roll his eyes at that, otherwise he runs the risk of getting caught in the moment and finding this way of talking sexy when it’s anything but. He does dispose of the jockstrap, though, and makes sure to leave it on a nearby cushion where it’ll be easy to retrieve. After that he lies back down on the cushion and gestures for Kal to proceed.

He’s half expecting Kal to take him in his mouth, the break having diminished but not destroyed his erection, but instead the man dives straight for Bruce’s balls—he licks and sucks at them, makes them roll over the bridge of his nose in a way that leaves searing burns over the skin, fills him with heat like a cup in long, slow licks until finally, with one long pull of mouth around his length, he tips over and comes with a silent shudder.

He stays in place for a while, lying down and breathing hard while Kal massages his muscles into a more relaxed state. Eventually—a shorter length of time for him than for most men his age—Bruce’s heartbeat is back to normal, or close enough. Only then does he allow himself to sigh again, and sink even further into the giant pillow.

“Am I to understand you are—”

“Do not say ‘amenable’,” Bruce warns, and Kal chuckles. “But yes.”

“Oh, good. Would you like to proceed as you first intended?”

“Not if you want a third round.”

Kal smiles like a kid at Christmas, and Bruce tries very hard not to groan, even though he knows he’ll get there at some point of the night. He might as well fight for what little dignity he has left, right? Right.

Somehow, he gets even less sleep that night than he’d anticipated.

Bruce wakes up well past sunrise the next morning, the sound of waves in his ears and the smell of salt on his tongue. He still aches in a myriad of different ways, but a lot of them have turned pleasant, and his legs aren’t made of jelly anymore. He takes advantage of the fact to get up and walk to where Kal is seated at a small table turned toward the ocean. The shields, or windows—whichever it is—are gone from between the wooden arches, allowing Bruce to spy the hints of a very large net in the platformed bedroom above before he steps up to Kal. The young alien hasn’t noticed Bruce’s presence, yet, which gives Bruce time to notice he looks extremely pleased with himself.

To be fair, Bruce would be too if he’d managed to bring a near-fifty-year-old, injured man off four times in one night. Not that he’s told Kal about the exceptional aspect of it, but it is possible he was a little too well fucked to hide his own surprise entirely… Either way, Kal is very satisfied, breakfast is still waiting for Bruce, and the mist is only just clearing from around the trees. The air around them is crisp, bracing in a way that makes Bruce half-heartedly wish for Kal’s ridiculous sweater. At the table, Kal still looks entirely oblivious to Bruce’s presence.

Bruce clears his throat, and laughs when that surprises Kal enough to send him sprawling down onto the wooden deck.

“Good morning,” he deadpans while Kal throws a napkin at his head.

“Is that how people on Earth court one another?” Kal asks in mock outrage. “Mind-shattering sex and then heart attacks?”

Bruce doesn’t smile at that, too aware of where he’s going and who he will need to be soon, but he does allow his lips to quirk up.

“Maybe I didn’t think you’d be so affected by something so...inconsequential.”

“Oh, it was plenty consequential enough,” Kal replies without missing a beat with a saucy glance at Bruce’s crotch. “I might even consider letting you know if I ever visit Earth, someday.”

“You can do that?” Bruce asks, satisfied when his sudden spike of stress remains inaudible.

“I do work with the Green Lanterns,” Kal shrugs. “I wouldn’t call it probable, but I suppose it isn’t entirely impossible.”

Bruce hums and, to his relief, Kal doesn’t take offense to it. They share a peaceful breakfast instead, with fruits, fresh water and some kind of crackers that Kal dips into what must be a Kryptonian equivalent to coffee. Bruce tries to get some of it, the house encyclopedia informs them that it might not be safe for humans, and between one thing and the next the time for Bruce to get dressed and follow Kal to the shuttle.

He’s not reluctant about it by far, but if he’s being honest with himself—which he usually tries not to be—Bruce has to admit he’s also not quite as impatient to leave as he thought he’d be.

It was an excellent night, after all.

[silverncrimson]

( oscar isaac, 39, cismale, he / him ) Was that EZEKIEL ‘ZEKE’ MARCOLAS ? I heard a rumor they work for the O’SHEA family, but who knows for sure ? They can be a bit CALLOUS & UNETHICAL, but I also heard they can be METICULOUS & PERCEPTIVE. You’ll usually find them at SKYFALL in their spare time, when they’re not being the OWNER OF MALNATI PIZZERIA. You may want to keep an eye on that one !

- B A S I C -

Full Name: Ezekiel Miguel Marcolas Nickname(s): Zeke Age: Thirty-Nine Occupation: Owner of Malnati Pizzeria Affiliation: O’Shea Birthday: February 12th Zodiac: Aquarius

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Alignment: Chaotic Evil

- F A M I L Y -

Father: Miguel Marcolas (deceased) Mother: Ruth Marcolas (deceased) Siblings: Constantine (35), Uriel (30), Isaiah (28), Yesenia (24)

Ex-Wife: Lucia Daughters: Stella & Stefania (15) Son: Raul (8)

- A P P E A R A N C E -

Height: 5′9″ Hair Color / Type:  Dark brown  Eye Color: Brown Piercings / Tattoos:  No piercings. Five tattoos - the Chi Ro symbol on his left shoulder, being one of them

- H I S   Q U I R K S -

He wears black leather gloves at ALL TIMES

He carries around with him pocket rags / handkerchiefs and disinfectant spray, for wiping down surfaces if he needs to

He burns EVERYTHING he gets dirty, usually from blood splatter - whether it’s his fancy jackets or his gloves (he’s got about a hundred backup pairs - several of them he keeps in his glove compartment). 

He’s super meticulous about his clothes - they must be clean and tidy at all times

He often repeats himself, or counts out loud to himself

Does things in repetitions, especially if he is stressed about something

He will avoid cracks in the sidewalk

He will NOT shake your hand, or touch you at all...unless you’re his target

He drinks a shit lot of bourbon

Smokes a shit ton of cigars and cigarettes, alike

Very antisocial and a loner, but will talk to people if they initiate a conversation

- P E R S O N A L I T Y -

(+) Fiercely Loyal, Calm, Meticulous, Observant, Perceptive (-) Callous, Unethical, Intense, Inflexible, Perfectionist

- H I S   D E M O N S -

He suffers from: OCD, Mysophobia, Claustrophobia

Excessive thoughts (obsessions) that lead to repetitive behaviors (compulsions).Obsessive-compulsive disorder is characterized by unreasonable thoughts and fears (obsessions) that lead to compulsive behaviors. 

OCD often centers on themes such as a fear of germs or the need to arrange objects in a specific manner.

compulsive behavior

agitation

hypervigilance

impulsivity

meaningless and persistent repetition of own words or actions

repetitive movements

ritualistic behavior

social isolation

Mysophobia, also known as verminophobia, germophobia, germaphobia, bacillophobia and bacteriophobia, is a pathological fear of contamination and germs.

- B I O G R A P H Y -

Life long resident of Chicago, IL

The oldest of five kids. He’s got three younger brothers and a younger sister - they’re not all that close.

He suffers from OCD and Mysophobia, and a mild case of Claustrophobia - all of which developed when he was a very young child. 

He had spent the summer with his aunt in Springfield, while his parents went to Mexico to visit his paternal grandparents. His Aunt Marina, unfortunately, turned out to be a massive hoarder. Her house was an absolute nightmare - disgustingly filled to the max with literal garbage, and other useless, dirty junk that she’d collected over a good ten or so years. There was no livable space anywhere, not even a proper bed, except for a very small nook in the corner of the house. He remembers vividly, to this day, the infestation of roaches, mice, rats and dead carcasses of rodents and cats, and not to mention all the fecal matter of said animals, that he’d come across that summer. The smell alone...

Even to his then four year old brain, it had been more than enough to traumatize him for life, despite not remembering much else about it.

Nowadays, he wears a pair of black leather gloves wherever he goes.

He's the owner of Malnati Pizzeria - has owned the place for ten years, his dad owning it before him. When his papi passed away, the business was then passed to Zeke.

Is divorced. He's got a vindictive ex-wife, two teen daughters (twins) and an 8 year old son - all three of whom he hardly sees these days because his ex-wife's such a bitch and has gotten the court to deny him visitation rights. So he's bitter, and angry, and HATES that woman with a passion.

