#joseph lost the one person who so quickly became his closest friend.

[antirepurp]

sometimes it hits me that all the jojo protags are teens and basically children and my heart starts to hurt

#soda offers you a can #your honor they did not deserve any of that shit #jotaro and jolyne in particular just. god. #jonathan sank to the bottom of the ocean alone and became dio's vessel. #joseph lost the one person who so quickly became his closest friend. #josuke my boy who's power is to heal had to face the fact that even that is sometimes not enough #that even though he can put things together again. repair a body. once its gone cold it'll never be warm again no matter how hard he tries. #giorno faced the horrors of organized crime at 15. #josu8 lost his entire self and was forced to rebuild. #aughhhhhh i want the kids to be okay what the FUCK

[apricitascosplay]

Deputy Casey Reeves

Name: Casey Lawrence Reeves

Age: 27

DOB: May 27th

Gender: Cis Male

Height: 5′8″

Weight: 145lbs

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Eyes: Green

Hair: Dark Brown

Sexuality: Gay

Early Life

Casey was born and raised in Butte Montana to an extremely religious family.

He spent most of his earlier years rebelling against them and their ways, until he finally came out as gay and was ultimately disowned. This eventually led to him running away to live with an older slightly romantic partner. Somewhere down the line Casey became dependant on several vices, drugs, alcohol, sex, etc. After rock bottom and a near death overdose, Casey decided it was time to get his life back on track.

Edens Gate

Casey was not rescued by Dutch from the crash, instead he washed up the shore of the Henbane in Faith's region. This was his first encounter with bliss, it went horribly, as he has actively avoided most of his vices up until then. Faith did her best to console him, in her own way, as well as manipulate him into trusting her and the bliss. Eventually he woke up in the county jail, a few bumps and bruises, a heavy disdain for the bliss, distrust of the water, and a strong motivation to find and save Faith.

Home

Casey lives alone in a 2 bedroom apartment that is slightly too big and too lavish for one person. It's filled with the bare minimum. He owns one pet, a gold fish, named Fish. A pet was recommended by his therapist, though Casey didn't think himself capable of that kind of responsibility, so he settled on a goldfish, something simple that likely wouldn't live long. When the fish didn't immediately die, Casey eventually grew very attached, though having never given it a real name. He arguably takes better care of Fish than himself.

Relationships

Joseph: Casey is terrified of Joseph, deep down he fears that Joseph may be right. Though he struggled internally with being gay and what his family put on him religiously while growing up. He hasn't spent much time with Joseph and from what he has, he is greatly unnerved by him.

John: Unsurprisingly, Casey also dislikes John, greatly. Casey is quick to submit, surrendering without a fight, in exchange for not using bliss bullets on him. He is also quick to 'confess his sins' with John, as again, he has been raised under the belief that being gay is a bad thing. John finds they have some things in common, what with both their addiction addled pasts. Being even remotely compared to the man fills Casey with despair.

Jacob: Casey doesn't feel much for Jacob, of course he dislikes the man, but has had very little interaction with him. Jacob saw him as weak and useless. He did not go through any trials and was quickly assumes wolf/judge food.

Faith: After the initial arrest attempt, Faith was his first actual interaction with the family. He was blissed out of his mind, freaked out, lost, and she was somewhat comforting. He sees a lot of himself in Faith and desperately wants to save her. He's blinded to the poyysytuysibility that she may not actually be as innocent and brainwashed as he thinks.

Parker Cooper (My IRL partner's deputy): upon first meeting Parker, Casey had mild gay panic, which only grew over time. He finds him to be reckless and goofy, but also admires him greatly for being all around good. Parker is only Casey's second ever relationship and the only good one.

Ashe Bell (My IRL partner's deputy as well): Casey isn't particularly close with many women though Ashe is definitely his closest friend. She's hard on Casey and constantly poking fun at him, though they both know it comes from a good place. She is one of the only people he trusts unconditionally, he spends his bad days with her over anyone else.

Whitehorse: Casey see's Whitehorse as somewhat of father figure, especially since his relationship with his actual father is so bad. Whitehorse is a positive role model and influence on his life. He is also considerate of Casey's past.

Nick and Kim: at first Casey had a mild crush on Nick, but quickly moved past it in respect for him and his marriage. He holds both Nick and Kim in very high regards and would do just about anything for them, if needed. Absolutely cried upon meeting baby Carmina.

Sharky and Hurk: Casey doesn't dislike either of the two, though he moreso tolerates them due to their close friendship with Parker. That and he knows that despite the chaos and jackass-ery, they are both genuinely good men.

Grace: He holds a great amount of respect for Grace despite being intimidated by her. Though this doesn't stop him from enjoying her company, he finds they share a comfortable and compatible silence together and appreciates her efficiency with a gun.

Jess: Neither of them spend much time together, as Jess is far too brash for Casey, and he himself, is far too timid for her. There are no hard feelings between the two, they simply aren't compatible.

Adelaide: Adelaide makes Casey rather uncomfortable, what with always speaking her mind and oversharing. He likes to imagine she's what an overly supportive and nosey and somewhat embarrassing aunt would be like if he had one.

Love Life

Casey has been single and avoided intimacy with anyone since becoming sober for personal reasons. He's an expert at turning people down and not responding to advances or any attempts at flirting.

Since starting at the station, Casey quietly crushed on one of the other deputies, Parker Cooper (my irl partner's deputy). He never acted on it, until the events of fighting the cult.  They get together shortly after and remain together throughout the events and the collapse.

Other Fun Stuff!

Casey does not cook, he lives mostly off of take out and leftovers. His fridge is very poorly stocked. He drinks entirely too much coffee for someone with permanent bags under their eyes. He sleeps on his couch more often than in his own bed. His apartment is scarcely furnished, having only the bare minimum. Most of his free time is spent binge watching anything and everything on netflix and other streaming sites and occasionally reading anything that looks interesting.

He is very sardonic and all around hard on himself, though he cares very little if others dislike him or mock him. He can come off as very disinterested and possibly even rude to those who don't know him. He's generally pretty easy to get along with once you get past that, though actually getting him to be social and spend time with friends outside of work is difficult.

Casey has one small, relatively crappy tattoo on his inner ankle, though he has long since stubbed many cigarettes out on it in a somewhat successful attempt at ruining it. He has a few other cigarette burn scars, some done on purpose, others from simply being careless (he's fallen asleep smoking multiples times before). He has the faded scars of track marks on both arms, though keeps his uniform sleeves rolled down enough to keep them covered.

If asked, Casey would describe his parents as somewhat akin to the American Gothic painting. He hasn't had communication with them or any other relatives since leaving home. Though he soon finds that his overly religious folks have joined Eden's Gate, seeking safety from the collapse.

Art by Myself, Minilev and Misclae!

#mine #my art #farcry #farcry 5 #far cry 5 #deputy OC #far cry deputy #OC #Original character

[theladysexpistol]

I saw your request for requests! Can I have a Kakyoin X Reader? Anything fluffy would do it ^^

Don’t get me wrong part 5 is probably my favorite part in jojo (so far) but I’m so excited to get a request for a different part! Especially for my favorite character in Stardust crusaders! 🍒

I hope you don’t mind me doing a part 4 Kakyoin? My irl Jojo friends and I have been talking about Kakyoin in part 4 a lot lately so he’s on my mind 😬

This got much longer than I intended - sorry, not sorry?

Side note I’ve been using Kakyoin’s theme in my homebrew dnd campaign. why is Kakyoin’s theme still the best Jobro theme to exist ever? 🤩

~~~

   Bright, midmorning sunlight filtered into the kitchen of your small city home. You were cooking to get your mind off the absence of your husband, but you weren’t as successful as you would have liked. Your hands were trembling.

   Of course, you trusted the word of Noriaki Kakyoin, the man you had chosen to spend the rest of your life with, as well as that of Jotaro Kujo, his best friend. But the bombshell the two of them had dropped on you, along with everything else they had decided to explain, had your head spinning. Kakyoin had probably wanted to spend a little more time with you, to ease your worries further; but Jotaro had insisted it was urgent. And that, it was, you had to agree. But the thought of either of them getting hurt - or worse - wouldn’t leave your mind.

~

   You had basically grown up with Jotaro, only a few streets away from his home. You both attended all the same schools. He had always counted you among his small group of friends, on account of how you neither fawned over him like most girls nor were you interested in fighting him in a vain attempt to become popular like most boys. Several of his fan girls did not like you because of this, but it never bothered you. In fact, you found some entertainment in watching him groan even after being pushed aside by his groupies.

   But the transfer student that Jotaro returned with from a long, unexplained absence in the middle of your third year of high school was another story.

   Both of them were covered in bandages under their uniform, and both avoided any questions as to their condition. You and Kakyoin hit it off immediately, and in fact your feelings for him emerged quite quickly. The two of them became your closest friends, but there was alway something there, something you could feel but could never quite place, something that the two of them had in common that you didn’t have.

   When all three of you graduated, Jotaro left to study marine biology abroad. Suddenly you were spending more and more time with Kakyoin, and your silly childhood crush blossomed as you fell in love with him. By the time Jotaro returned to see the two of you in Japan, he was more irritated than ever.

   “Good grief you two, I was hoping you would’ve gotten together by now.” he had said. It had been mortifying, but in a way it was a blessing. After all, that was how you and Kakyoin had gotten together. Even as Jotaro dated, then married a woman he had met in America, had a beautiful baby girl, and continued his studies, you and Kakyoin remained together.

   Kakyoin had informed you when Jotaro returned to Japan from New York where he had been visiting his ailing grandfather, but that he would not be able to visit the two of them for some time as he was investigating a series of odd family events in a small town called Morioh. You were disappointed but thought nothing of it; until Jotaro showed up in your living room.

   “I’m going to need your help,” he told Kakyoin. “I can’t handle a serial killer-Stand user alongside a handful of high schoolers and a manga artist.”

   “A what?!” you exclaimed. Both men looked at you after your outburst as though they had forgotten you were there. “Stand user? A serial killer? Jotaro, you’re the strongest person I know but this still isn’t your responsibility... shouldn’t you go to the police?”

   Per habit, Jotaro sighed, tugging his hat over his eyes. “Good grief... I forgot you don’t know about Stands.”

   Kakyoin smiled, but you could tell his smile was strained; forced, on your behalf. “You’re not usually one to slip up like that, Jotaro.”

   “Both of you! Tell me what’s going on!” you demanded, getting frustrated. They were both acting as though this was nothing, as though they dealt with serial killers normally!

   Finally, after some more frustrated convincing, the two of them explained everything. Dio, and Jotaro’s mother, the involvement of Jotaro’s grandfather and Avdol and Iggy and Jean Pierre Polnareff and their absence from school as they traveled to Cairo in order to put an end to their suffering. They explained how all along they’d had spirit guardians called Stands at their sides, and how their Stands had watched over you, too. Tears pooled at your eyes as they explained how Kakyoin had nearly fell to the same fate as Avdol and Iggy at the hands of the vampire, but by some miracle he had survived. But before you could fully comprehend everything they had told you, the two men had left for Morioh.

~

   Honestly, it was all unbelievable. If it hadn’t been Kakyoin and Jotaro, the two people you trusted most in the world, who explained all this madness to you, you probably wouldn’t have believed it. But the existence of Stands made sense; that was the thing they had always shared, that unexplainable presence you sensed between the two of them. So you had to believe the rest of it; and Stands, they sounded wondrous; but dangerous in the wrong hands. And the two of them had just willingly returned to Morioh to hunt down a person using their Stand to deliberately kill people.

   The more you thought about it, running through every event they had described to you in detail - on top of Jotaro’s young relative Josuke - who was technically his uncle? God, it was all confusing - the harder you trembled. Kakyoin, the most precious person to you in the world, had almost never survived. You imagine every happy moment he had brought you - your wedding, meeting Jotaro’s daughter, buying the house together - and it’s almost too much to bare.

   A face full of smoke breaks you out of your revere.

   “Shit!” you exclaimed, having become so lost in your thoughts and your worry that you burned what had been cooking on the stove in front of you. All the pent up frustration and emotions are released upon this mistake, like popping the cork off a bottle of champagne. You collapse in the kitchen in tears. Kakyoin had left about a week ago, and yet you didn’t think you could stand another moment away from him.

   You sat there on the kitchen floor for who knows how long. At some point, the soft ringing of the telephone caught your attention. You weren’t sure how long it had been ringing for, so you pulled yourself together the best you could and picked it up without looking at the number. “Hello?”

   There was a familiar sigh on the other line, before the one voice that would normally fill your heart with warmth answered. “It’s so good to hear your voice. I hope you’ve been all right.”

   But now, it just filled you with worry and longing, and you struggled to keep your voice from cracking. “Noriaki, I can’t stop thinking about everything. I can’t stand this, knowing where you two are.”

   “I’m so sorry,” he replied, sounding disappointed. “But I will be okay, I promise you. Josuke, he is Joseph’s son that Jotaro told us about; he and his friends are quite talented Stand users. They want to protect their town. It reminds me of Jotaro and myself, on our journey to Egypt.”

   You could hear the smile in his voice. It was the first thing that soothed your worried heart.

   “Noriaki,” you said, after the two of you had talked for some time; mostly listening to him talk about Morioh, and what a wonderful city it was, potentially for raising children; once this mysterious serial killer was taken care of. “Let me come visit you. Just for a week, and I’ll stay safe, I promise. I feel like I’ll feel better once I meet everyone, once I see the city for myself. It’s just that... well, ever since you told me how close to death you had been before we even met, it’s all I can think about. You, dying, against this horrible person.”

   “I’m sure they don’t even hold a candle to Dio,” he gave a bitter chuckle, as if knowing what a terrible thing a joke like that would do to your heart. “I’ll... let me think about it and talk it over with Jotaro, okay? You can’t see Stands. That’s what makes this guy so dangerous.”

   Your heart clenched. “Okay.”

   “I love you.”

   You hung up the phone, and immediately went to your bedroom with a suitcase. As soon as the idea had came to your mind, you were already set. You weren’t going to give him time to think it over. Before leaving for the train station, you only emailed Jotaro of your plans.

   And when you checked your email on the train, you were unsurprised by his short reply. It honestly made you smile a bit.

   Good grief. I’m not sticking up for you.

~

   The train arrived at Morioh Station early in the morning. As you descended the steps to the station, you could see several students of differing ages all waiting for the bus. You were immediately charmed by the quaint, peacefulness of the town.

   And then you remembered the dark secret lurking in the shadows of the cheery buildings, and fear gripped your heart once again.

   Making your way toward the taxi stop, you were careful not to accidentally bump into anyone. It was honestly even more terrifying than you could have imagined, the idea that any of the people around you - laughing and smiling to their friends or dressed in a fine suit, speaking loudly on the phone as they headed to work for the day, even the friendly gentleman driving the taxi that came to take you to the Grand Hotel - could be the one killing innocents with a spirit they couldn’t see. You wondered what their victims knew in their last moments, what they felt as they were killed by an unseen enemy.

   You could practically hear your heartbeat in your ears as the hotel loomed over the city street. You just had to get there. Kakyoin would probably be furious with you, but you would be safe. Jotaro knew you were coming. He’d know not to let Kakyoin leave.

   You bounded up the steps of the hotel so fast you nearly forgot to pay the taxi driver. The Morioh Grand Hotel was beautiful, living up to its name; it would almost be romantic if your husband wasn’t staying there in order to catch a murderer with supernatural powers.

   The woman at the front desk, prim and well-dressed, greeted you immediately. “How may I help you?”

   “Ah, I um- I’m waiting to meet someone here... you haven’t seen two men, one with a white hat and the other with ginger hair leave, have you?”

   The receptionist looked as though she were about to explain “We can’t give away details of our guests, for security reasons you know.” when someone called your name indignantly. You turned to find just who you were looking for, a bewildered-looking Kakyoin and an exasperated, but amused, Jotaro.

   Kakyoin swept you up into a tight hug, before planting a kiss on you. Despite obviously being frustrated that you had made your way to Morioh on your own, it was also clear he was just as relieved to see you as you were him.

   “I should be furious right now,” he mumbled into your ear. “But I’m glad to see you.”

   “One week, Noriaki,” you whispered back. “Give me one week. That’s all I need.”

   When he pulled away, you beamed up at Jotaro. He mumbled something under his breath, something that wasn’t hard to take a guess at, before Kakyoin spoke up again.

   “I hate to be the paranoid husband but... I’d prefer it if you didn’t leave the the hotel by yourself,” he gave a sigh. “I want to keep you as far away from danger as I can.”

   “There’s a simple solution, you know,” Jotaro said with a smirk on his face and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he continued walking toward the door to the hotel. Presumably, the two of them had been leaving to meet with Josuke and the others. You grabbed a hold of Kakyoin’s hand, intent on going with them to meet these other Stand users. “Make sure they never leave your side.”

~~~

[A/N: This fic is already so super long I know... I just wanted to add that after I wrote all the stuff about the reader being scared that any of the people they passed on the street being the killer... well I was this close to putting in a Kira cameo at the end where he noticed that the reader had such beautiful hands, with a beautiful golden ring holding an emerald in the center (kakyoin, emerald splash, obviously) but decided against it because this fic WAS supposed to be fluff... probably a little more angst than you were expecting but i hope you all liked it! i spent my entire shift at work today imagining what i was going to write!]

