Two Sides Of The Coin To Choose From...

[TM] 214 - To Be Great Is To Be Misunderstood

Mon, 21 Jan 2008 23:29:55 GMT

My pops was a great man...he had power, lots of it, and he knew how to use it. He was successful, shrewd, strong, and intelligent...guy was the fuckin’ Man, man. No question about it.

But there’s no misunderstanding my pops...he was a great man? But not a good man..shit, he wasn’t even a good demon. He treated power like a weapon and the world like one great big fucking stepping stool up to something greater. He didn’t deserve to live, and the world’s a better place since he’s been dead.

Greatness ain’t always tortuous, misunderstood genius. Some men are just bastards...and some women are just bitches. They may be great...hold the fucking world in their hands, but who and what they are is crystal clear...as clear-cut as a heart attack and as unavoidable as the smell of dogshit nobody bothered to clean up.

I don’t doubt that there’s the odd off misunderstood mogul out there...mental giants, creative geniuses and shit? But more often than not, people...even great ones...simply are what they are. Call a spade a spade, shoot a cheater on sight...know an asshole when you see an asshole.

My father was one of those men. I just pray to Christ and the Old Gods I’m nothing like him.

Muse: Joseph Ducain
Fandom: AtS (OC)
Words: 221

[TM] 211 - Old Acquaintance

Thu, 03 Jan 2008 00:45:16 GMT

It was cliche as all fuck...but in all the clubs in all the world, she *had* to walk into his.

The shrill little scream touched his ears just before she flung herself at him...still petite and pretty as she’d ever been, and still in complete possession of the dangerous curves that had drawn him to her when they’d first dated.

And, as was her way, the moment her arms went around him, one immediately dropped low, her hand curling almost painfully tight against his ass.

“Joe, my *darling!* Gods, it’s been so long! How are you, honey?! Still single, I hope?”

“Not single, and not lookin’, Rayela.” he grunted, avoiding touching her even as he tried to figure out how to pry himself, and his butt cheek, from her grip. “Besides...last I heard, you were a vengeance demon.”

“Well, naturally,” she drawled with a smirk, moving back just enough to slide her other hand over his backside and pull him firmly against her, “but since when has that prevented a girl from having a little fun?”

Wincing, Joseph found himself looking around the busy club and wondering where the hell his guys were when he needed them. “Ray...”

“Do you remember when you shot my fiancee in the head, Joe?”

“Rayela, I--”

“Oh, I don’t fault you for it...he was a cheating bastard, and he deserved what he got...but wasn’t that lovely? Kind of...erotic, even?”

“*Ray*...”

“Killing my man just a *week* after you broke up with me? It was so--”

“Rayela, I’m engaged.” Well, it was *almost* true...

Only then did she release her deathgrip on his ass, and it was all Joseph could do not to sigh in sheer relief. “Oh...I didn’t...well, isn’t that a shame! Who’s the lucky girl?”

“No one you know.” he lied smoothly, finally reaching up to disentangle himself from her grip. “Listen, Ray, it’s been swell...but just so ya know? My brother’s in town, and he’s been talkin’ you up something fierce...”

With a smile and a squeal, Rayela turned tail and started scouring the dance floor for James Ducain...who, Joseph knew for a fact was there tonight. He watched her go with a wealth of gratitude...and a discreet drift of his hand to rub his ass tentatively.

Man, he was gonna bruise...and when Eve found out how? She wasn’t going to let him live it down.

Muse: Joseph Ducain
Fandom: AtS (OC)
Words: 418

[TM] 208 - Four

Mon, 10 Dec 2007 21:14:51 GMT

[private]

I’m not a superstitious man...not really. But...well, let’s just say my upbringing’s a little hard to shake sometimes.

Things with me and Eve have been fucking rough as shit, and she deserves better than I can give her. But...I can’t bring myself to let her go. So I plan on *not* letting her go. Ever.

In four days, it’ll be the Feast of Syvius...Slayers’ll be busy, ‘cause some demonic clans see it as an excuse for an apocalyptic fiesta, but by the Breal calendar it’s a lucky day. Kinda like meteor showers and shooting stars and St. Patrick’s Day. Saying goes, no harm can fall to those blessed thrice in blood in the days before the Feast of Syvius.

Now that wouldn’t mean dick to me...except for the fact that I’ve been blooded three times in the last two weeks. Couple kills in the line of duty, if you dig what I mean, and a guy I helped patch up a couple days ago. Guy who works for Zeke, he’s working for me as a mole...got clipped by a shot, I slapped a bandage on it and sent him packing.

So, if I were a superstitious man? That’d mean that the Feast of Syvius is my day...nothin’ bad can happen that day.

So...if I were to propose to Eve...

You get the idea. Anyway, I got four days to decide if I’m ready or not. We’ve talked about it...sorta...and...

Fuck. I don’t know what the fuck to do.

[/private]

Muse: Joseph Ducain
Fandom: AtS (OC)
Words: 258

[TM] 206 - What Do You Live For?

Fri, 30 Nov 2007 23:47:19 GMT

Five years of a life sentence had stripped Joseph down...it fit his world into a twenty four inch foot locker. Death Row had stripped him down even further, narrowing his identity to a white mesh laundry bag that weighed about a pound, if that.

So while the eight hundred dollar suit and Rolex on the young man before him might have been appropriate, or even tasteful, to Joseph Turner it was just excessive.

“How many days do you have left?”

He shrugged, shifting his wrists in their shackles. He’d seen the lawyer wince when he’d done it before...clearly the sound grated at him. It was the perfect reason to keep making the noise. “I’m third in line to be executed, second as of next week, so...I figure I got a couple more years.”

“And you really think your life is worth so little?”

Rolling his eyes, Joseph sighed and narrowed his gaze. “Get one thing straight, motherfucker...my family’s been a client of Wolfram & Hart’s in some capacity or another since the early 1700's. You’re representing the Ducain name...if I could lift my hands high enough to give you the finger, I fucking would. Hell, if I could move at all, I’d kill you outright just for coming in here.”

The lawyer fell silent. Joseph didn’t feel good, but he did feel better. He understood himself a little better after seven years in lockup...understood more of what made him who he was...why he got off on violence and suffering. Demon blood only went so far...Joseph was a cold man. Maybe not a good or bad man, maybe not a human man...but he was cold. Reptilian blood flowed through his veins...slow, deliberate, conserving energy to keep him warm on the hardest nights behind bars. Caring cost him...compassion was a liability.

And wanting...even his own life...it was the same as beating against the bars of his cell with his fists: wasted energy.

“What if I could promise you the end of your family...your father, in particular?”

Joseph fought and failed to calm his heart and focus his mind...Hope was a bitch, and right now he was at her mercy. “Fuck you.”

“We have resources, Mr. *Turner.* And our sources tell us that you and this firm together? Will ultimately spell the end of your father’s reign. And you’ll be the man responsible. It won’t happen overnight, and it won’t be easy...but it will happen.”