His childhood was not terrible, but it wasn’t all that great, either. Especially for a kid who did suffer from OCD and who was a germaphobe.

For a good portion of his life, his family always struggled with income, and growing up in poverty in a large city like Chicago was not exactly a blast. They lived on the north side of the city, in a small, cramped, rundown apartment - it had two bedrooms, one bathroom, and it was always infested with cockroaches and mice, and spiders. His literal nightmare.

The walls were super thin, the floor tiles loose or broken, and the AC and heater rarely worked, so it was often way too cold or too hot, but never comfortable. With a family of seven living within it’s walls, it was...claustrophobic to say the least.

Things started to change gradually when he was around 12. His papi got fired from his job as a taxi driver due to him being a liability after being in one too many road-side accidents, which desperately drove him to search for work elsewhere. Somehow, and Zeke never did get the full answer from him, Miguel Marcolas wound up working for the O’Sheas. He was eventually given Malnati Pizzeria as a ‘gift’, a place of business that he could call his own, so long as he stayed loyal and did his part to keep O’Shea business running smoothly.

Zeke had always been a highly intelligent individual, scarily so, so he was quick to pick up on the changes in both his father and their financial situation. They went from barely having anything to eat or any clothes to wear, presents to give out for Christmas or birthdays, to having all that and more...more than any of them had ever had before. Of course, he wasn’t one to knock a good thing like a newfound well of money. Questioning where the pizzeria came from and how his papi was able to afford ownership wasn’t something Zeke cared to do, or know the answer to. It didn’t matter.

Though he knew deep down that whatever it was his papi was dabbling in, definitely wasn’t honorable or lawful...but again, the kid didn’t care. It eventually got him and his family out of that shit apartment, and that was a godsend in his eyes.

The older he got, the more he started helping out at the pizzeria, and by the time he was 14, Zeke had met a fair share of the members of the O’Shea gang. Because he wasn’t just another stupid and naive kid, by that time he’d already figured out exactly who his papi worked for; instead of being scared like most kids might have been, what with being surrounded on a daily basis with some of the worst criminals that the city had to offer, Zeke had felt safe in their presence. He felt in awe of those men and women and the power they held.

The uppers that passed through Malnati had their eyes on him from day one, it seemed. They clearly saw the keenness in his eyes, and the idolization, but also a great potential, because they kept him around. His father, not an affectionate or loving man by any means of the word, watched on proudly as his associates took an interest in his eldest son, quickly shaping and morphing his impressionable young mind.

At the age of seventeen, Zeke proudly received his Chi Rho, joining the O’Sheas as a sentinel. Like many, he’d have to prove to them all that he was worthy of the tattoo, and boy was he ready...and he sure as hell proved that, to.

Zeke was as loyal as one could be to the O’Sheas, and despite his OCD and Mysophobia that he had to contend with, he had his ways of working around that, and he quickly became a deadly killing machine under the close training of his General handler at the time. He rose rapidly through the ranks, until he reached his desired position among the gang - Bonebreaker.

He’s been a Bonebreaker for going on fifteen years now, and he was still thriving. He was a stone-faced killer, a psychopath with no emotions, no qualms about taking out whatever hit he was assigned. There was no remorse for what he did, and he doubted that there would ever be...he wasn’t capable of that kind of emotion.

- W A N T E D   C O N N E C T I O N S -

Ex-Wife - He didn’t get worked up over a lot of things; it actually took quite a bit for him to even show that much emotion, but his ex-wife was certainly capable of pushing all of his buttons. He absolutely hated her, and the only reason she wasn’t dead, was because of his children’s sake. Despite not outwardly showing his love for his daughters and son, he did love them...as much as he was able to. They were about the only thing he truly felt any sort of positive emotions towards.

O’Sheas / Affiliates

Bonebreaker Interactions

Reaper Interactions

Malnati Pizzeria customers

Malnati Pizzeria employees

Anything!

[cutiecrates]

Cutie Reviews: TokyoTreat Oct 19

I think I’m doing pretty good progress wise, please be patient with me as I continue to try to review old boxes~

“October is here, bringing with it those spooky Halloween vibes! Halloween has been growing in popularity in recent years, and since Japan loves their seasonal snacks we had plenty of new, interesting items to choose from! In the spirit of being spooky but kinda cute, we’ve created a Poke-Monster Night for you to enjoy! No sharing these tricky snacks though!“

For this months contest, the winner could receive figures of Naruto and Sasuke from Naruto, while runner-ups won a cute pokeball candy and stamp. Lucky Treat consisted of Full Metal Alchemist, Dragon Quest, AND three devil fruits from One Piece, the Gomu Gomu (Gum), Mera Mera (Flame), and Ope Ope (Operation. Also, they accidentally mislabeled as the “dark dark fruit”). I was very excited that they included the 3 belonging to 3 of my favorite characters~

Pokemon Ramune & Strange Syrup DIY

(Please see top pic for images)

For this month, we get a basic, straight-laced ramune drink. Thank goodness :P as much as I like to try new flavors, sometimes I forget the original is probably the best... especially in comparison to those yucky flavors that I’m still traumatized by <_< and this month we even get a really cute pokemon label.

Ramune is basically that “soda“ flavor you’ll see in Japanese candy. It has a sweet, sort of lemon-ish taste but its not sour. It’s a little like sprite, but in my opinion it tastes way better. It’s especially yummy whenever it’s warm out or if you worked up a thirst. It’s also really fun to open because of the marble inside!

If you have ever wanted to try out Ramune, I would suggest checking on Amazon (they have a variety of fruit flavors too), or maybe the Japan Haul website (the website made through Tokyo Treat and its various brands).

- - - - -

The DIY I just included a bonus pic of because I’ve done it several times. It’s a super-sticky, thick syrup like candy that only requires you to mix the 3 flavors, which are strawberry, soda, and lemon. Together they make grape... which looks like this:

Because this candy was a little old, I think it was a bit off. The lemon and soda flavors were fine, but I noticed that not only was strawberry orange instead of pink, which might explain this... greenish-honey color. It’s usually a little purple if I recall.

Also, it didn’t really taste like grape this time, and it wasn’t as good in my opinion- but I guarantee if you open it as soon as you get it, it tastes much better. If you don’t like sticky/gooey textures you might wanna skip this one though.

Halloween Milk Senbei & Bloody Cola Marshmallow

Since I subscribed like 3 years ago, I’ve only seen senbei in a box once; I was very excited to see it again! It’s stuff like this I wish they would include more of, because I want to try the unique foreign flavors you know?

Anyway, the milk senbei is a plain, very thin melt-in-your mouth cracker-like snack that pretty much tastes like ice cream cone, but a teensy bit sweeter. This one comes with a cola flavored sauce to put on top of it. Each 1 (or one pack, not sure) is around 25-27 calories.

♥ ♥ ♥

I really like the taste of ice cream cones, I don’t know why, I just always have. Meanwhile, the jelly/sauce is purple, but it indeed tastes like cola ♥ it’s very yummy. However... together, they get a strange taste and that I’m not very fond of. I can’t even describe it, but its weird. But eating it in small doses is tolerable.

- - - - -

Speaking of cola, we also got a really cute marshmallow filled with a cola jelly! It’s like they combined two of my favorite things~

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

It’s very soft and yummy, the jelly inside tastes about the same as the sauce from the prior item, but it tastes so much better with the marshmallow.

Apple Pie Kit Kat & Brown Sugar Sweets

Instead of orange kit kats this year, we get to see fun purple one :D these kit kats are inspired by an apple pie. As you can see they also come in a large pack to share with others or to eat yourself. Each pack is 65 calories. 

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

I love the coloring of these, first of all. It’s such a pretty purple, and its fun too. The apple flavor is very prominent, and it has a very small hint of spice, while the wafer brings to mind a sugary crust. It’s sweet, but mildly.

- - - - - -

These are popular for their melty and soft texture, with a very thin, crisp layer of rich brown sugar coating. Each one of these is 17 calories.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

These are kinda basic, but it’s a yummy sweet that isn’t overly sugary. I think it goes good with the apple pie kit kat, and maybe some milk.

Disappearing Taste?! Mixed Gummies, ZomB Grape Gum, & Blue Green Soda Gum

We got 3 gums this month! Our first is very familiar, because we’ve had this gum before. The only difference is this is its washed out, slightly different cousin. Basically, you’re given a set of flavors of gum, in this case yogurt, strawberry, orange, and white grape/muscat. You can eat them as is, or mix the flavors to make new ones, like a fruit drink, melon soda, or different fruits.