#bree writes #jojo fanfiction #kakyoin x reader #noriaki kakyoin #part 4 kakyoin #have yall seen the fanarts? #theyre amazing every single ONE #we were robbed #sidenote im really interested in part 4 kakyoin/shinobu kawajiri #so if thats a thing youre interested in talking about do hmu #request 💖 #long ass fic im sorry

[yanderefangirl]

Mate

Kars was stumped, while he didn't exactly regret getting rid most of the Pillarmen spieces, perhaps he should have spared one or two females. It was kind of hard to repopulate the Pillarmen with another male. While Kars was focused on finding the Red Stone of Aja, he knew that eventually he would have to require a suitable female to help him repopulate the Pillarmen. But so far, none of the females vampire and human were suitable enough for him. They were all too weak, too pathetic and were just completely unsuitable. So Kars just decided that for the time being he would just focus on locating the Red Stone of Stone. Who knows maybe he would get lucky and find a suitable female to breed with, along the way. But unfortunately for Kars, his plans were put on hold as he, Esidesi and Whammu became trapped in stone. (Many years later) (Y/n) was training with her Hamon teacher Straizo. She had been struggling with controlling her breathing while fighting which could be potentially dangerous, if it happened while she was facing an enemy. So Straizo had increased her training to help with this. It was tough, gruelling, hard work but it would all be worth it in the end. She needed to be an efficient fighter after all to fight and kill those horrible, awful vampires. There were few Hamon users nowadays, luckily there was a particular powerful Hamon Master living on Island near Italy called Lisa Lisa who was the adopted daughter of Master Straizo. Master Straizo had been talking recently about sending her (Y/n) to the island Master Lisa Lisa was living on and having Master Lisa Lisa train her from now on. (Y/n) could understand where he was coming from. However it was kind of upsetting that Master Straizo thought that she was so helpless that he thought it was pointless for him to continue to train her. But she knew better than to protest, he was a Master Hamon user after all. Surely he must have a good reason to send her to Master Lisa Lisa. Suddenly (Y/n) was pulled from her thoughts and found herself nearly being hit with Master Straizo's incoming Hamon attack, luckily she managed to dodge the attack just in time. But judging by the expression on Straizo's face, it wasn't good enough. He halted the training and begun scolding (Y/n). "(Y/n), you can't ever take your mind off your opponents. That can and will result in a fatal mistake. This is the third time this week you have become distracted during training." Straizo spoke softly with no hint of anger in his voice but with clear disappointment reaking from his eyes. (Y/n) bowed her head in shame. "I am sorry Master Straizo. I won't let happen again. I promise." She said apologizing sincerely. "You are correct (Y/n) that won't happen again. I have made up my mind, from now you will be training with Lisa Lisa. I am sending you to her island tomorrow. Gather your personal belongings (Y/n) and make sure you have everything. You will not be returning here." Master Straizo ordered quickly, refusing to allow (Y/n) or his other two students to say anything in protest. "Do I make myself clear?" He finished talking and shoot (Y/n) a fierce glare. (Y/n) just sadly nodded her head and went to her room to pack up. She could hear the other two students protesting but Master Straizo shoot down all of their arguments and protests. When (Y/n) arrived at her room, she started packing while softly tearing to herself. The next day (Y/n) found herself on a plane to Italy. She can't believe that she was actually leaving the Hamon Temple forever. It had been her home since her parents had been murdered by a vampire when she was only 5 years old. She had been taken by Master Straizo and the other Hamon Master. Master Straizo had personally trained her for 13 years. He had been a strict, no nonsense, straight to the point but fair teacher. Master Straizo had never went easy on her or had held back. He had treated her like another student, although there were times Master Straizo gave her little treats and allowed her to stop training early. She was going to miss Master Straizo and the others but Master Straizo had been firm in his decision and refused to be wavered. He had been nice enough to personally escort (Y/n) to the airport and had surprisingly hugged her when they were saying their goodbyes and had waved at her when the airport started taking off. It was nice to know that Master Straizo had cared about her. (Y/n) wondered what kind of teacher Master Lisa Lisa was. Was Lisa Lisa gonna be like Master Straizo or would she be more gentle? (Y/n) just hoped that Master Lisa Lisa would be able to help her control her breathing properly. She also slightly was curious about what kind of person Master Lisa Lisa was. (Y/n) soon realized that she shouldn't focus on it, Master Lisa Lisa would be her teacher and (Y/n) would be meeting Master Lisa Lisa in good time. So she instead decided to read one of her favorite books, while she was waiting for the plane to land in Italy. Even though she had read the book (f/b) many times before, it was still one of her favorites. All too soon, the plane landed in Italy and (Y/n) had to gathered up her belongings and managed to make her way to Master Lisa Lisa's island. There she met Master Lisa Lisa, Master Loggins, Master Messina, Caesar Zeppeli Master Lisa Lisa's student and Suzie Q Lisa Lisa's maid. Master Lisa Lisa or rather Coach Lisa Lisa as she liked to be called was strict and no nonsense teacher who didn't hold back against any of her students but she did treat both (Y/n) and Caesar with respect. Coach Lisa Lisa managed to help (Y/n) with her breathing problem, so she was able to control her breathing more easily whenever she was fighting. Caesar was at first kind of hard to approach, but he was a pretty nice, friendly and down to earth guy. Caesar was also kind of a casanova, and at times would flirt and tease with (Y/n). (Y/n) would always return the favor back to Caesar but it was all in good faith and the two were just really good friends. (Y/n) wasn't sure what to think about Master Loggins and Master Messina, as she had only met the two briefly, but they seemed nice enough as it were. Suzie Q was a complete sweetheart, who won't hurt a fly. Suzie Q and (Y/n) quickly became fast friends. They would chat constantly about random topics and often had silly little sleepovers together, staying up late to read books, tell each other stories and just talk. (Y/n)'s life was good that was until she heard the news that Master Straizo had used a stone mask to become a vampire and had tried to kill a man named Robert E.O Speedwagon head of the Speedwagon Foundation and had successfully killed the two students, he had brought with him. (Y/n) was completely distraught that Master Straizo who had practically raised her, would do something so horrible like that and that the students who had been her closest friends were now dead. She didn't know how Coach Lisa Lisa was handling the news or how it was affecting her as Coach Lisa Lisa was able to hide her emotions under a mask. (Y/n) did give Coach Lisa Lisa a hug and told Coach Lisa Lisa she was sorry for her lost. Coach Lisa Lisa seemed touched by her concern and told (Y/n) that anytime she wanted to talk about what had happened or just about anything (Y/n) could always talk to her anytime (Y/n) wanted to. (Y/n) and Caesar had sent to meet Robert E.O. Speedwagon and his friend Joseph Joestar to ask about what exactly had happened and apparently Joseph Joestar was a Hamon User who was pretty talented but had no prior training. (Y/n) was honestly curious about Robert E.O. Speedwagon and his friend Joseph Joestar. She wondered about Joseph Joestar and what kind of person he was. She talked to Caesar about Joseph and Caesar got slightly jealous and said that he must be a real idiot. (Y/n) was surprised by his reaction. Caesar didn't usually act like this. She hoped that Caesar wouldn't act like this when they actually met Robert E.O Speedwagon and Joseph Joestar. Currently they were at a nearby restaurant, waiting for Robert E.O. Speedwagon and Joseph Joestar to arrive. A random lady had approached them when they had entered and said that they were a cute couple which caused (Y/n) to explain that they won't actually a couple and they were actually just friends and that Caesar was actually single. To which the lady immediately jumped on and asked Caesar if he would like to join her for a meal to which Caesar after making sure that it was okay with (Y/n), joined the lady for lunch. (Y/n) went to sit by herself at a table near a window. She gave her order to the waiter and was looking out the window while she was waiting for her food to come when she heard someone loudly and rudely complaining about their food. (Y/n) looked over and saw a brown haired British sounding man yelling at the poor waiter for the color of his food but the waiter calmly delt with the situation and explained why his food was that color. The man actually tried his food and seemed to enjoy it because after he did, the man quickly apologized to the waiter for his behavior. She didn't know why he had been acting like before, he was probably dealing with a lot of stress or something. Etheir way she wasn't going to get involved. Caesar on the other hand, seemed extremely annoyed by the man's behavior and proceeded to make a snide comment at the man who got pissed and to her surprise used Hamon to fling some of his pasta at Caesar who was kissing the lady he was with. Caesar without even looking up evaded the man's pasta Hamon attack using his fork and sent the pasta Hamon attack back to the man who seemed startled by this, barely had enough time to use his wine glass to be able block the pasta Hamon attack. The whole situation happened and was dealt with in under five minutes, but it was still pretty shocking to (Y/n) that someone would actually attack with Hamon other person in public for a kind of petty reason. But then a older gentleman came up and introduced himself as Robert E.O. Speedwagon and then introduced the other man as Joseph Joestar. Caesar seemed uncharacteristically dismissive of Joseph Joestar and then explained that his grandfather had fought alongside Joseph's grandfather and died and crisetzed Joseph for not knowing about his family's history which hurt (Y/n)'s feelings as she was also unaware of her family's history thanks to her parent's brutal deaths but Caesar quickly noticing how upset she was about what he had said apologized to her. Joseph Joestar turned to (Y/n) and waved to her, shooting her a smile and asked "Who is this lovely lady?" (Y/n) stood up and walked over to Caesar, Mr Speedwagon and Joseph and shook hands with Mr Speedwagon and Joseph while saying "It's nice to meet you Mr Speedwagon and Joseph Joestar I am (Y/n) (l/n). I am 18 years old and I am also a Hamon user. We were sent here by our Coach to greet you." After she shook hands with Mr Speedwagon and Joseph Joestar, she politely bowed then returned back to her table where her food was being served. She ate her food while Joseph and Caesar fought outside then once she was finished paid for her meal then went outside and told off the pair for acting like children. She would never understand why most men would insist on fighting like cats and dogs. That night, Mr Speedwagon, Joseph or JoJo as he liked to be called, Caesar and (Y/n) were being driven by Mark Caesar's German friend to where some German soldiers had some mysterious and strange statues. According to Joseph and Mr Speedwagon, they had met and fought with a man who had came from a similar statue but had barely managed to defeat him which worried (Y/n) greatly but Caesar had reassured her that they could handle it. Caesar had gently teased Mark about his girlfriend who Mark revealed to be his now fiance. Caesar then nearly caused a car crash in trying to show the photo of Mark's fiance to JoJo and Speedwagon. But they luckily somehow managed to make it to their destination without so much as a starch. They all climbed out of the car and walked down a eerie and weird cave, stepping on what they first thought was bat droppings but to their shock and horror discovered it was actually the dead bodies of the German soldiers. Then out of the darkness came three scantily dressed muscled handsome men and started walking towards them. Mark who was extremely shaken up by the state of his fallen comrades tried to ran away only for one of the men to walk pass and she didn't even know how to explain what she saw but one second Mark was complete the next half of his body was missing. The worst part of this? He didn't die straight away so Caesar had to mercy kill him. (Y/n) let out a squel of horror at this sight which caused all three men to turn and stare at her. The men then for some reason sniffed the air and must have smelt something good as they all smiled rather creepily then begun talking. The one with strange and weird things on his body spoke first "So it seems one of the females was able to escape and breed with one of those inferior humans." Then another one nodded his head and said "This girl must be her descendent. What should we do with her Master Kars?" They both turned to the last one who had his head warped in a scarf who (Y/n) guessed was Kars thought for a while while staring at (Y/n) then licked his lips and spoke "Whammu Bring the girl with us. She will be useful later." The one who was Whammu nodded his head and stepped towards (Y/n) who instantly went on the defensive. Caesar upon hearing this, already upset over Mark's death reacted with immediate anger and attacked Whammu. Whammu managed to fight back against Casear and revealed that he, Kars and Esidesi knew about Hamon users and had actually fought against them before. They seemed to imply that they had killed most of the Hamon users they had met. When it seemed like Caesar was on the verge of death. (Y/n) immediately stepped in and fought Whammu to protect. But (Y/n) even though was focusing on the fight, she wasn't really focusing on the words being spoken at the moment. All she think about what they had said about her. (Y/n) was descended from a pillar woman? Part of her was the same species as these monsters? Surely it can't be true right? They must be mistaken or maybe they were lying. (Kars' POV) Kars was watching Whammu fight the blonde haired male who was trying avenge his fallen friend and protect the beautiful girl whom he referred to as (Y/n). (Y/n) what a lovely name for a equally lovely girl. She had beautiful (h/c) (h/l) (h/s) hair with perfect (e/c) eyes and stunning (s/c) skin and she had a unwavering fighting spirit, judging how she had positioned her body when Whammy had approached. While Kars had been slightly uncertain about her worthiness to be the one to help him repopulate the Pillarmen species. His doubts were dashed by watching the way she fought Whammu. She was a skilled fighter though she wasn't as skilled as Kars himself, Whammu and Esidesi. She was still pretty skilled and looked stunning while she was fighting, her focused expression, her amazing and unique movements and the way her beautiful body moved. Kars could feel himself getting slowly turned on watching this beautiful (Y/n) fight. He really wanted to tear her clothes off and fuck her senseless and breed her with the next generation of the Pillarmen species but Kars knew that if he attempted something like that right now, the males that were with her wouldn't allow that and Kars wasn't really in mood to fight. Soon it became obvious that (Y/n) was losing but she refused to back down. Whammu was slightly holding back as he was aware what exactly Kars wanted (Y/n) for but was treating (Y/n) with honor and respect. (Y/n) ended up nearly collapsing due to sheer exhaustion. One of the males upon noticing this started coughing which temporarily distracted the Pillarmen and allowed the blonde haired to grab (Y/n) and carry her behind the coughing brown haired male and the older male. When Kars noticed the blonde haired male touching and carrying (Y/n), he felt rage and jealous spread through out his body. How dare that interior pathetic male think he was worthy to touch the beautiful amazing (Y/n). He wanted to go over that and tear him from limb to limb and watch the light fade from his eyes but Kars somehow managed to control his temper and just shoot a death glare at the blonde haired male who didn't seem to notice this. The coughing brown haired male then claimed he was coughing because of his Hamon and attacked Whammu with what he called were Clackers or rather tried to attack Whammu and instead hit himself in the head with the Clackers. The older male and the blonde haired male called the coughing brown haired JoJo and he called the older male Speedwagon and the blonde haired male Caesar. Kars saw to his anger and jealously that Caesar was still holding onto the stunning (Y/n) tightly and Kars decided right there and then that he personally hated Caesar and the first chance he got, he would painfully and brutally kill Caesar and laughing while he committing the act. Kars was so preoccupied with imagining how to kill Caesar and fucking (Y/n) over Caesar's dead body that he didn't notice that Whammu had apparently killed JoJo at least he didn't notice at first. But then Kars noticed that JoJo wasn't actually dead and was seemily trying to get away like a coward which shocked his comrades. Whammu noticed this and got pissed at JoJo but to Kars' surpise it turned out that JoJo was actually planning on this and lured Whammu onto a mine cart and managed to get a mine cart to move away from everyone. Kars and Esidesi then focused their attention on Speedwagon, Caesar and (Y/n). Kars spoke first "Now if you would be so kind and hand over (Y/n) to us and we can carry on our merry way." Caesar pushed (Y/n) behind him, glaring at Kars and Esidesi. "You aren't taking her anywhere. You already killed one of my friends. I won't let you hurt another one of my friends you bastards." He growled at them. Even Speedwagon was standing in front of (Y/n) in some feeble attempt to protect her. Kars closed his eyes and took a deep breathe and breathed in (Y/n)'s alluring and addicting scent. God she smelt so fucking good. He could smell her Pillarmen or rather Pillarwomen blood and her hormones. She was fertile and ready to be breed. He would treat her like a Queen. "Hand her over or we will take her." Esidesi bruntly stated. Kars could see her peeking behind Speedwagon and Caesar and smiled at her. It was adorable how she was acting right now. Both Speedwagon and Caesar just glared at Esidesi and Kars without saying a word but giving their answer. Kars was pissed at their behavior. How dare they try to keep (Y/n) from him. Didn't they know she belonged to him? But he realized that he could use this to his advantage. He signled to Esidesi to stand down. Then he calmly walked up to Speedwagon, Caesar and (Y/n) and said "For now you (Y/n) will allowed to stay with them but don't get comfortable because we will be coming for you (Y/n)." Kars then proceeded to leave closely followed by Esidesi. They found Whammu and JoJo outside with JoJo on the ground and Whammu standing above talking about something. Esidesi went over and joined in the conversation and they placed their poison rings into Joseph's body.(Yes this actually happened in the show) Esidesi did ask Kars if he also wanted to join in on their little bet. Kars declined then they all left. Over the course of a couple of weeks Kars sent Whammu to stalk (Y/n) and learn everything he could about her, because Kars wanted to know everything about (Y/n) after she was going to be his mate and mother of his children. It was important to Kars that he knew everything about (Y/n) so that he could treat her like the Queen that she was. The more he found out about (Y/n), the more he fall in love with her and he just wanted to found her and just keep her with him forever. He discovered her favorite books and her favorite colors and found out what her likes and dislikes were and all of her little habits and quirks. He loved everything about her. It was getting harder and harder each day to resist the temptations of his beautiful (Y/n). Kars can't wait to get his hands on (Y/n) and show her what she meant to him. ( (Y/n's) POV ) (Y/n) was on her way to bed after she had finished her training for the day. Ever since she, JoJo and Caesar had met the Pillarmen, (Y/n) was shaken up by what they had said, so she would sometimes go to bed early. Coach Lisa Lisa was kind enough allow her to do this. After they had met the Pillarmen, JoJo Caesar and (Y/n) met up with Coach Lisa Lisa. Coach Lisa Lisa placed a weird breathing mask onto JoJo's face then brought them all to her island. Coach Lisa Lisa had first made them climb The Hell Climb Pillar to test them then had Master Loggins and Master Messina train them. The training was difficult and Master Loggins and Master Messina were relentless. But she understood that this was all for their own good, JoJo on the other hand hated every second of their training and won't stop complaining about their training. She understood that he was just stressed about the rings inside his neck and heart that would dissolve and kill him unless he got the antidote from Whammu and Esidesi. She hoped that JoJo would be alright, he may not be the nicest guy she knew but she definitely considered him a friend. She would hate for something to happen him. (Y/n) crawled into her bed and snuggled under her blankets and her favorite book and placed it down next to her bed and fell asleep unaware of the eyes watching her patiently waiting for her to fall asleep. When (Y/n) woke up, she found herself in her bra and underwear, tied up and gagged in a strange and mysterious bed and in a room she haven't ever seen before. She looked around the strange room scared and terrified, there was several bookshelves filled with books, the walls were painted with her favorite colors, there were four soft chairs with multiple cushions, the curtains were drewed shut, there were multiple candles all light in candleholders, there was a waredora, there was also a few deskers and drawers around the room and then (Y/n) finally noticed Kars was sitting in one of the chairs reading a book. Her eyes widened upon seeing Kars, she didn't know why she haven't noticed him before, she started to hyperventilate remembering how he acted when they had first met and the way he had looked at her. (Y/n) begun struggled and tried to get out of her restraints, which caused Kars to look up from the book he was reading, he smiled creepily at her and proceeded to mark the page he was on and placed the book down on a small table next to the chair. (Y/n) could feel her heart began to race out of sheer fear. She couldn't use her Hamon, thanks to the gag. What was Kars going to do to her? (Kars' POV) Kars had been reading one of (Y/n)'s favorite books while he was waiting for her to wake up. It was hard not to tear her clothes off and just fuck her unconscious body but Kars decided he wanted (Y/n) to be conscious so they could share with the pleasure. Kars upon hearing (Y/n) moving around on the bed, looked up from his book and smiled at her. She looked so adorable with the fear in her eyes and her non stop struggling to break out of her restraints. She was acting like a scared little rabbit when she should be acting like a queen. He would treat her like the queen she was and give everything she could ever want and the two of them would rule over this world. Kars after he placed the book down, walked over to the bed which caused (Y/n) to increase her struggling and he could faintly hear her muffled begging and pleading. Kars igroned her begging and pleading, because he knew that (Y/n) loved him, she was just being difficult and playing hard to get. She just needed to see how perfect they were for each other and how much Kars loved her, then she love Kars. Maybe she would love Kars as much as Kars loved (Y/n). He certainly hoped so. Kars rubbed his hands all over (Y/n)'s bare legs, loving the feeling of her smooth perfect legs. "Hello my love. I hoped you slept well. You are going to need your strength because you are going to help me repopulate the Pillarmen species and we will create a new stronger, powerful, beautiful generation." Kars' words caused (Y/n)'s eyes widened and she seemed to be trying to somehow wiggle out of her restraints and now he could hear her muffled screaming. He cooed and purred at her, while crawling on top of (Y/n) kissing up her body as he did so. When he reached her gagged mouth, he pushed the gag gently into her mouth and kissed her roughly. (Y/n) attempted to move her head away from him, which made Kars growl and grip her chin tightly to prevent her head from moving. "Now, now, now, my darling stop being so difficult and stubborn. And just relax and enjoy this my darling." Kars then licked and sucked on her neck, gently biting her neck every so often. He carefully pushed up her bra, playing with and sucking her breasts. He could hear her faint and muffled moans despite her feeble attempts to cover up her wonderful moans of pleasure and chuckled. His right hand slide down her body into her panties and found to his delight that she was aroused and her pussy was getting wet, so Kars slide her panties down her beautiful and smooth legs and he slipped one of his fingers inside of her pussy and fingered her wet and right pussy, then Kars added another finger to prepare her pussy for his huge throbbing cock. He didn't want to hurt his darling too badly after all. Kars then would add another finger and another until finally, he was fisiting his darling's pussy. He could tell by the way she was acting that she was on the verge of a orgasm, so Kars went down her body and licked and sucked on her pussy while fisting her pussy until finally she orgasmed all over his fist and mouth. Kars eagerly licked up her sweet and tasty juices from his fist while finding out to his joy that (Y/n) was still a virgin, making sure to keep eye contact with (Y/n) the entire time. Once Kars had licked up all of her juices off his fist, he reached down and removed his liencloth. "Now darling, its time for the main event. I am going to breed the next generation into you and you are never going to leave unless you want your precious and beloved friends to die by my hand." Kars growled as he rubbed his cock against her entrance. Then Kars positioned himself and slowly but surely pushed his cock into her virgin pussy, forcing (Y/n) to make eye contact with him the entire time. He could hear muffled whimpers and faint moans and could see the tears running down her face. Kars leaned down and kissed her tears away while roughly thrusting his cock into her. Kars' primal instincts took over and he went harder, deeper and faster. He continued to thrust as deep as he could into (Y/n) and felt his cock hit her womb which caused her to release more muffled and faint moans. Kars reached down and pulled her gag off of her mouth and shoved his tongue inside of her mouth. His tongue explored the inside of her mouth and wrestled with her tongue which fought for domtance. Kars continued to thrust into (Y/n) while he kissed her, making sure to hit that spot that made her moan so beautifully. Eventually Kars felt his own orgasm building up and increased the pace of his thrusts. He would only stop kissing (Y/n), so that she could breathe then once she had caught her breath, he would instantly deep kissed her again. Kars upon feeling himself on the verge pf orgasm, proceeded to grip her sides tightly and growled into her mouth as he released his seed inside of her pussy. He knew that his seed would travel to her fertile womb and fertilize her womb. Kars kept his cock inside of her pussy and wrapped his arms around her. He looked at (Y/n)'s face only to see that she had passed out. Kars smiled and shook his head at this. Her human side made her soft, but Kars found that he didn't care about that all that he cared about was the fact that he had found his perfect mate and he would never let her go.

