#drew a family members new baby i love her so so bad

[soggyyspoons]

[moonstruckmoony]

A Ravenclaw Lunch 🦅

Drew some of my favorite Ravenclaws on this platform. Although one isn't necessarily a Ravenclaw. (@traceyc-uk I genuinely thought he was a Ravenclaw when I first saw him lol but I saw your comment reply somewhere that your first playthrough was Ravenclaw so I think this counts… a bit? 😂)

This post is basically a peace offering (and a love letter) bcs I want to make more Ravenclaw friends 👀👉🏻👈🏻 definitely not because I'm obsessed with you guys' MCs

I swear it was supposed to be a silly doodle at first but idk how or when down the line but somehow it turned into this mega drawing. Took me weeks to finish it. I’m not happy with a few technical things especially lights and shadows… and some other things as well but I leave it be bcs I’m aware that I’m still learning 🥲 The rest I’m pretty satisfied with, I’m just happy that I got to finally finish this.

Front row (left to right):

Violet and Pearl Castellar by @vienguinn Omg HAPPY BELATED BELATED BIRTHDAY TO THESE BABIES! These 2 are some of my favorites and everytime you post I always open my phone real quick, your short comics are my comfort 🩵

Clora Clemons by @choccy-milky I cannot not draw Clora?!!?! I consider you a legend in this fandom tbh 👑 also I want to thank you bcs your fic and illustrations literally helped me go through my stressful period when I was at my lowest bcs of my new demanding job that I started half a year ago. I look forward to your post everytime and your Clora and Seb always heals my soul 😭🩵💚

Sally Salamander by @siboom777 Sally is just so wacky and unapologetically herself and I love her for it 🩵 Does she take commissions for toys tho?

Marvin Jerry by @runicxraven MY LOVELY SILLY ADORABLE LITTLE NERD 💗💗💗💗 I need more Marvin in my life honestly.

@najiang ‘s MC - I’m so so sorry I didn’t draw her full face😭, I tried my best to show her face as much as I can while still looking like she’s taking those sausages haha. But anyway please know that I love your art so so much and I kept going back to the curry one and the one where MC came across Amit with beard as adults (that one is hilarious). Idk if your MC has a name or you left it nameless? I assume it was the latter but if she has one I’d love to know!

Faustine Daemon by @faustinio27 Hey, a fellow INFJ! Winter is the same 🩵 I really love her story and especially her personality character sheet, you drew her expressions really well and I’m a fan!

Back row (left to right):

Oliver Lennox by @pixie-dustss Handsome boi 🥰 We’re friends already (I hope I’m not the only one who thinks that way 🫢) from TikTok and you made me a video for Secret Santa last year and I just found out recently that you’re on Tumblr too so I want to say thanks by drawing Oliver! 🩵🩵🩵

Aurélie Collins by @morelikeravenbore I loove this look for Aura, she just looks so chic with the hat and scarf 😭🩵 Sassy Ravenclaw bebe 🥰 My Winter has some French heritage (the lore is still rotting in my notebook bcs I haven’t had the chance to draw her family members 🥲) so I do hope they can be friends and Aura would teach her French bcs she can’t speak much of it 👉🏻👈🏻

Alistair Dusk by @speedysart Surprise! You commented on my last speedpaint on Tiktok yesterday and I want to spill this art so bad but I was almost done so I kept my mouth shut haha. I love the pretty boi’s hair and piercings, and the fact that you chose this blazer for him, I just love it he looks so dapper in that 😣🩵

Eleonora Russel by @zordanna I love sweet Eleonora and her fascination with the moon and stars 🩵🌌 Oh and I kept coming back to your “I feel like an orange” Tiktok bcs it’s so fluffy and it heals my stress… also I adore your art it’s super soft and painty and delicate 🥹💗

@traceyc-uk ‘s MC - YOUR MC. I SWEAR TO MERLIN HE’S ON MY MIND 24/7 LATELY. Not sure why, it’s probably bcs I kept re-reading your comics. Also bcs he’s an adorable little golden retriever (but also a fierce cat!😼) You’re super talented in drawing comics and facial expressions, I have a lot to learn especially in terms of layouting… last time I made a comic I hated the layout and the fact that it looks stiff to me, so your comics has been such an inspiration!

[wazzappp]

I drew. a lot for this. Also heads up for non RE mutuals this is going to be. confusing for you. I'm going to do my best to annotate and provide context but you are in for a wild ride.

Anyway long ass lore post for how Lisa and Robbie go from fighting to working together in this AU.

In the RE8 cannon all of the Dimitrescu daughters are made at the same time but for the sake of ✨the situations✨ I am going to change that. Lisa lived the longest as a human before being assimilated into the mold with a Cadou (infecting extension of the Megamycite). Technically her 'sisters' are older than her, as they were assimilated a while ago. Lisa has been a member of house Dimitrescu for about 2 years now. This puts her in this. Weird middle child zone. She wants to make her 'family' proud but she's also aware that what makes them proud isn't really the most achievable thing in the world (expecially with Bela to contend with. Older sibling overachiever to the maximum). She's got a certain degree of distance from them and sometimes wonders if she wasn't better off before all of this. Her memories are fuzzy but still there for the most part. She cant remember faces or names but she remembers feelings and situations. She doesen't remember families being like this (she wants OUT).

Chasing prey brought in is fairly standard for her. It's some of the only entertainment she gets. So when she catches Robbie exploring around the castle she has no idea that he's special in any way. He's just some new guy she gets to mess with before eating and DAMN he's FUN. If she didn't know any better she could almost think that he has experience being chased around (he does. he very much so does. all of RE7's worth). What she ALSO doesn't know is that Mother Miranda (big bad. Different from Lady Dimitrescu, who she refers to as 'mother') is planning on using Gabe (who is replacing baby Rose in this) to try and resurrect her dead kid with a 'perfect vessel' and this requires. uh. disassembly (in the base RE8 gameplay the reason Ethan goes to each house is because uhhhhhhhh his infant daughter has been dismembered and stored in jars and he needs to collect them so he can put her back together.... yeah). Robbie intervenes before this can get going and is instead going house to house because if he wants to get out of this stupid fuckass villiage he needs to collect the key components to unlock the gate keeping him in here (i need him to have a reason. to kill everyone. its important to me ok).

When Lisa finds out this random, but fun guy, she's been chasing who she thought was JUST SOME NORMAL GUY killed one of her sisters she mentally goes 'Oh. OH. THERES A CHANCE FOR ME TO GET OUT OF HERE'. That in conjunction with discovering Mother Miranda is planning on FULLY DISMEMBERING A CHILD she uh. Makes some decisions.

What you have to understand about her plans of matricide is that neither Lady Dimitrescu or her sisters can actually really fully die. Sure, their bodies are gone, but their consciousness is stored in the hive mind and they can reform later after gathering their strength. If she has to put her kinda shitty found family in time out for the sake of getting herself out of here + keeping her newly revived conscience clean she's absolutely going to do it.

(fuckin. backgrounds. dialogue. fuck. why can things not just take place inside of the void. DUKE MY BELOVED WE LOVE AND RESPECT DUKE IN THIS HOUSE HES A REAL ONE fuck now I got it in my head that he keeps trying to play matchmaker for them and i need to. go draw that because its too funny not to.)

Lisas plan involves this lab I had her mention in the comic above. It's where Robbie needs to go to synthesize more poison for the dagger of deaths flowers, and SUPPOSEDLY where a medicine that might allow her to go outside again might be (enemies of Lisas type become SIGNIFICANTLY weaker in the cold. She could try to bundle up but its still really not a good idea). She would love to go there herself, but it's in an area of the castle thats exposed to the cold of the outdoors.

The Two of them make a fairly decent team and Lisa finds herself having a LOT more fun hunting with someone else than she does on her own. They balance each other out pretty well; Robbie works primarily with guns so he can watch Lisas back while she's up close wrecking any grunts they run into. It's also pretty helpful having someone who can turn into a swarm of flies for puzzle solving purposes.

After all this Robbies trust for her increases SIGNIFICANTLY. He's still not really sure about her, but she's moved out of the 'active threat' classification into the 'kinda helpful' zone.

Lisa's plan has three ways it could go:

They all fail miserably and get sent to mental and physical time out in the megamycite.

They win and get to go free but either the medicine isn't there or it doesen't work. In which case she's just planning on getting as many coats as possible and Try-or-Die-ing it.

The medicine is there and she actually gets to roam free

Luckily for her, the medicine IS there, it DOES work, and Robbies sense of honor / noticing her usefulness (its hard to wage a one man war on an entire community of mutants ok you cant blame him for appreciating having some ACTUAL HELP for once) all align for the best possible scenario.

The cold does still affect her; her healing isn't as quick as it usually is and her increased strength / speed is a bit reduced, but she can go!! outside!!

She decided to stick with Robbie in getting out of the village as a whole. She doesen't really know what the world outside is like but anything has to be better than here (plus if she stays here she's probably getting shoved into the Megamycite by Mother Miranda PERMENANTLY and that just. wont do).

Also yes Lisa being with Robbie for the rest of his adventures means that she is there for Heisenbergs 'proposal'. She uh. Does not like that much.

this all made. more sense in my head I hope it at least makes a little sense out loud.

[andydrysdalerogers]

The Type You Save ~ N I N E

Detective James Barnes hasn't seen the love of his life in three years. Since the night she was almost caught stealing a painting. He knows it was her and she disappeared leaving him confused and heart broken.

Alexandra Richards never expected to be pulled back into her old life two years after she left it. She had found love and a home and was happy. Until a note blackmailed her to take one last job. Three years later she walked into the last person she expected to see in San Francisco. Because he lived in New York right?

They always put family before everything. And he would do anything to get his family back. Because she's the type you save.

TW: mob, death, smut, rape intentions, angst, guns, family abandonment, dub-con, manipulation

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Previous: E I G H T

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Sunlight danced over the bed, waking James up from his slumber.  Was last night a dream? He thought to himself.  But he looked over to see a tousle of mahogany hair sleeping next to him.  He smiled.  She’s back.  She’s here with me. He gently moved the hair off of Alex’s face.  She’s beautiful.  He placed a ghost of a kiss on her lips before making his way to the bathroom.  After he headed to the kitchen to make her coffee.  

Alex slowly started to waken to the smell of coffee.  She opened her eyes slowly, blinking a few times before looking over to the other side of the bed.  It was empty but still warm. She sat up, using the sheet to cover herself. “Jamie?” She called out.  

He walked back in with nothing but boxer briefs on.  “Hey Allie, baby. Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.”  

“Its ok. Is that coffee?” 

“Yeah, still two sugars and a touch of cream, right?” 

“Perfect.” He handed her a mug. She hummed as she took a sip. “You are still good at that.”  

“Making coffee?  Have to be, doll.  Otherwise, it’s up to Steve.”  She giggled.  

“You know we didn’t talk a lot.” Alex tilted her head.  “We still have a lot to talk about.”  

James sighed.  “I know. And we will.  But,” he put his cup down, “we still have a little bit of time before we have to get Drew.”  

“And what did you have in mind?” Alex asked, her voice husky.  

James took the cup from her hands and placed it down on the table. “We could keep making up for lost time.  I know you’re still naked under there.”  

“Maybe.  Maybe not.” She moved to climb out of the bed but James tugged her back and pulled her to the middle of the bed.  Alex laughed as James began to kiss her neck and collar bone.  

“Don’t be a tease, Alexandra.  It’s not nice,” he growled. He captured her lips, hard, as he pressed his member on her core.  She moaned at the touch, allowing him to slip his tongue into her mouth, tasting her.  

“Fuck Jamie.” She gasped as he continued to grind on top of her.  

“God, it’s such a turn on when you talk like a bad girl.” He hitched up her leg over his waist. Alex arched her back as he pressed his length into her, groaning with need. 

“Please baby, just fuck me.” She dug her nails into his arm, earning herself a hiss from him.  

“Such a dirty little girl.”  He pushed his boxers down and teased her, listening to her whine. He could feel her wetness and pushed in hard. “Fuck! So tight.” He started to pump into her slowly but deep, making sure he hit her sweet spot.  

“Jamie! Jamie, god, don’t stop.”  Alex could feel herself getting closer and closer.  

“I’m never stopping.  I love this pussy, sucking me in, gripping me,” James grunted.  He flipped them over.  “Ride me doll.”  Alex started to swivel her hips and then bounce, watching the waves of pleasure cross his face.  She could feel him in her stomach and wanted more.  

She bent down to him for a moment. “This dick is mine,” she whispered and saw him smile as she raised herself back up.  She bounced down harder on him, listening to him moan.  

“Fuck doll. Please be close.”  He started to rub her clit, the moans coming from her mouth that would make a sinner blush.  She started to lose her composure and he flipped them again, gripping her hips.  “Allie,” he moaned as he felt her orgasm.  

“Jamie!” She cried as she felt him release into her.  He slowed to a stop but still inside her.  

“I could get used to this,” he chuckled.  

“Wrecking me every morning? Good luck with that and a toddler,” she replied, eyes sparkling as she took in his beautiful face.  

“Looking at me like that won’t help,” he whispered as he kissed her while he slipped out.  He laid down and pulled her into his chest.  “Don’t think I need coffee anymore.”  

“Ha! I do.  But in a minute.” She snuggled into his chest. “I’m comfy right now.” They laid next to each other until they heard the front door open.  

“Bucky! Alex! Please be decent!” 

“How did Steve come back?  Wait, Drew!” Alex and James started to scramble for their clothes.  

“Mama! Daddy! Hug!” A tiny voice floated into the room.  

“Oh thank god,” Alex slumped back on the bed.  James sat next to her with his head in his hands.  

“Doll, why do I feel like I just ran a mile in four minutes?”  

“It’s called parent panic.  Seriously, it’s the worse.”  Alex sat up and grabbed her phone.  

A: We will be out in a minute.   S: take your time.  I got him some juice.   A: Thank Steve 

“He’s got some juice and cartoons from what I can hear,” Alex said.  “Baby,” as she rubbed James’s back.  “Its ok. He’s safe.”  