What makes this one special however, is that there is a special gumball that supposedly makes the flavor disappear? I mean, isn’t that what gum does normally?

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

This gum is really nice, you get a lot of them per-resealable pouch, and the flavors are always pretty good. Plus I like how the gum is smooth and soft in texture. I didn’t really notice any difference with this one from the last pack I had other than flavors.

- - - - -

Next up, we have the ZomB Gum; a popular Halloween item that we have seen before; I think about 2 or so years back, when we got the red cola vampire version. What makes this gum really fun is that it colors your tongue as you chew it, and it has a delicious grape flavor.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

This gum has the same texture as the other gum, so I really like it. The color effect isn’t nearly as strong as the package shows, but it’s a cute little gimmick, and it tastes great. The flavor lasts about 5 minutes.

- - - -

Our last gum is another brand I’ve had before. I have had both this flavor, and their cola version. It’s pretty much the same concept as the ZomB gum (they’re made by the same brand), but its in two sticks and you get a soda flavor, and a melon flavor.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

I’d pretty much say the same things as I did about the previous two gums. All three were delicious and I would recommend any of them.

Poteco Pumpkin Gratin & Pringles

Here we have two salty, savory snacks for the box. But of course, the Poteco are not new to us, in fact I think last Halloween we got the exact same pack; minus slightly different packaging. Poteco is good and all, but I got so tired of seeing it that I tend to... shy away from it now. This flavor wasn’t really that different from the original/normal Poteco either.

- - - - -

I was a lot more excited for this item, a unique pack of Japanese Pringles :D Looking at the package, this is a type of ramen or noodle bowl flavor. It’s a mystery item in the booklet so I’m not really sure, but for this small can it is 267 calories!

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

Honestly, these are so yummy that I don’t even care how many calories there are. The flavor is very strong, it tastes exactly like this cup ramen I like to buy. Trying to describe the flavor, I would say it’s sort of like beef or soy sauce broth, with a hint of a corn taste?

Pokemon Halloween Chocolate & Pikachu Gummies

These are both snacks we’ve had before, so I’ll try to just gist this one.

These crispy snacks are shape like pikachu heads and come in fun, colorful packaging featuring a variety of Pokemon, while the back usually has a fun puzzle or image. Each bag is 83 calories and they are by the brand Tohato.

These are really yummy x3 they have a slightly bitter chocolate taste and remind me a lot of the coco crispy cereals.

- - - - - -

The other snack is also pikachu-shaped, but besides its head, there are also the occasional tail you might find ;3 These are by Lotte, and each pack is 90 calories. The flavor is grape and they taste really good too.

The only real thing to bother me about these is that they didn’t cut the gummy around Pikachu’s ears. It’s a minor thing but it bothers me a little.

Halloween Corn Potage Umaibo

Okay, so... because I talk about this a lot, I’m not actually planning on saying anything about it this time :P long story short, corn potage Umaibo is the best.

Squid Legs & Halloween Pizza Corn Snack

Don’t let the name fool you, these are not real squid legs- they just have a fishy taste. I’ve had these before too, and I have fairly complex feelings about them. On one hand they don’t taste terrible, but I don’t like seafood and the flavor is still unappealing to me. I like their crunchy texture though.

- - - - -

Next up is this corn puff snack featuring a delicious pizza flavor! They taste exactly like the pizza-flavored combos, if you never had those before I would recommend them too~

Pokemon Cola Chewing Candy

This is our final item... and now that I look at it, it kinda looks like a wafer cookie doesn’t it?

Anyway, these are sticks of chewing candy that come in various series and flavors. Before we had some grape Thomas the Tank Engine ones, and this time we get some cola Pokemon. Each wrapper usually includes a unique design, craft, or puzzle of some sort.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ I don’t know if these are hard because they had to sit around for a while, or because that is just how they are. I don’t remember the Thomas ones being so hard, but they weren’t as thick as these. But if you suck on them for a few minutes they soften up, or you can crunch them to softness. The flavor is very yummy, I think it might be my favorite cola flavored item in the box.  

♥ Cutie Ranking ♥

Content - 4.5 out of 5. Everything is very yummy, even though a fair amount of it was repetitive. I really liked it. Theme - 4 out of 5. Well, given the packaging and theme, I could say yeah they did pretty good. We had a decent amount of Pokemon items, but they could have done a little more too I think. Total Rank: 9 out of 10. I really liked this box, I just wish maybe we would have had a couple more unique items.

♥ Cutie’s Scale of Yummy ♥

(I’m sorry, but by this point I’m not really feeling well. I want to finish the review so that I can go lay down DX)

[comicteaparty]

December 21st-December 27th, 2019 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from December 21st, 2019 to December 27th, 2019.  The chat focused on the following question:

Without heavy spoilers, describe the worst thing you’ve put one of your characters through?

carcarchu

for a comic i haven't released yet (this happens in literally the first chapter so i don't really consider it a spoiler) the main character in this story has a rough life. she's saddled with enormous debts and gets fired from her job, then when things finally start looking up for her she gets hit by a car and "dies" the whole premise of the story is that people who die and get brought back to life by doctors (dead for just a few seconds) get powers

Cronaj

Hmmm.... I won't say whose, but probably the death of their child, and I've done some awful things to my characters. For some reason, all the pain and suffering in the world does not amount to the loss of one's child. To be fair, I don't usually consider it my fault that these horrible things occur in the story, because I couldn't change it if I wanted to. To do so would feel like a lie. These stories exist in my mind independent of what I want, and I'm simply telling them to the world. But yes... that child is the saddest creature I've written.

eli [a winged tale]

Torn apart, watched their friends die, forced to live forever... you name it, we got it In all seriousness, I also like focusing on the small (but not insignificant things) like not having your love reciprocated and questioning your worth. Sometimes it’s the small things that can collectively be destructive.

Capitania do Azar

In some ways, I think I have already done the worst I possibly could to my characters (war, being unable to help and losing their loved ones in darkness and loneliness). But on the other hand, I do plan to extend the mechanics of mind intrusion to the point of completely mangling up people's psyches, so I guess I'll have to wait and see which one feels worse

FeatherNotes

So far in GJS, we've had a character go through some, well, explosive limb loss There's quite a lot of hard things the chars go through / will go through, but i def see the brutality of the leg loss as something pretty huge for the character!

taterviking

I threw my main character under a semi, off a cliff, and shoved a tree branch into his brain. And then when he woke up I gave him long term memory loss and stole 80% of his memories from before he was 12

Kelsey (Kurio)

Boy am I glad none of us are gods heh

taterviking

I kind of treat writing like the Sims: which one am i torturing and which two did I build specifically to get naked together.

eli [a winged tale]

Omg Tater that’s a perfect analogy (edited)

taterviking

the only difference is that I can follow them to work and they're alllllll the money slave/work horse

Also, Viking is my father's name, you can call me Tater ;P

snuffysam

the worst thing that has happened to one of my characters canonically is something i have not and will not describe in-comic, so i'm not about to describe it here. there are certain... types of trauma... where even if a story depicts things realistically, respectfully, and with properly directed condemnation, fans romanticize the hell out of it. and i want no part of that. so, like, i'm keeping this stuff in the character's backstory, because i want to depict living with and growing past traumatic experiences, but i refuse to actually describe/depict what happened so fans don't get the wrong takeaway. the important thing isn't what happened, it's how she deals with it. as for things that actually happen in the comic - one character does get tortured by a government for information?

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

Oh boy. So I am rather known for torturing my characters. I don’t even know what the worst thing is, but ‘dying horribly’ or ‘very dark and tragic backstory involving abuse and/ or terrible loss’ describes 95% of my casts.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Several of my characters get horribly bitten/eaten by hungry spirits. If they aren't already completely wrecked by the attack, the resulting cursed bite leads to quarantine and ostracization. Even little kids get abandoned or sent away. And those who are eventually totally consumed by the curse... basically become half-dead. ...Yeah, I got a lot of 'worse than death' stuff going on

Nutty (Court of Roses)

Won't say who, but i don't think i could do much worse than giving a character the perfect life and then taking it and everyone they've ever loved away from them in one fell swoop, leaving them to wander aimlessly.