[rorschach74]

Saturday Night Incest

           Asking random people about their masturbation habits is a very strange thing to attempt.  Depending on the person they either get defensive, offended, way to open about describing the best solo orgasm they ever had, turned on and expect you to help, etc.  The list is endless.  As are people’s proclivities.  

           Heading to the local dive bar in a mainly Hispanic neighborhood adds its own challenges to the endeavor.  A previous drunken adventure there had almost resulted in finding myself on the wrong side of a six verses one fight.  I say fight knowing full well the outcome. Nevertheless, I decided time enough had passed and they would have forgotten about it.  Walking in, the room had the smell of stale beer, cigarettes, and the faintest scent of sex.  Perfect. Problem was it was only 8:30pm and there were only three people there.  The bartender, a thirtyish Hispanic man who goes by Flash (never got an explanation as to why but that’s usually how nicknames go), a woman I had never seen before, pretty but aged too quickly by a devil may care approach to life, and myself.  I sat four stools away from the woman as they seemed to be having a private conversation alone in the bar.  Flash came over to me, got me my drink and went back to the woman.  I thought to myself, well we’re all alone.  If he’s gonna talk now’s “his” chance.  So I wait for a break in the conversation and ask him if I can ask him a few questions about a story I’m writing.  With confidence he’s all about it.  “Ask away”, he says.  As I pose the questions I see on his face a very distinct uncertainty and horror.  After I explain as much as I can get out he interrupts me, calls me a faggot, and tells me to get out of his bar.  

           Driving to the next attempt I am actually relieved that he didn’t give an answer.  I didn’t want to like that place anymore.  I didn’t want his story told.  He was small minded and only concerned himself with the five feet in front of his face.  The story I was looking for was complex, unique, and dangerous, like speakeasies in the 20’s.  And right then I knew my next destination.  

           9:45pm.  This bar was known for having a secret speakeasy in the backroom.  I had asked once how could it be secret if everyone knew about it.  The obvious irony was lost on the bartender.  While I didn’t know the password I figured it couldn’t be that hard to get the info I needed.

           The only things in common with the two bars were the red hint in decorum and lack of televisions.  (Both only had two)  By this time of night a small but healthy crowd had formed inside the “main” bar. I sat down, ordered my drink, and contemplated my approach.  I figured I should be more tactful and try to bring the subject up after a bit conversation. Near the end of the bar I saw two girls and a guy in a group.  Noticing the guy was pretty much out of the conversation, I acquired my target.  I quickly became friends with him as we became thick as thieves.  Sharing stories reserved for the closest of confidants.  I soon began my subtle attempts at talking about the subject.  He told me with relish that because the hottest girls were in those videos he watched them.  The idea of incest disgusted him but he also came for a healthy family. Parents together 32 years, 2 older sisters in committed healthy marriages.  No divorce, nothing was ever broken.  His proclivities were more natural.  The kind that enjoyed large black cocks in small white girls.  

           I moved on to my next target when target one (or was it number two) began to argue with his girlfriend about the merits of anal.  Besides I still needed to find my way to the back room.  

           10:45pm.  Two attempts. 2 failures.  My friend/co-worker texts me to meet her at another bar.  I ignore it, for the time being, so I can keep the “investigation” “balanced”.  Drunk logic.  All other attempts at this bar are unfruitful as it turns out there is a private  party in the speakeasy that night.  

           11:30pm  My car reminds me that it needs washed with the white lettering they place on the windows once you’ve been towed.

           11:39pm  My coworker, Steph, is clearly drunk.  We have a very platonic relationship.  (Mainly because she is only attracted to black men)  I sit down with her “friends” and begin small talk.  It becomes clear that none of them want to talk to me as they had already formed groups of conversation and I was an unwelcome addition, at least at first.  It was on my second drink at Boar’s Head when I saw Bethany.  She was wearing a work shirt and had her black hair in a ponytail. He laugh was a mix between a teen girl trying to get attention from a teacher and an avocado, creamy, savory, and just the right amount of salty.  She was friends with Steph and because of this sat down next to me and immediately asked me “Who the hell are you?”.

           12:30am  Bethany has found a new seat, another man’s lap.  Being a man of some pride I ignore my jealousy.  After having a few drinks, we all become more acquainted, thanks in part to Bethany forcibly inserting me into the group.  I look around and see a perfect sample, five women, four men.  I bluntly start asking people about the project (it’s just a story but what do these idiots know).  Surprisingly the reception to my inquiry went well.  The group was very open to discussing their self-pleasuring habits.  Finally some real data.  We talked about everything from how at first the step-family videos were a new and exciting take that no one had seen before.  Then it became the main way of breaking in new talent.  Then it became one of the only things that the tube sites frequently updated.  Never underestimate free.  It became a strange dilemma even Joseph Heller could be proud of.  I posed the question, why was it “hot” in the first place. The best response I got was from the man Bethany was sitting on.  The familiarity and inherent closeness you fell toward a step sibling is a balancing act and when you cross the line it’s “naughty”.  It makes being related and having a secret one in the same.  And who doesn’t like having a secret?

           Bethany’s lap mate leaves as he has to be at work early.

           Steph comes up to me and tells me that Bethany is interested.  I tell her that she, Bethany, can tell me this herself and I’ve been sitting here the whole time while she grinded on another guys dick.  Steph tells me to grow up and asks “do you want to get laid or not?”

           Outside, we’re standing by Steph’s car waiting for her “friend”.  Me and Bethany are entangled in a make-out session as intense as the situation permits. Steph is holding conversation about her “friend”, telling us he isn’t worth her time.  Yet we wait for him to show up.  Steph is having none of his shit.  Quote “Girl I’m not from around here.   I’m gonna take this city by storm.  I’m more smarter than any of these motherfuckers out here.”  I audibly laugh when I hear the last line.  Steph shoots me a look as Bethany grabs my face towards hers, smiling as our tongues entwine.  

           Bethany pulls me over to her car and I ask if she wants to go back to my place or hers.  She is indecisive so I suggest we gin into her car to think about it.  A few hours later I’m driving home.  

______________________

           When I was first moving out here I was low on funds and needed to find a cheap yet safe place to sleep and store my things. Thus I found Nate on Craigslist. He was an older man of his sixties and a former cop.  “If cops can’t be trusted then boy is our society fucked,” I remember thinking as I had decided to move in based on a handful of phone calls and emails.  He was a relatively nice man with all the stubbornness and subtle racism a former authority figure acquires in the later stages of their lives.  Daily outburst of racial slurs to no one or nothing in particular became the norm.(No ethnicity was safe)  One of the things he was stubborn about was the cleanliness of the condo.  He forced me to pay for a maid service, $45 every six weeks, I told him I didn’t want.  The rent was so cheap that I didn’t argue too much past the first time he brought it up.  The main reason I argued against it was the main stipulation he had was that I couldn’t be home when she was cleaning.  I didn’t like being told when I could or couldn’t be home but again when you’re paying half the rent you should be you go along with abnormal things.  I had forgotten that today was maid day.  

           7:16am  As I pulled up I remember to park on the right side of the street for street sweeping. I lock my doors and admire the writing on the rear window again, like a scab that hasn’t healed yet.  As I get to my door I hear what sounds like a smack and a moan.  I assume it’s just the television and walk in.  For a moment I see time slow down as I witness Nate and the maid begin to realize someone else is in the room.  The maid, a middle aged Hispanic woman, pretty and voluptuous, wearing nothing but a beige bra, is bent over the front of the couch moaning “Papi, por favor follame adain”.  Nate, in nearly flawless Spanish, responds, “¿Asi que la nina de papi es una puta?”.  Right as he finishes speaking they both look over in unison to see my drunken, stupefied face.  She screams and runs to my bathroom.  Nate, frail body but hard as a rock, is stuck between chasing her and covering himself.  I start laughing and turn to walk out.  He yells after me, “I told you not to be here”.  I shut the door as I hear Nate trying to console the “maid” in Spanish. I don’t stop laughing until I’m a few streets away.  I know I won’t have to pay for the maid service again.  As I’m driving I keep coming up with one liners that I could have said in the moment but a majority of them would have been derogatory to the “maid”.  So I resign myself to the idea that the situation was funny enough to stand on its own.

           7:45am  Three missed calls, “Nate Roommate”.  I wait for my breakfast and go over the nights events in my head.  What did I learn?  Anything useful?  The waitress sees me thinking and asks what’s on my mind.  Still a little drunk I tell her my objective of the night and how I don’t know what to take from it.  She looks down and apprehensive.  She says “hold on a sec.”  She brings me my food and sits down across from me.  She looks young, maybe twenty years old.  I ask if she’s going to get into trouble sitting down.  She tells me she took her thirty minute break.  She starts to tell me about her experience as I realize tears are forming in her eyes.  

           Two years ago her Dad had gotten remarried. Her new step-mom had a son a few years younger than her.  (She was nineteen at the time in college living at home, he was sixteen and in high school).  He seemed nice at first, helping with chores so she could study, helping her sneak out at night and she the same for him.  Then something slowly changed and he started acting differently toward her, almost sexual.  It creeped her out but after about six months nothing had happened except the feeling that he was always looking at her funny.  Then one day when their parents weren’t home he walked in on her showering, refused to leave and started touching himself.  She ran out of the shower and stayed in her room until their parents came home.  She told them everything and they grounded him.  Took his phone, computer, car, everything they could.  She was happy at first until she realized that all that meant was he was going to be stuck at home with nothing to do but be close to her. So she got inventive.  She started getting up super early to take showers, and when he figured that out she would sleep in super late and not shower.  She waited till he had to leave before she would come out of her room.  She became a sort of prisoner in her own home so as to avoid the strange smile he would give her.  One day coming back from class she walked past his room, the door being open, and saw him with a pair of her panties jacking off into them.  Appalled she gasped and he just smiled and asked if she liked what she saw.  Her parents allowed her to put a lock on her door, sent him to a shrink, and things went back to “normal”.  He even apologized to the whole family, as she refused to be alone in the same room as him.  

A few months later she had begun to letting her guard down. She would leave her door open if she was home.  She stopped completely avoiding him.  After one night of drinking she had brought her boyfriend over and they had sex.  He had stayed the night as her parents were on a weekend vacation and her step brother was supposed to be with his friends on a camping trip.  So in the morning when they were having breakfast and her step brother walked in with that same shit eating grin on his face, her stomach dropped.  Before he even said anything she knew what he had done. He had, over the past few months, been sneaking into her room, finding the best angles for filming.  Now he had a tape of her and her boyfriend that “He would show to Mom and Dad, if she didn’t do exactly what he said.”.  Her boyfriend, wasting no time or words walked up and beat the shit out of him.  She tried to stop him before he seriously hurt him but admittedly she didn’t try too hard.  She called the cops and her parents.  Now her step brother is in jail for attempted rape, blackmail, illegal wiretapping, and a few other charges.  Even though the cops to first answer the call were the first to congratulate her boyfriend for what he did, her step brother was still a minor and that makes what he did very serious in the eyes of the court.  

After a long silence, as tears are streaming down her face she, with a laugh, apologizes to me for ruining my breakfast.  I look at her and as sincerely as I can tell her she owes me no such apology.  Her thirty minutes are about up and as only a woman can she composes herself, wipes her eyes, smiles, stands up, and asks if I need any more OJ.  

As I said in the beginning, human proclivities are endless. And so are the reasons behind them. For some it’s fear, some it’ power and control, other’s get so wrapped up in the fantasy of their own making they lose touch with everyone else’s reality.  But more often than not people are unaware of the reasoning behind their feelings.  Neuroscience research is beginning to show that the subconscious mind is just as influential as the conscious mind in decision making.  And I believe that sexual urges are largely animalistic in nature, initial attraction at the very least.  Much like whenever you meet someone for the first time and your eyes meet and your pupils dilate involuntarily because you are attracted to the person you are meeting.  Whatever causes us to become aroused is some combination of love, hate, symmetry, juxtaposition, desire, hunger, emptiness, societal pressure, a need to be touched, and just a hint of salt.  We are, to some degree, victims of our own desires.  

[aparecium-hq]

I apologize for this being late! I had it queued, but this is why we can't trust the queue.

Welcome to Aparecium, Wes! You have been accepted for Albus Potter. We are so excited to have you back! You bring such an interesting and complex lens to the character, and we’re happy to see him on the dash again. Check out the new member checklist, and jump right in.

Character Basics

Age: 21 years old

Birthdate: 15 March 2006

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Homosexual, homoromantic

Blood Status: Halfblood

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Occupation: Researcher at the Minstry

Faceclaim: Aubrey Joseph

Any requested changes: Not at all! I put a spin on this Albus, making him a little less buttoned up and a little more of a problem child. Ya know. Something that goes a little for the fire.

Biography:

The middle Potter, the second son of a hero, Albus Potter has lived a certain amount of his life in the public eye. He’s always been conscious of attention, desiring it less and less as he grew older. He finds respite in close acquaintances and good friends, small settings and familiar environments. His family, though sometimes the very people he’s clashing with, are always his first source of solace and comfort. Whatever tensions they might have, they’re his people. And woe be told to anyone who crosses the line in his presence.

From a young age, Albus showed a taciturn bent and found himself at his Aunt Hermione’s side with frequency. Books and stories became his companions as much as his brother. And sometimes to better effect. He devoured literature, asked his aunt and parents for lessons and primers, and had a raging row over the fact that other children could go to primary school. He saw Hogwarts and education as the next great challenge, the next great adventure. He saw it as where he truly belonged.

How wonderfully cruel that reality can be.

Hogwarts wasn’t the worst thing really. It was a learning experience to be sure, in more than just the academics. Sorted into Slytherin and falling into a different vein than his brother and father, he acquired more than a little gossip. But Albus had been backed into an unfamiliar corner before, so he did what came naturally. His tongue lashed, far faster than his wand ever could, and he caught trouble with it. A black eye and a split lip were his reward, but the third year Gryffindor was on the ground and his opinion amongst his housemates was settled: he was a snake, through and through.