In that moment, Joseph knew he was wrong about everything he believed to be true about himself...or if he was cold, he was cold like a salamander. Reptilian in nature...but in fire he thrived. And he felt it know...the fire in his blood, rage boiling and fury scorching. For a second, he wondered if he would break out into a sweat with the sudden change in him...hot to cold, dead to fully alive again.

“I guess you have to ask yourself, Joseph...have you forgiven your father enough to die so that he can live...or is revenge something you’re still willing to live for?”

There were any number of reasons to go back to his cell...but his father was the one reason he never would.

“Slide me that contract, asshole...you got yourself a new hire.”

He didn’t watch as the lawyer smiled while handing him the contract and fountain pen. “Welcome to Wolfram & Hart, Mr. Turner...I promise you, you won’t regret the decision.”

Muse: Joseph Ducain
Fandom: AtS (OC)
Words: 599

[TM] 204 - Going Insane Quote

Thu, 15 Nov 2007 20:04:06 GMT

[private]

I killed seventeen men between the time my ma died and the time I left New York. Seventeen men. I don’t even remember their names...just how good it felt to pull the trigger or plunge that switchblade into flesh and blood.

I went a little crazy for a while...I admit it. But a deathbed speech like my mother’s will do that to a guy.

I thought enough blood could drown out her voice in my head...cursing my name. Telling me I should never have been born. I watched her suffer for years at the hands of my pops...then she tells me I’m no better than him...

The only blood I ended up drowning in was my own...the sound of it in my ears every goddamn day. It was like my own pulse was poison...I wasn’t strong enough to end my own fucking life, so I got a little trigger happy. I think I was secretly hoping someone else would have the sack and the reflexes to beat me to the pull...to do what I couldn’t.

The real craziness came when I hit LA, though...living a normal life, thinking I could keep it. That was crazy...pretending that the danger wasn’t there anymore just ‘cause I’d slipped under the radar. I had to have been temporarily insane, thinking I could just up and run, no matter how quick I am to the draw.

That’s the thing about my family, as my pops went so far to prove: you can’t hide from the Ducains.

No matter what...they always find you. And then they take away what you love most.

That part I proved...because my pops loved nothing more than to hurt people.

He don’t do that anymore...he can’t. And I made sure of that.

[/private]

Muse: Joseph Ducain
Fandom: Angel (OC)
Words: 305

[TM] 201 - Something You Lost

Tue, 23 Oct 2007 20:51:05 GMT

Tell you what I lost...my name.

Ducain...it’s like a fucking curse or something. I try to get away from it, and I can’t. I got close...ditched it when I moved to LA, and I didn’t pick it back up, not even in prison when it could’ve protected me. Joseph Turner did fine on his own...didn’t have much fun in there, but he survived.

I liked Joseph Turner...he was a middlin’ decent guy. My father hated him...that was just a nice little bonus. Turner was close to his degree. He had a girl he was in love with...maybe even enough to marry. He had a normal life, and he had a real future.

Now, I’m Joseph Ducain again, but the name means something else. It means revenge...it means satisfaction, and it means two steps back, in big fucking neon rock ‘n roll sized letters. It means losing everything to hold onto one good thing.

Joseph Ducain has no future...he has no friends, and he has all the wealth, power, and weapons to rule a world with fear. He as everything he needs to buy, steal, and extort things like happiness and contentment.

I don’t know for sure who this Joseph Ducain is...I don’t know if I like him very much.

But I know he kept Eve Hart alive. And that makes him a man worth knowing.

If there’s anything decent left in the Ducain family name, she put it there. But it ain’t my name anymore...it never will be again, not really. And I’d move all of the Seven Hells to get my name back again.

Muse: Joseph Ducain
Fandom: Angel (OC)
Words: 275

[TM] 200 - Save The Day - At Your Funeral

Tue, 16 Oct 2007 17:59:57 GMT

He hadn’t told anyone where he was going...Eve was the closest to knowing the truth when he told her that he had to settle some family business back in Brooklyn. Maybe she did know, though...maybe he’d given something away in his demeanor or his voice, because the way she’d kissed him goodbye had been far too sweet...far too comforting.

Joseph didn’t want comfort right now, but in spite of himself he welcomed it.

The neighborhood was the same...but this place was alien to him. He hadn’t been here...well, ever, and that was just one more strike against him. Dad’s mark was clear, though...maybe he’d never been to the place, but he’d gone all out making sure it looked damn good in pristine white marble, fantastically carved...and fresh red roses on full display, a good two dozen. Dad was probably paying to have the flowers put there every week.

For a moment Joseph simply stood over the elaborate marble monument, then finally sank to his knees and reached out to gather up the roses that lay at the base of it, carefully laying them aside. Thorns poked and tore at his hands...he didn’t much care. When he was done, he took the small, simple bouquet of blue carnations he’d brought and laid them at the base of the tombstone instead.

“Too cliche, right, Ma?” he murmured, eyeing the red roses that lay nearby. “Dad never paid any fucking attention. You used to tell me that the dead got eyes.”

Shifting to sit down on the grass of the expansive, picturesque cemetery, Joseph folded his arms across his knees and stared at the image engraved into the white marble...a perfect black and white photo of Alcythia Eleanor Leary-Ducain, smiling beatifically out at the mourners who passed by. Long before her death, she’d stopped looking at him that way.

“I never went to yer funeral...I’m sorry.” he apologized aloud. “And I know I ain’t visited...I’m sorry for that, too. Figured you wouldn’t want me here, y’know? After what you said...before.”

Hesitating, Joseph blinked hard and swallowed. He had to do this...he had to say this, and hope that somewhere in the land of death, she would hear him.

“He tried to do it again, y’know...kill a woman.” Joseph finally admitted after clearing his throat, swallowing past a tightness there. “Mine...Eve. She’s...Jesus, Ma, she’s so beautiful. I wish you could’ve met her...she’d like you, and I know you’d like her. She’s...she’s better ‘n me. Ten times better. Maybe...y’know...maybe you could’ve...”

Trailing off, Joseph sniffed and scrubbed a hand hard over his eyes, pretending that the action stung his eyes enough to water. He felt like he couldn’t breathe...he hated that feeling.

“He’s dead.” he finally got out. Simple, to the point...truth. “Pop...I killed him. For Eve...and for you. He’s never gonna hurt another woman...I stopped him the only way I know how, Ma. It’s all I know...it’s all he gave me, and killin’ him for the two most important women in my life...the women I love...”

It was too much...the sunny day felt darker and Joseph thought his chest might explode as he reached out hesitantly and touched the headstone with his fingertips, then ran them over his mother’s photograph etched into stone...alive as his memories, dead as the corpse six feet underground.

His cheeks were wet, but the dead would tell no tales. Rolling to his knees, he knelt in front of the tombstone and laid both his hands on it, swallowing hard.

“I just hope it’s enough for you to forgive me.” he whispered through the tears, bending his forehead to rest against the top of the cool marble. “I just hope it’s enough...for you to love me again.”