Deo101

I've put all of my characters through different things that I think aren't really comparable as far as saying one is "worse" than the other. Though, I think that I'll probably say making one of them essentially live through a genocide is pretty undeniably the worst thing, and also the only one that I've really canonically discussed.

DanitheCarutor

I'm lowkey into character torture porn, so I like putting my OCs through some shit. Apollo probably has the most cushy life of every character I've ever made, the spoiled brat! The worst thing that will happen, in TGtaHR at least, will be related to death and/or near death. Not so much the subject in itself but how it is used, which may or may not be the worst thing from a reader perspective, but from the character's perspective. I mean...? I guess anything relating to death is pretty bad, but I've kind of seen situations where the person would have considered it a luxury, soooo. I don't know where I'm going with this!(edited)

Deo101

sounds like you're going towards "my comic is the meanest thing I've put my characters through"

you big meanie.

DanitheCarutor

Ah! I'm such a bully! Nothing like putting your characters through the worst to make the positive payoff more worth it.

khkddn

is psychological or physical pain more impactful to readers? prolly depends heavily on the context huh

anyway for my comic I think it is a tie between a psychologically hurtful thing and a physically hurtful thing

the psychological one is a little something I like to call The Dress Arc, and the physical one is called Cold Swiss Cheese

Deo101

Incredible

khkddn

what is the point of having painful scenes if one does not give them cool names amirite

Deo101

Absolutely. You know whats up

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I’d say psychological pain is much worse. A broken leg can heal in a month, but trauma stays with you. Of course, the former can cause the latter, but I always find it much more emotional when the character is feeling internally tortured rather than externally.

DanitheCarutor

I'm no expert but from personal experience with my comic, it's kind of depends on the reader? But physical is more universally comprehensible. A lot of the pain depicted in my story so far is psychological, with a little physical, and I've noticed people who have experience and/or are educated with the psychological aspect are more impacted by that than people who have never experienced or learned about it. Or to be more straightforward, people who have never experienced or have no knowledge of mental/emotional abuse have no idea what's going on in the story. Although when I had a scene where my frail, mentally unstable MC got punched in the face, everyone flipped out equally.

Of course this is just relating to abuse, when it comes to other stuff relating to pain I can't really give an opinion. I would say it's similar, since most people generally need to have a certain level of understanding of something to be impacted by its depiction of fiction, but I have no idea. Lol(edited)

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

No, you make a really good point. People generally can’t comprehend a pain they haven’t experienced, so I admit it would make sense to only feel empathy for physical pain if you’ve never known psychological trauma.

DanitheCarutor

Yeah, it's a douchey thing to do since this is subjective (there are people who have experienced trauma who lack the ability to empathize with others who go through something similar and vice versa), but I like to make a game out of figuring out who has and hasn't been in a really bad relationship based on how they respond to my comic irl, and online to an extent. Admittedly I'm hardcore into getting feedback half due to wanting to psychologically evaluate my readerbase.

Kelsey (Kurio)

Wait what?

DanitheCarutor

"What what" what? Don't worry, I don't do anything or judge based on stuff like that since it's so little info, I just like psychology... even if I may not be very good at it.

But yeah, I'm kind of a creep.

DanitheCarutor

Oh yeah, don't be scared to go back to posting in this channel? Thing? I won't be hanging out here, unless someone talks to me directly. I just responded originally because I had a tiny bit of knowledge on the subject asked.

Cronaj

I get that. I'm also kind of creepy. Plus, I kind of feel like webcomics are a bit of a social experience to begin with, which often involves a lot of studying the readers' emotional responses to the story.

keii4ii

Human beings automatically judge each other alllll the time, so part of it is inevitable. I think the most important thing is to acknowledge that you can be a little, very, or even totally wrong. ...The other important thing is, I do think there's a difference between subconsciously judging others and actively looking forward to it? If you are actively looking forward to judging others, that sort of turns your comment section into a social experiment of sorts, and I don't feel comfortable about that. If I knew the creator of a comic I follow was like that, I would be like "uhhhh you do you, but I want no part in that" and never comment.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Just.... ideally should be consensual?

I know some people who actually enjoy that kinda stuff, like even if they found out, they'd be like "ohhhhh SMART! :D"... Then there are people who would feel upset if they found out. So yeah, ideally this would be all consensual so people can opt in or out, but I don't know how you can do this while fully informing prospective participants.

DanitheCarutor

It sounds like a lie, but really, I don't judge. I make up fantastical concepts of what kind of person this is based on the little info I get from body language, facial expressions, what they say, and tone of voice but it's all thrown out the window because people are more complicated than that. At the end of the day I'd rather actually get to know the person before I truly judge their character. Also when it comes to normal comments I don't analyze unless the commenter is analyzing, usually the "judging" is when I ask for feedback... like, more than a couple sentences worth to get a good idea of how the story is mentally processed by that person. For example when I was asking for feedback after finishing chapter 4. While I was asking for critique, I also wanted to know how the story affected that person, get a vague idea of what kind of people the story draws in or what kind of people it drives away, etc. And yeah, I kinda go the extra mile with it because that's just how my brain works, it just runs all the time. I assume that person consents to me analyzing them and their experience when they respond to me asking for their opinion, but I dunno. Maybe I'll just... teach myself to not think when it comes to my comic or audience, I don't want to scare people off just because I'm an overly analytical weirdo. <_<'

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

I like when you use the physical pain for psychological pain. like someone is in heavy dangers, and comes out with only a broken leg. the other characters can feel guilty, hurt, etc other feelings. For me, physical pain is not enough, it is the reaction it sparks

DanitheCarutor

Oh uh, also @keii4ii, I can vouch that being analytical doesn't make you smart. My dad is like that and he's a complete moron, also I'm not the brightest bulb in the box either, I'm just a slave to my thoughts. Sorry, just wanted to clear things up to make myself look less bad.

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I can understand that side of analysing. I’m often curious about my readers because I don’t have very many; my comics tend to be quite niche. So I wonder about what sort of demographic I’m attracting. From the people who have commented and shared a bit about themselves, it seems to be a lot of European and American adults in the 20-40 range who have received higher education (med students, professors, people in STEM, etc), which to me is kind of wild because I’m not writing ‘smart’ comics. There’s no real science or anything in my dark and morbid fantasy comics, so I’ve wondered what about them appeals to this demographic. This isn’t counting my new WT audience I’ve gained over the last couple of years, which is a very different demographic from those who follow on my site, but it’s really interesting to think about ‘What kinds of stories appeal to certain groups of people?’.

keii4ii

@DanitheCarutor Oh, I didn't mean to imply it was a bad thing. I apologize if that's how it came across. I meant it as a "thing I want vs thing I don't want." Just because I don't want a thing for myself, doesn't make it a bad thing.

Re: demographic analysis, more power to you if you're naturally into it. I'm like 'no..... let me just sit here and make this comic in peace.........' and even that's hard enough!

I do think about that stuff from time to time, but when I do, it's usually because I'm sad and am trying to think of non-worst-case-scenario explanations. So yeah, not something I enjoy pondering.(edited)

DanitheCarutor

@Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios) Same, even though my comic has gotten more readers than I imagined, it's still niche. Honestly don't know the age range, but I've gotten a range from psychology and medical students, or people with PHDs to normal 9to5ers who've been through similar experiences. (People who live with schizophrenia or clinical depression, or who have been in bad toxic relationships.) It's really interesting too because some of the readers who comment are very open about sharing intimate stuff about their lives without me even asking, which I'm not sure is due to the type of comic it is or because they relate to it? Either way I don't mind, it's kinda nice that someone feels comfortable enough to share that kind of info despite me being a total stranger. That's really interesting with your comic, though! Like, it's cool the types of people your work can attract, maybe your comic is smarter than you think. Lol

@keii4ii Yeah, but I don't want to discourage readers from interacting with my comic just because I'm into that stuff. Even though the work itself is far from safe I want people to feel comfortable enough to leave comments or discuss amongst each other.

keii4ii

Yeah, I think that's the dream for pretty much all of us, cultivating a comment section where everyone feels comfortable and welcome to interact

keii4ii

Getting back to the question, I really don't think I could answer, given the theme of my comic: "your pain matters, even if it doesn't affect the fate of the world/ even if it seems insignificant in the grand scheme of things." I don't have it in me to go against that and say to my characters, hey, guess what! Your pain pales in comparison to [this other character]'s!