He lifted his head, the glistening of a tear in his eyes.  “I didn’t know it would kick in like this. I really need to see him.”  

“Ok baby.  Let’s get dressed.”  She stood up and offered her hand.  He took it and they walked to the closet. Alex found her clothes, still fitting her, and got dressed, pulling her hair into a ponytail.  James had jeans on but was distracted by his phone.  He was frowning.  “Jamie?” 

“Sorry, I was just messaging my chief that I had a family emergency.  So, I could take the day with you and Drew.”  He looked up and saw Alex staring at him.  “What?” 

“I thought I was dreaming last night but,” she ran a hand over his stomach, “do you have more abs?”  She licked her lips.  

He chuckled and grabbed her hand to stop her.  He brought it up to his lips and kissed her palm.  “Later, my love.”  

“Promise?” 

“I promise.”  He let go and pulled a shirt over his head.  “C’mon.  Breakfast?” 

“Sure.”  They grabbed their mugs and left the room to find Drew laying against Steve on his lap. Drew sat up when he saw his parents. “Mama! Daddy! You’re here!” 

“Hi baby boy.” Alex reached for him and pulled him into her arms.  

“Mama! Hug for daddy!” Drew squealed as he squirmed to be released. She handed him off to James, who hugged him hard.  

“Jamie, breathe.  He’s ok.”  

“Yeah, I know.  Ok.  Sorry Chief.  I missed you.”  

“Miss you more,” Drew replied with a giggle.  “Hungry!” 

“I’m on it,” Steve said.  He got up to get into the kitchen.  

“Steve, how did you get here?” James asked.  

“Oh, well Alex left her keys at her place. And I figured it would be better to bring her car since I need to head to work in a couple of hours.  Plus, Drew was crying for you guys.” Steve shrugged. “We did fine last night.”  

“Its fine Stevie,” Alex rubbing his arm.  “Thank you for staying with him.” She looked at him with puppy eyes. “Pancakes?” 

“For my best girl, always.”  Steve kissed Alex’s forehead.  “But you know Drew is my favorite now right?” 

“I have literally been replaced.”  She looked over to James and Drew, playing on the floor. “You sure you’re ok with us moving in?”  

“Absolutely.  The middle room can be for Drew so we can all hear him if something happens.” Steve was mixing.  “Did you guys talk?” 

“Some.  Still have lots to talk about.  Like why there is a scar on his arm. And why you are running into the rooms without protection.  You know things like that.”  

“Really? You are going to take the word of that…” 

“Oh, choose your words carefully Rogers.”  

“Lady, is what I was going to say.  Lady, ok? It’s a report, not the truth.”  Steve’s cheeks turned pink.  

“Liar.” Alex smiled. “Parker wrote it right?” 

“How do you know that?” 

“The way she said it.  You never rush. And Parker has always wanted to be one of the boys so I assume he wrote it to make you look like a badass.”  

“That’s what I told Bucky but he didn’t believe me.  Doesn’t matter anymore.  That kid moved to Queen on some special undercover crap.  We’ll talk about everything, promise but for now set the table.”  

It felt normal again, to be sitting at the table with her boys. James was a natural, getting some pillows for Drew to sit on so he could reach, cutting up his pancakes.  For the first time, Alex felt home.  

“So when are we moving you Alex?” Steve asked with a sip of his coffee.  

“I have to pack.”  

“Not really, we have everything here minus Drew’s stuff,” James pointed out. “Just need what you want.” 

“And what am I supposed to do with a furnished apartment? I did buy it.”  

“You bought the apartment?” James looked surprised.  “How?  You don’t have any identification or a bank account.”  

“Well, technically it belongs to Wanda but I gave her the money for it.  Once we sort out my ID stuff, we can take it back.”  

“Then we could rent it out.  Make a little money from it.” James smiled. “So a week?”  

Alex looked at her phone.  It was Saturday.  “I guess a week.”  

One week later… 

“Just how many shoes do you own woman?” James asked as he carried up the box.  

“Enough,” Alex replied as she carried up a box of Drew’s toys.  

“Enough my ass.  Your shopping addiction is the worst Alexandra.” James huffed as he dropped the box into his closet.  Their closest, he reminded himself with a smile.  

“Yeah, like you’re not obsessed with clothes Barnes.” Alex put her box into Drew’s new room.  Steve and James had reassembled his furniture that morning while Drew was with Nat and Wanda.  His little bed already had his dinosaur sheets on it with a new dino teddy on it.  

The apartment was rented out for the end of the month, and it was more than enough to cover the mortgage.  Wanda and Nat agreed to be the landlords for it for security reason.  The only items that were placed in storage was the bed and some personal items that Alex wasn’t willing to part with yet.  Otherwise, as of today, she and Drew were officially moved in with James and Steve.  

“Hey doll?” 

“Yeah baby?” 

“Sam wants to video conference us on Monday.”  

“You told him?!” 

“He’s the former district attorney Allie.  We need to make sure your name is clear so we can get it changed and get you issued a proper ID.  We talked about this.”  

“Sorry.”  Alex concentrated on putting away the toys.  “It’s the criminal instinct that kicked in.”  

James sighed and bowed his head.  “Alex, you have to let that go.”  

“I know.”  Alex stood up and wrapped her arms around James.  He held her and kissed her head. “Love you.”  

“Love you too doll.  Won’t let anything happen to you ever again.”  

NEXT

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[linzsaw]

My Monthly Favs What’s in my cup:

Every morning I drink iced coffee made from my one & only Nespresso machine. The past few months I can’t get enough of the double espresso blend, and then I add a bit of whole milk (happy cows only) and sweet cream. I can’t find anything better from Starbucks or anywhere else. Sometimes if I’m craving a hot drink, I’ll head to Dutch Bros for a hot Carmelizer and it is totally worth the cringy 9 minute forced convo with the DB crew. I also start my day with electrolytes, currently in the watermelon flavor. It’s surprisingly really delicious but I miss the Electrolyte Synergy blend that I was drinking for a long time, which has been sold out for almost a year now. :’)

What’s on my plate:

Dinner lately has been the laziest in America. After our trip, Drew & I either have the same ole chicken, rice and veggies, a spicy “mexican bowl” or some form of pasta, usually with Raos Arriabatta sauce. This week we’ve been stuffing our faces with Trader Joe’s frozen meals. We promise to be better next month, but we are really exhausted and the last thing we feel like planning are meals. However, for the last week of December we actually have some things planned for the holiday weekend. On Friday, we’re hitting up the town as we do every year to walk around and see the lights, and find festive little bars to try out new Christmas cocktails. We plan to spend Christmas with just the two of us. For Christmas Eve we are making our annual corn beef, cabbage and carrots because apparently we are super Irish (confirmed by 23&me which btw leaked all my genes to hackers). On Christmas we are having tri-tip, garlic & butter brussel sprouts, and mashed potatoes. The Christmas cookies we’re making this year include White Chocolate Cherry Shortbread cookies, Peanut Butter Blossoms, & Holly Leaves. Okay and now that I’ve told you all that, the Christmas cocktails we decided on this year are The Mistletoe Kiss (a vodka, soda water, rosemary & cranberry drank) and Bad Santa White Russians. I also heard that Moon X Pinot Noir from Trader Joes was really good and lately the Redvolution just isn’t doing it for me.  Let me know if you want any of these recipes, ladies. I will make sure to find GF, DF, and V options. 

What’s on my bookshelf:

I’ve finished two of the Colleen Hoover books, and now I’m reading another one of hers called Verity. It’s kinda depressing but that’s kinda the vibe as of late so I’m into it. 

What’s in my playlist:

We love the Sia Christmas album. It’s so fun and happy. Believe it or not, Andy introduced me to it lol. It’s so good!! Other songs I’ve been into are I remember everything by Zach Bryan and Kacey Musgraves. It reminds me of a family member rn which is very depressing to me. Fun to cry to. Bubble - STAYC, Surround Sound - JID 21 Savage, Baby Tate, Adora Hills - Doja Cat. 

What I’m up to:

Making our house into a winter wonderland of lights. Watching hella hallmark movies. Being seriously lazy, not working out or eating healthy. Walks with Snoop around the park. Mandala scratch off nightscapes. Reading at 3am when I was jetlagged. I had a sleep study this month too, no sleep apnea for me, back to mouth taping! It really does help with quality of sleep for me. You should try it! Also magnesium spray on my feet (shout out to Aly). This has helped with my restless leg syndrome that we’ve all experienced. This weekend, we’re making all our foods and cocktails, going downtown, driving around with hot choc to look at lights, and heading up to Rocky Mountain to hike a bunch of mountains. 

Skincare Saviors:

My skin gets so dry in Colorado, its TERRIBLE. And now that I’m saving for a house, I had to break up with my amazing esthetician, who by the way I stole this template from. I’m obsessed with Dermlogica thanks to her. I use a miscellar water if I wore any make-up. If not, I just double clease with my face wash. In the AM I’ll use my Rosehip Triple C+E Firming  Oil, followed by COSRX snail mucin essence, and a magical mix of calm water gel and intensive moisture balance. 

Love you long time,

Li

[fletcherawhitlock]

[ chris wood, cis-male, he/him] - was that fletcher alexander whitlock i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the thirty year old who has been in nightrest his entire life and works as an owner of spirits has a reputation of being protective, but also sarcastic. they reside in low point & people in town usually associate them with confidence that could kill, clenched fists and fighting outside bars. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next. 

BIOGRAPHY

Fletcher, his twin and older sister grew up in a loving and sometimes stable household. Their parents, both hardworking citizens, absolutely doted on their children. They were their world  and it showed in their parenting. The twins were inseparable, and had no trouble making friends wherever they went despite Fletcher’s charismatic nature. His twin on the other hand, was the opposite: reserved and quiet, she drew others in like a magnet with her mystery. Wherever he went, she did too, therefore his friends became hers. It didn’t bother him in slightest, to think that she never really had friends of his own — so long as his twin was happy, he was too. Their happiness, however, was short lived as the eve of their twelfth birthday arrived.

As on that day, the unthinkable would happen. Everything they had come to love would be stripped from their very fingertips. It wasn’t their fault, nor was it anyone’s, really. Fletcher had been staying over at a friend’s home, completely oblivious to the fact he was about to loose his parents and twin sister. The perpetrator was quiet in the night, silent as they crept though the unlocked door, and shot the three family members in their beds while they slept. Waking up the next morning, Fletcher felt somewhat empty and he would only come to know why when he arrived home to a swarm of police officers and his hysterical sisters. For the next six months, the two remaining Williams children would bounce from foster home to foster home as they searched for the love they had lost. While they would never find it, they still had each other — and that was all that mattered, despite the hole that his deceased sister had left behind. Things, however, began looking up when their long lost uncle arrived on the scene, taking both siblings into his care. The extended family they never knew they had, nor needed, and they couldn’t have come at a better time.

The deaths marked a turning point in his life, because he lost a part of himself when his twin sister died and with that he too became lost. Harboring an anger so deep even he himself couldn’t control it, let alone fathom what he was capable of because of it. He needed purpose – to belong to something that wasn’t going to break as his family had.  And that was where his uncle came in: he saw potential in Fletcher. And before he and his sister knew it, they were not only attending high-school, but starting their journey on what would be a grueling training program behind the closed doors of their home. Training that involved a number of MMA classes, hand to hand combat, espionage and variety of other teachings that would enable them to follow in their uncles footsteps as hired muscle, or at the very least make a name for themselves.

While his sister found her own path, for Fletcher, this became his purpose: a light at the end of the tunnel, an outlet for his anger, and he thrived with his newfound mission. A number of years later when the elder William’s stepped into retirement, Fletcher was quick to take his place amidst his network. Only when he was ready did the truth of his family’s deaths come to light. There had been a hit on their head, with his father an accountant for some bad people, they had seen it their place to take him out. Only they had gone a step further and taken his mother and baby sister as well. The news only added more fuel to the ticking time bomb that was Fletcher Alexander Whitlock. The child prodigy was quick to prove himself, meticulous in his art, the male simply had had a taste for revenge and he wanted more. And one day when the time came, when he was good and ready he would extract his vengeance and take off the head of his parents murderer.

Working various security jobs about town just to make ends meet, Fletcher was often described as a loose cannon. And while he was kept under employment because there was little to nothing he wouldn’t do, he did have a tendency to fly off the handle more often than not. His anger would take a good few years to even gain the smallest ounce of control. But it was enough to allow him to prove he was in control of his actions, at least under the watchful eye of his employers. Desperate to make a name for himself,  the male had a vast array of adolescent felonies under his belt before he so much as breached the age of 18. From arson, robbery, drug dealing to assault, the list continued to only get bigger as the months passed. And when he was paid to beat a shopkeepers daughter, only to realize she was someone he had gone to school with – his humanity let him down and he couldn’t do it. As much as he wanted so desperately to be every bit of the man his uncle had helped carve from the darkness that shaped him, perhaps there was much more left of the little boy with bright blue eyes that cared about others more than himself, than he dared to admit. 

Over a decade later Fletcher is not the angry adolescent teenage boy he once was, while that fire still simmers away beneath the surface, he’s much more skilled in the art of control. Settling into an apartment of his own was the first step in the shift away from the world that was his uncles and father’s within the underbelly of Nightrest. Straightening his life out hadn’t been an choice, it was but the only option -- least when it came to ensuring his sister wasn’t left completely alone when he found himself in an early grave, or worse, prison. Thus when his uncle passed away and he inherited a small amount of money, becoming a legitimate business' owner was the logical step,  life went on as he knew it and the man found a new normal. Trouble always had a way of finding Fletcher Williams and it did so in the form of some of his uncles old friends from Boston, whom would once again entice the orphan boy back into the throws of darkness. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

childhood bestfriends - 

ride or die -  

friends -

drinking buddy -

work rivalry -

high school ex-girlfriend -

friends with benefits -

gym buddy - 

[jamlavender]

Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss: Mrs Coulter, misogyny and the His Dark Materials TV show

The show went hard on misogyny as a vital part of Mrs Coulter’s backstory, and I want to talk about how they did it, and why, and how it might have been done better. This is quite long (when is anything I write not, let’s be real) so it’s under the cut. Read on for thoughts on women, power and fictional villainy.