His mother once told him that the dead had eyes, and with those eyes they could see into the heart of a man, and no greater was this gift than at the grave. If the heart of a man was pure, then the gift of peace would be given to him...if his heart was unclean, he’d live his days in grief and torment.

Joseph didn’t know if his mother might be looking when he left the cemetery, or if his heart would ever warrant peace...but as he drove back to his hotel, feeling an urge to give Eve a ring, he knew he’d tried.

It didn’t bring much peace...but for the moment, it was enough.

Muse: Joseph Ducain
Fandom: AtS (OC)
Words: 763

[TM] 198 - Super Power

Mon, 01 Oct 2007 23:11:28 GMT

If I had my way? I’d swap out my powers for the ones humans have. You know...none.

At best, the abilities I have are weak, though they been getting stronger since I started using ‘em more...and since I met Eve. Used to be I could sense thoughts with a little effort...get the gist, y’know? After I met her, I could read ‘em pretty clear...bust a nut trying to send any of my own.

And I’ve always been able to steal minds...kill myself doing it, but it’s the one thing I’m really good at. Just finding that root, where every other thought rests on, and pulling it up...slipping it into my pocket like loose change. The problem with that? The soul of memory...the Breal believe that our souls are incomplete. We got ‘em, ‘cause of our human lineage, but they ain’t whole. When we take a mind, we add a piece to our soul...we make ourselves whole.

Dad always used to say I had too much human in my blood...was why I passed so well. And taking pieces of souls when I had one all my own? It’s like shoving an anvil into a Chinese takeout box already stuffed with food. There’s no room, and the food gets crushed in the meantime.

Minds are easier for me to steal these days...mainly ‘cause I think I lost a good chunk of my soul when I killed my father. It was worth it, though...all I gotta do is look at Eve to know it was worth it.

And I ain’t complaining...much. Life sucks in the mob, especially when you’re in charge and half the criminal underworld ain’t figured out the contract on your girlfriend’s life is a dud. I put the word out, but some dimensions and corners of West Hollywood? The communication’s kinda slow.

But if I didn’t have my powers, I wouldn’t be Breal...and if I wasn’t Breal? I wouldn’t be here. Me and Eve would be off on some tropical island sipping margaritas and having a lot of sex on the beach that involved absolutely no booze...and lots of absolutely no clothing. ~~Yeah, you heard me right, baby.~~

Being able to eat brains and shit, it’s all well and good...but if I could take it or leave it? Trust me...I’d leave this shit on the curb, grab my girl, and ride off into the sunset or something. And I’d do it in a New York fucking Minute.

Muse: Joseph Ducain
Fandom: Angel
Words: 423

[TM] 196 - One Wish

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 22:10:26 GMT

[locked from Eve]

My wish? Might kinda get me in deep with my girl, know what I mean? Not in a real bad way, but...it’s touchy stuff for her.

I wish I could go back to LA. For good.

Eve’s got issues with the place, and she don’t spend any time out there unless she absolutely has to...like for work and shit. But LA...I got some damn good memories from out there. It’s where I always wanted to go when I was growin’ up in New York, and it’s where I *did* go when I finally got the balls to leave.

California always spoke a lot of promise to me...sunny, lively, warm...wasn’t perfect, but it was everything I wanted to be: *free.* Fake as you want, real as you please...Los Angeles was this big melting pot of choice and individuality. Nobody belongs in LA...that’s why everybody belongs there. You go there, and you realize that everyone’s an outcast...everyone’s alone. And because of that? None of us are.

I was there almost a year...and I know I lived what had to be the weirdest life anyone’s ever lived. I ate tofu and pizza. I went to the beach and I studied on the sand. I even went to friggin’ Disneyland. I did what I wanted, when I wanted, and I didn’t answer to anyone but me.

In a way I kinda grew up in LA, but I also kinda got to be a kid. But ultimately, in the eleven months and some-odd weeks I was there, I discovered that The Life wasn’t in me. I was happy as a college student...I got a real charge out of the little stuff. I even started to wonder if I could just settle down one day.

My wish would be to live in LA again. Bring Eve with me...make her see the city the way I do. She lost a lot out there...went to Hell and back again, but out there...I was born again.

I wish I could have that back...be free, be me instead of the Ducain family kingpin. And I wish I could do it with my girl.

Only good thing ‘bout this new gig? If I’m mean, nasty, and bloody enough? I just might have enough power to pull it off one day.

[/locked]

Muse: Joseph Ducain
Fandom: Angel (OC)
Words: 392

[TM] 192 - Recurring Dream

Wed, 22 Aug 2007 18:56:41 GMT

It’s the dream he’s been having since the night he did it...and every night, it goes exactly the same way.

Joseph stands in the middle of a posh hotel penthouse, the rooms around him broken and destroyed. It was a civil beginning to the evening...entering the hotel where Marketh and his sons were staying, being disarmed at the elevator and led to his father’s sitting room.

But Joseph’s temper couldn’t be contained...when the dream begins, he’s standing there again, but only barely. Echid and Beltar are on either side of him, and Marketh stands before him with Joseph’s gun pointed at his head.

“You won’t shoot me.” His father is confident and cool. His hands still have Joseph’s blood smeared across them, while Joseph’s face still bears the rest of the blood that poured from his nose after Marketh broke it.

He cocks back the hammer of his gun. “Cocky bastard...you fucking try me.”

“You’ll take my place if you do it...remember that. Besides...you fought so hard not to be a killer. If you shoot me...a killer’s all you’ll be. Think about it, Tarsus.”

He thinks...and all he sees is Eve’s smile. Eve laying dead in his arms if Marketh Ducain is allowed to live.

“I might have...if you didn’t piss me off.”

“She’s just a *girl*, Tarsus!”

The shot rings out. Joseph’s not quite aware of pulling the trigger...all he sees is red, even as both of his brothers fire and he takes a bullet to his right shoulder and left oblique, respectively.

“She’s *MY* girl!!”

He can only remember the battle cry as the dream jerks him back to wakefulness, always hot on his tongue and hazing his vision when he opens his eyes to the light of morning...the battle cry that reminds him it’s just a dream and not a nightmare.

And it’s in that realization that the nightmare truly lies...because even though Joseph has taken countless lives, he’s never done this before.

He’s never killed a man for someone else...he’s never killed a man for love.

Muse: Tarsus Joseph Ducain
Fandom: Angel (OC)
Words: 358

[TM] 188 - Two Letters

Thu, 02 Aug 2007 22:48:05 GMT

Contents of a letter sent to Belinda Garret six months into Joe’s jail term

Mary,

I know this is a little late in coming...but I had to write you. Lord knows I don’t have anyone else to fucking write. For all I know, you may burn this and never read a word...but I’m really truly hoping you don’t.

You have to know I never meant to hurt you by leaving like I did...if I could have taken you to Calli with me, I would have...if I could have stayed with you, I would have, too. You’re all I got, Mare...you’re all I’ve ever really had next to my mom.