Cronaj

That's an interesting thought. I mean, I spoke of what I consider the saddest scene, but really, in regards to the characters, they might not see it that way. That scene makes me cry, (and probably the character(s) directly involved), but the other characters have other sorrows weighing on their hearts, and those sorrows are also powerful in their own way.

[orionsangel86]

Episode Review - 14x01 - Want, Everything, Sunshine, and Beyonce

Hellatus is over everyone! Put away the crack memes and shit posts and bring out your meta caps because we are back in business! Oh boy are we back in business! 

Right before @tinkdw came over to watch the premier with me, we discussed our expectations and both agreed that whilst our expectations were pretty much in our boots, we would consider the episode a success if it was even remotely meta. We wanted to be able to see clearly constructed themes both as a continuation of what had come previously and as a foundation for a strong season going forward. We were both hoping that at least from a meta perspective, that the episode would leave us happy and thirsting for more.

Dabb did not disappoint us.

It was such a strong episode meta-wise. There is a lot to pick apart that is ripe for discussion and I seriously hope that Dabb will keep a close eye on the other writers to ensure that these themes continue throughout the season. Plot-wise it was a weaker episode, but then again Dabb has always focused on the character emotional arcs more than the actual plot points in recent years, and I am grateful for that. The second half of season 13 felt stagnant to me simply because there was little to no character development and from a meta perspective it was also extremely weak. I went into this hellatus feeling negative about the show simply because I hadn’t actually enjoyed an episode properly since 13x12. However, the season 14 opener was most definitely enough to quench my thirst and get me excited for the coming season. Fingers crossed it goes from strength to strength.

Long review under the cut

Michael!Dean - What Do You Want

Straight in after the introductory Nyoooom of Baby (driven by a grim looking Sam and a pretty impressive swap from title music to diegetic music), we are introduced to the angel of the hour. 

8 Things about Michael:

1. I am not sure how I feel about Jensen’s performance right now. He is playing Michael extremely straight and whilst I can see how this cold, calm portrayal can come across quite terrifying, it’s not a carry over from Christian Key’s performance. I don’t want to be too critical, because we only saw him in a few scenes so far, but when I compare it to how Tahmoh portrayed Gadreel alongside Jared, and the way Misha pretty much nailed Mark P’s performance (and greatly improved it), I guess I’m still waiting for Jensen to WOW me in the role. The one thing I will say is that he did terrify me and managed to come across creepy when acting alongside his own WIFE. So he's doing something right I'll give him that. When Jensen wants to have chemistry with someone, he does.

2. I like the fact that Michael’s goal right now seems to be to educate himself on our world. He’s not running around causing terror and mayhem like Lucifer, he’s learning how best to go about “improving” the world. He also appears to be inspiring people with his words: “Holy men, leaders, killers” and we have seen the effect he had already on Kip the Demon - who was inspired to run for King of Hell until Sam Fucking Winchester ruined that plan. I wonder if we will be seeing the fallout of Michael’s specific type of inspiration throughout the season.

3. “What do you want?” Obviously this question is an important one. It was repeated like six times throughout the episode, though never to the main characters. It looks like this is going to be the theme of the season and as far as TFW’s personal journey’s go, this is now the question we are asking them and the question being explored. What does Sam want? Or Cas? Or Dean? This has an endgame flavour to it that has me extremely excited. 

4.Michael’s own personal want of “A better world” is a follow on in a way of many of the villains that have come before him. For seasons now we have been exploring this concept of improving the world for the better. We had it first in season 8 when the brothers had the goal to do the trials to make a world without demons, in season 11 Amara’s vision was to destroy so she could reshape the world to her own blueprints that she saw as better than Chuck’s. Dabb era has been even more obvious, first with the goal of the British Men of Letters being “a world without monsters” which was shared by Mary wanting a better world for her boys, and then in season 13 Jack’s arrival floated the idea of “paradise world” to Castiel. I don’t think Michael is gonna fair any better than any of these others, and wonder exactly where all these escalated versions of “a better world” will end up. It's all exploring the notion that nothing is black and white, but in fact a grey area.

5. I already discussed Michael and Sister Jo here. Cas mirrors... Cas mirrors everywhere... I also side eye the "pretty things" line because it reaks of Dean and his whole sublimation thing. In that sense it seems Dabb is making Jo a mirror for both our boys. I'll be keeping a close eye on her from now on.

6. ”Why would he say yes to you?” “Love”. OH DEAN. Just, Dean wasn’t in this episode but my god did we feel his presence RIGHT HERE. And to think there are people out there that still think this is a macho mans show about macho manly men. I’ve never known another character with more heart than Dean Winchester. This show is about LOVE above all things. I wish people would stop trying to deny that fact.

7. Radioactive Pigeon:

Look I’m not trying to be critical okay it’s very pretty and this is the FIRST time they have attempted showing an angels true form and that is amazeballs and all, but still. He has little pigeon wings and a bent halo. Pfft.

8. The Purity of Vampires. I actually love this. I think it comes across a bit silly on the surface, but the whole idea of monsters being pure is a massive callback to purgatory and season 8 and anything that calls back to season 8 makes me happy. 

Sam Fucking Winchester

Excuse me while I scream HELL YES. I have been waiting for Sam to take on the leadership role for AGES. Honestly this was always my dream endgame for Sam. To organise and lead the hunting community. There’s your better world guys. It was something that the writers flirted with in late season 12, but at the time Sam only took on the position with Dean’s approval and encouragement to go ahead. Sam has always stepped back and let Dean take the lead throughout the show as the big brother and parental figure. I think this was always a role he was destined to fill and something that has been building in the subtext for a long time (much the same way as the toxic codependency has been shown to hold Sam back.) 

What’s of interest here is what will happen when Dean comes back and is fighting fit. Will Sam relinquish his leadership position to Dean? Or fight for it? Will this cause conflict? I read this amazing meta on this which turned into an epic discussion and I highly recommend reading it. My HEART.

Sam’s state in the episode is one of constant motion. He cannot stop for a second, always being pulled from one thing to another. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t get to change out of his hideous blue and orange shirt (which is officially now my favourite Sam shirt), he doesn’t even get to finish his soup. I know Jared said that Sam had a ‘grief beard’ but Tink and I are adamant that the beard is simply due to the fact that Sam doesn’t get the time to shave. He has taken so much weight on his shoulders and in amongst that has to deal with horribly traumatic things such as face the face of his abuser and actually be a healer to him. Sam doesn't get a moment to himself and spends all his time concerned about others. It's very noble of him, but he's going through the motions.

Sam is the contrast here to both Cas and Dean, who are physically and mentally stuck in their awful situations. Sam is also stuck in a way, stuck with no time to actually contemplate the situation he has got himself in. Stuck without a moment to breath, or to grieve his brother. Stuck holding the weight of the world on his shoulders as every other single character looks to him for support, help and guidance. Sam is the motherfucking Beyonce of the episode, that is for certain.

He is also calling the shots on hell now...

(x)

... I find it amusing that back in the early days Sam's destiny was to be the boy king of hell, and it's almost like he's fulfilled that destiny, not by being king, but by being gatekeeper and in a position powerful enough to scare the demons into submission. This is probably what Crowley intended. Sam probably owns the moon now.

About Nick - Well, first of all, I TOLD YOU SO. I did say that I could tell the guy from the back of his head and I was damn right about that. Learn to trust me guys I am occasionally good at this stuff. Okay, now that that is out of my system, let’s talk about this. Round of applause for Jared in this scene. Because he takes Sam’s hell trauma extremely seriously and made sure that every nuance, every twitch, was picked up by those camera’s. I loved that. Potentially Nick could be a good way to help Sam heal in the coming season, as Sam has finally freed himself from Lucifer’s grasp. Is it fair that he should have to look after the face that tormented him for years? No. Not at all, but could it prove somewhat cathartic in the end? Maybe. 

At the end of the day, Dabb must have considered Nick to have a purpose beyond “I want to give Bucklemming something to play with so they don’t fuck up my actual story” and “We need to keep stroking Mark P’s ego for some stupid reason”. Because otherwise I am really worried about how limited his power must be, and refuse to entertain the thought that he was overthrown by Singer and his horrid wife. I can see the potential in Nick being a dark mirror for Dean following his freedom from Michael’s possession. How Nick deals with the post possession trauma could be an indicator to how Dean is really coping even when he buries it.