He learned quickly, taking in everything he could from his housemates and classes. He learned that his reserved nature was a gap people had to cross, that the masks he used out of indifference or out of annoyance with the press were tools at his disposal, he learned that his words were not just barbs, but arrows. By his third year, he changed tones and temperaments like cloaks, dressing for the occasion as it was warranted. He found that the most effective mask though, was indifference. He could take on the affect of the uninterested, the teen who was there just to be there. It let him sink to the back, people looking over him for someone more interested. And that gave Albus the thing he valued most : time.

From his seat in the background, he developed a knack for patterns that spread naturally to arithmancy while his ability to apply accumulated logic on the fly endeared him to charms all the more. They became his best subjects, followed rather quickly by history of magic. Though that one? That was a practiced study. Especially after the Madley Properies came about.

The change of the world while he was at Hogwarts was sudden. The access to more technology meant access to more information. Muggle information. Albus devoured it all, spending hours cross referencing magical history with muggle timelines, building comprehensive understanding of events and their influence on either side of the Statute of Secrecy. How the political actions in the muggle world influenced the economic realities of the magically community, or how a magical malady could seep over into the muggle world and insight chaos because of the tiniest bit of other. He learned that things were far more interconnected than most people thought.

And he realized how absolutely mad changing anything quickly was.

He graduated with respectable marks in his favored disciplines, with his only truly problematic grade coming in Defense. But he wasn’t looking to join his father in the Aurors. Eventually he wanted to end up somewhere in the DMLE, somewhere in regulation and jurisprudence. But first, he needed information. His classes were dreadfully sparse on the machinations that drove their society, and that’s what he needed to understand. He’d never had to fake an interest in his Aunt Hermione’s work, and the right words had him at the Ministry, running paper and writing briefs and other monotonous work best left to the newly graduated. But he was there. That was the important part.

He worked in the depths of the Ministry’s archives, pulling up documents and cross referencing whatever needed to be done. He ran errands, made tea, and hug out in the break-room generally putting on the show of being a disaffected teen working simply because he had to. And it made sense that he was in the Ministry, being who he was after all. Why it made perfect sense that he was wandering into the Minster’s office to bother his family.

Just a nephew visiting his aunt. Nothing sinister in that.

Now at twenty-one, Albus has become something of a fixture in the research apparatus of the magical government of England. His pattern recall and gift for memorization has made him the place where most research inquiries begin: ask Potter, he’ll show you how to start. His analytical mind lends itself to complicated cross application of policy and precedent and his use of technology in the filing system has made him indispensable. He’s still technically a lowly researcher in the basement of the government buildings, but it’s a carefully crafted image. He’s sitting carefully at the center of a web of ministry communication and employees, feeding on and putting out information as needs musts.

Sociability:

When he’s not picking at threads in the archives or catching up on muggle current events, he tries to still be there for his family and friends. His social life is somewhat dominated by the demands of his job, limiting what free time he does take for himself. He is there for his family in almost every way, though he misses some of the closeness that came with his siblings when they were younger. For Scorpius, his best friend and his roommate, he would literally drop the world to ash if it needed. And he…tries not to dwell exactly on that why too close. Somethings don’t withstand scrutiny after all. His collection of acquaintances are rather wide ranging, from work colleagues to other integrationists to a group of online friends who helped him when he was first coming to terms with his sexuality and took him to his first muggle pride in London. He also has a sort of listing of past dalliances, both magical and muggle, that he looks upon with varying levels of fondness.

Personality:

Albus still resembles that inquisitive child he was, somewhat quieter and more reserved than his family and always searching for some new bit of information. He’s lost some of the taciturn qualities however, finding his voice through reasoned arguments and biting wit. He will still default to the disaffected look and attitude if he feels uncertain or if he’s getting his footing around new people. He’s not afraid to speak his mind, but does try to find the path of least offense unless his ultimate goal is to cause offense and put someone on the back foot. He wears his opinions and uses language like masks, speaking openly but not always directly. It is those that know him best, Scorpius and Rose and his closest family, that see the true Albus. He’s a stack of books on a rainy Saturday morning, the smell of coffee and old leather in the air. He’s a passionate debate over dry martinis, the smell of cigarette smoke mingling with gin and the buzz of conversation. He’s good friends and late nights, fairy lights low and spirits high and flowing freely.

Appearance:

Much like he appropriated language and history from his housemates, he also picked up on their habits of dress. Fine robes and well cut wizarding garb are part of his armor when the need arises. He can blend into a fine crowd at a Ministry gala. Custom Savile Row suits in bright colors and modern patterns mix with those But his own personal style is much more into the realm of comfortable muggle wear.

Character Questionnaire (In Character):

What does your character value in a friendship?

Is it cheating to say discretion? No? Then that simply must be the answer. When one grows up with a certain amount of notoriety… a name that is recognizable and splashed across the press of the realm near daily… a friend who knows when to bluff, when to keep things private is worth their weight in gold. Quite literally. And there is so much caught up in that word as well. Discretion. It’s not just secrecy. It’s trust. And with that I believe truly, there must be some level of affection there. A warmth and familiarity that breed such a level of trust. There are people for whom I have great affection, and even great trust, but for who I don’t believe are discrete. It’s that bit extra, that pinch more wit and courage and resolve that make it the better value.

How would a stranger who has just met your character describe them?

Oh Circe, this is such a loaded question. A stranger? Well it really depends upon the circumstances you know. Where are we? Drinks is very different than a fundraiser than a friendly pick up game of Quidditch. Though why I made mention of the last, I really haven’t a clue. But the point remans; where did we meet? I’d like to think that I leave people at least somewhat assured that I know what I’m talking about, even if that does mean I come off as a bit of an ass. And as cold as it may sound, so much of this might come down to how I want them to remember me. It changes the way one approaches a stranger, if they think it’s only for a moment or there’s something more there. Whatever that more might be. Well at the very least, it means I try not to burn bridges I’ve only just encountered.

What magical skill or talent is your character most proud of?

Can we consider memory a skill? A talent? I’m not sure it’s honed like a blade or conditioned like a muscle. But I do think I’m very good at it. Or with it. Memorizing. Recalling. Things just sort of…stick up there. Referenced and catalogued. A font of utterly useless information. But information that can be applied, brought forward when needed to dramatic effect or for some nefarious purpose. Dreadfully useful, in work and in life. I don’t forget birthdays. Though I do sometimes forget to shop for them…so it’s rather an imperfect skill. Talent. Part of me, whatever.

Para Sample

Albus slunk into the office of the Minister, smiling at the empty space. When his aunt had taken the space, she’d updated the furnishing and brought in a bit of muggle sensibility and style. Because the office really hadn’t been updated since Victoria was on the throne. But by far, the most important addition was the proper bar.

Because not all of life could be firewhiskey and butterbeer.

He went through the motions, moving with practiced easy in something that became almost meditative. Gin and vermouth joined ice in a cylinder. Glasses were hit with a careless flick of his wand, the chilling charm sending ice crystals skittering across the surface. It was so familiar it gave him time to think. He’d been listening as much as he’d been researching, pulling and compiling information for the Muggles of Magical Status Act. Anything that was such a cornerstone of his aunt’s political platform needed proper understanding.

Much of the research he’d found on granting status to magical beings was cached in old Imperial language. It was almost a direct link between old notions of the civilizing message of the muggle Crown and the idea of the savage magical user in the wix community. It was more than a little problematic, and something that he was glad his Aunt was taking steps to address. Once again, that muggle upbringing was helping in all the right ways. And the opposition he was hearing was more wrapped in fear. Again, unsurprising. But that at least, was something he could manage.

He gave the cold cylinder a stating shake and grinned at the voice behind him.

“What a cheering sound after a dull meeting.” Aunt Hermione called out as she stepped into the office.

“Thought you could do with a pick me up after that last meeting,” Albus replied with a grin, giving a few more vigorous shakes before straining the martini into the chilled glasses. “And before I give you a rundown of what I’ve found out. Did you want research or gossip first?”

#apareciumacceptance #hp rp #skeleton rp #literate rp #albus potter rp

[hickorycreekrp-blog]

Out of Character:

Name/Alias: Maddie

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 25

Timezone: PST

Face Claim Preferences: Candice Patton

Character Basics:

Full Name: Lucille Sasha Daniels

Nicknames/Prefers: Sasha

Age: 25

Occupation: Pastry Chef at Wells Bakery, Part-Time food blogger

Pronouns: She/Her

Gender: Female

Hometown: Wimberley, Texas

Current Neighborhood: Hickory Square

Highest Education: Bachelor’s Degree in Journalism from Texas Southern University & an Associates Degree in Culinary Arts from Texas Culinary Institute of America.

Religion: Jewish.

Family and Relationships:

Parents: Joseph Daniels (father, 48), Miranda Anderson (mother, 47)

Siblings: Wesley Xavier Daniels (deceased)

Children: N/A

Other: Jessica Morris-Daniels (stepmom, 48), Christopher Morris (stepbrother, 23)

Pets: 3 Dogs: Sam, Wilson, & Laurel.

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Romantic Orientation: Biromantic

Marital Status: Single/Never Married

Personality:

Favorite Film: RENT

Favorite TV Show: Community

Favorite Book: The Vampire Armand - Anne Rice

Favorite Song: Don’t Wait - Mapei

Favorite Color: Regal Purple

Likes: Halloween, movies, musical theater, meaningful lyrics, watching the sun rise, beaches (the place not the movie), corn dogs

Dislikes: aggression, narrow mindedness, ignorance, being corrected, being accused of having an attitude, Beaches (the movie not the place), Christmas, the smell of sunscreen.

History:

TW: BLOOD, DEATH, DEPRESSION, GUN, POLICE BRUTALITY.

TUESDAY, APRIL 7TH, 1992,

as the clock struck 3 AM on this morning in a Hospital in Austin, Texas, Lucille Sasha Daniels was born the second child of Miranda and Joseph Daniels. From the moment the two laid eyes on their little girl they were in awe of her. After a couple years of trying for another baby and a slight strain on ther marriage their family was finally complete and the two wanted nothing more than for their children to grow up happy and healthy with nothing but the best of what they could give them and as a local police officer working his way up the ranks, and a law student it wasn’t much, but they worked with what they could.

AS THE GIRL GREW OLDER,

it was more than clear that she was incredibly bright and yearned to learn everything she could. Though the academic side of her school days thrived from a very young age, the social side was a whole different story. Growing up one of the few black kids in a promintely small town in Texas wasn’t exacty easy no matter how much more progressive the times were changing people were still pretty ignorant. Sasha was teased and picked on by a few of her classmates at school and didn’t really have many friends to stick up for her. The fact that depression ran deep in her family wasn’t exactly a helpful factor and so the girl came home almost every day crying and heart broken. It was just about the saddest scene anyone could’ve witnessed.

WITH NO OTHER SOLUTION

Sasha’s parents started sending her to thearpy to help her cope with her depression in middle school and for the most part it helped her. The only other thing Sasha seemed to rely on when things got hard for her was her older brother Wesley. No matter what he was dealing with if his little sister needed him Wes was always there, sometimes even if it meant abandoning his own friends and plans to just spend time with her. Wes taught Sasha just about everything she holds close to her heart. He was the one who had gotten her into comic-books, –figuring super powers and strong characters who stood up for themselves against the evil in the world would help her find her own strength– he taught her how to cook, –showing her a healthy outlet to vent her frustrations and inspiring her love of food– and with the help of her father taught her how to fight –which gave her a bit more confidance to go after the things she wanted– Sasha looked up to Wes. Of course they had their fights –they were two years apart– but at the end of the day he was her big brother, and she loved him deeply.

SASHA ALWAYS THOUGHT SHE’D HAVE WES,

no matter how hard things got, or how people treated her, he was always a constant. As Sasha reached high school she grew more into herself and fit in a bit more. She managed to earn a spot on the cheerleading squad her freshman year and people she’d grown up with, who picked on her slowly started to treat her differently. She found her first boyfriend and found a bit of a balance in her depression, enough to function and thrive in school. She joined activties such as yearbook club, drama club, and the debate team. Finally life wasn’t as hard as it had been for her years prior and Sasha could at least function like a normal personfor the most part. She still struggled with maintaining her depression and social anxcieties, but life was at least slightly easier. Until her Sophomore year of high school however. Christmas break. She and Wes were doing a bit of last minute Christmas shopping when she convinced him to stop and get snacks. They needed gas anyway so he figured it would be fine. While he filled the tank, he let her go inside the convience store by herself to get the snacks.

WHEN SASHA DIDN’T RETURN WES WENT IN AFTER HER

only to be staring down the barrel of a gun. When he wasn’t paying attention another black kid about his age, maybe older had decided to rob the store and Wes had unknowing walked in. Quickly as he could he started to reason with the guy trying to get him to lower his gun and stop this. Sasha watched helplessly nearby as she watched her brother be brave and just as Wes was starting to get through to the guy everything from there happened so fast. An off duty cop arrived on the scene sending it into chaos. Instead of asking questions he shot. First the guy with the gun, killing him instantly and then Wesley, it was pretty obvious he assumed because they were both black boys and one had a gun and they were talking, they were working together. The moment the gun went off and Sasha saw her brother fall to the ground she rushed to him without a second thought. She could barely hear the officers yelling for her to back away from the perp. All Sasha was focused on was the gun shot wound at her brothers side and stopping the bleeding.

Briefly she could comprehend the other hostages in the sitution advocating for Wesley’s innocence. Tears started to pour from Sasha’s eyes and she begged and pleaded for someone to call an ambulence. With all of the chaos the cops seemed to realize their racist mistake and the next thing she knew Sasha had the barrel of a gun pressed to her head and was being threatened not to tell anyone what happened threatening to kill her if anyone else in the convience store said a word and he would call an ambulence once they all agreed and he honored that. Just before it showed up he vanished. It was the worst moment of Winnie’s life. Her hands covered in her brothers blood. She moved out of the way when the paramedics arrived and climbed into the ambulance with him, refusing to leave her brothers side and clung to his hand for dear life. Even in his dying breaths Wesley tried to reassure her that he was going to be okay and that everything was fine, but two minutes from the hospital he took his last breaths and his hand went slack in her tight grip. Sasha sobbed the rest of the way to the hospital.

IT WAS A WHILE BEFORE HER PARENTS SHOWED UP,

and Sasha had to tell them that Wes was gone. It was devistating to see the realization in their eyes that their son was gone. Sasha blamed herself for his death. After all, If she hadn’t gone into the convience store he would still be alive. After that Sasha was questioned by the police about what happened. She told them everything. Wesley’s funeral was held days later. Her family shat Shiva and laid him to rest and nothing was ever the same again. Through grief her family slowly fell apart. Her parents divorced, Sasha went on to live with her father and continued her struggle with depression her school work finally suffering and she even ended up assaulting a few of her classmates who decided to make her tragedy the hottest gossip even going as far as to put a girl in the hospital when she to Sasha’s face, accused her of covering up for her brother while using terrible racial anti black and anti semitic slurs.

Luckily Sasha was not expelled for her behavior. A few kids who’d witnessed it lied to protect her, probably out of pity she didn’t bother to ask, but from then on she did her best to remain in control of herself. Sasha made it through the rest of high school the best that she could through her grief. She accepted a spot at Texas Southern University where she majored in Journalism during the day and took night courses at the Texas Culinary Institute of America, graduating five years later with a Bachelors degree in journalism and an associates in culinary arts. At the age of twenty-two, Sasha moved to Italy for a year.just needing to explore the more that the world had to offer. Working in the finest Italian pastry shop and honing her skills and became a food blogger. She moved back to the states at twenty-three and moved to Hickory Creek, Connecticut and got a job working as a pastry chef at Wells Bakery as a second job. Now she talks to her dad every day, he’s now the chief of police back home in Wimberly and got remarried a year ago. Her mother is now a Lawyer living in Chicago also remarried, but to a woman this time, she’ll send money when she’s worried about Sasha, even though the girl doesn’t need it, and they barely speak. Sasha is now living with two of her closest friends in Hickory Square and taking everything one day at time. Still going to therapy and still grieving the things that she has lost.

#candice patton fc #character: female #character: 20s #character: hickory square #hickorycreek lucille daniels

[noroark]

Actions and Words

Pairing: Jean Pierre Polnareff x Muhammad Avdol

Rating: T (Language)

Summary: Polnareff and Avdol share a hotel room. It's early in the morning—much too early to get up and start the day—and they're both wide awake. Since neither of them can go back to sleep, they pass the time by having a talk. It starts out as idle conversation, but it quickly takes a different direction. Suddenly, they're in each other's arms. It was inevitable. They both know how it happened, and yet it still feels like there's something they don't understand.

(Here it is! Hopefully you’ll find it delightfully cheesy rather than awkward, cloying, or annoyingly cliche. According to my sister, it’s “good shit”. I guess that’s all that really matters, since after all, she’s the one who wanted it.)

AO3 - http://archiveofourown.org/works/10475163

FFN - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12422848/1/

Another night, another hotel.

Polnareff had lost track of how many hotels he had stayed in over the course of his travels. Even though each hotel had varied in its quality and tendency to attract enemy Stands, they had all blended in Polnareff's mind and become indistinguishable from one another. His collective perception of hotels was that they were filthy, dangerous places with bathrooms that were even filthier and five times as dangerous. Hotels should have been a refuge from the trials of his journey, but that was rarely the case. Having a roof over his head protected Polnareff from the elements, but enemy Stands weren't like the weather: no amount of shelter could keep them from getting in. He was never truly safe.

The hotel in Luxor was different. Polnareff wasn't sure if it was a five star hotel, but to him, it was just as good. All in all, it provided a perfectly mundane experience. It was up to Polnareff's standards of cleanliness, and the beds were comfortable enough to afford him a good night's sleep—a sleep that hadn't been interrupted by any enemy Stands. The promise of a complementary breakfast was what had roused him awake at such an early hour.

Polnareff squinted at the clock, trying to make out the position of the hands in the faint light of dawn. It was around 5:15 a.m. Breakfast wouldn't be served until 6:30. There was more than an hour to go. Polnareff rammed the back of his head into his pillow and groaned. He had already committed to being awake, so he had no choice but to wait it out.