As a quick disclaimer, though: I’ve enjoyed the show a lot! I’m so glad they made it! Ruth Wilson is mesmerising as Mrs Coulter! There’s so much to appreciate about the show overall, including many aspects of Mrs Coulter’s portrayal. But the HDM team have also made gender politics and misogyny very explicit themes of the show – particularly season two, particularly season two, episode five – and I think it’s fair to critique that.

Let’s be clear: Mrs Coulter is a villain. She murders kids by tearing out their souls. She kills and tortures friends and foes alike without a second thought. She abuses her daughter. She upholds and advances a totalitarian regime. She’s a Bad Person, as confirmed by God himself with the unforgettable line: “You are a cesspit of moral filth.” She’s fucking terrible, but, in life as in art, many of us are fascinated by how such awful people are made. What drives someone to commit atrocities? I am keen to see such questions examined in fiction, because I don’t think exploring a character necessarily means excusing their actions, and because it’s interesting (I mean, of course I find her fascinating, I’ve written a novel’s worth of fic about her). However, after a few snarky comments (“What sort of woman raised Father Graves, do you think?”) and some subtler commentary on sexuality, gender and power (her unsettling MacPhail with the key in the bra in S1E2), S2E5 drew a weird line between sexism in Mrs Coulter’s professional and academic life and her vast and senseless institutionalised child murder, and the longer I’ve sat with that the more I’m like: what the fuck?

Look, Mrs Coulter doesn’t tear apart children to search for sin inside them and poison Boreal and break a witch’s fingers because she’s experienced sexism in the workplace and in her education. That’s… a very odd thing to imply. We have to remember that there are lots of women in Lyra’s world, all of whom will also have experienced sexism, misogyny and other forms of marginalisation (many in more expansive and pernicious ways than Mrs Coulter, who’s a woman, yes, but also white, wealthy, highly educated and very thin and beautiful), and none of them are running arctic torture stations. She will have experienced misogyny, absolutely, and that will have affected her in various ways that inform how she approaches her work, but to imply that being denied a doctorate is the reason she became a sadistic killer is frankly bizarre. Here are a few of the lines from that episode with my commentary:

“Do you know who I could have been in this world?” What does this mean? If she’d been roughly the same person in our world, the answer is: Margaret Thatcher, which is probably a step down for Marisa, all things considered, because the Magisterium is far more autocratic than any recent Tory government and would be a much easier institutional environment in which to enact her cruelty. What we’re supposed to think, clearly, is that she’d have been a different person: a scientist and a mother, and she’s had this realisation because she saw a woman with a baby and a laptop and had a three-minute conversation with Mary. This doesn’t make sense. We live in our world! It’s less repressive than Lyra’s world but it’s hardly a gender utopia. If Mrs Coulter had chosen the scientist-and-mother life (which, as I’ll revisit later, she could have done in her world but chose not to because of her megalomaniac tendencies), she’d still have been affected by misogyny here too. Our world is not kind to young mothers, nor young women embroiled in scandals, nor is the world teeming with female physicists. It might be a little better, sure, but it’s hardly as if those gendered challenges would have been solved.  

“What do you mean she runs a department?” This is just the show forgetting its own canon. Marisa, you ran a massive government organisation (the GOB), including a huge murder science research initiative in the Arctic. That’s a much bigger undertaking and much more impressive than running a university department in our world. Pull yourself together.

“But because I was a woman, I was denied a doctorate by the Magisterium.” This is the show flagrantly ignoring the source material to make a clumsy political point. In the books, there are women with doctorates (notably Hannah Relf, also a major player in the new Book of Dust trilogy) and at least one women’s college full of female scholars. Now, would that women’s college likely be underfunded and disrespected compared to the men’s colleges? Almost certainly. But saying that is different than saying “I couldn’t get my doctorate!” when women in Lyra’s world can. The show knew what point they wanted to make, and were willing to ignore canon to do so, which is frustrating. Also, given that there are female academics and scientists in Lyra’s world, and that Mrs Coulter is a member of St Sophia’s college, it’s clear that she could have lived that life if she so desired. But she didn’t want that, because being a scientist and academic at St Sophia’s imbues her with no real power, and that’s what she craves.

I’m not opposed, in theory, to exploring Mrs Coulter and misogyny in more depth, but I think doing so through an examination of the sexual politics of her life would have made a lot more narrative sense and been much more powerful. It’s better evidenced in the text – her using her sexuality to manipulate people and taking lovers for political sway is entirely canon, as is her backstory where genuine love and lust blew up her life – and it links much more closely with the most shocking of her villainy, which involves cutting out children’s d��mons to stop them developing “troublesome thoughts and feelings,” referencing sexual and romantic desire (and what Lyra and Will do to save Dust is clearly a big ‘fuck you’ to those aims). She even says this to MacPhail in TAS, “If you thought for one moment that I would release my daughter into the care - the care! - of a body of men with a feverish obsession with sexuality, men with dirty fingernails, reeking of ancient sweat, men whose furtive imaginations would crawl over her body like cockroaches - if you thought I would expose my child to that, my Lord President, you are more stupid than you take me for.” Don’t get me wrong, she’d have been a villain regardless, but I do believe that there’s a much stronger link between her sexual and romantic experiences and her murder work than between professional and academic stifling and child murder. It would have been a lot more interesting and a lot less tenuous.

However, the show is trying to be family-friendly, and digging into why this terrible, cruel woman might want to cut the ability for desire and love (and other non-sexual adult feelings, I’m sure) out of people could get dark. We know that the show doesn’t want to go there, because they’ve actively toned down her weaponising her sexuality: in the books, she has an established sexual relationship with Boreal, whereas the show made it seem like she’s been stringing him along all this time, and made it about potentially ‘sharing a life’ together rather than fucking, which was clearly the arrangement in the books. Also, I think Ruth Wilson said she and Ariyon Bakare filmed a “steamy scene” together, and given that only a single chaste kiss between them aired it must have been cut. I think they deliberately minimised the sexual elements of the text, particularly regarding Mrs Coulter (the mountain scene with Asriel, which I did still love, was also a lot less horny than in the book) and replaced that with another gender issue, that of professional sexism, as if the two are interchangeable, which they are not. This is a shame, both for Mrs Coulter’s character and also for the story as a whole, because the characters’ relationships with sex and desire are an important part of the books! (If this minimised sexuality approach means that they don’t use the TAS scene where Asriel threatens to gag her and she tries to goad him into doing it, I’ll scream). Overall, I think they missed the mark here, which is a shame because I also think it could have been done well, if they’d been bolder and darker and more thoughtful.

Why might this happen? Why might the show take this approach? Why might it be latched onto by viewers? Personally, I think the conversations we have about women and power are very simplistic, which leaves us in a tight spot when we see women seizing power for themselves (even in fiction) and weaponising that against others, not just other women but people of all genders, because we struggle to move past ‘women have overall been denied power, so them taking it ‘back’ is good,’ even if that immediately becomes a hot mess of white, corporate feminism and results in the ongoing oppression of many people. I think we are so hungry for representations of powerful women that we – producers and viewers alike – struggle to see them as bad, because it’s uncomfortable to be so intoxicated by Mrs Coulter effortlessly dominating the men around her, subverting systems designed to marginalise her for her own benefit, and generally being aggressive and intelligent and ruthless, and then realise that you are entranced by someone who is, objectively, a terrible, terrible person. It can be hard to realise that if you channelled the energy of someone who mesmerises you, you’d be the villain. So instead of sitting with that (more on this below), a lot of legwork goes into reworking her villainy into, somehow, a just act, a result of oppression, as her taking back power that has been denied to her, rather than grappling with the fact that for anyone to desire power in such a merciless way, even if they have to overcome marginalisation to get it, is really, really dangerous.

The joy, of course, is that Mrs Coulter is not real! She’s not real! Adoring fictional characters does not mean condoning their (imaginary) decisions, nor do stories exist for each person in them to fit neatly into a good or bad box so you know who you’re allowed to love. Furthermore, fiction can be a fabulous tool for exploring and interrogating the parts of yourself that, if left to bloom unexamined, might perpetuate beliefs or behaviour that cause harm to others. Mrs Coulter doesn’t need to be a feminist or taking down the patriarchy or a righteous powerful woman to illuminate things about gender, power and feminism for those reading and watching. In fact, it’s important that we explore what happens when women (most commonly white, wealthy women, as she is) continue to perpetuate brutal systems under the guise of sticking it to ‘men,’ because it happens all the time in the real world, and it’s a serious issue. Finding characters like Mrs Coulter so cool and compelling doesn’t make you a bad person, but it might tell you something about yourself – not that you want to be a villain or kill kids or whatever, but something about how you relate to your gender or women or men or power – and that knowledge can be useful! We all have better and worse impulses, and finding art that helps us make sense of ourselves, both the good and bad parts, is a gift that we should relish.

Anyway, tl;dr, Mrs Coulter doesn’t need to be sympathetic or understandable or redeemable to be brilliant – but you wouldn’t know that from how she’s been portrayed in the new adaptation.

[kiame-sama]

Web Of Desire (Yandere Chrollo x Reader x Yandere Hisoka) part 3

Warnings; mention of past non-con, pregnancy, descriptive language, Hisoka, yandere tendencies, yandere behavior, yandere relationship, 

You slowly woke up, a faint whine leaving your lips as you cuddled down into a pair of warm arms. You faintly realized something was off and only when you rest your hand over your stomach did you realize what it was. You sat up bolt straight and threw the blankets off of you, staring down at your smooth stomach.

"What's wrong?"

You almost replied before you realize that the voice that had called out to you was not that of your husband. You turned to look at the stranger you shared your bed with and you let you a yelping cry when you spied the familiar red hair and gold eyes. The startled scream that left your lips continued even as you shot out of bed.

It took you a moment longer to realize where you were and that your stomach was once again exceedingly swollen. You were standing in the room of the air-ship you and Chrollo shared, a sleepy and confused Chrollo slowly sitting up in bed. Your comfortable night-gown stretched around your enlarged stomach and made it apparent just how far along you were.

"What's wrong, Little Spider?"

"I... Just had a bad dream is all."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really..."

Chrollo held out his arms, beckoning you to return to his side and try to rest again. You  slowly walked over to him and let him pull you into his arms, resting your head against his chest as he rubbed your sides. One of his hands rest gently on your stomach, smiling slightly when he felt a tiny hand push back.

"Just restless, I guess..."

"Might be that our baby spiders are just restless so they're making it hard for you."

"Seems they agree with you on that one."

You winced slightly from a particularly rough kick and Chrollo silently leaned down to kiss your stomach, huming softly.

"Be nice to your mother."

You couldn't help the loving smile that pulled at your lips as Chrollo spoke to your stomach. You may not be sure if the children even were Chrollo's- given the unfortunate events that took place against your will- but you appreciated the gentle behavior all the same. You also appreciated how calm he was even though you noticed a rise in seething hatred any time Hisoka came up in conversation.

It was clear Chrollo blamed himself for what that bastard clown had done to you, and he was likely harder on himself about it than anyone else dare to be. His hate and desperate need to protect you soothed you slightly, letting you breathe easy knowing Chrollo took up rather consistent guard. It also soothed you to know that your husband would stay with you no matter what happened.

The troupe had yet to respond to any of your messages and you truly hoped that they were getting on well regardless of the fact that two members were KIA and their two leaders were MIA. You wondered how they responded to the news of what had happened to you and Chrollo that caused the two of you to avoid them. You also wondered what they would do to the children once they were allowed contact with you and Chrollo again.

All you could do now was wait and see, given how heavily pregnant you already were. You were tired and in need of serious rest given just how close you were to giving birth. It made things better to have Chrollo by your side, given all that you were going through. To some extent, you honestly were terrified to leave his side for long, always feeling like you were being watched.

The warm feeling of being wrapped in his arms gave you a great sense of peace and the little lives growing inside of you settled down. You probably would have gone through much worse if you were alone, but you tried not to think too hard about what would have happened to you. There was always the troupe, but no place felt quite as reassuring or relaxing as being in Chrollo's arms.

"Chrollo?"

"Hm?"

"Even if they are his... I want to keep them."