One of the reasons I left you...it’s because I love you. Always have. Do I love you the way you love me...maybe a little. Yeah, I know...I’ve always known you had a thing. And maybe I did too...but it’s too late now to know if it ever could have worked.

And it is too late, Mare...you don’t call, you don’t write back, you don’t ever come to see me. You’re gonna be okay...stay the fuck away from me, and my dad’ll let you out...maybe set you up in one of his legit fronts, and you can get out of there real easy. You don’t know enough to get you killed.

Keep it that way. Forget me...find a life for yourself and forget you ever knew me.

Just know I’ll never forget you. You’re the reason I got out...remember that.

Love,
Joe

* * * * *

[private]

Dad,

Everything comes back around...everything. If you had let me go, I’d never have bothered you again. You never would have seen me, heard about me...you could have had me dead to you in a way more lasting than the grave.

But now you’ve crossed a line. You and me? We’re fucking done. You lost the right to buy and sell my life the day you had me put in prison.

I’m a dead man no matter what I do now...I know that. But that just means I have nothing to be afraid of anymore...that makes me dangerous.

And if I’m gonna die...you’re coming with me.

No love,
Joseph

[/private]

Muse: Joseph Turner
Fandom: Angel (OC)
Words: 377

[TM] 187 - Revenge, Relief, Vindication

Fri, 20 Jul 2007 18:59:54 GMT

It’s a fact we’re all a buncha fuckin’ animals when you get right down to it...and any good animal relies on their instincts. Survival and whatnot. That said? Humans spend a fuck of a lot of time harping on revenge. Revenge is sweet, it’s a dish best served cold, living well is the best revenge...it’s what we’re all about. And if it wasn’t so damn important? We human animals wouldn’t be so fucking obsessed with it.

Being what I am, and what I used to be, I know a fair shake about revenge...it’s what makes the business function. Getting some guy for getting some other guy, getting a guy for getting you...hell, sometimes you get a guy for what he *might* do to you. It’s all about payback. Whether it’s money, favors, or lives, if you ain’t gettin’ yours? You’re nothing.

Like me, for instance. I’m all about revenge...but I’m also about vindication. I want my family dead...dad and both my brothers. The rest...I’ll take it on a case by case basis. They ain’t all shitheels, y’know? But I’m no different...I wanna do ‘em for trying to do me. And they were wrong...they were wrong, comin’ after me when all I wanted was my freedom. Their deaths will vindicate me.

[private]

And killing my pops...yeah, it’ll be a relief. Maybe the nightmares about how he beat my ma will stop. Maybe wherever she is, she’ll think better of me for avenging her...cancer may have killed her, but Pops would’ve taken care of it if he had enough time.

But which is gonna feel better? Relief...when I don’t have to run from him anymore, or my brothers. I’m stuck with the firm, and I’m okay with that...I got debts to pay, and I think living with ‘em some days is better than dying. But running from the only real monsters I’ve ever known...

Relief is gonna be the sweetest taste of all three.

[/private]

Muse: Joseph Turner
Fandom: Angel (OC)
Words: 335

[TM] I'm a part-time loser...

Mon, 09 Jul 2007 22:27:31 GMT

"Know what I hate? Lawyers. So fuck me if I know why I work for 'em." Joseph grumbled as he strolled through the corridor with a tall, yellow-skinned demon with a mouth stuffed so full of fangs its jaws hung open just to accomadate them. Fortunately, the K'syla clan was telepathic...their voices were so hideous they'd been known to induce comas with a simple greeting.

//It's a hazard of the legal field...you have to put up with them.// Ted replied. The demon's name wasn't really Ted, but the sound of it was close...his real name was unpronounceable in English, or even in Breal. //I still remember the days when you could kill a guy without filling out a single form.//

"I know, right?!?" he huffed in agreement, spreading his arms. "I mean, shit, man! When I was growing up, I airholed God knows how many motherfuckers, and did I have to audit my kills? Fuck no! Anyway, this is where I stop...I gotta get a new set of Lethal Termination forms from Pinhead McDonald."

//Well, that explains where the bitchfest started.// Ted sent, patting Joseph on the shoulder. //I'll catch you next week, Turner.//

"Yeah, sure bud." Joseph sighed gruffly, stopping at Lindsey's office. After shaking hands and finishing his goodbyes, he opened the door with a scowl.

"Okay, Fuckface, let's make this quick. I need...holy Christ."

As he walked into the room, he saw Ryan Wolfe sort of drop to one knee...whether she was reaching for something or had actually fallen, he wasn't sure. In either case, the point was moot...someone had fucking run her over with a freight train or something.

Joseph had no love lost for any child of the Partners that wasn't Eve...but there were things a man did not do. Ever. Hitting a woman was one of them.

Moving across the room, Joseph dropped to a knee beside Ryan and laid a hand on her shoulder carefully. When she jerked in pain, he removed his hand and caught her opposite arm instead to keep her from swaying, or from pulling away again. "Whoah whoah whoah...c'mere and stay still, ai'ight? You never had my fucking respect, so don't sweat losing it. What the fuck happened to you?!"

[TM] 185 - Moment Of Triumph

Fri, 06 Jul 2007 20:18:58 GMT

“Fuck you. I’m done.”

It came in a moment of clarity that left him shaking inside, but the moment he said the words aloud...he stopped shaking.

Just like that...he wasn’t afraid anymore. Not of his father...not of anyone.

Marketh Anthony Ducain rolled solid blue eyes and sighed testily, as if dealing with a petulant child. “You’re upset, Tarsus. I understand that. I’ll give you a day to cool off and you’ll be back to rights again.”

“No, I won’t be.” Joseph replied flatly, his voice quiet to match his seething rage. “Open yer fuckin’ ears, old man: I’m out.”

Marketh laughed, shaking his head. “My boy...you don’t get out. Not unless I say you do.”

“Yo, ask me if I give two shits.” he hissed, still quiet as the grave. He knew this kind of rage...he’d felt it before, but this time under the quiet, deadly tide of fury that would likely claim a life before the night was out, he felt...

Joy. Strength. A certainty that he was in the middle of something monumental. His life was changing for the better, but he didn’t just know it...he *felt* it.

God help him...for one brief, shining moment he almost felt like Mom just might be smiling down on him.

Marketh rose from his seat, moving over to lay both of his pale blue-skinned hands on Joseph’s shoulders as their eyes locked. “Look...I understand, son. It’s only been a few weeks since your mother passed on, and you’re upset. We all know how close you two were. But the last three collections I’ve sent you on...Tarsus, you’re supposed to *get* me my money, and instead I’m paying over two million in property damages, not to mention payoffs to keep you out of jail! Please try to understand--”

“She cursed me with her dying breath.” Joseph replied flatly. “Understand that. Understand that I was fuckin’ *there* when she died, and she used her last moments to tell me what a disappointment I am...how I am my father’s son. Cold, cruel...she told me she hoped I’d burn in Hell, just like you!! Just like you, *Dad!!*”

“Tarsus--”

Joseph stopped the flow of words by spitting in his father’s face.