He stared at the ceiling, wearily searching for the shapes of animals in the stucco. He lost interest as soon as he remembered that there was an actual animal in his room—it took a couple seconds, at most. Iggy was hard to ignore. In an effort to keep his distance from Polnareff, he had wedged himself into one of the corners of the room. He was fast asleep, and his labored snoring was thunderous. A dog his size shouldn't have been able to make so much noise, but Iggy didn't care. It seemed that nothing could stand in the way of his mission to piss Polnareff off in as many ways possible.

Polnareff resented the fact that Iggy was in his room. It didn't make sense. Jotaro was by himself. Joseph was by himself. Meanwhile, Polnareff had to share his room with both Avdol and the dog. Logically, Iggy should have stayed with one of the others—but Avdol was at the behest of no such logic. He had insisted upon keeping Iggy in their room because he thought it would help Polnareff bond with him. On the contrary, he was only growing more and more fed up with the dog. He glared at Avdol, who lay in the bed next to his, all the while wondering how he was able to sleep through the noise.

It turned out that Avdol wasn't sleeping. The whites of his eyes stood out against the darkness of his face. His pupils were absently wandering the ceiling, much like Polnareff's had been moments before. Avdol didn't look nearly as well rested—perhaps he was wondering how Polnareff had managed to get any sleep at all. The thought of Avdol regretting his decision gratified Polnareff in a vindictive way.

Avdol was easily Polnareff's closest friend. While their relationship had been rocky at first, they became very close following a chain of events that had unfolded over the past week or so. Still, there was something about Avdol that frustrated Polnareff, but he didn't know what it was. This frustration manifested in a variety of ways. For example, Polnareff hadn't fought Avdol's decision to keep Iggy in their room. He hadn't been able to bring himself to argue with him, so he'd kept silent. It wasn't that Avdol had convinced him to change his mind—Polnareff still thought the idea was dumb, and it was. But since he hadn't said anything, he had to deal with the consequences.

What was it, then? Was it because Polnareff didn't want risk upsetting Avdol by turning him down? They had grown so close in such a short period of time that Polnareff didn't know the limits of their friendship, and he was scared to test their boundaries. He was normally an outspoken person, but he had a way of dancing around certain topics when he talked to Avdol—and yet he still found himself blurting out things to which Avdol would certainly take offense if it weren't for his temperate personality. In fact, it seemed like Polnareff went out of his way to offend him at times.

It didn't add up—that was what Polnareff kept telling himself. He told himself a lot of things like that, and jumped through all sorts of mental hoops to maintain the illusion that he didn't know why he was frustrated. There was never any doubt. Polnareff had known what his frustration was from the very moment those feelings had surfaced in his heart. Polnareff wasn't actually frustrated with Avdol—he was just a scapegoat. Polnareff was frustrated with himself. He was frustrated that he had those feelings, and that he couldn't let them out because he knew Avdol didn't feel the same. Because of that, Polnareff often felt like it was Avdol's fault that he was frustrated, and he took it out on him.

Most of the time, he still enjoyed his company, though.

Avdol noticed that Polnareff was staring at him. “You're awake,” he said. It was unlike him to point out something so obvious. He must have been really tired.

“Yup. I sure am.”

Avdol rolled onto his side. He grumbled, “If I'm awake, and you're awake, then I suppose it's only fair that Iggy wakes up too.”

“Can't argue with that.” Polnareff snickered and summoned Silver Chariot. The armored Stand materialized above him, pointing its rapier toward the slumbering Iggy. Polnareff thrust it like a javelin. It shot through the air, piercing the floor inches from Iggy's nose. “Time to get up, Lazybones!” he called, keeping his voice hushed.

Avdol and Polnareff shared a laugh as Iggy yelped and jolted to his feet. He frantically searched for the source of the disturbance, but Polnareff had already withdrawn Silver Chariot. Once he had gotten over his shock, Iggy turned to face the laughing men. The dog failed to see the humor in his rude awakening. He growled, sand pooling under his paws.

Avdol and Polnareff weren't laughing anymore.

“O-oh!” Polnareff cried, unable to keep his voice down. “There's no need for that, r-really!”

Iggy considered for a moment. Much to Avdol and Polnareff's relief, the sand faded away.

Polnareff clapped his hands and chimed, “Good dog! Good b—” Iggy launched himself at him, a flurry of teeth and slobber. Avdol chuckled again as Polnareff fought to tear the dog away.

“Gah!” Polnareff held Iggy, who was still kicking and biting, by the scruff of his neck. He spat out a wad of dog hair. “Avdol! You bastard. You knew this would happen, didn't you?”

Avdol shrugged, sitting up. “I didn't say you had to use Silver Chariot to wake him. That was your own choice.”

Polnareff muttered something unintelligible as he waited for Iggy to calm down. When he stopped fighting, Polnareff carefully placed him on the floor. He braced himself for another attack, but the dog merely flashed him a dirty look and trotted back to his corner. He curled up in a ball and closed his eyes, as if nothing had happened.

“It seems you two are starting to get along swimmingly!” Avdol remarked. “That's the fastest I've seen you settle a disagreement. It looks like Iggy didn't draw blood this time, too. You're getting there. At this rate, the two of you will be best of friends in no time.”

Polnareff rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You'll have to make me.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Man. Anybody who doesn't know you that well would think you're so calm and wise, but it's just an act. You're a big kid inside. You're always cracking jokes, and putting on costumes, and daring people to do weird stuff, and all sorts of crap like that.”

Avdol flashed a mischievous grin, fixating on one part of his accusation in particular. “I still can't believe you fell for my disguise back on the island. Seeing you accept it without question… it was hard to keep myself from laughing. I almost blew my cover then and there.”

“But… I…” Polnareff's face was hot with embarrassment. He whined, “I had no reason to think it was you! They told me you were dead, remember?” He froze, his expression pensive. “How did you pull that disguise off, anyway?”

“I rubbed some ash into my hair,” Avdol said, thoroughly amused, “and wore green robes instead of red.”

“And?”

“That's all.”

“Really? No makeup, no movie magic? I'll be damned if I didn't see a wrinkle or two.”

Avdol ran his fingers across his face. “I wouldn't be surprised if I gained some wrinkles or my hair actually did turn gray, what with all the stress I'd been dealing with.”

Polnareff gave him a light punch. “Stress? What could you possibly have been stressed about? You got to hang out on an island for a couple of weeks! Do you have any idea what the rest of us were up to while you were off on your little vacation? We fought so many Stands without you!” We...” He flailed his arms, perhaps in an effort to give momentum to his stalling train of thought. “We, uh… we fought the sun!”

“The Sun?” Avdol inquired. “What kind of Stand was the one that invoked The Sun?”

“No, no! None of that tarot crap! Only you would assume… well, I mean… it was probably the one representing The Sun card. I don't think it was the Ace of Hearts or whatever the hell. But I'm talking about an actual, literal sun. A big flaming ball of gas! We had to dig a hole in the ground, and there was this mirror, and… and then Jotaro threw a rock and we won. But we almost died! It was pretty funny, though. A mirror! Ha…” His voice trailed off as he realized he had forgotten what point he was trying to make.

Avdol blinked as he tried to piece together Polnareff's hasty retelling. “That, uh. That certainly sounds like it was stressful.” He carried on. “It wasn't all rest and relaxation for me on the island. Rest, yes. I needed to recover from my injuries. I can assure you that I was unable to relax, though.”

“Why's that?” Polnareff asked unthinkingly.

“Would you be able to relax if you were critically wounded?” He didn't wait for a response. “There were many things on my mind as well. I spent a lot of time thinking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. All of you. Jotaro, Joseph, Kakyoin, you.”

Polnareff's eyelid twitched.

“I was worried. My knowledge of your whereabouts was limited. If one of you were killed, I wouldn't have found out until much later.”

Polnareff snorted. “Yeah, being able to know if someone is alive or not sure is nice!”

“Again, I apologize. Like Kakyoin said, the others and I all reached an agreement that it would be for the best if you didn't know. Your behavior right now leads me to believe it was the right decision.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Polnareff balled his hand into a fist and prepared to give him another punch. Before he could strike, Avdol snagged his arm.

“You are rash. Impulsive. You have a very spur of the moment attitude about a lot of things. One might assume this would make you very unpredictable, but it most cases, the opposite is true. That is why I was able to stop your punch without looking.” He let go of Polnareff. “We knew you would have made a big fuss if we told you I was alive. You wouldn't have been able to keep your mouth shut... and then the enemy would have found out where I was, and then I would have died for real.”

“That's not true!” Polnareff cried. “I'm perfectly capable of keeping my mouth shut!”

Someone pounded on the wall from the next room over. “Hey, Polnareff. Mind keeping it down? It's too early for your crap.” It was Jotaro, his voice even hoarser than usual.

Avdol beamed as Polnareff glanced rapidly around the room. “No way! The timing on that was too perfect. You've gotta be messing with me! Is somebody spying on me with their Stand?” He muttered under his breath, “Though I wouldn't put it past Jotaro to just conveniently show up at a time like that.”

“Forgive him, Jotaro. Go back to sleep,” Avdol called. He faced Polnareff, still smiling. “I don't know what that was about. But I do know that you are very, very loud, and you are not good at subtlety, or keeping things secret. If you try to deny any of those things, you will likely prove yourself wrong again.”

Polnareff was quick to react. “Who says I can't keep a secret? I've got plenty of 'em. You think you know me, Avdol? You think you can predict how I'll act? Well, you don't know shit about me! You wouldn't believe how many secrets I have.”

“And what might those be?”

Polnareff laughed. “C'mon! Do you really think I'm going to fall for that? What do you take me for, Avdol? A fool? That card's already taken.” He dismissively waved his hand at Iggy. The dog's eyes snapped open every time Polnareff raised his voice, and he was growing more agitated by the minute. He was too exhausted to do anything about it, though.

“On second thought, I don't think you need to tell me any of your secrets outright. I believe I have caught onto one of them through observation alone. You've been thinking about it a lot lately. Is that correct?”

“What?” hollered Polnareff, turning bright red. “What are you talking about?”

Avdol nodded. “Yes. I am certainly onto something.” He pointed at Polnareff's face. “You're blushing.”

“I don't know what you mean! Seriously!” Polnareff hid behind his hands, and yet he still tried to defend himself. “If it looks like I'm blushing, well… that doesn't mean a thing! Look at me, Avdol. Look at how white I am. When you're this pasty, anything can turn you red. Hell, maybe it's sunburn, or…”

“Tsk, tsk. Enough with the excuses.” Avdol wagged his finger chidingly. “Do you remember what I said? It is useless to deny what I know to be true. You are very outward with your emotions, Polnareff. Even if you keep your lips sealed, I can count on your actions and body language to convey what's truly on your mind. Actions speak louder than words, after all.” Avdol's lips curled into a tiny smile. “I haven't even told you what I think your secret is. How is it that you are already so flustered?”

“Ghk,” Polnareff choked, dropping his gaze to the ground. His forehead was drenched with sweat, and he wouldn't be surprised if all the heat smoldering on his face was making it boil. Even though he couldn't bear to look Avdol in the eye, he could feel the man's cool confidence filling the air around him. The kind of confidence Avdol possessed was not smug or hostile, and he didn't gain any satisfaction through proving Polnareff wrong. Avdol treated his intuition as fact—but rather than insisting he was right and having that be the end of it, he made sure to be transparent about the logic behind each of his conclusions. His goal was to make Polnareff understand—and even though Polnareff wouldn't admit it, he had succeeded in doing so.

Polnareff wanted a reason to hate Avdol and his intuition, if only because he considered him a threat to his ego. He wanted to find a way to defy what Avdol foretold about him, and to be able to get in his face and brag about proving him wrong. That would show him that Avdol was full of shit, which would justify his hatred. Avdol wasn't full of shit, though, so Polnareff couldn't hate him. He was remarkably wise and perceptive, to the extent that his cognitive abilities could easily be mistaken for mysticism. It was no wonder he had chosen to make a living as a fortuneteller. Even those who didn't believe in divination would find themselves enchanted by Avdol's skill in making connections between his clients and the cards they drew.

Beyond that, there was something Polnareff admired about him: he was everything Polnareff was not. Everything about Avdol was subtle, which contrasted with Polnareff's bombastic personality. The two of them balanced each other. When Polnareff was around, Avdol felt free to let loose and have fun. At the same time, Avdol helped Polnareff slow down and think. Sometimes—oftentimes—Avdol made Polnareff feel inadequate. He wasn't jealous, though. Polnareff needed those contrasting qualities in his life, but they didn't have to be his own. Avdol completed him.

That was why Polnareff was drawn to him. That was why he wanted him; needed him. He didn't know how to tell him that, though. Unlike Avdol, Polnareff didn't really have a way with words. He spoke without thinking, and the tension was turning him into even more of a blithering idiot. The moment was right, but he couldn't find his voice. He didn't want to find his voice. If he spoke up, he'd say the wrong stuff and ruin everything—but if he didn't speak up, the moment would pass, and he'd suffer for his silence once again.

Avdol's voice echoed in Polnareff's head: Actions speak louder than words, after all. It was an old cliché, rather than an original nugget of Avdol's wisdom—and yet it seemed expertly tailored to the occasion. Polnareff didn't need to speak. He needed to act. Still, he couldn't bring himself to face his friend. His emotions were escalating, escaping through his pores and making him quake. He didn't even know what was holding him back anymore; it wasn't like him to keep his feelings restrained. Was he still opposed to proving Avdol right? There was no point in keeping up the charade when he and Avdol both already knew the truth.

Polnareff sputtered and sucked in his lower lip, suppressing tears. One of his arms shot out; then, the other. Even though his eyes were still fixed on the floor, Polnareff's arms naturally found their way around Avdol's form. Seconds inched along agonizingly as he waited for Avdol to reciprocate. Polnareff counted to himself, inebriated from anxiety:One… t-two… thr-tr- trois… quatre… cinq… Avdol didn't move, and neither did Polnareff. He was at a loss for how to recover. How could he have misjudged the situation when everything seemed to have fallen into place?

Then, Polnareff remembered what Avdol had said about him: he was rash by nature. Rather than properly reading the situation, he had acted on impulse. He had been proactive in pursuing the outcome he wanted to see, even though it was circumstantially inappropriate. Polnareff was oblivious; he had no business jumping to conclusions like that. That was Avdol's job.

At last, Avdol stirred. “P-Polnareff...”

Polnareff had never heard Avdol's voice falter like that before, and it worried him.

“… When I said I knew your secret, this was… not what I had in mind. I thought your secret was... that you used to wet the bed when you were a kid.”

The noise that came out of Polnareff's throat startled Iggy, causing him to spring to his feet and fart in terror. Polnareff jerked backwards with enough force to send him flying into his bed, where he collapsed into a despondent pile. If it weren't for the sound of Avdol's boisterous laughter, he would have passed out from humiliation.

“Ha!” Avdol wheezed. “I got you good! I don't think I've even seen Silver Chariot move that fast.”

Slowly, Polnareff sat up. “Got… me?” he uttered, drawing out the words as if he were speaking for the first time. “What do you...” The gears turned in his head and he gasped. “Joke?”

“Yes. I was joking,” Avdol said. He began to approach Polnareff. “I got you. But now...” He wrapped his arms around him and guided him onto his feet. “… I've got you.”

Polnareff didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he did both. “You son of a bitch. Damn you...” His buried his face in Avdol's robes, tears seeping into the fabric. Then, Polnareff lifted his head, his puffy eyes finally meeting Avdol's gaze. “Just… don't fool me like that anymore… please?” he begged in a whisper.

Avdol dipped his head. “That was an insensitive thing for me to have done, considering what I put you through before. I am sorry, Polnareff. It will not happen again.”

Polnareff was shaken both by the sincerity of his tone and by how easy it had been to get an apology out of him. He had accused Avdol of being childish, and yet the degree of maturity he showed was foreign to Polnareff. “I really ought to punch you again.”

“Go ahead, if you like. I deserve it.”

But Polnareff didn't punch him. He couldn't run the risk of spoiling this moment—a moment he never believed would actually come. He exhaled deeply and put his arms over Avdol's, merging their silhouettes. “This is… this is real?”

“You heard me. I said I was done making jokes.”

Avdol's embrace was warm. It was distinct from the hot desert air that lingered in the hotel room, just as the warmth of sitting around a campfire with friends was distinct from the heat of the flames themselves. The warmth was imbued with the essence of their journey—or at least the subtler moments; the brief lapses of time when they knew they were safe from enemy Stands. Such security was growing increasingly scarce as they drew nearer to their destination, and Polnareff knew he wouldn't feel this safe again until their journey had reached its end.

Polnareff held him tighter, sinking deep into his robes. Even beneath the heavy cloth, Polnareff could feel Avdol's pulse. The steady beat of life through his body caused the realization to sink in all over again. He was alive! He was alive, and he was right there with him, cradled in his arms. Polnareff didn't want to let go; he wanted to stay close to his friend's heart and never lose track of its rhythm. That way, he'd always be able to know that Avdol was alive.

Avdol massaged Polnareff's back, sweeping his palm over the contours of his muscles. Polnareff moved his hand to the back of Avdol's head and weaved his fingers between his columns of hair. Their eyes met again and they regarded each other, familiarizing themselves with the other's features in a new, intimate way. Polnareff was drawn closer by the amiable warmth of Avdol's amber gaze. His eyelids fluttered shut and he curved his lips, and he could feel Avdol's heart surge as he planted them on his cheek.

“You've never been this quiet before,” Avdol whispered, “which is good. Now would not be a good time to anger Jotaro. Could you imagine if he made Star Platinum bust in at a time like this?”

Once the words had sunk in, Polnareff gritted his teeth. With his mouth still pressed against Avdol's face, he muttered, “Don't even… God, would you j-just… shut the fuck up?”

“You'll have to make me.”

Polnareff tried his best not to smile, but he couldn't hide it. He tipped Avdol's head, joining his lips with his own. Both sets had been chapped by the desert sun, and their worn surfaces came together like a jigsaw. They held, sharing breaths.