"... I know. I'll still be right here by your side no matter what you choose or who their father is. I'll always be here for you, my Little Spider."

~~~~~~~~

You lay in a white hospital bed, hearing the EKG beeping quietly as you try to relax and regain your clarity once more. You deserved the rest too, given what you had to endure for about 28 hours. You had passed out after your second child was born, exhausted from the strain and effort it had taken to bring the new life into this world.

You were faintly aware of someone sitting by your bedside, keeping you company even in your exhausted state. You were more exhausted than usual, and that said something given your need for sleep and rest already being more than average. The faint sound of an infant fussing pulled you the rest of the way to consciousness, eyes slowly opening.

Next to you sat a rather calm Chrollo listening to what must have been one of the doctors talking to him. As you turned your gaze, you saw two of the nurses were present, both holding one child swaddled in small blankets.

"Mrs. Lucilfer?"

"Hm?"

"Ah, it's good to see you conscious. How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

Your short response earned an amused chuckle from Chrollo as he had gotten the same response numerous times before.

"You're always tired, Little Spider."

"Then I'm always accurate when I tell you I'm tired."

Chrollo gently held your hand and that small moment with him seemed far more intimate than you had expected from him. He was typically passive when in the public eye or around others, but you appreciated the small moment of vulnerability. Another snorting cry drew your attention to the small bundle in one of the nurses' arms while the infant inside that bundle fussed and struggled.

"If you are feeling well enough, Mrs. Lucilfer, you can hold your children and feed them if you wish. Any pain medication is already out of your system and it is typically recommended that new mothers nurse so the infant can begin building up antibodies."

You nodded, holding your arms out to the nurse that held the fussing child, the other nurse handing off the second infant to Chrollo. The first nurse gently transfered the complaining infant into your arms, the bright pink blanket oddly contrasting the white sterile environment. Likewise, the pale blue blanket seemed almost out of place when put with Chrollo, his pale skin and dark aesthetic seeming unusual in contrast to the blanket.

A boy and a girl. Your little twins.

The child in Chrollo's arms had yet to fuss or make much of any noise, instead being fast asleep in your husband's arms. The boy looked quite strikingly like Chrollo, black hair already atop the child's head in a messy fashion. The girl you held, however, looked nothing like the man you loved and married.

The girl had flame red hair that was surprisingly mostly grown in atop her tiny head, eyes like liquid gold staring up at you pleadingly. For a moment, you hesitated to do anything to soothe the infant, seeing only your attacker staring back at you. You pushed these thoughts aside, firmly reminding yourself that she wasn't him and she wasn't just his child, she was your's as well.

After the slight moment of hesitation, you brought your daughter close and shifted the cover you wore just enough that she could latch on. Her fussing quickly stopped and she became calm once more, settling in your arms and quietly nursing. You looked over at Chrollo, his eyes had been fixed on that bright red hair as he held his son protectively.

"... She looks like him."

"Yes, she does... And he looks like you."

"What do you want to name them?"

"... Well, we already agreed that if we had a boy, he would be named Kumoryu and if we had a girl she would be named Himetsu. We have both so we can name both what we planned."

"Kumoryu and Himetsu... Alright then. The two new spiders of the troupe."

Chrollo handed Kumoryu off to you as the infant began to stir and fuss in his arms, whining in hunger. You smiled when both infants were quietly nursing and finally it felt like you could breathe for the first time in who knows how long. Chrollo seemed to be sticking to his word and though Himetsu shared traits with your attacker, Chrollo still seemed to regard her as his daughter.

At least you had a moment to finally rest. You could deal with the Troupe and everything else later. For the time being, you just wanted to be with your family for a little while and feel 'normal' for the first time since Chrollo took you away from your old life. It wasn't much, but they were still your's.

Your family.

[kyoongboxi]

Beyond My Reach —

[Baekhyun AU]

——

<< Interlude

Exam weeks is finally over on Friday. You are planning to clear your minds by hanging out somewhere with your friends but two days ago your mother texted you that you should comeback early to your parents house because your brother's wife expecting their first child soon and your mother wants all of the family members to be there. You sighed because you wouldn't dare to say no to her. But at least you still have the night time left before finally leaving the dorm for around two months starting from tomorrow.

You brushed your hair away from your face when a car passed in front of you caused by a gushed of wind that ruffling your hair a little. You were now heading against some restaurants with a bag full of soft drinks gripped between your fingers. Drinking or more like get drunk was never really you. Your alcohol tolerance was really that low so you wouldn't take any risk of it and buy a soft drinks instead. It was around seven p.m when you felt your phone buzzed in your pocket. You lazily unlocked your phone because you already know who is it. 

Where's my food? I'm so hungry i think i'm gonna die from a hunger if you didn't come in any second.. T^T ..hungry.. My poor belly...

Baekhyun. Your boy, your everyth— friends. He texted you exactly three hours ago that he wanted to see you. He said he missed you because exam weeks drives you insane and you didn't have time to meet him. Maybe things works easier for the guy because he is a genius. Yeah. A genius. Even with those round glasses hanging perfectly against his nose, he's not that guy whose into reading, studying, making some journals, no. He was just born clever. He is also the guy who hanging around a lot. He got a lot of friends and women attracted to him. Of course. He was handsome. 

And you remember, the first time he went drinking, and it was also the first time you found out that his alcohol tolerance is low. He got wasted. One of his friends called you that night. He said Baekhyun might need someone to watch him for the rest of the night because he literally passed out outside his door. You came right away and found the guy sprawled out against the couch. His round glasses was off his face, eyes half closed, mouth half parted. He just adorable. 

"You know what? I just realized you look so pretty from this angle" 

What?

"No, Baek— You're drunk. C'mon lets get you to bed" You positioned yourself in front of him and trying to take off his jacket without looking at his face. You didn't pay attention to his words that much because he did called you pretty multiple times and you felt nothing about it. That's it until he suddenly pulled your wrist harshly so you were falling on top of him. 

Eyes went wide, you could almost feel his warm breath against your face because he was too close. He looked at you with those drunken gaze, eyes droopy probably from the alcohol. "Wish we weren't friends so I could kiss you everytime I like" He chuckled softly before he loosened his grip around your wrist. You quickly pulled your hand away and straightened your position. And then you feel it. Something that you have never felt before. Was it a cringe feeling? Warmth? Love? Scared? You were unsure and you never think about that again until now.

You were pulled back harshly into the reality because the cashier's voice startled you in your seat. She says she has called your name multiple times and thought you were gone already. You let out an awkward laugh and apologized before finally took a leave. It was ridiculous that you were thinking about an event you promised you'd never think again. You realized that you can't fall in love with him because it would be so awkward.

After ten minutes walk from the restaurant, you finally stood outside his dorm with two bags gripped between your fingers. There was something inside your heart that stopped you from rushed in and sharing some bear hug. But you didn't know what is that neither. It does bother you because you feel like you just missed this boy, you really do. You just wanna laugh around with him again, listening to his unnecessary joke just like what you always did on high school. But it seems like a barrier between you and him started to grow in the past year. Things does change and you're trying so hard to accept it. 

You inhaled some air to fill in before typed the pass code lock and stepped inside. He never changed his pass code lock from the day he moved in. He also decided to tell you what is the pass code because you're his closest friends. Once you're inside, it was rather quiet and his handsomeness was nowhere to be found. You're assuming that he was probably in his room playing his favorite games so you headed towards the kitchen right away.

You were about to take out the food from the bag when your phone suddenly rang loudly inside your pocket. Wasting no time, you put your phone against your ear without seeing who is calling while your other hand continue to prepare for the food. 

"Hello this is me speaking.." 

"Hey sweetheart!" A melodious voice greeted you from another side. You could tell the voice was belong to your mother because she always have that little excitement somewhere in the way she talked. "What's wrong mom?"

"Could you come home before noon tomorrow? I'm sorry I feel like— I miss you so much. To be honest I'm kinda worried about you... I don't know why though. What are you up to?" Hearing those words from your mother, you pulled your hand away from the food.

"Got it. I'm—I'm about to eat mom. I'm okay. Don't worry about—" You immediately stopped talking when you feel a presence and something pressed against your butt. Baekhyun.

He put his mug against your butt guiding you to moved away. Just another Baekhyun thing. "Move I wanna get drink"

You quickly moved away and turned around to see the boy bringing his mug into his lips. He was wearing his usual black shirt paired with a sweatpants. Meanwhile his hair is still a little wet from the shower. "Sweetheart? You alright?" 

Right. Even your brain couldn't deny the fact that you missed this boy because it made you forget that you're currently in a call with your mother. "Ah sorry— I'm about to eat. Call you later?"

You were that close to pressed the red button and ended the call until Baekhyun lowered his head against your phone. "Yeah she was about to eat me hurry baby I'm getting impatient"

But thankfully you were quick to react. You pressed the red button and finally ended the call. You shove him hard right against the shoulder caused him to stumbled a bit with a sweet laugh coming from his lips. "C'mon lets eat" He then left the kitchen with the food in his hands without saying another words.

You shook your head and simply following him into the small living room. Baekhyun rarely eat on the kitchen bar because he said he couldn't leaned back when he sit on the high chair. "How's your exam? Good?" He questioned with a mouth full of noodles.

You began to eat softly without looking at him. He also turned the tv on before he starts eating. A random news channel was played in the background and you wasn't really pay attention to it because the cute and handsome guy beside you who was now eating, enjoying his food was the reason. You just can't think straight. Maybe avoiding him for the next month seems like a good plan. "Good" You answered softly.

"You know" He leaned forward while his fingers snatched the soft drink on the table in front of you. He was too close for a second. You could smell his fresh woody scent and it only takes you back into your high school time where he sing his heart out for you on the backyard and pulled you into an embrace for the first time because you were crying. 

"There was a girl.. A new one probably.. She confessed to me. Like she really walking up to me with a chocolate bar and some cute letter in her hand" He took a gulp from his can. 

He was known as a talented, cute, handsome and that hot guy in round glasses after he participated in a music festival last year. It also wasn't the first time he had someone confessed to him. You knew that already. "Was she cute?" You found yourself questioned him again. 

"Kinda.. But you know what" He put his can down on the table and looking into your direction searching for you in the eyes. "She ran away after that.. And—" You finally drew your attention to him and noticed he was holding back his laugh. His expression was too obvious for you. "And— oh God I'm kinda feel bad for this"

You also put down your spoon and raising one of your eyebrow. You were ready to hear his  another unnecessary joke because he never fails you to makes you laugh. "She slipped" 

This time, it wasn't a laugh that escaped your lungs. Your eyes widened immediately as the words finally rolled out his tongue. He wasn't joking this time. "No.. For real? Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" 

"God— she slipped two times. I—I was trying to help her—" And then thats it. A deep hearty laughter that you haven't heard for a long time and you've missed echoing against your ears. He was never really changed.

"I was trying to help her for real but she shoved me away and— she slipped again" He trying to explain everything with his hands between his laughter. The next second he got up from his seat and trying to demonstrate how the girl slipped. 

"She was like— slipped or tripped over her own feet before falling down against the floor. Her expression was like—" He then widened his eyes and leaving his mouth wide open before finally bursting out into another laugh. Your giggles also turned into a loud laugh because of his silly expression.

Baekhyun went back to his seat beside you still half laughing. Your fingers immediately went to his arm, clutching into him tightly while your forehead rested against his shoulder for a support because you were the person who had to clinging into something when you laugh and he knew it since high school time. The laughter last long for about two minutes because your boy keep making a sound that escaped his lips when he was trying to stop his laughter.

And when Baekhyun's arm draped around your waist, your laugh suddenly died down and you shifted away from him slowly hoping he wouldn't notice. No. You didn't like the way he touched you because his touch is burning and lingering a little longer against your skin. No. 

Both of you continued to eat in silence. Only the voice of the news anchor against the tv break the silence in a steady tone. Baekhyun hold his spoon between his fingers on the right hand meanwhile his thumb on the other hand busy scrolling through his phone. You were done with your food and took a glance against him. His eyes was focused on the screen with his mouth still chewing.

This isn't the first time you've spent your dinner time with Baekhyun. It would always end up with him rested his head on your lap with your fingers playing with his hair or simply brushed it away from his eyes and listening to him babbling for an hour before drifted off into a slumber. A sight of him sleeping never fails to warm your heart.

You grab the remote tv and tore your gaze away from him into the screen. Switching the channel up and down hoping you would find some movies worth to watch. But instead of finding a movie to watch, you found him stood up abruptly with his eyes still locked to his phone.

"What happened? You alright?"

"Malia.. She accidentally eating something with a peanut in it. I—I should go check on her she's in a hospital right now"

Malia. Malia. Malia. That was the name you heard for the first time exactly one year ago right after the music festival was held. She was pretty. Prettier than you, you admitted that. She was also a clever one. Then you found out that you and her are in the same major. And you didn't really remember how this Malia girl become a lot closer to your friend. They started to hanging out multiple times after that. You? Of course you didn't mind at all.

Also you noticed that Malia trying so hard to be your friend and started to ask anything about him. What he likes, how is his type, what did he do in his spare time. You? You answered all of her questions because you didn't see that coming. 

"Oh.. Okay then" He was rushing into his room to grab some hoodie and a car key when you stood up as well. This is the first time you saw him so worried again over someone after a long time. He took multiple steps quickly towards the door without even looking at you and saying another words. 

You didn't. You didn't see that coming until you saw it with your on eyes on Tuesday afternoon. You were beyond excited because you finally found the book that he recommended to you last month. You couldn't hold your smile that keep creeping into your lips as your feet dragged you towards his dorm. You typed the pass code lock as fast as you can and rushed inside.