At the same time, both Sam and Cas have been possessed by Lucifer, and therefore have all the experience between them to help Dean’s recovery without needing Nick to get involved. So I dunno guys. I’m trying to see the positive in something I otherwise despise. 

Anyway I thought Jared was fucking superb in that scene and pretty much the whole episode and want to give him a round of applause because it is rare that he truly gets to shine on his own without Jensen by his side.

Now all we need is for Sam to get some sleep. How he is still functioning by the episodes end I will never understand.

Castiel Everything Winchester

(x)

Look at him. So defiant and done. You can almost imagine that fire behind him burning in his eyes as well. He’s such a dom.

Several things about Cas in 14x01:

1. He is 100% done with every demon on the planet and doesn’t give a fuck. Honestly though. The way he says “Oh God” when Kip walks in. The way he rolls his eyes. I wonder if he had Dean’s voice in his head saying “You know who wears sunglasses indoors Cas? Douchebags.” 

2. He is making desperate choices in order to save Dean, which is certainly typical for him. The fact that he spends the entire episode stuck in a chair is a fantastic metaphor for his whole feelings on the situation, a metaphor then reinforced through a mirror at the end when he speaks with Jack (we never get anything explicit with Cas do we?). The fact that Cas can’t save Dean right now is weighing on him, but he is determined to do whatever it takes. The conversation he has with Sam at the end is a brilliantly short but important moment:

“I should never have gone to those demons”

“Cas no I don’t blame you. honestly I wish I had thought of it first. If it meant finding Dean I’d work with.. I’d do anything.”

The takeaway here is that actions speak louder than words. Sam HAS been distracted being leader of the hunters and having to face his own nightmares thanks to Nick, but Cas has literally been doing anything he can with a soul focus on saving Dean. 

It's an intimate moment between them. In a bunker now bustling with life and movement this is the only time in the episode that it really seems still. The library has always been Sam's private space, where he feels most at home - like the kitchen is for Dean. But here he and Cas sit as equals together weighed down by their shared grief. It's the soft moments like this that I love the most about this show. They are both willing to do anything they can, but the difference is that whilst Sam is being pulled in lots of different directions, Cas’s sole focus is Dean. Note that heaven wasn’t mentioned once. It hasn’t even crossed his mind.

3. Everyone Knows, but Cas doesn’t give a shit. 

“How is it you lost Dean, I thought you guys were joined at the... well you know, everything.”

It is an extremely explicit nod to Destiel. It is also the first time a line like this has made it into an episode since season 7 I think. The difference now being that we’ve had years of steady subtext and narrative building on the love story, hence the line has a different weight to those previously. It was very carefully written, careful not to imply that Cas was joined to BOTH Winchesters as the line was specifically about Dean. It was written by the showrunner, who would have known the significance of such a line, it encourages the view that all of heaven and hell have made their own assumptions about Dean and Cas’s relationship, and in case anyone wants to argue that the missing word was “hip” like the saying goes, the gesture and nod by Kip goes to prove otherwise. In other words, there is no platonic interpretation. Which is delightful.

Cas’s completely stoic silence is even more delightful. God I love him.

4. He can’t see demons true faces anymore. Like everyone else, Cas not realising those people were demons really threw me for a moment. Tink and I both agreed that the scene should have had Kip snap his fingers and have the demons smoke in and possess all those people instead - still catching Cas off guard but not making it seem like he is just super unobservant. I personally feel like this was just an error Dabb made. I have no desire to try to meta explain that one and I accept it as the error it is. I do like that it took an entire room of demons and 4 sets of enochian hand cuffs to overpower him though...The fact that he had to sit there and watch his family be beaten and almost killed around him whilst he was helpless again, is an excellent parallel to Dean’s current situation and what he will most likely have to face in the coming episodes, and also a reflection of Cas’s mental state (as mentioned above), Coming out of this episode it seems like this will be another season where Cas and Dean mirror each other and walk similar paths in terms of growth and development - if only those paths would meet with a kiss!

5. He’s the bait. Tink found this line hilarious straight away, where as I had to blink and ask why because I obviously took offence. But once we started discussing it and realised the quadruple entendre it is I found myself applauding Dabb on his genius. Cas IS used as bait, by the SPN PR people. Because he’s Mister Popularity. He’s also the character who causes the most conflict in fandom, with those who love him so much they are bitter and mean and those who simply hate him often complaining about the exact same things but in different ways - leaving the regular fans stuck in the middle (Tink explained this to me with delight - how both anti’s and bitter!cas girls alike will latch onto that line for completely different reasons). He’s also potentially a queerbait depending on how you look at it. But anyway. Cas’s epic eye rolls in this episode were almost enough to rival Sam’s bitchfaces. I am impressed.

6. He takes no pleasure for himself. I am forever going to obsess over Cas’s relationship with human food and drink:

“Coffee has no effect on me.”

“Me either, not anymore. But its like with saltwater taffee or infants, you know I just like the taste”

Although we can argue his refusal is out of stubbornness to not give the demon the satisfaction, even when accepting drinks from the Winchesters he doesn’t usually bother, or will stick with water. Even if he is seen ordering coffee it is usually only to avoid looking suspicious in diners. We know Cas enjoys some food and drink, but Cas rarely allows himself the pleasure. Even in 13x14 when Dean offered him a beer, it remained unopened. A symbolic metaphor for Cas refraining from indulging in other pleasures? This is why I am so so desperate for Michael to ask Cas what it is HE wants. Lucifer stated that Cas was a “pleasureless dullard” and I want to see this theme continue. Cas uses his grace as an excuse not to indulge and I consider this linked to meta about the “sacred oath” of heaven and Cas being duty bound and numbed by his grace. But these are all elements for a bigger meta at another time and the moment in this episode is just another snippet of that.

7. He looks awesome framed in fire. I just really liked the set up of Motown Meats as the new hang out for hell, with its fire pit and orange glowy bar. There is a lot of general symbolism there but I enjoyed the flames framed behind Cas in every shot he was in. Because even though he was mostly stuck in this episode, that fire raging inside him didn’t burn out once. He WILL save Dean. Just as he promised to Jack at the end, even if he get’s battered, beaten and bruised, his determined stubborness to save his husband will win eventually. Cas is no longer the broken thing of seasons 11/12. He well and truly rose like a phoenix in season 13 and now it’s showing through, as it’s a mission fueled by his own passion and love.

Jack Winchester (AKA my nougat son)

Poor Jack, like his father he hasn't had it easy in 14x01. He is struggling with his humanity now, his usefulness, in such a clear mirror to Cas that it kinda hits you in the face. He is desperately seeking guidance from those around him. First in the form of AU Bobby who has clearly bonded with Jack following their experiences together in apocalypse world.

It is great to finally see the Bunker gym! A room we all have ingrained in our fandom hive mind thanks to a 100 destiel fanfics. We all know what's gone on in there. >.>

Throughout the episode, Jack seeks out guidance first with Bobby, which goes badly, then with Sam, which is interrupted, and finally with Cas, which is when he finally gets told what he needs to hear. I am really happy that whilst Jack has so many father figures now, it is Cas who truly holds that torch and is able at least somewhat give Jack what he needs near the episodes end. If only he had damn well given his son a hug!

I loved the conversation so much that I transcripted it here:

JACK: I’m fine.

CAS: You did well

JACK: All I did was get punched. In the face

CAS: To be fair we all got punched in the face

JACK: That’s not - Before when I had my powers I could have done something

CAS: Jack you don’t have your powers, and your grace should regenerate in time, but until then..

JACK: I’m useless. I cant kill demons I cant find Dean and Michael is in our world and I cant stop him.

I can’t do anything. I don’t have anything.

CAS: Oh Jack. That’s just not true. You’ve got me. You have all of us. You have your family.

And we are going to find dean and we are going to beat Michael and we are going to do it together. Because that’s what we do.

This whole conversation was PERFECT. Every line chosen so specifically and weighted with meaning. Urgh Dabb I fucking love you for this.

Jack starts with “I’m fine” which Cas knows by now means you are not fine but he has also learned to recognise that sometimes it doesn’t mean “leave me alone” as Jack was crying out for guidance and support here. 

The mirrored “got punched in the face” calls to attention the fact that Jack is a reflection of Cas himself here and everything he has felt both now and in the past.