Gradually, Polnareff became aware of another sensation. It was not at all like Avdol's gentle touch or the warmth of his body heat—it was coarse and itchy, and it seemed to spread across his entire body. It scattered upon his skin and into the folds of his clothes, and even worked its way down his throat and into his lungs. Suddenly, Polnareff was gasping for breath. He tried to speak, but instead erupted into a fit of coughing. Polnareff looked to Avdol for help. He was choking as well. Their immersion was shattered, and just like that, the moment that felt like it would go on forever had come to an end. Polnareff and Avdol were sent hurtling back to reality. They let go of each other, ready to fight for their lives.

Polnareff drew a breath, even though he knew it was futile. The air flowed in. It stayed in his chest for a second, and then it flowed out. Cautiously, he took another breath. He inhaled. He exhaled. Nothing stifled the flow. Then, he noticed that the grittiness had subsided as well. It was over so fast that if Avdol hadn't been struck by the same thing, Polnareff would've thought he had hallucinated it. The two of them exchanged bewildered looks.

“You felt that, right?” Polnareff asked.

“I did.”

“So, it really happened? I didn't just imagine it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then. Good to know we're on the same page.” Polnareff inhaled sharply, his composure crumbling. “What the ever-loving fuck was that?”

“Normally, I'd suspect that we were under attack by an enemy Stand. However… you might not agree with me on this, but in this case, I'd hesitate to say it was the work of an enemy Stand.”

“What's that supposed t—” At once, he remembered Iggy. The dog was still sitting in the corner, looking particularly smug. The Fool had all but vanished, leaving only a trace of colored sand behind. “You… you've gotta be kidding me!”

“Well,” Avdol said nonchalantly, “that makes us even, I suppose.”

“Iggy!” Polnareff wailed. “Gah! How did I forget he was here? I'm gonna strangle him, I swear. That damn mutt… he was watching us this whole time! Thank God his stupid animal brain wouldn't be able to comprehend any of what he just saw.”

Iggy laid his ears back and snarled.

“I wouldn't say that,” advised Avdol. “Are you trying to suggest he didn't know what he was doing? Iggy knew exactly what he was doing. He has the capacity to utilize a Stand. I can't imagine that basic displays of affection are beyond his realm of understanding.”

“Shit, you're probably right,” Polnareff cursed. “In that case, I'm glad he can't talk, at least.”

“Among us, Iggy is truly the best at keeping secrets. Not that he has a choice.” Avdol bent down and reached out to pat Iggy on the head, but the little dog stubbornly avoided him. He shrugged and brought his gaze back to Polnareff. “And you, Polnareff… you are, by far, the worst.”

Polnareff stifled a laugh. “Yeah… yeah, you're right. You win, Avdol.”

“That is not a bad thing, though. Not all of the time,” Avdol said. “When your secrets take the form of desires, there is nothing holding you back from pursuing them. Your drive is astonishingly strong. The way you assert yourself allows you to turn your dreams into realities.” He paused. “Me… I could never be so upfront with my feelings. If it had been up to me to make the first move, well… I wouldn't have. My feelings would have remained bottled up.

“When I call upon the cards to reveal one's fate, I am merely reading what has been foretold. It is beyond my ability to alter their fates. The same is true of my own destiny. I walk through life without my own sense of direction, guided only by happenstance. I am a man without resolve.” Avdol took a deep breath, and then resumed. “The cards are not infallible. Some happenings evade the lens of prognostication. Polnareff, I said you were predictable. That is not entirely true. Ever since we met, you have managed to surprise me on a regular basis. When my Magician's Red collided with your Silver Chariot and I got my first sense of who you are… I never would have guessed that our fates would intertwine in this manner.”

If there was one thing Polnareff had trouble expressing, it was his own flaws. Avdol's confession had been spellbinding, and somehow, Polnareff was swayed into following up with a confession of his own. He contemplated for a long moment, which was something he didn't do very often. There was a reason he didn't let himself get lost in thought, and it wasn't because he lacked the capacity.

He thought about all the things that had happened, and how seamlessly everything had fallen into place. He traced the events back to his original inhibitions, recalling that he didn't think his feelings were mutual. It made him realize that nothing made any sense. The feelings shouldn't have been mutual. Everything should have gone wrong. What the hell was Avdol thinking? Polnareff tried to consider Avdol's perspective, but the man's reasoning eluded him. He was forced to confront him.

“I don't get it,” he said. “What would someone like you want with a guy like me? I'm just a burden on everyone. Can't even get myself to save a single person.” His delivery was labored with both reluctance and guilt. Admitting his mistakes aloud wasn't liberating or cathartic. It only made them feel more real to Polnareff. He kept those memories hidden in the back of his mind, and there was usually too much going on for him to be able to think about them for long. Now, they had been dragged out into the center of his brain, and he was left to face all the things he had ever done wrong.

Something wasn't right. The mood had dropped instantly, and Avdol was left clinging to the tattered remains of the moment. Had Polnareff been upset by something he'd said? The taste of his words still lingered on his tongue and he chewed on it, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. He got nowhere and focused on consoling Polnareff instead.

“Fate is unkind to you. Do not put the blame on yourself,” he said. “It would be unfair for me to judge your character based on the circumstance of luck. Rather, your worth lies in your potential. I can see that you want to save people. You want that more than anything. If you had a way to overcome fate, you would see to it that none of the people you care about are wronged in any way. Since you do not, you seek justice. It was your desire for vengeance that compelled you to embark on this journey. Some may question the morality of revenge, but to me, it is a noble cause. Even when fortune does not fall in your favor and you are unable to save your loved ones' lives, you concern yourself with saving their dignity.”

“Sherry…” Polnareff mumbled. “I didn't save her dignity.” His entire demeanor had transformed. The color had drained from his face and his features had hardened. Only his eyes, which were moist and unfocused, remained soft. He had put up a wall, but that wasn't his nature. It wouldn't take much for his facade to be knocked down.

Avdol hesitated. He knew Polnareff's sister was a sensitive topic, so he would have to tread carefully. “I would say you did. I was told you dealt the final blow to her murderer. Now, she rests in peace.”

“But… on the island…”

“That was not your sister. You know that. Sherry is in heaven and has no connection to the effigy that rose from hell. She was watching over you—I'm sure of it—and she understands. You did not seek to tarnish her image. In fact, I am certain she saw it for what it was: a testament to how much you loved her. When you fell for that Stand's trickery, you put aside your own wants and tried to wish her back to life. You have told me little of your relationship with Sherry, but that alone speaks volumes about how good of a brother you were to her.”

“Av… dol…” Polnareff's tears were flowing again. In spite of this, he remained stoic. His expression was unreadable.

He couldn't tell if he had comforted Polnareff, or if he had made things worse. Why couldn't he tell? He needed to steer away from that topic. Avdol backpedaled, simultaneously pushing the narrative forward. “And then, you wished for my return. I did not doubt that you would try to bring back your sister. However, this was something I did not see coming. Up until then, I didn't think you had any respect for me. During our final confrontation, you showed me nothing but contempt. This revelation opened my eyes.”

Polnareff shook his head. “I thought it was my fault that you died, and I was trying to make up for it. It was that vengeance thing. That's all.”

“Are you sure that was all?” His tone was quizzical, and Avdol regretted it instantly. It wasn't like him to blurt things out like that, but he was on edge and he couldn't think straight. Humor wouldn't lighten the mood; most of the time, Polnareff didn't like his jokes.

Polnareff sat down and put his head in his hands. “You know what? I don't even know. I don't know what I'm doing right now, or what I just did. All of this… it's a lot to take in.”

Avdol couldn't keep up. “I understand,” he said, even though he didn't.

“No, I don't think you do. Or maybe it's that you understand too much. I can't make sense of this stuff. Maybe you can, but me? I don't know what the hell's going on.”

Avdol winced. Had he come off as patronizing? He relayed another empty sentence. “I will admit that this was all very sudden.”

Polnareff sighed. “No… no, it's true. What am I saying? Words keep coming out, but they're not the ones I want. Maybe I should just stop talking before I really screw up. But there's one more thing I have to say.” He lifted his head. “It's true. Avdol… I… I love you.”

Avdol studied him, making sure he truly meant what he had said. He did. Every part of his countenance was instilled with sincerity. It was not a superficial type of sincerity, like a mask; Polnareff was capable of no such thing. Rather, this sincerity blossomed from inside of him and spread across his visage, weaving its way into each of his features—the gleam of trust in his eyes, his flushed cheeks, the beads of perspiration on his forehead, and the shape of his lips after those words had fallen out. Even after all the careless things Avdol had said, Polnareff's feelings hadn't changed.

Avdol didn't recite the words back to Polnareff. He moved. He hugged him. It was a quick, simple gesture, and yet it conveyed more than anything he could have said aloud. That gesture hadn't failed him before, and it didn't fail him again. The same couldn't be said of Avdol's voice. He had a thorough manner of speaking, but sometimes he spoke for too long and his points were obscured by his myriads of words. Other times, Polnareff was too dense and Avdol's sense of humor was lost on him. In this occasion, there was no better way for him to reciprocate the thought and ensure that his intentions were clear. The words were silent, but Polnareff heard them: I love you, too. Everything will be all right.

The two of them had been caught up in a kind of dance—a back and forth sashay between movements and talk. Neither of them had ever danced before, though. The rhythm of emotion guided them along, but they moved to the music in different ways. They tried to match each other's steps, but their footwork was sloppy. The dance went on nevertheless. As the curtains began to draw, they moved in synch. They owned it.

They were dancing the same dance, and speaking the same language—a language of compromise; of actions and words. Everything was clear.

Avdol caressed Polnareff's cheeks, wiping away his tears. Polnareff sighed, a smile slowly returning to his face. He felt safe again. His thoughts settled and retreated to the recesses of his mind. Avdol's warmth was numbing, and Polnareff could think of nothing but how close he was to him.

This time, Iggy couldn't bring himself to intervene—or, more likely, he just couldn't be bothered to get up again. Having grown bored with the two, he went back to sleep. Neither Avdol not Polnareff seemed to mind when he started snoring; they were caught up in something much more important.

After they let go, they sat for a while. Nothing else needed to be said, at least for now. They were happy just to be in each other's company. With Iggy snoring, the room was far from silent—but it was probably as quiet as it would ever get, so they savored it.

At last, Avdol spoke. “Polnareff, are you hungry?”

“Eh?”

“Look at the time,” said Avdol. “They'll start serving breakfast soon.”

Polnareff checked the clock and almost gasped out loud. It was almost 6:30. How had more than an hour gone by already? He shrugged to himself, accepting it. As much as Polnareff would have liked to idle in the moment, he couldn't ignore his hunger. “Hell yeah, I'm starving. I wonder what they cooked up. Whatever it is, I bet it can't hold a candle to the food from my homeland. When it comes to cooking, no one beats the French!”

There was a twinkle in Avdol's eye. “You've never tried a full Egyptian breakfast. Flat bread with bean dip, eggs, fresh fruit and vegetables, tea, pastries sweetened with rosewater…”

“That's nothing.” Polnareff waved him off. “Hey, listen. When all of this is over, you've gotta come with me to France. The food will blow your mind.”

Avdol nodded. “Yes. I'd like that.”

“Très bien!”

This was only the beginning, Polnareff realized. Thinking about what the future held filled him with renewed energy. Now, he had something else to fight for, and he was ready to keep fighting and keep bringing that future closer.

Of course, he couldn't do any of that on an empty stomach.

“Whatever, though. At this point, I'd eat pretty much anything. C'mon, let's get ready.” Polnareff paused when he passed by Iggy. He turned to Avdol. “Should we wake him up? I bet he's hungry, too.”

“I think we've learned our lesson,” Avdol said. “Let sleeping dogs lie.”

They both laughed.

As they walked down the hall, Polnareff couldn't contain his excitement. “There's this place a few blocks from where I live… they make the best sole meunière in the world. The fish is so fresh, and it just falls apart in your mouth. You always order seafood, so I know you'd love it.

“France has a really rich history, too. The pyramids are cool and all, but they're a little too dusty and old for my liking. Everybody's gotta see the Eiffel Tower before they die. It's a marvel of architecture! Oh, and I've got to get you to the Louvre, too. We've got a pyramid of our own there, but it's made of glass instead of sand. Did you know that, Avdol?”

As Polnareff prattled on, Avdol couldn't help but smile. It was hard for him to follow the way he jumped from one thought to the next, but Polnareff's zeal made for easy listening nonetheless. Most of all, Avdol was just happy to see him rebound from his despair.

Polnareff stopped to catch his breath. He could tell Avdol was only sort of paying attention to him. That was fair, he thought—he didn't always listen to Avdol, either. He smiled back at him, even though he was pretty sure he wasn't looking.

Eventually, Polnareff realized that he had found refuge at last. He had found it inside of a hotel, but it had nothing to do with the hotel itself. It turned out that he'd been looking in all the wrong places. He knew exactly where to look now. Refuge didn't have to be bound to a shelter. Sometimes, it took the form of a person—and Polnareff was lucky enough to have that person standing next to him.

As long as Avdol was by his side, he would always feel safe.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #avpol #jean pierre polnareff #muhammad avdol #fanfiction

[blackkudos]

Joe Frazier

Joseph William "Joe" Frazier (January 12, 1944 – November 7, 2011), nicknamed "Smokin' Joe", was an American professional boxer who competed from 1965 to 1981. He reigned as the undisputed heavyweight champion from 1970 to 1973, and as an amateur won a gold medal at the 1964 Summer Olympics. Frazier was known for his sheer strength, durability, formidable punching power, and all-out relentless attack.

Frazier emerged as the top contender in the late 1960s, defeating opponents that included Jerry Quarry, Oscar Bonavena, Buster Mathis, Eddie Machen, Doug Jones, George Chuvalo and Jimmy Ellis en route to becoming undisputed heavyweight champion in 1970, and followed up by defeating Muhammad Ali by unanimous decision in the highly anticipated "Fight of the Century" in 1971. Two years later Frazier lost his title when he was defeated by George Foreman. He fought on, beating Joe Bugner, losing a rematch to Ali and beating Quarry and Ellis again.

Frazier's last world title challenge came in 1975, but he was beaten by Ali in their brutal rubbermatch. He retired in 1976 following a second loss to Foreman. He made a comeback in 1981, fighting just once, before retiring. The International Boxing Research Organization (IBRO) rates Frazier among the ten greatest heavyweights of all time. In 1999, The Ring magazine ranked him the 8th greatest heavyweight. He is an inductee of both the International Boxing Hall of Fame and the World Boxing Hall of Fame.

Frazier's style was often compared to that of Henry Armstrong and occasionally Rocky Marciano, dependent on bobbing, weaving and relentless pressure to wear down his opponents. His best known punch was a powerful left hook, which accounted for most of his knockouts. In his career he lost to only two fighters, both former Olympic and world heavyweight champions: twice to Muhammad Ali, and twice to George Foreman.

After retiring, Frazier made cameo appearances in several Hollywood movies, and two episodes of The Simpsons. His son Marvis became a boxer—trained by Frazier himself—but was unable to match his father's success. His daughter Jackie Frazier-Lyde also boxed professionally. Frazier continued to train fighters in his gym in Philadelphia. His later years saw periodic insults and bitter feelings towards Ali, interspersed with brief reconciliations.

Frazier was diagnosed with liver cancer in late September 2011 and admitted to hospice care. He died of complications from the disease on November 7, 2011.

Early life

Joe Frazier was the 12th child born to Dolly Alston-Frazier and Rubin in Beaufort, South Carolina. He was raised in a rural community of Beaufort called Laurel Bay. Frazier said he was always close to his father, who carried him when he was a toddler "over the 10 acres of farmland" the Fraziers worked as sharecroppers "to the still where he made his bootleg corn liquor, and into town on Saturdays to buy the necessities that a family of 10 needed." Young Frazier was affectionately called "Billie Boy."

Rubin Frazier had his left hand burned and part of his forearm amputated in a tractor accident the year his son was born. Rubin Frazier and his wife Dolly had been in their car when Arthur Smith, who was drunk, passed by and made a move for Dolly but was rebuffed. Stefan Gallucci, a local barkeep, recounted the experience. When the Fraziers drove away Smith fired at them several times, hitting Dolly in the foot and Rubin several times in his arm. Smith was convicted and sent to prison, but did not stay long. Dolly Frazier said, "If you were a good workman, the white man took you out of jail and kept you busy on the farm."

Frazier's parents worked their farm with two mules, named Buck and Jenny. The farmland was what country people called "white dirt, which is another way of saying it isn't worth a damn." They could not grow peas or corn on it, only cotton and watermelons.

In the early 1950s, Frazier's father bought a black and white television. The family and others nearby came to watch boxing matches on it. Frazier's mother sold drinks for a quarter as they watched boxers like Sugar Ray Robinson, Rocky Marciano, Willie Pep and Rocky Graziano. One night Frazier's Uncle Israel noticed his stocky build. "That boy there...that boy is gonna be another Joe Louis" he remarked. The words made an impression on Joe. His classmates at school would give him a sandwich or a quarter to walk with them at final bell so that bullies would not bother them. Frazier said, "Any 'scamboogah' (a disrespectful, low-down and foul person) who got in my face would soon regret it; Billie Boy could kick anybody's ass." The day after his Uncle's comment, Frazier filled old burlap sack with rags, corncobs, a brick, and Spanish moss. He hung the makeshift heavybag from an oak tree in the backyard. "For the next 6, 7 years, damn near every day I'd hit that heavybag for an hour at a time. I'd wrap my hands with a necktie of my Daddy's, or a stocking of my Momma's or sister's, and get to it" Joe remarked.

Not long after Frazier started working, his left arm was seriously injured while he was running from the family's 300 pound hog. One day Frazier poked the hog with a stick and ran away. The gate to the pigpen was open, however; and the hog chased him. Frazier fell and hit his left arm on a brick. His arm was torn badly; but as the family could not afford a doctor, the arm had to heal on its own. Joe was never able to keep it fully straight again.