You were expecting that he would probably sleeping or gaming in his room but you were wrong. Him, Baekhyun, was kissing a girl on the lips lovingly against the couch. Malia. She was sitting right on his lap with her fingers disappeared somewhere against his hair. Baekhyun, he even had both of his eyes closed enjoying the sparks between two of them. And it was also the time you feel a weird feeling that you couldn't describe. A heartbreak? What for? 

Deep inside, you know this is so wrong. You were just his friend and you didn't have the rights to controlling him thats why avoiding him for a while sounds like the best solution. He was in his happiest state with her, Malia. What kind of friend you are if you dare to take his smile and happiness away?

You weren't expecting that when Baekhyun rushed back in towards the living room where you still haven't moved a bit from your position. His eyes filled with concern when it drifted against yours. "I—I'll be back in an hour—"

"I'll just leave as well, Baekhyun. I'm going home tomorrow. I'll clean this up and leave right after" You turned your head against him. Answering quietly because you were unsure why it suddenly become so hard to speak. 

He simply nodded and you watched his back disappearing from your sight so quickly. Now you could feel your eyes burning hot. Your fingers when to your chest because it feels like it so hard to breathe. You closed your eyes trying to control your breathing because oh fuck you loved this boy but it was too late. Its all too late for now. You have lied to your feelings for a long time. And that was also the time you realized, he is already beyond— your reach.

[the-toasted-teacake]

Hi, can you read the following and let me know your thoughts please? Would mean a lot. It’s my first bit of Carlando writing. Love your writing!! Also your blog too! Hope it’s not too much to ask!! It turned out to be a lot of words but once I started I couldn’t stop, thanks if you do read it!!

………………..

 Two days.

That’s all he had to wait until he could see Carlos. If he’s honest with himself he hadn’t realised till now how much counting down he had done the last week whilst he’d been away with family and friends. If he’s overly honest with himself he didn’t want to acknowledge the amount of counting down done. That would be too much honesty for Lando.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed his time away with his family and friends in Croatia and the several other places they’d travelled to on the stunning boat they’d hired for ten days, it was just that he really couldn’t wait to be in Carlos’ company again. He wouldn’t have been half as bothered about seeing Carlos again if it weren’t for the fact they’d practically spent no time together in the first half of the season.

There was no doubt about it, since Carlos had left McLaren and Daniel had came in, it hadn’t been the same. Not only because of the new atmosphere Daniel bought, but also because Lando had nowhere near seen Carlos as much as he used to. Different hotels each race weekend. No more Carlos living half an hour away in a car and definitely nowhere near as much Fifa. It hadn’t been easy. That’s where Lando drew the line at admitting how difficult it had been though because any further admittance of this made it look like he couldn’t cope and was a massive cry baby missing his old teammate far too much. If he’s overly honest again, he really hadn’t given Daniel the time of day due to still being in complete shock that Carlos had actually left McLaren. It had been a shock since day one of finding out and the shock hadn’t left his system.

Lando was a bit nervous about seeing Carlos again. He was hoping that all the unspent time together hadn’t created an awkward atmosphere between the two of them, he was sure it hadn’t, but you never know. Anyway, even if it did, they had plenty of activities to enjoy to forget about any awkwardness. Lando was flying from Greece over to the Balearic Islands where Carlos was with some of his family and friends. He felt bad that he was leaving Max and the rest of his friends in Greece but he couldn’t refuse Carlos’ offer of four nights spent together as they would be immediately separated again the week later by their hectic F1 world’s.

Just two little days to go he thought. If he could make it five whole months without properly seeing Carlos, then he could definitely last two more days.

And what a two days it was.

Lando had the best two days of the entire holiday, probably because he tried to enjoy it more due to knowing he was leaving them early. What a reward he was getting at the end of those two days as-well; four nights spent with Sainzy. How lucky he was. He could barely contain his excitement once he’d said Goodbye to Oliver and Savannah at the port. Oliver had noticed and had obviously teased him about it. “This is the most excited I’ve seen you all holiday and of course it’s as your abandoning ship to see Carlos”. Lando had just laughed in response. “Tell him I said hi and to not injure my younger brother before the second half of the season starts please” Oliver said as Lando got into the car taking him to the airport. Again, He just got a laugh in response. It was more of a scoff really as Lando knew Carlos would never put him in danger. He never had done, if anything he’d protected him at all costs.

The closer he got to landing, the more the butterflies came. He didn’t know why, but he knew they were definitely there. A few deep breaths later and he regained a little bit of composure. Nervous about seeing Carlos? No surely not. Sort your self out Norris he said to himself quietly.

The airport was busy so he made his was through it as quickly as possible. He really didn’t want to be noticed right now. Eventually he found himself in the arrivals terminal where he was expecting someone to be waiting for him as previously mentioned by Carlos over text. He couldn’t seem to find his name being held up by anyone though. Just keep walking and you’ll find it he thought. Out of nowhere a voice shouted “Landoooo”. He froze immediately. He was hearing things surely. Carlos had not came himself to the airport to get him. No way. Surely he had sent someone.

He eventually plucked up the courage to look over to where the voice came from and stopped dead in his tracks. His feet were frozen to the floor and he couldn’t move. The butterflies had well and truly taken over. It was Carlos. Carlos had came to get him from the airport. Carlos had got into a car and drove to the airport to pick him up. Why was this such a big deal to Lando? Maybe it was just the surprise of seeing him this soon after just landing on the Spanish island. Yes definitely surprised.

He hadn’t even noticed how close Carlos had gotten to him until he heard his name being shouted right at his face. “Mate are you ok?” Lando just smiled and asked him what he was doing here. Of course Carlos had replied teasing him. “What, are you not happy to see me?” Lando laughed and finally gave him a long awaited hug. Once that was out of the way, Carlos took Lando’s case and began walking towards the exit of the terminal. Lando protested “You don’t have to take that I can manage” “I know but you are my guest and I am your chauffeur so this is my job”. Fair enough Lando thought.

Once they’d got into the car and left the airport it was Lando’s turn to tease. “So Mr Sainz Jr. couldn’t wait to see me that much, that he had to collect me himself from the airport.” Carlos laughed and looked over to Lando smiling, he quietly said “I’ll admit it, I am excited to see you, but the driver cancelled last minute so here I am.” “Anyway, having me pick you up should be an honour, I am the best chauffeur about.” Lando just responded with a nod. Carlos seemed to easily be able to worm his way out of being teased, he had done it effortlessly, to the point where Lando wasn’t sure why he had bothered to tease him in the first place.

For the first time since they’d got in the car Lando looked out of the window properly, he could already see the sea in the distance and the landscape around them was stunningly breathtaking. He was sure he was going to enjoy the few nights he had here.

After a bit of small talk of how their summer breaks had gone so far they settled into a comfortable silence. Lando took this as his opportunity to check his phone. After he’d replied to a few texts and checked a few notifications he placed the phone back into his pocket. He wanted to put a story on of chauffeur Carlos, but he was sure that would overload the Carlando world. These few days were supposed to be about them two finally getting to spend time together and having fun so there was no point in advertising it to the world this early on into the trip.

Once they got nearer to Carlos’ house Lando asked “So who’s at the house then, which members of the Sainz family do I have the pleasure of spending time with?” Carlos looked at Lando with confusion and he thought maybe he’d said something wrong until Carlos responded “I thought I’d told you, it’s just us two. My mum and dad left a few days ago and my sister and her husband left yesterday.” Oh, Lando thought. He was sure Carlos hadn’t mentioned it because he was definitely not under the impression that it was purely just them two for five whole days. Wait. “What about Isa and all of your friends?” “What, you don’t want to spend time with me, you want to see everyone else but not me?” Carlos said as he laughed. Back to teasing again Lando noticed. “No it’s not that, I just didn’t know it was just us two in one big house, I saw everyone on your Instagram and presumed we’d have lots of company.” Carlos just looked at him funny “Yeah my friends were here but they’ve all left too, I thought I’d get rid of them because they all talk far too much Spanish for you.” WHAT. Carlos had gotten rid of his friends for him? Before Lando could panic too much, Carlos added “Just joking mate, they all had to go home back to their lives and Isa has some work in London so she left a couple of days ago too.” So it really was just them two, not a single other person. Lando could swear that Carlos always knew when he was panicking because he always managed to swiftly change the topic of conversation. “Anyway we’re having burgers for dinner tonight, thought I’d cook your favourite for your first night in Casa Sainz” he said with a very thick Spanish accent. And with that swift change of topic Lando didn’t have anymore time to think about it just being them two, he’d also remembered the dogs where there so at least he had someone. Even if they were animals.

Lando’s first opportunity to have some time for his own thoughts came half an hour later when Carlos had shown him to his room and excused himself to go and start dinner. Lando hadn’t seen quite as beautiful of a view before. He was lucky he had this from his balcony attached to the room Carlos had gave him, the sunset was gorgeous and he had the perfect shot from where he was to view it. Time for a quick story he thought. Once the story (without a location) was posted he unpacked his things and changed into a comfier shirt and shorts. His mind drifted off to the conversation they’d had in the car. Carlos had definitely not told him it was just them two for the five days, so why did he think that he had. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to him but it definitely was for Lando. How could he have failed to mention it. He was already worried about any awkwardness due to the lack of time spent together this year, so the news of it being just them two had caused full blown panic in his head. How would he cope. He quickly realised he may be overthinking this way too much and he didn’t want to turn into a complete mess on the fist night so he grabbed his phone and took off downstairs, that way he couldn’t give himself any more time to dwell on it.

“You like the view, yes?” Carlos asked as Lando approached him in the kitchen, Carlos held up his phone to show him that he’d seen his story. He added “Im glad you didn’t tag the location, I put a story on this morning of me lying next to my boat, so the Carlando world would, how’d you say it, go crazy wild? You know if they knew you were in the same place as me.” For the record, Lando had seen the story but Carlos didn’t need to know that. “Oh really? Good job I didn’t then, to be honest I thought the same before in the car, I wanted to post a chauffeur Carlos story whilst you were driving, but the Carlando world is not ready for that” he said as he laughed. Carlos laughed too and smiled at him acknowledging that they were both on the same page. Maybe a story in a day or two would be fine but not just yet. The world could wait for Carlando content, they’d already waited the whole of this year so what was a couple more days for the previously promised Carlando content. “As for the view, yes I love it, it’s stunning. Thanks for giving me that room and letting me stay.” Carlos smiled once more and Lando could’ve sworn the thanks had made him blush for a second. “No problemo Mr Norrisio.” “Go and set the table outside for me, dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

The two men sat and enjoyed their burgers outside under the night sky and spoke like no time had passed at all since Carlos had left for Ferrari. They didn’t even have to discuss racing to fill any awkward silences. Carlos had even persuaded Lando to have a few glasses of wine with him. It wasn’t often Lando drunk, but he was on his holidays and he was with Carlos so why not he’d thought. Maybe it was the warm air or maybe it was the wine but Lando started to notice Carlos’ gazing eyes more and more throughout the evening. Carlos was practically staring at him. Eventually he’d had enough of it and plucked up the courage to say “why do you keep looking at me like that?” Gulp. Had he really just said that, why did he say that. Oh dear. He had no clue why he had just out right asked that. No more wine for him. To his surprise, carlos didn’t even hesitate to answer. “Sorry, I just noticed for the first time how much you’ve grown. You’ve seriously changed...Not a little boy no more si?” The smile on Carlos’ face was accompanied with another blush, and it was noticed by Lando for the second time that night. Lando laughed and posed with his muscles by his head. He was no body builder but he had been working hard to build muscle. He was tired of being the small one on the grid so him and Jon had been working on bulking for quite a while now. Carlos laughed in response to the pose, “You’ll get there mate, not there yet, but you’ll get there.”

Once they’d finished dinner Carlos had sleepily asked Lando If he wanted to watch a film before they settled for the night, Lando of course had said yes, he couldn’t wait for another movie night with Carlos. This would be their first movie night since Austria 6 weeks ago. He felt lucky to even have that, Carlos had been so busy this season that their movie night in Austria had been there only one this year. Their movie nights always consisted of great films and great banter, it was usually films Lando had never seen before that also happened to be Carlos’ favourites. He wondered what they’d end up watching tonight. “We’ll watch shawshank redemption tonight, ok?” “Yes sure. Never seen it so should be interesting.” “Landooo I don’t understand how you never seen any films, do you live under a rock, yes?” Lando laughed at how he’d said his name, god he’d missed that. Gulp. No don’t admit that. Moving quickly on from that. “I never have time, too busy beating your ass on the simulator.” He wasn’t wrong. Carlos laughed and said “ahhh yes true, but you will never beat me in FIFA.” More laughter was the reply.

They settled into the film. Lando was sat down comfily with his back pressed up to the enormous couch pillow behind with his feet up on the coffee table in front of them, Carlos in the exact same position next to him. Lando grabbed a pillow to hold as he felt he needed something to cling onto for comfort. About half way through the film, Lando noticed Carlos was getting sleepy as he was slouching and leaning into the couch more and more, must be the wine he thought. Why was he not feeling sleepy also though? Maybe because his mind was on overdrive about the FACT that it was just them TWO. Up until this moment he hadn’t given himself time to actually think about it. FIVE whole days with Carlos, he couldn’t believe it to be honest. If someone had told him a month ago this would be the case, he would have laughed at them and told them to stop chatting nonsense.

As if he’d noticed Lando’s panicking, Carlos shot over a look at him, and whispered “are you enjoying the film?” “Yes it’s good, your getting tired though so it’s ok if you want to settle down for the night.” “How do you know I’m getting tired, huh? Are you a reader of the mind?” He poked him in the ribs as he said that and made Lando jump a bit from the unexpected feeling in his ribs. Lando couldn’t help but laugh at him, he knew he was tired yet he didn’t want to admit it to him because he had 100% noticed that Lando was not tired, it was cute really. Carlos was cute. Gulp. Best not to think on that too much. Gaining some composure after being poked in the ribs, he thought about saying let’s just finish watching the film but he settled on “Carlos, you are obviously tired you’ve got that sleepy look and I don’t want to keep you awake any longer than you need to be, come on, lets just finish the film tomorrow, we have plenty of time over the next few days to finish watching it.” “Huh, sleepy look ai? What does the ‘sleepy look’ look like?” He responds whilst continuing to poke Lando some more. Ok Lando thought, he wants to play poke wars. We’ll see about that, Lando pulled a funny face and poked him back “You go all slouchy like this” as he slid himself down the couch and then said “and your eyes go like this” as he flickered his eyes open and shut. Carlos was laughing loud now at the sight in front of him. The wine had definitely encouraged the silliness from the two grown men who were supposed to be watching quite an emotional and serious film. However, the film was long forgotten about at this point.