“Fuck you.” he repeated, jerking Marketh’s hands off his shoulders. “I’m done.”

He left the room before Marketh could react, and left the house, his family home, before anyone could realize he was gone.

Belinda was his one regret...he’d never say goodbye, never see her again. But she wasn’t the scrawny sixteen year old street rat he’d helped out years ago. She’d find her own way...and he’d find his.

Still, he hesitated just long enough to look back...for her benefit...before turning back around and heading for the nearest cab stand.

The moment he started walking, he decided if he was going to turn his back on everything...he might as well go whole hog.

And with a smile, Joseph Turner was born.

Muse: Joseph Turner
Fandom: Angel (OC)
Words: 499

[TM] Pain is what I am...

Sat, 23 Jun 2007 04:24:38 GMT

He knew better than to stay...he really, really did. He planned on leaving at eleven...then quarter after...then eleven thirty...

Josep propped himself up on one elbow, watching Eve sleep peacefully beside him. He wanted to stick it in his memory, just for a little while...just for the worst part of the longest day when he'd be climbing the walls and screaming.

God, he hated the solstice.

Leaning down, he buried his nose against the back of her neck and just inhaled her scent with a contented sigh. Goddamnit, he could stay here all night long...

* * * * *

He came awake to pain. Everywhere. It was everything he knew, everything he was. His vision was red with it and his skin fevered with the heat of it...and he was still in Eve's bed.

Fucking shit.

Fighting for control of himself, Joseph immediately slid away from Eve and shakily got out of bed without making any noise. Dressing was an ordeal, and making his way out of the house was slow torture...but no worse than leaving without even giving her a goodbye kiss.

He *really* needed to get over himself and kill his father already.

Home. He had to go. Get home. Ride it out...ride the bitch out. One foot in front of the other...one...two...three steps...four...

Sitting was a relief when he got to his bike, but for a moment he thought he might have a problem when his hands refused to grip the handlebars.

"Grab it...fucking grab it, you pussy!" he snarled to himself. His body finally answered, wrapping around the throttle and brake.

Kicking it into gear, he took off as quickly as he could.

And when he thought he was far enough away, he started taking back streets to get to his place...it was the only way he could scream without drawing attention.

Eve made me do it.

Thu, 21 Jun 2007 20:35:25 GMT

...okay, so I got bored. Fucking sue me.

1. You have $5 and need to buy snacks at a gas station. What do you buy?
King size HERSHEY bar, bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper, and a pack of Doublemint gum

2. If you were reincarnated as a sea creature, what would you want to be?
I don't fucking know...great white shark?

3. Who's your favorite redhead?
Mayac Keller...distant cousin. Hell of a guy.

4. What do you order when you're at IHOP?
Don't go to IHOP...I'm a Denny's man.

5. Last book you read?
THE SAILOR WHO FELL FROM GRACE WITH THE SEA by Yukio Mishima. Actually, I reread it.

6. Describe your favorite pair of underwear.
What the fuck kinda question is that? My favorite pair's the one that doesn't ride up on me...that work for ya?

7. Describe the last time you were injured?
Knife wound in the belly little while back. Knife was poisoned, too, so I was sick for a week.

8. Of all your friends, who would you want to be stuck in a well with?
I got no friends.

9. Rock concert or symphony?
Rock concert

10. What is the wallpaper of your mobile phone?
New York skyline...yeah, I miss it.

11. Fizzy drink?
Beer

12. What type of top/teeshirt are you wearing?
My undershirt

13. If you could only use one form of transportation for the rest of your life what would it be?
My bike

14. Most recent movie you've watched at the cinema?
BATMAN BEGINS

15. Last place you took a nap.
My couch

16. What's your favorite kind of cake?
Chocolate

17. What did you have for dinner last night?
Steak, rare, and a chicken salad.

18. Look to your right. What do you see?
My closet.

19. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?
Depends on how tired I am.

20. Favorite toy as a child?
Malibu Barbie...don't laugh. I stole it from my cousin and used to feed it to my dad's dog. He'd shake it so hard he snapped her head off every fucking time.

21. Do you buy your own food?
Yeah. Who else would by my food?

22. Do you think people talk about you behind your back?
Probably.

23. When's the last time you had a sour gummy worm?
Never.

24. What's your favorite fruit?
Plums.

25. Do you have a picture of yourself doing a cartwheel?
Hell-fucking-no.

26. Have you ever eaten snow?
Nah.

27. What color are your bedsheets?
Black.

28. What's your mom's favorite flower?
Blue roses were her favorite.

29. Do you listen to classical music?
Hell no.

30. Do you have a "wacky noodle" (Pool toy)?
You're fucking with me, right?

31. Do you watch Spongebob?
Sponge-who?

32. Last food you ate?
Pastrami on rye for lunch.

33. Do people consider you intelligent?
Probably not. I'm a thug...thugs don't think, they fuck shit up.

34. What time is it?
Some time between my last class and my next job at work.

35. Is your away message on?
Yep

36. Have you ever tried gluing your fingers together?
Why the hell would I do that?

37. What curse word do you use the most?
Tie between fuck and hell.

38. What time is your alarm clock set for?
Five thirty in the morning.

39. Who was the last person you talked to?
My Criminal Law professor.

40. When was the last time you got drunk?
Last time I drank? Last weekend. Last time I got drunk? When I was sixteen...then the demonic metabolism kicked in.

41. Have you ever been on TV?
Nope.

42. What CD is currently in your CD player?
LUCIFUGE by Danzig (borrowed it from Moe Fender)

43. What movie do you know every line to?
Holy Grail...everyone knows that one.

44. What is your favorite salad dressing?
Ranch

45. Would you ever date someone covered in tattoos?
I did, once. Three dates and I was outta there. Never again...besides, Eve doesn't have any tattoos ~~yet~~.

46. How old will you be turning on your next birthday?
Thirty two.

47. Do you enjoy giving hugs?
To Eve, yeah. Otherwise I'm not a touchy feely person.

48. What are you looking forward to?
My next history exam...what? I love the class.

49. What's the way people most often mispronounce any part of your name?
My actual first name? I've gotten 'Taurus' before. There's no 'u' and an extra 's.' Tarsus.

50. If you were to become famous, would you drop your last name?
Yeah, I guess.

[TM] Wednesday night and...all's not well?

Thu, 21 Jun 2007 19:44:23 GMT

Joseph was starting to wonder if the brilliant legal minds at Wolfram & Hart were responsible for some of the course requirements at state universities...because he could only equate the lab he'd just finished with as Machiavellian torture.

He was only grateful he'd taken his bike to class tonight, because the cold air was doing him a world of good. As he turned the corner, he reached up to rub his eye with the heel of one hand, trying to get the facts and figures from class to stop swirling around in his brain for two seconds. Wasn't going to do any good, though...remembering this stupid shit was in his blood. He'd pass the next quiz, he was sure, but he was probably going to be quoting nuclear equations in his fucking sleep.