Jack’s complaint about being useless without his powers is a fear Cas has carried with him since his fall in season 9. It’s something that still weighs on him and whilst Cas now knows his place by the Winchester’s side, knows that they are a family and that he is not just a hammer, I think that fear of losing his power and being cast out is still well and truly weighing him down. It will be cathartic for Cas to see the family accept Jack as one of their own even if he is “useless” and human. 

Cas’s “That’s just not true” when Jack says he is useless - his voice breaks and you KNOW Cas has had those exact same thoughts.

“you’ve got me, you’ve got all of us. You have your family” compared to You’re my family, I love you, I love all of you” compared to “We're family. We need you. I need you.” The difference is there is no ambiguity in the word ME. Dabb turned it around, but had Cas clear it up. It’s the same line every time. The only difference is the placement of each individual statement. If this isn’t yet another clear example that the “I love you” was specifically directed at Dean I don’t know what is. THIS IS A CONTINUING PATTERN PEOPLE.

The determined promise to save Dean at the end, right after he specifies the singular and plural because obviously Dean was on Cas’s mind at that point - Mister I Don’t Get Words Wrong over here knows exactly what he means.

I love this whole conversation, but as I said above, it drums home the fact that whilst the Winchesters and others may be sources of guidance and support for Jack, he only has one true father, and I think Dabb wanted to make that clear in this episode. Remember:

Fingers crossed for more father/son bonding between these two in future episodes.

Mary and Bobby

(x)

Baring in mind I was expecting 1 small Destiel moment in the episode in the form of a line from a demon. You have NO IDEA how happy this moment between Mary and Bobby made me. If anyone saw that inktober pic I drew for premier day of me and Tink gasping in shock at the screen, it was for THIS moment. My face lit up in delight.

I said at the start of this long review that Dabb picked his moments well. With every second counting from a meta perspective. This was one of those.

Tell me, anyone, when watching that moment, would you deny that there was something between Bobby and Mary? As homework I'd like you all to play this scene to your heteronormative friends and family, or even be brave and ask a bibro. Would ANYONE deny that it was intended to be romantic?! I highly doubt it.

And yet there was nothing textually explicitly romantic about it. There was NOTHING in this scene that hasn’t been filmed a thousand times between Dean and Cas. The fact that Dabb chose to write this extremely small seemingly unimportant moment, in the kitchen, and for Bobby to use THOSE EXACT WORDS. As I have mentioned several times already, Dabb doesn’t fuck around when using well known moments from past canon in order to reinforce the importance of a thing. Dabb LOVES parallels. He wrote Bloodlines after all. He also knows the fandom hive mind and the things we pick up on and latch on to. This was a very smart calculated decision to include this in the episode and I am LIVING that he did it. GIVE ME ALL THE BOBBY x MARY/ DESTIEL PARALLELS. 

...

I actually really liked Mary in this episode. There is so much discourse in fandom about her and whilst I find Sam Smith pretty cold and wooden, I have never understood the utter hatred of Mary as a character. Hence why I praise Dabb’s genius at this moment:

(x)

Because this line literally sums up her entire arc since her return. Tink and I paused the episode and basically flailed at each other because this is EXACTLY what Mary has been trying to do. She was in HEAVEN, with her BABIES and suddenly she is back on earth with two grown men who are strangers to her, telling her they are hunters and have suffered a life of HORRORS without her. So she ran. Hell, I would have ran too. She shoved herself into hunting because all she could think about was trying to make things GOOD for her boys. Trying to FIX her mistakes the only way she knew how: by HUNTING. She was drowning in the bad. So she found focus in trying to make things good. Like in this episode, she reassures Sam so much that he snaps at her. He doesn’t want to be reassured, and that’s fine. But my god this felt like the first time Mary has truly had a voice. I really weren’t kidding when I said that Dabb made sure every word counted.

OTHER THINGS

I am unsure how I feel about the title card:

Tink called it. I think it looks a bit odd, a bit too clean. I like the title cards to be grim and dark. Black angel wings though! And hey, at least the fiery halos in the title cards are perfectly spherical... so we know they CAN do it right...

*side eyes SFX team*

Kip as a wannabe Crowley was kinda fun for a one off episode but I am glad that they are stressing now that wannabe Crowley’s get killed. The last one we had was Bart in 13x08 who was very much the same flirtatious queer coded demon. I’m fed up with the villainous queer coding by now. It’s been done too often. Give me another Demon like Alastair or Ramiel or none at all.

“Asmodeus Kentucky Fried” DID ANYONE LIKE ASMODEUS OTHER THAN BUCKLEMMING? This made me LOL.

The fight scene at the end was really weird and overly long. I dunno why they decided on so many random slow mo and wooosh shots. the whole Mary slow mo throwing the blade at Sam was cringy. I wish they’d stop being experimental and stick with what they know! You think they’d learn after 13x23!

Maggie was a bit annoying. Why bring her along if she can’t fight? Also the random cuts to her reaction after Jack was angsty had me reeling. simply because in het couples that’s a brewing romance and that is a massive NOPE from me. I like her as an individual character, I DO NOT like her as a love interest to a 1 year old, and I certainly wouldn’t like some pining story for her where she falls for an unavailable guy. It’s not fair on her character. The one thing I did like was the “pointy end” comment. It reminded me of Charlie for some reason.

The throw away line about Ketch being in London looking for the golden egg Lucifer/president extractor. Nice closing of a plot hole there Dabb.

I liked the Jesus weapon expert hunter dude. He seemed quirky. Dead man’s blood bullets are an excellent idea. 

DETROIT. Why does everything always happen in Detroit? I swear one day they are gonna reveal that Detroit is like a central universal power hub where the walls between the dimensions are thinnest or something. I could go on about this but I am sure a better meta writer elsewhere already has and this is waaay too long so I’m leaving this here.

If you got this far. Kudos and thank you for sticking around to read my thoughts. Feel free to ask me anything about any of the above. If I could hand out cookies through the internet I totally would right now.

Basically I enjoyed the episode. I have since re-watched it a dozen times and it is really the meta of it all that makes me love it. The story IS weak, and there ARE moments that are a bit odd, or infuriating depending on the way you look at it, but the heart of the episode was classic Dabb. All character driven and full of meaning. I am extremely well fed after this meta feast, perhaps even enough to get me through the horror show that will be Bucklemming’s 14x02. 

So long as Cas continues to look like a sexy beast I’m sure I’ll get through it.

I’ll just leave this here:

God he’s such a dom. :P

[daresplaining]

MCU Danny Rand Week: Day 7

(Free Day) Flipping the Script

    The final day! We hope you all have enjoyed this week as much as we have, and thank you to @defenderspositivity for organizing this awesome kung fu party event.

    Now, let’s talk about vengeance.  

    We talked yesterday about 616 Danny’s standard characterization as a friendly, positive guy-- something that can make his introductory arcs a bit jarring for newer readers. That’s because this lightness is the result of a massive amount of character development, through which Danny, mostly due to his supportive friend group, heals from a period of extreme darkness. It takes a certain type of nine-year-old to react to their parents’ brutal deaths with, “I’m gonna murder the guy responsible!”, and that’s exactly what happened.        

Nu-An: “We know of your father’s fate, my son-- and the fate of your mother as well-- and our hearts grieve openly for them! To lose one’s parents is to lose the roots of heritage. Still, we shall try to make you happy here, Daniel! If there is ever anything you want, merely name it-- and it will be yours!”

Danny: “There’s only one thing I want, mister... I want revenge!!”

Marvel Premiere #16 by Len Wein, Dick Giordano, and Glynis Wein

    Young Danny in the comics is a haunted, angry person-- somewhat disturbingly-so for his age. Later writers have made sure to emphasize his love of K’un-Lun, the fact that he thinks of it as his home and has people there that he loves, and that he didn’t just spend the whole time waiting to get out. But his life, from the moment Harold Meachum drops his dad off a cliff, is guided by a desire to enact vengeance, and this is the reason that, ten years later, he is compelled to leave his home to get Harold out of his life once and for all. In the comics, Iron Fists often take time to visit Earth-- some writers have implied that it’s even expected-- so this in itself is not an issue. And as much as this choice hurts him, Danny knows that he will not be able to move forward, find happiness, or dim the pain of his trauma without completing this revenge quest. And for that, he has to leave K’un-Lun.    

Danny: “To eat of the fruit of the Tree of Immortality and dwell among the eternal people of K’un-Lun forever [...] I want to, August One-- believe me when I say that-- but I cannot! Tomorrow I am going back to civilization-- to find Harold Meachum, the man who murdered my father!”