By the time Frazier was 15 years old, he was working on a farm for a family named Bellamy. They were both white men: Mac, who was the younger of the two and more easy going, and Jim, who was a little rougher and somewhat backward. One day a little black boy of about 12 years old accidently damaged one of the Bellamys' tractors. Jim Bellamy became so enraged he took off his belt and whipped the boy with his belt right there in the field. Joe saw the event and went back to the packing house on the farm and told his black friends what he had seen. It wasn't long before Jim Bellamy saw Joe and asked him why he told what he had witnessed. Joe then told Bellamy he didn't know what he was talking about, but Bellamy didn't believe Joe and told Joe to get off the farm before he took off his belt again. Joe told him he better keep his pants up because he wasn't going to use his belt on him. Jim then analyzed Joe for a bit and eventually said "Go on, get the hell outta here." Joe knew from that moment it was time for him to leave Beaufort; he could only see hard times and low-rent for himself. Even his Momma could see it. She told Joe "Son, if you can't get along with the white folks, then leave home because I don't want anything to happen to you."

The train fare from Beaufort to the cities up North was costly, and the closest bus-stop was in Charleston, 75 miles (121 km) away. Luckily by 1958, the bus (The Dog, as called by locals in Beaufort) had finally made Beaufort a stop on its South Carolina route. Joe had a brother, Tommy, in New York. He was told he could stay with Tommy and his family. Joe had to save up a bit before he could make the bus trip to New York and still have some money in his pocket, and so first he went to work at the local Coca-Cola plant. Joe remarked that the white guy would drive the truck and he would do the real work, stacking and unloading the crates. Joe stayed with Coca-Cola until the government began building houses for the Marines stationed at Parris Island; at which time he was hired on a work crew.

Nine months eventually passed since he got the boot from the Bellamy farm. One day, with no fanfare, no tearful goodbyes, Joe packed quickly and got the first bus heading northward. He finally settled in Philadelphia, "I climbed on the Dog's back and rode through the night" Joe remarked. "It was 1959, I was 15 years old and I was on my own."

Amateur career

During Frazier's amateur career, he won Golden Gloves Heavyweight Championships in 1962, 1963 and 1964. His only loss in three years as an amateur was to Buster Mathis. Mathis would prove to be Joe's biggest obstacle to making the 1964 U.S. Olympic Boxing team. They met in the final of the U.S. Olympic Trial at the New York World's Fair in the summer of 1964. Their fight was scheduled for three rounds and they fought with 10 oz gloves and with headgear, even though the boxers who made it to Tokyo would wear no headgear and would wear 8 oz gloves. Joe was eager to get back at Mathis for his only amateur loss and KO'd two opponents to get to the finals. But once again, when the dust settled, the judges had called it for Mathis, undeservedly Joe thought. "All that fat boy had done was run like a thief- hit me with a peck and backpedal like crazy." Joe would remark.

Mathis had worn his trunks very high, so that when Joe hit Mathis with legitimate body shots the referee took a dim view of them. In the second round, the referee had gone so far as to penalize Joe two points for hitting below the belt. "In a three-round bout a man can't afford a points deduction like that," Joe would say. Joe then returned to Philadelphia feeling as low as he'd ever been and was even thinking of giving up boxing. Duke Dugent and his trainer Yank Durham were able to talk Joe out of his doldrums and even suggested Joe make the trip to Tokyo as an alternate, in case something happened to Mathis. Joe agreed and while there, he was a workhorse, sparring with any of the Olympic boxers who wanted some action. "Middleweight, light heavyweight, it didn't matter to me, I got in there and boxed all comers" Joe would say. In contrast, Mathis was slacking off. In the morning, when the Olympic team would do their roadwork, Mathis would run a mile, then start walking saying "Go ahead, big Joe. I'll catch up." His amateur record was 38–2.

1964 Olympics

In 1964 heavyweight representative Buster Mathis qualified but was injured so Frazier was sent as a replacement. At the Heavyweight boxing event, Frazier knocked out George Oywello of Uganda in the first round, then knocked out Athol McQueen of Australia 40 seconds into the third round. He was then into the semi-final, as the only American boxer left, facing the 6 foot 2, 214 lb. Vadim Yemelyanov of the Soviet Union.

"My left hook was a heat seeking missile, careening off his face and body time and again. Twice in the second round I knocked him to the canvas. But as I pounded away, I felt a jolt of pain shoot through my left arm. Oh damn, the thumb." Joe would say. Joe knew immediately the thumb of his left hand was damaged, though he wasn't sure as to the extent. "In the midst of the fight, with your adrenaline pumping, it's hard to gauge such things. My mind was on more important matters. Like how I was going to deal with Yemelyanov for the rest of the fight." The match ended when the Soviet's handlers threw in the towel at 1:49 in the second round, and the referee raised Joe's injured hand in victory.

Now that Joe was into the final, he didn't mention his broken thumb to anyone. He went back to his room and soaked his thumb in hot water and Epsom salts. "Pain or not, Joe Frazier of Beaufort, South Carolina, was going for gold." Joe proclaimed. Joe would fight a 30-year-old German mechanic named Hans Huber, who failed to make it on the German Olympic wrestling team. By now Joe was used to fighting bigger guys, but he was not used to doing it with a damaged left hand. When the opening bell sounded on fight night, Joe came out and started swinging punches, he threw his right hand more than usual that night. Every so often he'd used his left hook, but nothing landed with the kind of impact he managed in previous bouts. Under Olympic rules, 5 judges judge a bout, and that night three voted for Joe.

Professional career

After Frazier won the USA's only 1964 Olympic boxing gold medal, his trainer Yancey "Yank" Durham helped put together Cloverlay, a group of local businessmen (including a young Larry Merchant) who invested in Frazier's professional career and allowed him to train full-time. Durham was Frazier's chief trainer and manager until Durham's death in August 1973.

Frazier turned professional in 1965, defeating Woody Goss by a technical knockout in the first round. He won three more fights that year, all by knockout, none going past the third round. Later that year, he was in a training accident, where he suffered an injury which left him legally blind in his left eye. During pre-fight physicals, after reading the eye chart with his right eye, when prompted to cover his other eye, Frazier switched hands, but covered his left eye for a second time, and state athletic commission physicians seemed to not notice or act.

Joe's second contest was of interest in that he was decked in round 1 by Mike Bruce. Frazier took an "8" count by referee Bob Polis but rallied for a TKO over Bruce in round 3.

In 1966, as Frazier's career was taking off, Durham contacted Los Angeles trainer Eddie Futch. The two men had never met, but Durham had heard of Futch through the latter's reputation as one of the most respected trainers in boxing. Frazier was sent to Los Angeles to train, before Futch agreed to join Durham as an assistant trainer. With Futch's assistance, Durham arranged three fights in Los Angeles against journeyman Al Jones, veteran contender Eddie Machen and George "Scrap Iron" Johnson. Frazier knocked out Jones and Machen, but surprisingly went 10 rounds with journeyman Johnson to win a unanimous decision. Johnson had apparently bet all his purse that he'd survive to the final bell, noted Ring Magazine, and somehow he achieved it. But Johnson was known in the trade as "impossibly durable".

After the Johnson match, Futch became a full-fledged member of the Frazier camp as an assistant trainer and strategist, who advised Durham on matchmaking. It was Futch who suggested that Frazier boycott the 1967 WBA Heavyweight Elimination Tournament to find a successor to Muhammad Ali after the Heavyweight Champion was stripped of his title for refusing to be inducted into the military, although Frazier was the top-ranked contender at the time.

Futch proved invaluable to Frazier as an assistant trainer, helping modify his style. Under his tutelage, Frazier adopted the bob-and-weave defensive style, making him more difficult for taller opponents to punch, while giving Frazier more power with his own punches. While Futch remained based in Los Angeles, where he worked as a supervisor with the U.S. Postal Service, he was flown to Philadelphia to work with Frazier during the final preparations for all of his fights.

After Durham died of a stroke on August 30, 1973, Futch was asked to succeed him as Frazier's head trainer and manager—at the same time he was training heavyweight contender Ken Norton. Norton lost a rematch against Ali less than two weeks after Durham's death. At that point, Norton's managers, Robert Biron and Aaron Rivkind, demanded that Futch choose between training Frazier and Norton, with Futch choosing Frazier.

Mid to late 1960s

Now in his second year, in September 1966 and somewhat green, Frazier won a close decision over rugged contender Oscar Bonavena, despite Bonavena flooring him twice in the second round. A third knockdown in that round would have ended the fight under the three knockdown rule. Frazier rallied and won a decision after 12 rounds. The Machen win followed this contest.

In 1967 Frazier stormed ahead winning all six of his fights, including a sixth-round knockout of Doug Jones and a brutal fourth round (TKO) of Canadian George Chuvalo. No boxer had ever stopped Chuvalo before, although Frazier, despite the stoppage, was unable to floor Chuvalo, who would never be dropped in his entire career despite him fighting countless top names.

By February 1967 Joe had scored 14 wins and his star was beginning to rise. This culminated with his first appearance on the cover of Ring Magazine. In this month he met Ali, who hadn't yet been stripped of his title. Ali said Joe would never stand a chance of "whipping" him, not even in his wildest dreams. Later that year, Muhammad Ali was stripped of his world heavyweight title due to his refusal to be inducted into the military during the Vietnam War.

To fill the vacancy, the New York State Athletic Commission held a bout between Frazier and Buster Mathis, both undefeated going into the match, with the winner to be recognized as "World Champion" by the state of New York. Although the fight was not recognized as a World Championship bout by some, Frazier won by a knockout in the 11th round and staked a claim to the Heavyweight Championship. He then defended his claim by beating hard hitting prospect Manuel Ramos of Mexico in two rounds.

He closed 1968 by again beating Oscar Bonavena via a 15-round decision in a hard-fought rematch. Bonavena fought somewhat defensively, allowing himself to be often bulled to the ropes, which let Frazier build a wide points margin. Ring Magazine showed Bonavena afterwards with a gruesomely bruised face. It had been a punishing match.

1969 saw Frazier defend his NYSAC title in Texas, beating Dave Zyglewicz, who'd only lost once in 29 fights, by a first-round knockout. Then he beat Jerry Quarry in a 7th round stoppage. The competitive, exciting match with Quarry was named 1969 Ring Magazinefight of the year. Frazier showed he could do a lot more than just slug. He'd used his newly honed defensive skills to slip, bob and weave a barrage of Quarry punches despite Quarry's reputation as an excellent counter punching heavyweight.

Wins World Championship – Ellis

On February 16, 1970, Frazier faced WBA Champion Jimmy Ellis at Madison Square Garden. Ellis had outpointed Jerry Quarry in the final bout of the WBA elimination tournament for Ali's vacated belt. Frazier had himself declined to participate with the WBA tournament to protest their decision to strip Ali. Ellis held an impressive win over Oscar Bonavena among others. Beforehand, Ali had announced his retirement and relinquished the Heavyweight title, allowing Ellis and Frazier to fight for the undisputed title. Frazier won by a TKO when Ellis's trainer Angelo Dundee would not let him come out for the 5th round following two 4th round knockdowns (the first knockdowns of Ellis's career). Frazier's decisive win over Ellis was a frightening display of power and tenacity.

In his first title defense, Frazier traveled to Detroit to fight World Light Heavyweight Champion Bob Foster, who would go on to set a record for the number of title defenses in the light-heavyweight division. Frazier (26–0) retained his title by twice flooring the hard punching Foster in the second round. The second knock down came on a devastating left hook and Foster could not beat the count. Then came what was hyped as the "Fight Of The Century," his first fight with Muhammad Ali, who had launched a comeback in 1970 after a three-year suspension from boxing. This would be the first meeting of two undefeated heavyweight champions (and last until Mike Tyson faced Michael Spinks in 1988), since Ali (31–0) had not lost his title in the ring, but rather been stripped because of his refusal to be conscripted into the Armed Forces, some considered him to be the true champion. This fight was to crown the one, true heavyweight champion.

Fight of the Century – first fight versus Ali

On March 8, 1971, at Madison Square Garden, Frazier and Ali met in the first of their three bouts which was called the "Fight of the Century" in pre-bout publicity and by the press. With an international television audience and an in-house audience that included luminaries Frank Sinatra (as a photographer for Life magazine to get a ringside seat), comedian Woody Allen, singer Diana Ross and actors Dustin Hoffman and Burt Lancaster (who served as "color commentator" with fight announcer Don Dunphy), the two undefeated heavyweights met in a media-frenzied atmosphere reminiscent of Joe Louis' youth.

Several factors came together for Frazier in this fight. He was 27 years old and at his boxing peak physically and mentally, Ali, 29, was coming back from a three-year absence but had kept active. He had had two good wins, including a bruising battle with Oscar Bonavena, whom Ali had defeated by a TKO in 15 rounds. Frazier worked on strategy with coach Eddie Futch. They noted Ali's tendency to throw a right-hand uppercut from a straight standing position after dropping the hand in preparation to throw it with force. Futch instructed Frazier to watch Ali's right hand and, at the moment Ali dropped it, to throw a left hook at the spot where they knew Ali's face would be a second later. Frazier staggered Ali in the 11th round and knocked down Ali in the 15th in this way.

In a brutal and competitive contest, Frazier lost the first two rounds but was able to withstand Ali's combinations. Frazier was known to improve in middle rounds, and this was the case with Ali. Frazier came on strong after round three, landing hard shots to the body and powerful left hooks to the head.

Ultimately, Frazier won a 15-round, unanimous decision (9–6, 11–4, and 9–6). Ali was taken to hospital immediately after the fight to check that his severely swollen right side jaw (which was apparent in post-fight interviews) wasn't actually broken. Frazier also spent time in hospital during the ensuing month, the exertions of the fight having been exacerbated by hypertension and a kidney infection.

Later in the year he fought a 3-round exhibition against hard hitting veteran contender Cleveland Williams.

In 1972, Frazier successfully defended the title twice, beating Terry Daniels and Ron Stander, both by knockout, in the fourth and fifth rounds respectively. Daniels had earlier drawn with Jerry Quarry and Stander had knocked out Earnie Shavers.

Loses title to George Foreman

Frazier lost his undefeated record of 29–0 and his world championship, at the hands of the unbeaten George Foreman on January 22, 1973, in Kingston, Jamaica. Despite Frazier being the overall favorite, Foreman towered 10 cm (4 inches) over the more compact champion and dominated from the start. Two minutes into the first round, Foreman knocked Frazier down for the first time. After he was knocked down a sixth time in the second round referee Arthur Mercante, Sr. stopped the contest.

Frazier won his next fight, a 12-round decision over Joe Bugner, in London to begin his quest to regain the title.

Mid 1970s – second fight against Ali

Frazier's second fight against Ali took place on January 28, 1974, in New York City. In contrast to their previous meeting, the bout was a non-title fight, with Ali winning a 12-round unanimous decision (4–7, 5–7, and 5–6). The fight was notable for the amount of clinching.

Five months later, Frazier again battled Jerry Quarry in Madison Square Garden, with a strong left hook to the ribs by Frazier ending the fight in the fifth round.

In March 1975, Frazier fought a rematch with Jimmy Ellis in Melbourne, Australia, knocking him out in nine rounds. The win again established Frazier as the number one heavyweight challenger for the title, which Ali had won from George Foreman in the famous "Rumble in the Jungle" five months earlier.

Thrilla In Manila – third Ali fight

Ali and Frazier met for the third and final time in Quezon City (a district within the metropolitan area of Manila), the Philippines, on October 1, 1975: the "Thrilla in Manila". Prior to the fight, Ali took opportunities to mock Frazier by calling him a '"gorilla", and generally trying to irritate him.

The fight was a punishing display on both sides under oppressively hot conditions. During the fight, Ali said to Frazier, "They said you were through, Joe." Frazier said, "They lied." After 14 grueling rounds, Futch stopped the fight with Frazier having a closed left eye, an almost-closed right eye and a cut. Ali later said that it was the "closest thing to dying that I know of.". In 1977, Ali told interviewer Reg Gutteridge that he felt this third Frazier fight was his best performance. When Gutteridge suggested his win over Cleveland Williams, Ali said, "No, Frazier's much tougher and rougher than Cleveland Williams".

Foreman again

In 1976, Frazier (32–3) fought George Foreman for a second time. With a shaved head for a new image Frazier fought well enough, somewhat more restrained than usual, avoiding walking onto the big shots which he had done in their first match. However, Foreman awaited his moment and then lobbed in a tremendous left hook that lifted Frazier off his feet. After a second knock down it was stopped in the fifth. Shortly after the fight, Frazier announced his retirement.

Frazier made a cameo appearance in the movie Rocky later in 1976 and dedicated himself to training local boxers in Philadelphia, where he grew up, including some of his own children. He also helped train Duane Bobick.

Music career

During the late 1970s, Frazier created a soul-funk group called "Joe Frazier and the Knockouts," being mentioned in Billboard and recording a number of singles. Joe toured widely all over the USA and Europe including Ireland where among other places he performed in Donegal, Ireland and Athy Co Kildare, Ireland with his band. Joe Frazier and the Knockouts were featured singing in a 1978 Miller beer commercial.

1980s comeback and career as trainer

In 1981, Frazier attempted a comeback. He drew over 10 rounds with hulking Floyd "Jumbo" Cummings in Chicago, Illinois. It was a bruising battle with mixed reviews. He then retired for good.

After that, Frazier involved himself in various endeavors. Among his sons who turned to boxing as a career, he helped train Marvis Frazier, a challenger for Larry Holmes's world heavyweight title and trained his daughter, Jackie Frazier-Lyde, whose most notable fight to date was a close points loss against Laila Ali, the daughter of his rival.

Frazier's overall record was 32 wins, 4 losses and 1 draw, with 27 wins by knockout. He won 73 percent of his fights by knockout, compared to 60 percent for Ali and 84 percent for Foreman. He was a member of the International Boxing Hall Of Fame.

In 1984, Frazier was the special referee for the NWA World Heavyweight Championship match between Ric Flair and Dusty Rhodes at Starrcade '84, awarding the match to Flair due to Rhodes' excessive bleeding.

In 1986, Frazier appeared as the "corner man" for Mr. T against Roddy Piper at Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum as part of WrestleMania 2. In 1989, Frazier joined Ali, Foreman, Norton and Holmes for the tribute special Champions Forever.