Instead of heading for his place, he headed for Eve's...it was a little later than he said he'd come over that night...okay, a whole fucking hour and a half later...but it was still relatively early. Seeing her would definitely help him unwind, or at the very least have something else to think about for a while.

He was two blocks away from her house when he spotted a street vendor on the corner, waving a couple of bouquets of flowers around, with more in his bucket.

Feeling inspired, Joseph pulled his bike to the left and stopped beside the vendor, reaching for his wallet.

Eve hadn't given him a key yet, but she'd told him where to find the spare. When he arrived, he plucked the key from its place taped below her right window sill and let himself in. The house was dark, but Eve's car was in the driveway...which was weird.

Rather than overreact and draw the gun he always carried and check the place out, he simply remained quiet as he moved through the house. In the living room, he spied a glass of wine left unfinished on the coffee table and some miscellaneous disarray. Walking over to touch the glass, he felt condensation still on the outside from the chilled liquid.

Frowning to himself, he stayed quiet as he headed for her bedroom, acting on the assumption...

There she was. In bed with her back to the door. He couldn't quite tell by the sound of her breathing if she was asleep or not, but for her benefit he made sure his footsteps were audible as he crossed over to her bed. She didn't move, so she was either really dozing or just playing along.

With a small smile, he took the rose he'd bought by the side of the road and quietly tugged it from its wrapping of cellophane and baby's breath. Tossing them aside for the moment, he leaned over and dangled the blossom so it swept against her cheek. He dragged the rose up to caress her forehead, then gently over each closed eyelid, trying to urge her to rouse herself.

[TM] 181 - Perfect Day

Wed, 06 Jun 2007 22:19:17 GMT

“Man, you’re high if you think the Mets are gonna take it this year.” Joseph snorted as he entered the coffee shop ahead of his two companions.

“Dude, you’re from New York.” Tommy Parker pointed out with a laugh as they all headed to the counter.

“Forget him.” Anthony Lyle grinned. “Joe’s taste in teams is as pathetic as his taste in women.”

“Man, fuck you.” Joseph snarled without any real rancor as they placed their orders one by one and moved aside to wait.

“C’mon, seriously dude...when was the last time you had your eye on a girl?” Tommy asked.

The moment made Joseph pause and realize just what Tommy was asking...and what he had available as an answer. Eight years...that was how long it had been since he’d last touched a woman, and even longer since he’d looked at one and noticed. With so much to handle...his family, Mamma’s death, prison and the rest of the bullshit...nothing had cut through it.

Nothing except a pretty dimpled grin the day before.

And just like that, it was there...his life, the way he’d always wanted it.

Almost.

And that was okay...so what if he was still working for the firm? Pure perfection was boring...he was in school. He had classmates, pals to study with. He was free, he was alive, he was going for the academic gold...

...and now there was a girl. And not just any girl...no, Joseph had known that the second he laid eyes on Eve Hart.

“Now that you mention it,” he finally replied, “I was makin’ some time with a killer yesterday.”

Anthony raised a curious eyebrow. “Cute, huh?”

”Man, you don’t know the half of it. Cute, like Keebler cute...got this whole little china doll thing goin’ on, she’s about that big. But the legs on this girl...”

”That good, huh?” Tommy chuckled.

Joseph snorted, remembering with a fond nod. “I don’t usually dig short chicks, but hot *damn.* And, for the record? That’s one ass I wouldn’t mind kissin’.”

“What else? I mean, is she a drip?”

Joseph shrugged as their coffees arrived. Opening the lid on his, he took a swig before speaking. “She works at the same law office I do...the place I’m interning at? So she’s smart...seems kinda quirky. Not a bad thing...kinda like that girl on that show.”

Anthony frowned. “What girl?”

”You know...the girl who was doin’ that guy. The doctor.”

”Oh! *That* girl...she’s hot, man.”

Joseph just rolled his eyes as Tommy and Anthony got into a heated debate over the actress in question. It was pointless, and he was losing interest...but God, did it feel good.

He was free, alive, going for the gold...and there was a girl at work. Sure, he had no chance, but...there was a girl at work.

It was almost perfect...and ‘almost’ was all he’d ever really wanted.

Muse: Joseph Turner
Fandom: ANGEL (OC)
Words: 495

[TM] 176 - Past Scar

Wed, 02 May 2007 00:30:52 GMT

I got this scar on my hand...left palm, big fuckin’ X mark. Kinda looks like I laid my hand on some molten chain link or something, except the X ain’t uneven or knotted. It’s just like that...an X.

Fact is, the mark is actually ‘gebo’...Nordic rune, symbol of a gift, or sacrifice. I got it in prison...six weeks into my life sentence, new cellie knocked me out, tied me to the bunk, and fucking branded me. Turns out he was a demon hunter working for my pops.

See, here’s the story about my people: somewhere in the primordial ooze that spewed out vampires, there was a defect that evolved into a few different demon races, mine included. At least among the purebloods, my people can literally suck a brain dry if they wanna. Some races in the same genealogy suck souls, others suck alternative bodily fluids that make me wanna gag. Long story short, we’re all feeders...we take from others to sustain ourselves. Only way to hurt or kill us? A symbol of ultimate giving...sacrifice. Vamps get the cross, a death to save all souls...the Breal are Germanic in origin, so we get a fuckin’ Nordic rune.

Now if that brand had gone over my heart? I wouldn’t be tellin’ this story. That fucker who did it nailed my hand...scarred me for life with that symbol. Every equinox or solstice, the son of a bitch activates...tries to purge the taint from my blood, since those are naturally occurring days of ritual and sacrifice. Holy days, y’know? So four times a year, I drop like a ton of bricks and get sick as a dog...mostly from the blinding fucking pain of my own blood boiling in my veins.

And before you ask...yeah, I could burn the fucker off, but it wouldn’t help enough to matter. The brand was blessed...rune’s sealed into my flesh, so I’ll never be totally rid of it.

And my pops? My own father? He was counting on that. Wanted me to pay for the rest of my life for snitching...maybe for having a fucking conscience, I don’t’ know.

Suffice to say, I got daddy issues...and they include a burning desire to stick hot blessed iron to all the most delicate parts of his anatomy.

I wonder...does that make me a bad person?

Muse: Joseph Turner
Fandom: Angel (OC)
Words: 400

[RP] Last night I can't remember, but I know that I survived...

Fri, 20 Apr 2007 19:01:04 GMT

Joseph stirred, groaning at the pain simply moving caused him. As was becoming habit, he'd fallen asleep on his side with an arm flung out across the space where Eve should have been, but this time he'd somehow gotten his other arm twisted behind him. His shoulder was killing him and the limb was dead asleep.