Nu-An: “Then all the years you have spent among us have not dimmed the fires of revenge in your heart, Daniel!”

Danny: “No, Yu-Ti-- they have not!”

Marvel Premiere #16 by Len Wein, Dick Giordano, and Glynis Wein

    There’s great irony in Nu-An-- who, as Danny finds out later, is a pretty vengeful guy himself-- having these conversations with him, but that’s a topic for another post.

    Thus, Danny returns to Earth with a purpose, and bee-lines for what is now just called the Meachum building (A burning question: Why is it only Rand Enterprises in the show? What’s the story there?). He battles his way through a ridiculous gauntlet of death traps before finally reaching Harold Meachum-- a man who has been psychologically destroyed by ten years living in fear of this exact thing happening.     

Harold: “[...] I was obsessed-- with an overwhelming fear of death-- driven to the brink of insanity with gut-sick worry and tension-- paranoia-- every cancerous neurosis you can imagine. And so I spent a fortune designing those death traps and hiring assassins to stop you-- because I just couldn’t believe you would be unconquerable. But I was wrong-- wrong about you... and wrong to try and stop my death. I see now... that I deserve it.”

Caption: “Then he is silent, and you try with every fiber of your being to hate him. But you cannot. You cannot hate-- or kill-- one who is less than a corroded shell of a man. You can only pity him... Pity him... and leave him, as he left you and your mother, to die his own slow death.”

Marvel Premiere #18 by Doug Moench, Larry Hama, and P. Goldberg

    Finally, Danny’s mercy breaks through his rage. He sees Harold once more as a person, rather than the monster he has been picturing for the past decade. And he finds himself unable to kill someone who has already nearly tortured himself to death with regret. This is not the closure he needed, but it is a step that allows him, eventually, to find peace and move on with his life. 

    The Netflix show has taken this simple, straightforward plotline and done something brilliant. 

    MCU Danny’s origin story, while essentially the same (parents die, ends up in K’un-Lun, becomes Iron Fist), has been changed in one key way: the circumstances of his parents’ deaths. In the comics, Wendell Rand is compelled to try and return to K’un-Lun,where he lived for a time when he was young. He decides to take his family-- his wife Heather and nine-year-old son Danny-- and his best friend/business partner Harold on a little hike through the Himalayas. The rest of them don’t believe Wendell’s stories about a magic city in another dimension (which is... fair), but they go anyway, because... it sounds like fun? They want to be supportive? This has always been a weak part of the story. It makes perfect sense that the creative team for the Netflix show would opt for a more believable situation. In the MCU, Harold doesn’t push Wendell off a cliff and then abandon Heather and Danny to die in the mountains. They die in a plane crash. Harold is not even there. And that’s all well and good (we find the comics version more exciting, but the plane crash is ultimately more believable, so we’re fine with it) and they very easily could have made that alteration and then continued the story as it is set up in the comics. Instead, they acknowledge the fact that Harold’s absence, and the uncertainty inherent in something as seemingly accidental as a plane crash, would change everything.          

    Netflix Danny is still traumatized by his parents’ deaths. He still desperately needs closure. But without a target, without someone to blame, without an embodiment of his anger that he can kill, he has no idea how to find that closure. All he knows, after fifteen years of trying desperately to cope with his trauma, is that that closure cannot be found in K’un-Lun. And so, rather than submitting himself to another fifteen years of psychological torture, stuck in a place that he loves but that cannot help him recover in the way he needs, he heads back to Earth when he has the chance, hoping to find something, anything there that will help him heal.

    But this lack of a specific goal means that he spends his entire time on Earth reacting, hitting out wildly in the hopes of finding something to make his decision to leave seem like the right one. He fights to maintain his identity when Ward and Joy try to strip him of it. He fights to get himself into Rand Enterprises, even though he doesn’t have a clue what to do there. And the instant any information arises that involves his parents, he drops everything else to chase it. He is lost and adrift, and all of this is made more effective by the fact that he, and thus the viewer, doesn’t fully understand his own motivations. One of the main mysteries of the show is, in fact, why Danny left K’un-Lun, and he doesn’t know-- or at least, he isn’t able to face his reasons yet, because they are tied to so many raw emotions that he is repressing. 

    As the Iron Fist, in a universe in which Iron Fists seem, generally, to not leave K’un-Lun (with Wu Ao-Shi as a notable exception!), Danny needs to justify his decision to abandon his post. He clearly states that most people in K’un-Lun no longer believe in the Hand, so he can't be blamed for not seeing security as an issue, but he still knows that leaving was wrong, and feels terrible about it. He can’t accept that he left because of vague trauma about his parents that he doesn’t know how to cope with. So he shields his motivations-- for himself and everyone who asks-- behind other explanations. He came to New York because he missed it. He's staying because he needs to fight the Hand on Earth. But the more time goes on, the more people question his behavior, and the deeper he sinks into his own conflicted feelings, the more obvious it becomes that this is all about his parents. And when finally, finally he is confronted with the fact that Harold was responsible for their deaths, the combination of emotions this generates-- finding a focal point for his rage, but finding it in someone he has so desperately trusted this whole time, one of the only parental figures he has left-- makes his final explosion that much more heartbreaking and extreme.        

    Instead of starting off with the revenge quest and moving forward, this rearranging of circumstances turns the revenge quest into the climax of a long, emotional battle of self-discovery-- adding power to it and leaving both long-time comics fans and new viewers guessing. It’s a brilliant move, which reinvents Danny’s origin, shifts his psychological journey in ways he’s is still recovering from post-Iron Fist Season 1, while still maintaining the spirit of the source material.   

[sabrinajulie]

Sexual Abuse and Assault

William Estell was being prosecuted on multiple counts of forcible sodomy, sexual abuse, and aggravated sexual abuse of a child in two different Utah cases. He pleaded guilty, and expressed remorse in the courtroom, as documented by commentary in KSL news. Estell’s actions have met public dismay since 2008, when he was sentenced to 93 days in jail for a misdemeanor count of sexual battery. But the case most recently prosecuted by Utah attorneys to receive attention speculates that his perpetration of abuse could go back as many as 20 years.

UTAH ATTORNEYS ON WHEN SYSTEM FAILS

Estell’s remorse seemed genuine enough to his sister (present on the day of his sentencing in court) but she worries about his safety and well-being in his 25-year prison sentence. “Prison isn’t a place for people with mental disabilities,” she said. 41-years-old, Estell is himself a victim of repeated sexual abuse at the hands of his father, leading to problems in his adult life and his own illegal actions. The sentencing judge commented on the situation before the court, saying, “This sentence is appropriate for the crime that has been committed, but I understand you were the victim. There was a tremendous breakdown in the system and that led to other victims.”

Utah attorneys prosecuting cases of sexual abuse and assault, especially of children, have a mountainous task ahead of them. Testimony from children is notoriously difficult to obtain – but not because of their traumatic experiences and sudden immersion into the monstrously intimidating adult world of courtrooms, gavels and technical names for private parts. Forced to recount their experience to obtain justice, children often shy away from the task that makes them feel re-traumatized and more vulnerable, which is something Estell knew well. The perpetrator selected his victims carefully, one of the Utah attorneys Coral Rose-Sanchez reported; he chose boys who spoke English as a second language, who were poor and whose parents knew little or nothing about navigating the legal system. With the deck stacked against them already, many of Estell’s victims didn’t even attempt to speak out or press charges, and for those who did, at least one had enough of a negative experience when law enforcement didn’t take the abuse report seriously that the family’s mistrust of the legal system has deepened. Another of Estell’s victims is in jail in another state for criminal activity, and still another struggles with depressive episodes around his sexual activity which he links to his abuse.

But it’s not only Estell’s victims that the system has failed to protect. As the judge acknowledged, it was Estell himself and his own prolonged experiences of sexual abuse as a child. Utah attorneys working in a court of law to right the wrongs of generations of abuse may find the situation more complex and more heartbreaking than anticipated, and society may find its own dark secrets continue to be hidden away in the mouths of children who are too traumatized to speak up. This is an age-old problem with no clear answers.

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from Michael Anderson http://www.ascentlawfirm.com/sexual-abuse-and-assault/

from Top Rated Utah Lawyer https://topratedlawyer.wordpress.com/2018/03/17/sexual-abuse-and-assault/