Media appearances

Frazier appeared as himself in an episode of The Simpsons ("Brother, Can You Spare Two Dimes?") in 1992, in which he was supposed to have been beaten up by Barney Gumble in Moe's Tavern. Frazier's son objected and Frazier was instead shown beating up Gumble and putting him in a trash can. Frazier appeared in another episode of The Simpsons ("Homer's Paternity Coot") in 2006. He appeared on-screen in the 8th series of The Celebrity Apprentice (USA) television show as a guest-attendee at the Silent Auction event held for the season finale (won by Joan Rivers). Frazier appeared as himself in the Academy Award-winning 1976 movie, Rocky. Since the debut of the Fight Night series of games, Frazier appeared in Fight Night 2004, Fight Night Round 2, Fight Night Round 3, Fight Night Round 4 and Fight Night Champion, games made by EA Sports.

Books

Frazier released his autobiography in March 1996, entitled Smokin' Joe: The Autobiography of a Heavyweight Champion of the World, Smokin' Joe Frazier. Frazier promoted the book with a memorable appearance on The Howard Stern Show on April 19, 1996.

He also wrote Box like the Pros, "a complete introduction to the sport, including the game's history, rules of the ring, how fights are scored, how to spar, the basics of defence and offence, the fighter's workout, a directory of boxing gyms, and much more. Box Like the Pros is an instruction manual, a historical reference tool and an insider's guide to the world's most controversial sport."

Financial issues and legal battles

According to an article from The New York Times, "over the years, Frazier has lost a fortune through a combination of his own generosity and naïveté, his carousing, and failed business opportunities. The other headliners from his fighting days—Ali, George Foreman, and Larry Holmes—are millionaires." Asked about his situation, Frazier became playfully defensive, but would not reveal his financial status. "Are you asking me how much money I have?" he said. "I got plenty of money. I got a stack of $100 bills rolled up over there in the back of the room." Frazier blamed himself, partly, for not effectively promoting his own image. In a 2006 HBO documentary on the fight in Manila, Frazier was interviewed living in a one-room apartment on the second floor of his gym.

His daughter Jackie Frazier-Lyde is a lawyer and worked on her father's behalf in pursuit of money they claimed he was owed in a Pennsylvania land deal. In 1973, Frazier purchased 140 acres in Bucks County, Pennsylvania for $843,000. Five years later, a developer agreed to buy the farmland for $1.8 million. Frazier received annual payments from a trust that bought the land with money he had earned in the ring. However, when the trust went bankrupt, the payments ceased.

Frazier sued his business partners, insisting his signature had been forged on documents and he had no knowledge of the sale. In the ensuing years, the 140 acres was subdivided and turned into a residential community. The land is now worth an estimated $100 million.

Relationship with Muhammad Ali

Frazier and Ali were friends. During Ali's enforced three-year lay-off from boxing for refusing to be drafted into the US Army, Frazier lent him money, testified before Congress and petitioned U.S. President Richard Nixon to have Ali's right to box reinstated. Frazier supported Ali's right not to serve in the army, saying "If Baptists weren't allowed to fight, I wouldn't fight either."

However, in the build-up to their first fight, The Fight of the Century, Ali turned it into a "cultural and political referendum", painting himself as a revolutionary and civil rights champion and Frazier as the white man's hope, an "Uncle Tom" and a pawn of the white establishment. Ali successfully turned many black Americans against Frazier. Bryant Gumbel joined the pro-Ali, anti-Frazier bandwagon by writing a major magazine article that asked "Is Joe Frazier a white champion with black skin?" Frazier thought this was "a cynical attempt by Clay to make me feel isolated from my own people. He thought that would weaken me when it came time to face him in that ring. Well, he was wrong. It didn't weaken me, it awakened me to what a cheap-shot son of a bitch he was." He noted the hypocrisy of Ali calling him an Uncle Tom when his [Ali's] trainer (Angelo Dundee) was white.

As a result of Ali's campaign, Frazier's children were bullied at school and his family were given police protection after receiving death threats. Ali declared that if Frazier won he would crawl across the ring and admit that Frazier was the greatest. After Frazier won by a unanimous decision, he called upon Ali to fulfill his promise and crawl across the ring, but he didn't. Ali called it a "white man's decision" and insisted that he won.

During a televised joint interview prior to their second bout in 1974, Ali continued to insult Frazier, who took exception to Ali calling him "ignorant" and challenged him to a fight, which resulted in the two of them brawling on the studio floor. Ali went on to win the 12 round non-title affair by a decision. Ali took things further in the build-up to their last fight, The Thrilla in Manila, and called Frazier "the other type of negro" and "ugly", "dumb" and a "gorilla" At one point he sparred with a man in a gorilla suit and pounded on a rubber gorilla doll, saying "This is Joe Frazier's conscience... I keep it everywhere I go. This is the way he looks when you hit him." According to the fight's promoter Don King, this enraged Frazier, who took it as a "character assassination" and "personal invective". One night before the fight, Ali waved around a toy pistol outside Frazier's hotel room. When Frazier came to the balcony, he pointed the gun at Frazier and yelled "I am going to shoot you." After the fight, Ali summoned Frazier's son Marvis into his dressing room, and told him that he had not meant what he had said about his father. When informed of this by Marvis, Frazier responded: "you ain't me, son. Why isn't he apologizing to me?"

For years afterwards, Frazier retained his bitterness towards Ali and suggested that Ali's battle with Parkinson's syndrome was a form of divine retribution for his earlier behavior. In 2001, Ali apologized to Frazier via a New York Times article, saying "In a way, Joe's right. I said a lot of things in the heat of the moment that I shouldn't have said. Called him names I shouldn't have called him. I apologize for that. I'm sorry. It was all meant to promote the fight". Frazier reportedly "embraced it", though he later retorted that Ali only apologized to a newspaper, not to him. He said: "I'm still waiting [for him] to say it to me." To this Ali responded: "If you see Frazier, you tell him he's still a gorilla."

Frazier told Sports Illustrated in May 2009 that he no longer held hard feelings for Ali. After Frazier's death in November 2011, Ali was among those who attended the private funeral services for Frazier in Philadelphia. The Rev. Jesse Jackson, who spoke during the service, asked those in attendance to stand and "show your love" and reportedly Ali stood with the audience and clapped "vigorously".

Later years

Frazier lived in Philadelphia where he owned and managed a boxing gym. Frazier put the gym up for sale in mid-2009. He was diagnosed with diabetes and high blood pressure. He and his nemesis, Muhammad Ali, alternated over the years between public apologies and public insults. In 1996, when Ali lit the Olympic flame in Atlanta, Frazier told a reporter that he would like to throw Ali into the fire. Frazier made millions of dollars in the 1970s, but the article cited mismanagement of real-estate holdings as a partial explanation for his economic woes. Frazier stated repeatedly that he no longer had any bitter feelings towards Ali. The National Trust for Historic Preservation has named the Joe Frazier's Gym in its 25th list of America's 11 Most Endangered Historic Places in 2012. In 2013, the gym was named to the National Register of Historic Places.

Frazier continued to train young fighters, although he needed multiple operations for back injuries sustained in a car accident. He and Ali reportedly attempted a reconciliation in his final years, but in October 2006 Frazier still claimed to have won all three bouts between the two. He declared to a Times reporter, when questioned about his bitterness toward Ali, "I am what I am."

Frazier attempted to revive his music interests in late 2009/2010. Notably popular for singing 'Mustang Sally,' both Frazier and manager Leslie R. Wolff teamed up with Welsh Rock Solo artist Jayce Lewis to release his repertoire in the U.K., later visiting the Welshman in U.K. to a host a string of after dinner speeches and music developments. It would notably be Frazier's last U.K. appearance.

Death

Frazier was diagnosed with liver cancer in late September 2011. By November 2011, he was under hospice care, where he died on November 7. Upon hearing of Frazier's death, Muhammad Ali said, "The world has lost a great champion. I will always remember Joe with respect and admiration." Frazier's private funeral took place on November 14 at the Enon Tabernacle Baptist Church in Philadelphia and in addition to friends and family was attended by Muhammad Ali, Don King, Larry Holmes, Magic Johnson, Dennis Rodman, among others. He was later buried at the Ivy Hill Cemetery, a short drive from the Enon Tabernacle Baptist Church.

In popular media

He was played by boxer James Toney in the 2001 film, Ali.

He played in "The Fight of the Century" against Ali.

Some of the most memorable moments in the 1976 boxing-themed feature film, Rocky—such as Rocky's carcass-punching scenes and Rocky running up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, as part of his training regimen—are taken from Frazier's real-life exploits. In the film, Frazier makes a cameo appearance, promoting the fight between Rocky and Apollo.

In March 2007, a Joe Frazier action figure was released as part of a range of toys based on the Rocky film franchise, developed by the American toy manufacturer, Jakks Pacific.

Electric bassist Jeff Berlin wrote a musical tribute simply called "Joe Frazier," originally recorded on the Bill Bruford album Gradually Going Tornado, available on the compilation album Master Strokes.

Mr. Sandman, a video game character in the Punch-Out!! video game series known for being one of the toughest opponents, was based in part on Frazier.

His granddaughter, Latrice Frazier, appeared on an episode of Maury.

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Bernie Sanders Went to Canada, and a Dream of ‘Medicare for All’ Flourished

BURLINGTON, Vt. — In July 1987, Bernie Sanders, then the mayor of Burlington, Vt., arrived in Ottawa convinced he was about to see the future of health care.

Years earlier, as his mother’s health declined and his family struggled to pay for medical treatment, he was spending more time attending to her than in classes at Brooklyn College, suffering through what his brother called “a wrecked year’’ leading to her death. Over time, he had come to believe that the American health care system was flawed and inherently unfair. In Canada, he wanted to observe firsthand the government-backed, universal model that he strongly suspected was better.

Amid tours of community centers and meetings with health care providers, Mr. Sanders more than liked what he saw.

“He was thrilled,” recalled Beth Mintz, a professor of sociology at the University of Vermont and a member of a task force that accompanied Mr. Sanders. “It gave him much more confidence in the possibility of the single-payer system as a solution.”

Decades before “Medicare for all” would propel his presidential campaigns, Mr. Sanders’s expedition to Ottawa helped forge his determination to transform the American health care system. His views burst onto the national political scene during his 2016 presidential run, when he championed a single-payer program alongside many other liberal policy ideas. Now, as he seeks the Democratic presidential nomination for a second time, he has made “Medicare for all” the most important issue of his campaign and set the agenda for the ideological discussion in the primary.

Health care dominated the first two Democratic debates this summer and will most likely be prominent again during the third debate on Thursday in Houston. Other candidates support “Medicare for all,” but it is Mr. Sanders who has become singularly identified with it — “I wrote the damn bill!’’ he proclaimed in July’s debate.

A review of hundreds of pages of documents from the first chapters of his political career — including speeches, correspondences and newspaper clippings — as well as interviews with those who have known him throughout his life, show that while his democratic socialist worldview underpins his “Medicare for all” pitch, he was also guided by other factors. Chief among them were his mother’s illness and death, which instilled in him the desire to ensure everyone had access to medical care, and the adjacency of Vermont to Canada, which afforded him a blueprint for universal health care.

Together, they help explain why he has staked not only his campaign, but also much of his political legacy, on promoting “Medicare for all.’’

“You can’t overstate the impact that Vermont’s proximity to Canada had on Bernie’s thinking about how to approach reforming the American health care system,” said Jeff Weaver, who has worked with Mr. Sanders since the 1980s and remains one of his closest advisers. The pull of Canada remains strong: In July, Mr. Sanders took a bus trip from Detroit to Windsor, Ontario, with diabetes patients to highlight lower drug prices in Canada.

In an interview on Sunday, Mr. Sanders described how seeing the Canadian system up close significantly shaped his own views on health care.

“It was kind of mind blowing to realize that the country 50 miles away from where I live — that people could go to the doctor whenever they wanted and not have to take out their wallet,” he said.

“That was just a profound lesson that I learned,” he said.

He also criticized the American system as “barbaric.” And he vowed — as he often does in his stump speeches — “to take on the greed and the corruption of the health care industry.”

Mr. Sanders’s health care proposal has attracted legions of supporters fed up with the rising costs of the current system, and it sets him apart from more centrist candidates like Joseph R. Biden Jr. But his uncompromising position also threatens to alienate voters who are pleased with the Affordable Care Act, or who do not want to give up their private insurance. His own state of Vermont so far does not have a single-payer program.

Despite skepticism about his views, however, Mr. Sanders has consistently resolved to reform the health care system, even before being elected to public office. In 1972, when he was running for Senate as a candidate from Vermont’s left-wing Liberty Union Party, The Bennington Banner, a local newspaper, reported him taking an uncompromising stance: “There is absolutely no rational reason, in the United States of America today, we could not have full and total free medical care for all.”

The challenge of paying medical bills

The first seeds of Mr. Sanders’s concern were sown in Brooklyn.

A high-school track and cross country star with an emerging political streak, Mr. Sanders had wanted to go to Harvard, friends said. But by his senior year, his mother, Dorothy Sanders, had become sick, her heart damaged from having rheumatic fever as a child.

As her health declined, her illness consumed him. He stopped going to track practice. To be closer to her, he began his freshman year at Brooklyn College.

Mr. Sanders describes his family as lower middle class. His father, an immigrant from Poland, was a paint salesman. He has said his parents frequently argued about money.

When his mother fell ill, his family moved her into a charity hospital in New Jersey. After a failed heart surgery, she died in March 1960, when she was in her mid-40s. “Bernard actually spent much more time with her than he did in class,’’ his brother, Larry, recalled in an interview in February. “It was really a kind of wrecked year and a very unhappy year.”

Then, as now, Mr. Sanders avoided speaking of his mother’s death. On Sunday, he declined to discuss his personal life, but said that his family had “struggled economically, and that’s it.”

In a 2006 interview with Vermont PBS, he offered a glimpse into how her illness shaped his thinking.

“When you talk about money and family, how do you get the money for the medical treatment that my mother needed?” he said. “I won’t go into the whole long song and dance of it. But trust me, it was something that I also have not forgotten about — the right of people to have health care, which was a little bit difficult in our family situation.”

It would still be some years, though, before health care became his political hallmark.

Mr. Sanders transferred to the University of Chicago, where he spent hours in the library reading progressive publications that would influence his political views. There, he turned his energy toward civil rights.

“We didn’t talk about health care,” said one of his roommates, Ivan Light. “It was not on the political agenda at that time. Civil rights was on the agenda.”

After moving to Vermont, he became active in politics. A perennial candidate with the Liberty Union Party in the 1970s, he focused on issues like the tax structure.

But he also began to study health care seriously. Included in a collection of papers from those days are pamphlets, articles and other material related to medical care. One publication he saved from March 1972 was titled, “Health Rights News;” its slogan was “Health care is a human right.”

That research soon began to take hold: In October 1976, when he was the Liberty Union candidate for governor, he told The Burlington Free Press that the delivery of medical care was “basically a national problem” and that he supported “public ownership of the drug companies and placing doctors on salaries.”

“I believe in socialized medicine,” he said.

John Bloch, who has known Mr. Sanders since the 1970s when they were active in Vermont politics, said he thought Mr. Sanders’s views were influenced in part by the people he lived near in the rural town of Stannard, Vt., many of whom were in desperate need of health care.

“He didn’t just come to this as Johnny-come-lately,” Mr. Bloch said.

In the interview Sunday, Mr. Sanders said he was particularly affected at the time by a young boy who lived across the road whose teeth, he said, were rotting in his mouth.

Deb Richter, a Vermont physician and longtime advocate for single-payer health care, who has worked with Mr. Sanders on the issue for 20 years, said he had always felt that health care was a human right.

“You ask Vermonters, ‘How long has Bernie been talking about single-payer health care for all?’ and nobody can remember a time he wasn’t talking about it,’’ she said.

Turning his sights toward Canada

After Mr. Sanders was elected mayor of Burlington in 1981, he largely emphasized local issues, like property taxes and affordable housing. “I was the mayor of a city of 40,000 people,” Mr. Sanders said in the interview. “Talking about national health care is not exactly what you talk to the board of aldermen about.”

By then, he had also become somewhat fixated on Canada. In September 1981, he invited the director of the Quebec Insurance Board to speak about the province’s health insurance plan. Later, he demanded more accountability from the state’s health insurance company and encouraged a review of hospital budgets.

As he pondered higher office, his focus on health care intensified. Even before he announced his 1986 campaign for governor, he said he planned to run in part on controlling medical costs, according to an article in the Vermont newspaper The Times Argus.

He lost that race but gathered valuable information in the process: During his campaign, his team had polled Vermont residents on issues. “To my surprise,” Mr. Sanders said in 1987, “the issue that Vermonters felt most strongly about was the rapidly rising costs of health care.”

That finding served to galvanize his actions on health care. He quickly set up a task force and charged it with studying how to make the system more affordable.

Soon Mr. Sanders and the task force — which included an expert on the Cuban health care system, professors and a minister — were traveling to Ottawa, which had implemented a government-supported, single-payer system.

Jed Lowy, who went on the trip, recalled touring a public hospital, visiting a neighborhood community health center and speaking with physicians.

“It was interesting to see another way that health care was provided,” Mr. Lowy said.

That trip, and a later one to Montreal, reinforced Mr. Sanders’s idea that Vermont’s northern neighbor had effectively put into practice the kind of accessible, affordable system he had long sought.

At a news conference after the Ottawa visit, the task force suggested Burlington could model its health care system after Canada’s. And in unequivocal tones, Mr. Sanders said it would be “absolutely negligent” not to examine at least some aspects of the Canadian model.

In March 1988, the task force released a report recommending the creation of a national health care system.

Mr. Sanders’s focus on health care policy met some resistance at home from city employees reluctant to give up benefits they had earned.

Mr. Sanders forcefully rebutted the criticism.

“You may regard this as ‘propaganda’,” he wrote tersely in response to a letter from an angry constituent in December 1982. “I expect that you may not have talked to citizens who are taking their food money to pay for medical care.”

By the time Mr. Sanders was mounting his 1988 congressional run, he was speaking about health care in the kind of dogmatic terms he uses today, and he was broadening his vision beyond Vermont. He praised the National League of Cities for adopting a resolution to establish a national health system.

Soon after formally announcing his congressional campaign, he set forth his premier agenda item, one that he had imagined since his mother’s death some three decades earlier.

“I want to make it emphatically clear,” he said in April 1988, “that I will make health care reform a top priority as a United States congressman from the state of Vermont.”

Alexander Burns contributed reporting. Kitty Bennett and Alain Delaquérière contributed research.

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