The poking continued as did the laughter for at least another 5 minutes. In fact you could argue that they were full blown play fighting now. 2 adult men play fighting. From a distance if you were viewing this sight of them, you would think there was more in this than two friends play fighting. They grabbed each other so harshly that knuckles were white. Also the looks they gave each other were way too intense, Lando wondered if they’d be able to do this if Isa were here, maybe it was best she wasn’t. That’s what made him stop immediately. He let go of Carlos immediately which must have been unexpected as Carlos literally fell on top of him with a small thud. A short-lived silence fell amongst the two of them. Carlos spoke first. “Ouch, why’d you stop?” He gazed down at Lando without moving almost like he was frozen on top of him. Lando hadn’t a clue what to say back, he was stuck gazing back at him, also frozen. After what felt like an eternity of staring into his eyes, he finally spoke. “Ha ha, sorry. Figured you were gonna win anyway so I gave up.” Cool as a cucumber. Played that smoothly Norris. He thought he’d deflected really well from the real reason he’d stopped. But why was Carlos not moving off of him. Lando really thought he’d move any second now or more hoping he would because his stare was becoming unbearable, what was going on? Was something wrong? They’d finished play fighting what felt like an eternity ago so usually Carlos would well be off of him by now. But here he was, flat out on top of him, gazing down at his face literally centimetres away from him.

“God I’ve missed this.”

WHAT.

Where had that come from?! Lando just opened his mouth forming an o shape. The shock took over and he was sure Carlos was looking back at him wondering what on earth was he thinking. They were both so still, not a single bit of movement at all. They were so close that it looked like they’d been moulded together like a sculpture. This was probably the longest look they’d ever given each other. Neither knew what to say. Carlos looked surprised he’d said it. Lando looked surprised he’d heard it. He had to say something. The silence couldn’t continue. The first thing he could think of. Quick. “I’ve missed this too.” SHIT. WHAT. No. What had he done. What a stupid thing to say. Carlos was smiling now. Gulp. That smile was everything.

Without another second passing Carlos decided he had to make a joke out of this, it had become too intense between the pair of them so some light hearted humour was needed. “Awww mate that was sooo cute” the exaggeration of the words so and cute was very much needed. Carlos finally climbed off of him. Lando shuddered from the coldness he felt without Carlos on top of him. If he’s completely honest he didn’t want him to get off of him. He didn’t mind it. But surely that was crossing a line. Yes definitely crossing a line. Lando sat up straight almost immediately dismissing the thought, he had to go to bed. Carlos definitely had to go to bed. That gave him a thought of how to make a joke out of this. “Awww there’s that sleepy voice, told you that your sleepy.” Carlos looked down at him (as he was now standing) almost in disbelief that he’d managed to gain the upper hand. This boy had gotten braver than he used to be, it was true, Lando had changed and Carlos had definitely noticed it. He had especially noticed it today. Having the one on one time with him had made sure of that. Not only had Lando physically changed but he’d grown way more confident. If Carlos was completely honest with himself it made him feel a bit sad, his little friend was not so little anymore and perhaps he maybe did not need him as much as he used too. Had anyone of asked though, he would never admit to this making him sad.

Lando got up from the couch and placed the pillow that had fell on the floor during their play fight back on the couch neatly. He turned back round to Carlos and wished him goodnight, a quick hug and he was out of there. Practically running up the stairs to his bedroom. Leaving Carlos stood there all alone to think about what had just unfolded amongst the two of them. He hadn’t quite meant to let slip he’d missed them play fighting or whatever it was they did. And he definitely had not meant to express it the way he had done to his younger friend. But truth be told, he really had missed him. And having him back here now in his house had got him so excited he just had to tell him. Of course he did. It’s not like he regretted it but he could see the complete shock in Lando’s eyes once he had.

As Carlos tidied the living room he thought about Lando’s response. First the shock and then the silence and then finally…he missed it too! Even if he knew he had said it in a panic it still meant something. He could tell it was said in a panic because Lando never admitted anything. Especially not missing him, it had even become a joke in their press conferences last year. The joke was how much Lando did not want to admit he would miss Carlos. You could not get him to say it to anyone. But he did. And that made Carlos very happy, probably more happy than it should. Once he’d finished tidying the living room he turned off the lights and walked up the stairs. He thought about knocking on Lando’s door just to say another goodnight and check if he needed anything as he had run off rather quickly. But he decided against it. He knew not to bother Lando when he ran away, and he didn’t want to make things awkward, that was the last thing either of them needed. Once he got to his room he quickly checked his phone. A message from one of his friends thanking him for the week away showed up and that made Carlos beam, he was so happy he was able to share his house with his friends. It had been such a good week with them all. Once he’d replied to that he saw another message pop up. It was Isa. Shit. He hadn’t text her all day. Hadn’t even thought about it. He’d been too busy getting the house ready for Lando and buying dinner to cook for him. He was sure she’d be a bit annoyed he hadn’t messaged to ask how London was. And as he read the message this thought was confirmed. It read ‘Hi, haven’t heard off you all day? Everything ok? London’s as rainy as usual, missing the Spanish weather!’ Yep she definitely had noted that he hadn’t text her. Nor had he text her back. He only just realised that her message was sent 4 hours ago. Shit. Before he had time to start replying he heard a noise out in the hall. He looked towards the door. Someone was definitely moving out on the hall. It must be Lando, maybe he wants to talk about what happened, probably not. He got up to go and have a look and sure enough he opened the door to find Lando standing in the middle of the hall looking confused.

Lando was just about to close his eyes and try and get some sleep when he realised he hadn’t set an alarm for the morning. Nor did he know what time to set the alarm for the morning. He’d just ran out of the living room as quick as possible and now he needed to go and find Carlos to ask what time he needed him up for in the morning. They were going running together and he knew Carlos liked his early morning runs. Oh god, 1) why did he agree to the run and 2) why would he not just ask Carlos downstairs instead of running off. Because now he had to see him again right after that incident (if you could even call it that) had happened. Without a second to think he quickly climbed out of bed and walked out into the hall, suddenly realising he hadn’t put a shirt on so was just in his boxers and he didn’t actually know which room was Carlos’. Right at the moment he heard a door open. Shit. It had scared him slightly in the dark. He glanced over to the door to find Carlos looking at him confused. “Uhh hey, sorry I realised I never knew which one was your room when I came to find you.” Carlos was even more confused now, why was Lando trying to find him and why did he practically have no clothes on. Lando looked very awkwardly over to Carlos noticing the look Carlos had give his body and said “sorry yeah I just forgot to put some shorts and a top on. I’d gone to bed so had took them off”. God he was rambling he knew he was but he couldn’t be stopped. “Sorry err did I wake you up?” Before he could ramble some more Carlos suddenly walked out into the hall to join him, so he could see him better. “Well thank god you weren’t sleeping in your buff.” The laughter from Lando echoed through the small hallway they were standing in. If it’s one thing carlos was good at, it was breaking the ice. The joke had immediately removed any possible awkward atmosphere between them. Carlos spoke softly “this is my room” motioning for Lando to follow him as he stepped back into his room.

If Lando had thought the view from his balcony was incredible. Well, the view from Carlos’ balcony was unbelievable. It was beautiful. He was immediately drawn to it and had walked straight over to the window. At night time it was so pretty, he imagined how pretty it must have been in the day also. Carlos noticed Lando looking at his balcony and smiled. “Here, come look outside.” He opened the door and motioned for him to follow him again. As they both stepped out onto the balcony the stars above them shone so clearly that both of them couldn’t help but look up. It was the clearest night sky that Lando had ever seen, it was filled with stars and a moon that was so clear it looked like it was right by them. The lighting of the town centre could be seen as could the port where Carlos’ boats floated quietly on the sea water. You could pretty much see the entire island, it was so calming to Lando. He had never felt peace quite like it before. The way they both just appreciated the view and enjoyed the silence made it even more peaceful. Lando stood in just his boxers on Carlos’ balcony really should have been awkward. But it wasn’t. Thank god for the view.

“It’s really beautiful isn’t it” Lando couldn’t help but say. “The island?” “Yes the island but the view of the island from this balcony is incredible, especially with it being night time, look at the sky, it’s like a photograph hung up on a wall but your looking right at it in real life.” Carlos couldn’t help but smile at Lando’s words. It had been quite some time since Carlos had seen Lando so happy by something that he had been able to show him, he used to be able to show him new stuff and make happy all of the time, but that was rare these days. So Carlos was thoroughly enjoying this. Lando had noticed Carlos smiling at him and suddenly felt a bit self conscious. Also a bit chilly. After all, it wasn’t sunny anymore and he was literally just in his boxers and nothing else. “Do you wanna maybe finish watching the rest of the film in here” Carlos suddenly asked as he pointed back to inside his bedroom. Lando wasn’t expecting that. Lando hadn’t expected any of this to be honest. Never the less, yes, yes he wanted to spend more time with Carlos. “Yeah sure.”

The two settled on to the bed and Carlos put the film on where they were up to. Lando actually did want to know how the film ended. Not long into the peacefulness of them both being engrossed with the film he realised he hadn’t actually asked Carlos what he’d needed to ask him, he’d gotten so distracted with Carlos scaring him in the hall and then the view from his balcony that setting an alarm for the morning had been completely forgotten about. He chuckled. Carlos heard the chuckle and looked over at him confused once again. It was definitely not a funny part in the film so why was Lando chuckling. “Sorry, I err, wait, pause the film a second so we don’t miss any.” Carlos picked the remote up and paused the film almost immediately. “I just realised I hadn’t actually asked you what I meant to when I came looking for you before when you found me in the hall.” “Ohh yes, did you need something?” “No, I just remembered that you wanted to go for a run in the morning and I needed to set my alarm, because I know you like early morning runs and I will definitely not wake up early. But I didn’t know what time to set it for.” Carlos smiled. It was adorable that Lando had remembered at all that Carlos wanted to go for a run. He had asked him hours ago before they’d drank the amount of wine they did. “Don’t worry, we are on holiday. Let’s not set any alarms. We will go for a run once we are both awake.” A wasted trip Lando had took into the hall then. Maybe not though, because he had got to see the most amazing view ever and now he was in Carlos’ bed enjoying the rest of the film. That made him happy and for just this once he’s ok with admitting that to himself. As if Carlos knew what he was thinking he smiled at him. Lando smiled back. The smile between them was sweet. Too sweet really. But neither man cared at this point. They were both too sleepy and too happy. To hell with a smile being too sweet mattering right now.

Carlos put the film back on and they both became engrossed once more. Lando was getting way too comfy in Carlos’ bed and was starting to drift off. He felt himself get sleepier and sleepier but he was far too tired to move. This resulted in Carlos finding his friend fast asleep next to him at the end of the film. As if he’d missed the end of the film, it was the best part. Carlos made a mental note to make him re watch the end of the film tomorrow. In the mean time, he needed to sleep himself. He turned off the tv and then his bedside light and settled further under the duvet. He looked over to Lando and whispered “good night, sleep tight.” God he hated to admit it but Lando did look cute whilst he slept. Carlos hadn’t ever seen him in such a deep sleep so close to him before. This suddenly made him panic about sharing a bed to sleep in, it was a first for the two of them to actually fall asleep in a bed together. After some thought about whether he should let Lando sleep alone in his bed he decided on did it really matter if the two of them slept next to each other. They were both shattered. So it really did not matter at this point. It didn’t take long before both of them were fast asleep dreaming peacefully. The moon and stars glimmered through the window as the room became silent.

Anon, first of all: thank you so, so much for sharing your writing with me! 🧡 I've already told you how much I enjoyed reading this, but I just want to reiterate that I love how you well captured the dynamic between Carlos and Lando, and that you had me completely hooked! This afternoon, I still keep thinking about the scene where they wrestle on the sofa and THAT LINE (“God I’ve missed this.”) because it's packs such a punch!

I really hope you do feel encouraged to write more Carlando, because you have a real way with these characters. I am smiling so much after reading this, and I'm sure others will enjoy it as much as I did 😍

So, with Anon's blessing, I'm sharing this publicly so you guys can also enjoy this absolute gem of a Carlando fic! 🧡

[yukidragon]

Mermaid Jamie - Family

So... I’ve made a chapter for the dark fantasy AU/canon divergent story of mermaid Jamie I’ve been playing around with for Our Life: Beginnings & Always by @gb-patch (which you really should play if you haven’t already, and I will never stop plugging it, never). Like an actual proper chapter instead of a teaser or snippits of scenes.

I still don’t have a proper title for the story in general, but if I was to title the chapter specifically, it might be “Family.” It seems appropriate to me since a certain theme has started to form between this and the teaser.

Standard disclaimer - my version of Our Life’s MC - Jamie Leimomi - aka Jamie Last - may differ from your interpretation of the character. This writing is also in third person rather than second. This writing is rougher than stuff I co-write on @dragonandtiger, and there are spoilers for the game. If none of these things bother you, then I hope you enjoy my splash of a bit of dark color onto such a bright and soft game.

...

Jamie had never planned to ask about her biological parents. She always rejected the idea whenever it flitted across her mind with the mercilessness of a hurricane tossing aside a butterfly. Yet, when faced with the question dead on, there was only one answer she could give.

“I want to know.”

The words came out distant to Jamie’s ears, as if someone else had spoken them with her voice somewhere several feet away. She at least hoped she was managing to look as calm as she sounded. At seeing her moms nod as one, she braced herself, preparing for the oncoming storm.

“Um…,” Lee squeaked out reluctantly. “I… I can leave… if you wanna have things be private.”

Jamie couldn’t draw her gaze away from her moms. They looked so sad. It tore her up inside. She tried instead to focus instead on the warm, bracing hand on her back.

She was fine. She could handle this.

“I want you here,” Jamie said, keeping her voice steady.

Lee gave Jamie a weak smile that went unseen by her cousin. “I can do that,” she said softly before shifting closer to Jamie. She gave the blue haired girl another part on the back, trying to channel all her love and support through the simple touch alone that she couldn’t manage with words.

Jamie managed to draw some strength from that support, and she straightened her back a little more. It was fine, she reminded herself. She could handle this. She had a loving family supporting her after all.