Rolling over onto his back, Joseph winced at the discomfort in his shoulder, as well as a variety of other aches and pains that had nothing to do with his arm and everything to do with the fact that he hadn't been able to hold down a meal in nearly twenty four hours. It was the worst part of the poison working through his system, meaning he'd spent most of the night in a place he only should have been if he'd actually had some fun: worshipping at the altar of Tidy Bowl. He barely remembered the night before, only lots of retching.

Grabbing his cell phone off the nightstand, Joseph got shakily to his feet and ambled into the bathroom, biting back a wistful wish that Eve were here to yell at him for getting nailed on the job. Annoying little brat had him missing her...and he had a feeling she might miss him. It kind of felt good.

Shuffling into the bathroom, Joseph leaned against the sink and checked his phone...he had a few voicemails. Checking his missed calls, he saw Eve's number among them and felt one corner of his mouth tug upwards...talk about ironic. Pushing the button for his speakerphone, Joseph dialed his mailbox and entered his password, setting his phone on the counter and letting his messages play as he stared at his reflection...which didn't look too good.

"JT! It's Mayac...how you doin'?"

Joseph recognized the voice of his distant cousin, Mayac Lenny Keller. The Kellers lived locally...a human branch of the Ducain family tree that ran a successful chain of hardware stores across Massachusetts. They followed the demonic traditions of the family as best they could, but were middle class, wholesome, and always welcomed Joseph like a lost son even though he saw them maybe once a year. Mayac was a troublemaking cousin that wanted to get into the life, and never stingy about keeping Joseph in the loop.

"So I just got back from New York...Grandpappy sends his love. Grampa still wants you dead."

"Not fuckin' surprised." Joseph grumbled to himself, cringing a little at his reflection. His face was ashen, with the exception of the ruptured blood vessels rimming his eyes and stretching out towards his temples, a side effect of all the puking. They seemed to make his bloodshot eyes seem even worse than they were, and Joseph could already tell he'd lost a visible amount of weight over the last few days.

"Anyway, just called to tell you Mamma wants you to come over sometime for dinner. Maybe bring that gal pal of yers...tell Ma she's your girlfriend, that'll keep her off yer back. We miss you over here, man. So...yeah, 'ats it. Call me at the shop. Later."

Joseph hit the pound button to save the message, then listened to the next one as he turned on the tap to splash water on his face, then clutch the sink when a wave of vertigo caused him to sway...he needed more sleep. And some fucking food.

"Joseph, it's Professor Harmon. I just wanted to call and let you know you had nothing to worry about...I just finished grading last week's essays and yours was one of the best I read. I know you're worried about your grade, Mr. Turner, but you're well within the 'A' grade bracket. Perfectionism is laudable, but don't stress yourself out, okay? Kyle will swing by your place with this week's assignment. Hope you're over the flu soon, and I'll see you for the exam on Wednesday."

Okay, that was enough to make him feel loads better. Reaching up to wipe his dripping face with a towel, he hit the 'save' key and waited for Eve's message to come up.

""Hey, it's me. I'm in Boston now, actually landed a few hours ago. Stopped by the office, and now I'm having lunch with Wes. I've got a flight to New York that leaves around eight. I have a meeting Friday afternoon and then I'll be staying the night in the city. Trust me, all the flying? Not exactly thrilling me at the moment. My stuff is due to arrive at the house on Sunday though. With that in mind I'm flying back Saturday, which is earlier than I planned, but I really don't need to be on the road much longer than this. Actually I'm doing favors at this point, but I figure it's all going to work out in the end. I miss you, and I'll give you a call tonight when I get into New York."

Fuck.

Freezing at the mention of her early return date, Joseph slowly let the towel slide away from his face just enough to let him see his own reflection in the mirror. Okay, so the blood rash around his eyes would be mostly cleared up by then...and he *did* feel better today, this was the first morning he hadn't started off with his head in the toilet. And maybe she wouldn't even notice he'd been sick...or try to bug him about it if she did notice.

After a moment, Joseph nodded to himself, letting the towel fall away with a ragged sigh. "Yep...you, motherfucker, are royally screwed.

[TM] 174 - Would you ever kill a human being/demon?

Thu, 19 Apr 2007 20:50:26 GMT

Would I ever kill another demon? Man, I just killed *two* last night and didn’t bat an eyelash. Humans? Same shit...killed a guy two weeks ago, slept like a baby that night. I mean, yeah, it’s a matter of survival and circumstance and all that crap, but it’s something else, too.

I honestly think it’s easier killing humans than it is killing demons...I mean, yeah, lots of demons are evil? But it’s in them...we’re born out of corruption, evil’s not a conscious choice. Good is...and humans are the ones that choose evil over good. I mean, look at ‘em. The works they’ve done, the things they say and feel...I ain’t bein’ a sap when I say they’re an embodiment of beauty. Trust me, the feelings of a demon and those of a human are worlds apart, and humans feel...well, I don’t think anyone else could survive the level of what goes on inside ‘em. Hell, maybe that’s why I’m so screwed up...most mixed breeds. The two sides just can’t coexist.

But, bein’ demon and human, I appreciate my humanity, and to willfully choose to fuck it all up...I got no respect for those types, and that’s why when I get sent to off a human? Long as I got a reason, I can sleep at night.

The innocents...they haunt me. So do some of the peaceful demons I’ve killed.

But yer askin’ like I got a choice...and I don’t. If I had one, a real choice to do what I do or leave well ‘nough alone?

I’d never take another life. Not for the rest of my days.

Muse: Joseph Turner
Fandom: Angel (OC)
Words: 275

[TM] Feels so cold...in a stranglehold...

Wed, 18 Apr 2007 19:17:19 GMT

Joseph stalked straight into the office's main lobby...or at least stalked as best he could with a fresh belly wound. Luckily, it wasn't bleeding, or even open...or even *there*, for that matter. That could have been cause for concern.

What was bothering him at the moment was the blood spatter still drying on his cheek, the sweat he'd worked up duking it out with a Norwegian demidemon...and yeah, the belly wound. He'd been told the mark was a one-shot hit...bust in, bam, and body dump. Simple. Instead, the female, nonpaying client of the firm had been a demidemon with access to Belkis Blood...left no trace if applied with a blade, and absolutely lethal to most of the pureblood demon races.

So it was that Joseph blandly stormed through the lobby, jogged up the stairs to the second level, and found himself at the door of conference room 3.

Without missing a beat he tested the door, found it locked, and put his shoulder to it. Three tries and the door busted open.

Inside he found a meeting taking place, being led by a certain mousy blonde man about half Joseph's height, eyes the size of saucers to match the other six men and women in the room as he took in the bloody, grime-covered man storming in.

"Boscoe...you set me up, you shitheel!!" Joseph spat, stalking across the room towards his target.

"Now wait, hold up!" Boscoe yelped, backing away from him. "I didn't know anything about--"

"What, about *this?!*" Joseph snarled, yanking open his buttondown shirt to expose the fresh knife scar on his belly, which had been bleeding freely when the blade was still buried inside. "Demidemon with Belkis Blood...completely lethal to pureblood Fyarl, Hanzin, and *Breal* demons!!"

"Joseph...Tarsus, I *swear*...you can't kill me for this!"

"No, I can't...yer a naga. You can't die." Joseph pointed out coldly, then shot one arm out to grab him by the front of his shirt and hoisted him off his feet.

"But I can kick the ever lovin' shit outta you...why you think the Partners make you give me all my assignments?" he growled with a nasty smile just before turning and flinging him against the wall.

Boscoe hit with a sickening crack and a few scattered screams from the lawyers that hadn't left the room just yet. Waiting until he'd slid completely to the floor, Joseph stalked over and crouched down beside him as he felt a telltale dip in the pit of his stomach. He didn't have much time...

"If I were a pureblood, I'd be dead." he bit off coldly. "As it is? I'm gonna be sick for days 'cause of that shit. Belkis Blood is also a forbidden poison in the local demon clans...you got a client that's got it here? So I'm gonna report yer ass to the Partners and watch you fry."

He felt his throat constrict right then...hard enough to tug his tongue back and cut off his air...

"But this? I'm gonna enjoy most of all." he choked out with a nasty smile, swallowing hard to choke back the bile for one more moment...

He finally gave into the urge, doubling over and emptying the contents of his stomach right in Boscoe's lap. When he was done retching, he simply stood, his rage seemingly gone.

Turning to the occupants of the room, Joseph simply scowled at them, then nodded cordially. "G'head with the meeting...and uh...sorry, ladies." he added to the women, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve before exiting the conference room.

As he headed back downstairs and made his way to the elevator, Joseph found himself wondering if he could grab a shower in the locker rooms downstairs before going to his office. He also found himself oddly grateful that he wasn't due to see Eve for a few days. The poison was going to take at least a week to get out of his system, and he'd be puking his head off until the last of it was gone. He also had to get in touch with the resident jackoff liason to put Boscoe's ass in a sling, and then file a report on the body he'd just gotten done dumping, not to mention the property damage the fight had caused.

This day couldn't get any fucking worse...and if it did? He was going to bitchslap, then fucking *kill* whoever or whatever was responsible.

[RP] Speak of the devil, look who appears...

Wed, 04 Apr 2007 06:50:49 GMT

It had been a while since Joseph had been in a position where he had to...

No. Scratch that. He'd just picked up and left when he headed for Calli. He'd *never* had to do this shit, and he was damn glad. Why he was doing it now was beyond him, oh wait...he was doing it because Eve had called and he could fucking *hear* her batting her goddamn eyelashes while she teased the shit out of him...

Pulling up to Eve's apartment building, Joseph scowled as he parked and got out of the car, walking around to his trunk and opening it, pulling out a stack of old newspapers and a pair of work gloves. The gloves were for the favor she'd begged off him...hauling a load of boxes to the house, and he'd gotten his palm sliced open on a job the night before.

The newspaper he'd brought on his own...when people moved, didn't they always need old newspaper for something?

Trudging into the building, Joseph was still cursing to himself as he headed for the elevator. How whipped was he to be here with a phone call, and she hadn't even resorted to promises of sexual favors to get him there?

Well...not *too* many. And not all of them were serious.

Reaching her door, Joseph knocked and waited...and waited. When knocking louder a second time got no response, he tried the knob and found it was open.

Walking into the apartment, Joseph's scowl darkened in concern as he strained his ears, and finally his mind, seeking her out. Her thoughts reached him before her voice did...vague impressions of amusement and some minor turmoil, and a ghost of an image...

Heading for the bedroom, Joseph knocked on the doorway to get her attention and prevent from frightening her, waiting as she finished her phone call. He took the chance to simply watch her for a moment...admire her profile, the way she moved...how could someone so diminutive be so freakin' ballsy all the time? Exude strength and dominate a room just by being in it...

When she finally hung up, he narrowed his eyes at her and walked across the room. "This is what I get for tellin' you I love you...you know I love you, know you got me by the balls 'cause I can't say no fucking *ever*..." Growling as he reached her, he leaned over and kissed her soundly, breaking the contact with a soft nip at her lower lip.

"But yer cute, so ya get a freebie. Or sixty." he deadpanned, then lifted the stack of old newspaper in his hand. "Brought you some of this...in case you got breakables need wrapping and shit. So...where's the boxes you wanted me to haul today?"

Once she'd showed him, Joseph headed for the other side of the room, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "So...talking to Pinhead on the phone?"

[TM] 172 - Pick Your Parents

Tue, 03 Apr 2007 15:42:49 GMT

[locked from all members of Wolfram & Hart]

Let’s start with my father...’cause honestly? There’s a million other motherfuckers in the world that would’ve been better. Let’s see...Manson? Ted Bundy? Hitler? Rasputin? Fuck it...how ‘bout Caligula? Him I coulda dealt with.

To make a long story short: my father’s a fuckin’ bastard...and I’d kill just to be able to say I *didn’t* share half his DNA. Even among my kind, he’s a son of a bitch...and let’s face it, Breal demons ain’t exactly a warm and fuzzy bunch. My tribe’s pretty much assimilated itself into the human world, bein’ that all our power’s mostly mental...easier, y’know? But still, some of my great-grandparents...purebloods...they still eat unbaptized children every blue moon. Just to give you an idea and all.

But my pops...Marketh Ducain...man don’t even live up to demon standards of decent. Beat his wife, for starters...my kind are breeders, they mate to meet the needs of the tribe, so they value their childbearing women and Pops was beating my ma while she was still able to give him kids. Fuck, he beat her when she was pregnant.

And he turned me in to the cops when I walked away from the family...no Breal in his right mind would do that shit. Like I said, we’re breeders...a man values his kids, and a middle son among sons is the most highly valued. Lucky and shit...born between sons, with a right and left hand to guide him. More older and younger kids, luckier that middle boy is. I got one of each...older and younger brother. Most of my great-grandparents probably think my dad’s cursed by this point.

Bottom line is that I hate my pops...and I always will. Maybe I was too much human for him, I don’t know...or maybe he’s just that fucked up. I don’t know...I just wish I coulda traded him in on a better model.

[private]

As for my ma? Probably the only good thing I ever had in my life ‘til recently. And even if she did die hating my guts...I wouldn’t trade her in for anything.

[/private]

Muse: Joseph Ducain
Fandom: Angel (OC)
Words: 358

Eve made me do it.

Mon, 12 Mar 2007 06:56:14 GMT

Literary:	Stephen Hawking	It's a little over my head, but it's challenging. What?
Audiovisual:	ALIAS	Jennifer Garner's a babe...and I like the spy gadget stuff.
Musical:	Limp Bizkit	The six songs they've ever recorded that are actually pallatable. ROLLIN...'nuff said.
Celebrity:	Lauren Graham	She's kind of a betty...good sense of humor's a turn on.

I ain't taggin' nobody...everyone I know's already done it.