There was nothing to be upset about, no matter the answer.

It was obvious to Jamie that delivering this information was taxing on her moms. The looks they gave her broke her heart. It made her start to regret asking when she heard the way her ma’s voice wavered with heartache.

“You were adopted as a baby,” Noelani began, “but two years after Elizabeth. We used a different organization at the time, and you were adopted within the U.S.”

Not from the same family as Elizabeth.

But that was obvious, Jamie chided herself. The two of them had different skin tone, body type, hair, eyes… It was an absurd thought to have, and she banished it to focus on the rest of what her parents had to tell her.

Pamela sighed, closing her eyes for a moment as she drew in her courage. When she met Jamie’s intense gaze again, it was with tired eyes. “We’re sorry to tell you, Jamie… your parents also passed away, and no other family member took you in… if there were any.”

So that was it then. Not that much different than Elizabeth. Not as bad even - she got to be a U.S. born citizen at least.

“That’s why we wanted to wait until you asked,” Pamela continued before Jamie could process the information further. “We didn’t want to suddenly drop that in your lap. We wanted you to be prepared.”

Of course not, Jamie silently agreed. They had no idea that Elizabeth would do that for them.

“We’re sorry, Jamie,” Noelani said, and the way she said it twisted Jamie’s heart a little more.

Lee squeezed Jamie’s arm, but the blue haired girl barely felt it.

For a long moment there was silence as Jamie accepted the information about her birth parents. Countless thoughts whirred quietly in the background like static as she processed it all. It was such a small amount of information, a fraction of what she had to study for classes, and yet it felt so much more massive than anything she had learned before.

“Okay…,” Jamie began, more to fill in the empty space of everyone’s expectations, as they waited for her to react. She had to organize her thoughts, and that meant focusing on the most important things first. “Thank you for telling me.”

Jamie saw the way her parents looked at her before glancing at each other. Clearly, they needed a little bit more. “I did wanna know, and now I do.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Noelani managed a careful smile. “Thank you for listening, Jamie.”

“If there’s anything else you want to know,” Pamela added a little quickly, “all you have to do is ask. We’ll do our best to answer any questions you have.”

There was no chance for Jamie to stop to consider any before Noelani interjected one of her own.

“How are you feeling now?” she asked. “Are you going to be okay?”

Jamie could feel the way her parents were staring at her, and Lee too. They were worried, afraid of her flying off the handle like Elizabeth did. She couldn’t, wouldn’t yell at her parents in anger. Ever. 

Besides, there was too much misery in this house today already.

Jamie put on her best smile and nodded. “I feel fine.” She was certain her tone was convincing, pleasant even. Despite that, the sad smiles her moms gave in return told her that it wasn’t quite convincing enough.

…

“Jamie?”

Jamie snapped back to the present at the sound of her mom’s concerned voice. It had been over five years since that afternoon when she gathered the nerve to ask about her birth parents. She was an adult now.

Despite that, the news her moms had for her made her feel like she was thirteen all over again.

“Are you okay?” Noelani asked as she took a step towards Jamie.

Jamie shook her head a bit to clear it and forced her focus back into the here and now. Just like five years ago, she was in the living room looking at her moms’ grave faces. The only major difference beyond the advancement of years was that Lee and Liz weren’t involved this time.

“I feel fine,” she said with no small sense of déjà vu. “I just… I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither were we,” Pamela said, her eyes crinkled with worry. “I’m sorry for dropping this in your lap, but there wasn’t an easier way to tell you.”

Noelani nodded, her gaze sympathetic. “We were just as shocked when the orphanage called us to tell us the news.”

“Yeah,” Jamie muttered as she ran a hand over her eyes. “I get it. I mean…” She faltered as her gaze slipped from her moms to somewhere in the distance. “My birth parents are actually alive? And they want to meet me? It’s… a lot.”

That was probably the biggest understatement of her life.

As a child, Jamie had considered the possibility that her birth parents were still alive somewhere and, if so, they would likely want to meet her someday. That possibility disappeared five years ago on that summer afternoon. Now it was back, just like that.

And just like back then, Jamie felt as though someone had stolen the ground from underneath her feet.

Despite how concerned Jamie had been after her moms told her to come visit them, that they had something important that they could only tell her face to face, she didn’t expect anything close to this sort of world shaking revelation. It made her regret telling Cove he didn’t need to skip work to come with her; she needed him right now.

Noelani ventured to pierce the uncomfortable silence that had hung over them. “It’s okay not to know how to feel about it.”

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Pamela added. “We know you’ll need time to process all this.”

Noelani smiled gently, but Jamie noticed the sadness tinged in her eyes. “No matter what you decide to do, we’ll support you.”

Pamela nodded, her mouth set in a determined line despite her own clear distress at the situation. “One hundred percent, full stop.”

Despite the turbulent thoughts swirling around in Jamie’s head, she managed to smile sincerely at her moms. “Thank you.”

Five years ago, Jamie had chosen to leave rather than accept her moms’ comfort and reassurance. This time, she stepped forward, arms outstretched, and they eagerly closed the distance to envelope her in a warm embrace.

For a moment, Jamie just took in her mothers’ love and silently offered her own in return. “No matter what, you’ll always be my moms,” she said, her voice soft but earnest. “I love you.”

“We love you, too,” Pamela said, her voice cracking a little at the edges.

“More than words can say,” Noelani added, her voice thick with emotion as she gave Jamie an extra squeeze.

Although a part of Jamie wanted to remain like that for a while longer, she couldn’t help but start to feel overwhelmed. The air wasn’t quite stifling, but somehow there didn’t seem to be enough of it in the house. Reluctantly, she drew back from the hug and gave her moms an apologetic smile. “I’m gonna to go for a walk for a while… clear my head a bit.”

Both of her parents nodded, still smiling at their daughter despite the obvious concern in their eyes.

“Okay, kiddo,” Pamela said. “Do what you need to do for you right now.”

“Don’t worry about us if you want to go straight home after your walk,” Noelani added.

It was strange for Jamie to hear her ma say that her home was no longer the house she had grown up in all her life, but it was true - home was now an apartment a few miles away from here with Cove.

Jamie thanked her parents before leaving. She resolved to come back to give a proper goodbye before returning to the apartment, but it didn’t take long for her mind to wander as she let her feet carry her in no particular direction.

The sky was heavy with clouds, making the fall afternoon darker than it should have been. Although Jamie much preferred clear sunny days, it seemed appropriate that a storm was coming to match the one raging in her head.

As conflicted as Jamie felt about the whole thing, she knew she had to meet up with her birth parents. There was no way she could reject them, no matter how almost invasive their sudden return to her life felt. Guilt churned in her stomach for thinking that way, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling.

Jamie wondered if this was anything like Cove felt about his parents when he was younger. She vividly remembered the night he snuck into her bedroom for the first time and confided in her about how conflicted he felt over his mom coming back to live with him for a while.

This should have been good news. She should have felt happy to learn that her birth parents were still alive, that there had been an error with the orphanage’s records about their death, and they wanted to have a relationship with her, but she wasn’t. There was a sticky knot in her throat of sickly emotions too tangled together to make sense of them beyond knowing that the whole thing felt completely unwanted.

Jamie needed Cove right now.

She stopped walking to pull her cell phone out of her pocket and pulled up the conversation between her and Cove. She vaguely noticed that she had reached the beach in her mindless wandering and found it oddly appropriate.

Jamie: hey

Jamie’s finger hovered over the screen as her mind went blank. She had no idea how to summarize what was going on. She didn’t even know when Cove’s next break would be. It wasn’t as though he was allowed to have his cell phone on him at work.

Despite this conflict, it wasn’t even a minute before she heard the distinct chime she had assigned to Cove’s texts and saw his reply pop up on the screen.

Cove: Everything ok?

Jamie couldn’t help but smile a little in spite of how crummy she felt. Cove must have been waiting for her all to get back to him about what was going on all this time, rules or no rules. He was always so considerate of her. It made her feel a little less guilty about asking him to ditch work for her.

Jamie: Could you come to my moms’ place?

Jamie: I need you.

Cove: Okay. I’ll be right there.

Jamie closed her eyes and sighed with relief, feeling a little of the tension in her shoulders slip away. She could always count on Cove to be there for her.

Jamie: Thank you.

Jamie: <3

Cove: <3

Jamie smiled at the little heart Cove sent her and left the conversation at that. Even that little bit of back and forth had been a soothing balm to her aching heart, but she held herself back from seeking out more. She knew he needed to talk to his boss and then focus on driving. Any further texting would just delay his arrival that much longer, and more than anything else she needed him with her right now.

After turning off the phone, she paused to idly trace the dolphin keychain attached to it with her fingers. Even after all these years, the material was still as soft and vibrantly colored as it was on the day Cove purchased it for her. It was her first present from him, an irreplaceable symbol of their friendship. Just looking at it reminded her of him and how much he meant to her, as well as how grateful she was to have him in her life.

A quiet rumble of distant thunder drew Jamie’s gaze up to the horizon. The waves of the ocean were choppy in front of her, the wind starting to pick up in earnest. In the distance, dark clouds were approaching the shore, and as she watched, a brief flash of lightning flickered with them, followed by another ominous rumble.

Jamie frowned at the sight of the approaching storm and turned to head back home, or rather to her moms’ home. She wasn’t ready to go back yet, her mind still too tangled with conflicted thoughts, but she wasn’t about to stay outside during a thunderstorm. If it was a sunshower, then she would have been all for basking in the thrill of it, but she had never been a fan of lightning and thunder.

Jamie closed her eyes with a sigh, her shoulders slumping a bit. At least Cove would be here soon. She would feel better then, she was sure.

“Siren!”

The sudden yell caused Jamie to flinch in surprise. Between the oncoming storm and it being the off season, the beach had been deserted. Now she had even more reason to leave when she noticed someone walking in her direction from further down the beach.

“Siren! Wait!”

Jamie hesitated at the almost frantic call of the woman who she realized was definitely approaching her, waving to get her attention. She wondered if the woman knew her. She wasn’t familiar with anyone with blue hair and pale skin… except… herself…

Jamie froze, her mouth going dry as a desert as the woman closed in on her.

The woman was beautiful, her slender, delicate figure giving her the appearance of a model, though she walked in an awkward gait across the sand. Because Jamie was just shy of six feet tall she had several inches on this stranger, who was more average in height for a grown woman. There were other more subtle details, ones Jamie couldn’t help but recognize as ones she saw in the mirror every day.

As the woman got closer, Jamie saw she had large pink eyes that practically glowed in the muted sunlight. Her smile was wide, her expression one of pure delight that didn’t waver as she closed the distance between them. She wore a short but flowing dress that not only bared most of her legs but also the fact that she was walking barefoot. Oddly, her pinned up blue hair and pale skin were damp with moisture while her clothes appeared perfectly dry.

It took Jamie all her willpower not to give in to the irrational urge to make a run for it.

“Oh Siren, my Siren,” the woman said with tears welling in her eyes. Her voice had a sweet quality to it and an accent that Jamie couldn’t place. “I finally found you!”

Jamie braced herself to greet the woman in spite of how her skin crawled, but when she saw arms open wide to welcome her in a hug, she stepped back quickly to avoid it.

That retreat was enough to halt the woman’s approach just outside arm’s length from Jamie. She blinked her wide pink eyes repeatedly, appearing genuinely baffled. “Siren? Do you not recognize me? It’s your mother, your true mother!”

The bottom dropped out of Jamie’s stomach as the woman confirmed her suspicions. She tried to force out some sort of response, but words failed to come.

Her supposed mother grew distressed by the lack of response. “Oh, my poor, poor Siren. Do not fear. Your mother has come to take you home.”

Jamie panicked when the woman tried to grab her wrist and jerked away. “No! I’m not going anywhere with you!”

The woman froze, her large eyes somehow growing even wider.

Jamie held her phone in both her clammy hands as she took deep breaths to calm herself down after that outburst. If this really was her birth mother, she had to try to show some empathy. It was only natural for someone who lost a child to get emotional over a reunion with said child after being separated for almost two decades.

That didn’t mean Jamie wasn’t also giving serious consideration to running for it.

“My name is Jamie Leimomi,” Jamie said, speaking more calmly but drawing an edge under her name. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I don’t know you, and I don’t know anyone named ‘Siren.’”

Surprise melted away quickly from the woman’s face and her wide smile returned to full force. “Oh, yes, yes, of course. I am Demetria Palinouros, your real mother. Siren is the name I gave you before you were stolen from me.”

“Stolen?” Jamie repeated, surprised.

Demetria let out a sigh that turned into an almost painful moan. “My traitor sister Maris, she stole you from me, lied that I and your great father Apollo were dead to those people who took you from her. She lied to us that you were dead, and I believed her lies for so many years!”

By the end of the tirade, Jamie found herself feeling sorry for the woman in front of her, despite her misgivings. The distress Demetria showed, the tears that spilled forth freely, those were real. It made her feel guilty for wanting to run away when it was clear that reuniting with her meant so much to this person, her apparent birth mother.

Jamie tried to stand firm despite the guilt gnawing at her gut. She could handle talking with this woman. She reassured herself that if things went wrong, she could run or fight if she needed to. Demetria was smaller than her and didn’t appear nearly as physically fit, nor did she seem to move easily on the sand. A quick look around verified that they were the only two on the beach and that the clouds hanging overhead had turned a dark shade of gray.

Jamie took a deep breath and braved the conversation just a little longer. “Do… do you have proof?”

Demetria blinked away large tears, the sorrow fading somewhat with confusion as she stared at Jamie. “Proof?”

Jamie nodded, refusing to budge on the point. “If you were able to prove to the orphanage that you’re really my… my birth parent, then you can show that proof to me too, right?”

Demetria sniffled, but nodded, smiling once again through her tears. “Yes, yes, of course, of course!” She reached out for Jamie. “Come with me, and I’ll show you.”

Jamie stared at the offered hand for a moment before she took a deliberate step backwards. “I’d rather not.”

Silence set in for a moment as Demetria stared at Jamie. She appeared genuinely oblivious to how suspicious she was behaving. “Why? You asked for proof, so come with me for proof, Siren.”

Jamie tried to be discreet as she turned her phone on and began to type without looking away from the woman in front of her. “I’m not comfortable going anywhere with you.”

“But I’m your mother!” Demetria cried, tears welling up in her eyes again.

“I don’t know who you are!” Jamie fired back, keeping her expression and tone rigid. There was no shaking the feeling that all of this was wrong and that she needed to get away as quickly as possible.

Maybe Demetria really was who she said she was, but that didn’t matter. To Jamie, she was still a stranger. Besides, just being biologically related didn’t mean the woman in front of her was safe to be around.

Jamie took another step back then another to increase the distance between them but made sure never to turn her back on the woman that claimed to be her mother. “I’m sorry, but I’m gonna go now.”

Demetria’s expression was blank as she watched her so-called daughter’s cautious retreat, tears trickling down her cheeks, mouth flagging open. She seemed truly at a loss, but not so much distraught as she seemed unable to comprehend why Jamie was leaving instead of going with her.

It only served to leave Jamie even more unsettled.

That was when the storm arrived.

Thunder tore through the air, causing Jamie to jump with a yelp. In the split second she took her eyes off Demetria, she realized that the woman had halved the distance between them, reaching out for her.

Adrenaline sent Jamie sprinting in the opposite direction when a deafening scream tore through her, but the scream did not come from her. A high pitched shriek erupted from the woman behind her, an explosion of noise that pierced her brain with a million bits of shrapnel.

Pain was the last thing Jamie knew before everything went dark.

…

Cove had been in the middle of driving when the rapid fire texts from Jamie came in. His phone had been tossed carelessly onto the passenger seat, and he had been too focused on the drive to notice it vibrate. When he arrived at their old neighborhood, he hadn’t bothered to check his phone when he scooped it back up, thinking only of meeting up with Jamie as soon as possible.

Her moms informed him that she had gone on a walk to clear her head, and that was all he needed to know before he was on the search. It didn’t matter that it was raining and the clouds rumbled with thunder. He had to find Jamie.

The first place Cove went was the hills behind the Leimomi house, but Jamie wasn’t there. It was then that he turned to his cell phone. Taking shelter beneath a tree to keep it from getting wet, he turned it on and saw the missed texts.

That was when the world stopped.

Jamie: theres a lady here

Jamie: at beach

Jamie: tryin to get me to go with her

Jamie: she looks like me but pink eyes

Jamie: says shes my mom

Jamie: thers something wring wit

That was all. The last text had been sent only twenty minutes ago.

Cove ran down the hill towards the beach, his heart pounding in his ears. He tried calling Jamie, but it only rang until it went to voicemail. He hung up and tried again and again to the same result. The frantic texts he sent asking where she was also went unanswered. He scoured the empty beach, screaming Jamie’s name all the while as he searched for some sign of her or any person at all.

He found nothing but empty sand and turbulent waves as the storm raged on.

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

Beach House

An escape from the city for just one weekend.

The thought alone sent an eruption of butterflies bursting into Raven's stomach and a series of tingles down her spine.

It sounded like a dream.

The drive up the coast had been idyllic. Though, there was one thing Damian failed to mention until they made it past the hedge-lined walkway to the entrance of the mansion-size beach house. Their 'impromptu' visit fell on the annual Wayne family weekend. And it would also mark the first time they met Raven. He hadn't prefaced this trip with a warning, but any mixed feelings quickly melted away into amazement.

There was nothing that could have prepared her for the Wayne family weekend in the Hamptons.

Boats and brunches. Lobster bakes, crab cakes and country clubs - it was another world.

It was hardly Raven's usual scene, but it was his family's. So for the next few days, it would be hers. Even though Damian hadn't warned her, she wasn't worried. Raven knew he had a reason for springing this on her. Besides, if she had him by her side, she could handle one trip. Maybe even enjoy it, too.

And with the view from the top of the lighthouse on Montauk Point with Damian's heavenly arms surrounding her or skinny-dipping with him on a darkened corner of Cooper Beach, she was enjoying herself - a lot.

But, one of her favorite parts of being at the beach house surrounded by Damian's family was the new ways she got to see him flustered. Whether it was rolling his eyes at Tim's caffeine intake and Dick's immature eating habits. Or even elbowing Jason for the bad puns, then swiftly cutting off his father when he insisted on camaraderie.

She even heard him arguing that Cass had to be present for the entirety of the five courses and dessert, if he did. And of course, he spent a good deal of time slapping away any unsolicited hands (Steph) that tried to pinch and prod his nonexistent baby fat.

Off to the side, watching push-up and handstand contests followed by Tim and Damian's stock talk with their father, Raven fought off smiles all night.

Damian seemed to be in a perpetual state of annoyance with his family and there were several times she found herself stifling laughter. This was another side of him she hadn't gotten to know yet - his sisters and brothers teasing him, treating him like the baby in the family and him refusing it at every turn. Raven liked to watch him like this, interacting with them. Even though this atmosphere was completely new to her, she felt at home. Because it was still him - it was exactly Damian.

But around her, he wasn't.

It was concerning when they arrived and Damian hadn't argued against Selina's offhanded mention of separate rooms. In fact, he encouraged it. And every time Raven turned the corner, he was shutting the door or closing drawers. Not only were they not spending their nights tangled up together, but Damian had morphed into a pod person when she needed him the most.

Raven couldn't believe her biggest worry when meeting Damian's family would turn out to be Damian.

------------

He was pulling away from her.

Damian regretted bringing her here and introducing her to his family, so he was pulling away. No wonder he agreed to separate rooms, he had been skeptical from the start.

And by extension, his family wasn't sure about her. Or maybe it was the reverse. After all, Raven had spent far too much time reading on the beach, under an umbrella and a thick cover-up, or drinking tea on the back porch, or at the island in the kitchen conversing with Alfred.

She had a difficult enough time fitting in with people who weren't her boyfriend's family, let alone people who were so comfortable and at ease with each other they knew all of each other's ticks to a fault. Even their dog seemed to be privy to all the inside jokes and the gags.

The joking around and teasing, Raven had never had that. A family.

A real one.

It terrified her, but she was willing to try because Damian was the most important person in the world to her.

"Maybe Raven would like to join us for our tradition of game night...?" Bruce suggested at the breakfast table, before taking another long sip from his coffee cup. Unsurprisingly, Raven, Bruce, Dick, and Damian were the first ones up that morning. Raven, Bruce, and Dick by choice. Damian, of course, picked up the habit from her over time.

"Oh..." Raven glanced at Damian who peered sideways at her, a half quirk on his lips as he fiddled with his fork. He was still acting strangely. "I'm fond of games, Mr. Wayne... Chess, checkers, scrabble, backgammon, cards," She offered.

"Great, it's tonight at eight." Dick finished, before taking in a huge spoonful of Lucky Charms. "With your repertoire you can replace Damian on my team..." He coughed out something that sounded along the lines of losing streak. "We should talk strategy, Raven," he said out of the side of his mouth, while Damian shot him a glare so threatening, it could have boiled his milk.

"It'll be great to have you on the team." Bruce folded his newspaper neatly, about to take his leave. He stood, his stern stare softened for a split second. "And please I may be getting up there, but, you really should call me Bruce."

Raven felt her cheeks warm and mentally cursed herself for being overly formal. After a breath, she excused herself from breakfast as politely as she could. "Breakfast was lovely." Alfred nodded, as she rose up to place her teacup and saucer on the metal tray. "Thank you, Alfred."

As soon as she was out of sight, she headed in the direction of her room. Raven stood against the wall, resting her head against the cool plaster and stared up at the high beam ceilings.

All the names of Damian's family members and their friends, who was dating whom, and who was still speaking to whom swirled around in her head in an endless loop. Social engagements weren't terribly difficult and normally she could handle them. But with Damian acting strangely, suddenly it felt that much harder. There were times during the weekend that it felt as though Alfred was her only ally in a sea of chaos.

Not far behind, Damian had haphazardly refolded his napkin and excused himself from the breakfast table. Raven let out a startled yelp as he touched her arm. She hadn't heard him come in. "Damian - what are you doing in here?" He drew her back into his body's embrace - enveloping her with heat, the way he did to ensure she felt safe. From his parted lips to the curl of his fingertips, he vowed to wield her with wonderful wickedness. Raven felt her whole being blush, clearly there was much more than a casual caress on his mind.

"It's important." His mouth inched closer to her own. Those dark green were burning of dangerous promises, the growl under his tongue was audible. The surreptitious and svelte movements until she was backed into a corner were all reminiscent of a dangerous predator, a jungle cat. "This can't wait." Raven was almost sure he could hear her blood pounding in anticipation of whatever sinful act he planned to commit.

Her body's reaction could hardly be helped.

"What exactly can't wait?"

He pressed his lips to her neck. Nibbling and nipping with his hands disappearing under the sides of her shirt to massage her waist. Up and down, his fingers danced. And Raven could do little but whimper, feeling herself heat up faster than she had in the beach house's steam shower. And then, she melted. She was falling further into Damian's touch with her hands at last bringing themselves up to thread through his hair, as though to cement him even more tightly against her.

"My need for you... Something about you in the house I spent my summers in growing up..." Damian let out a ragged breath. "But not being able to touch you... I'm not going to make it..." He attacked her jawline, chin and cheeks with an onslaught of frantic, feverish kisses. "But, I promised myself I would wait..." Those green eyes singed her.

"Damian..." She gasped at his words, smoldering gaze, and his fingers sliding down the expanse of pale back before they ran across the dimples above her ass. Raven only managed to pull herself back a fraction of an inch. But he seized the change in perspective as an opportunity - to catch her earlobe between his teeth. "Damian, what if someone catches us?"

"Screw them... I need you." Damian murmured into her ear, clasping their palms together. "I wanted to do this right, but... I'm not used to you being so far from me." She hardly needed the reminder. The separate rooms. There was no cuddling, no spooning. No candles and late night kisses that turned into - this. "I'm suffering..."

So was she.

That was hardly fair.

Raven turned her face. "I'm a guest in this house. I'm your guest..." She angled her hip away from his, but he wrapped his fingers around it insistently. "It wouldn't exactly bode well for me if we hooked up here. Or now." Her argument dissolved away, diluted with his hands diving into divots and dips.

He grasped her chin. "Just one more kiss." Every letter pronounced like a purr brushing her mouth with their hot strokes. "I need another... That one wasn't long enough..."

"I can't - I shouldn't." Raven tried. Her hands were braced on his hard chest. The tautness of his muscles hardly helped. Every ab line and pec was heightened and heavy and wrought with tension under her touch. And it was all for her. But she couldn't. "It's your family, Damian... I want them to like me or at least tolerate me..."

She heard low grunts of frustration echo up his throat. "Raven, relax. Everything is fine... In fact, they could stand to like you less if you ask me," he said under his breath. "What does it really matter if we're caught?"

Raven felt herself recoil from him. No matter how much she didn't want to. "No, Damian. We can't." She turned her cheek. Pulling away and wiping her mouth. "And you can't just...kiss away the distance between us the last few days."

There was a tonal shift in the atmosphere. And his body went completely rigid and his expression went grave.

"Raven, what are you talking about?" Damian asked her, but he avoided her eyes for a second too long. It had to be true. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He flashed in palms in a wide armed surrender. "Look this weekend... It's not...what you think..."

"The separate rooms..." She said slowly. He wasn't looking at her. Raven's heart plummeted down to the soles of her feet. They weren't in lock-step. Things really had veered off course if they weren't in sync. "You do know what I think. You have for a while." Raven shook her head and turned on her heel.

This time, Damian didn't follow.

-----------

In the back of the Waynes's private beach, Raven sat alone facing the tides, her petite body elongated along the rail of the gazebo. She watched the waters wash away the sand, over and over, lapping at the shore.

Everything began to flow out of her.

There was a whole world Damian shared with his family that he had never shown her. She felt like she was getting to know him all over again. Normally she would have leapt at the chance to get to know her boyfriend even better.

But this was different.

What if the people who raised Damian decided they didn't like who he had become when he was with her?

Damian approached the small silhouette of a girl, her body overlaid on the rail of the gazebo, the connected arches carved in wood. He watched the way the wind whipped through her hair as she stared off into the sunset with the thick slip-covered book laying on her lap.

It was a framed photograph.

"You must be freezing." Raven turned to him when she felt a thick blanket drape across her shoulders. But, he sounded a bit worried and his brow creased with concern. "You missed dinner... When you weren't in your room. I thought... Part of me was afraid you..."

He stared at his feet in the sand. "You thought I left?" Out of the corner of her eye she saw him close his eyes, squeezing them shut. "I couldn't do that..." She tucked the blanket around herself. Suddenly Damian leapt up and grabbed her tight, holding her quietly. For several long moments, she felt the truth in each frantic pound of his heart. When it slowed at last, Damian exhaled and released her. Breathing heavily. "I missed a lot more than dinner... Didn't I?" Raven gave him a sad, knowing smile.

"What are you talking about?" Damian started. He stared oddly at her amethyst eyes. "Did someone say something to you? Was it Stephanie? Or Jason? Because I swear -"

"No - no." She said softly. Damian watched her, as the wind wildly swept strands of her black about her face. "I missed things... Like having a real family."

They were a part of him. They were a part of who he was before he met her. She knew she was the odd woman out, but being around them was nice.

Really nice.

"Oh..." Damian stared off at the water pensively. "No - if anything you lucked out..." He ran a hand through his hair. "They go overboard and they talk too much... They're annoying. They push your buttons and borrow your imported silk tie without asking -"

"You know that doesn't make them any less great..." Raven sighed. "In the back of my mind, I knew if I ever met them, they would be wonderful. They would have to be if they were your family. But... really they are..." Raven stared off at the fading red sphere on the waters, like a bright beacon. A guide... Or a warning. "And I'm not."

"What?" Damian spat harshly. Almost accusingly. "Raven, why would you say that?"

"Because... this is the Hamptons and this is your family..." She said quickly. "You're already notorious in Gotham, here you're practically royalty..." Raven fumbled. "I'm just an outsider."

It was hardly the Hamptons she cared about. Raven felt like the waters should rise up and take her away.

"No, that can't be it..." He shook his head. "You never cared about those things before." Damian's face bordered on anger. "What changed?"

Raven bit her lip, trying to contain it as she made sense of it in her own mind. "I met the most important people in your life and they're perfect." Raven confessed. "But your family probably wants you to date someone who's equally perfect. Someone who belongs with you..."

It would be far worse to lose Damian if they decided they didn't approve or didn't want her.

"You belong with me." Damian spoke as though she was delirious. He edged closer to her. "Everyone in my family has felt like an outsider at one point or another. Hell, we're not even all related. Most of us are adopted or step-somethings."

"You guys certainly fit together like you're related." Raven hadn't meant to sound accusing, but she couldn't help it. He had to realize that only served to make the family even more perfect - not less.

Just like Damian.

The pale girl shifted and dangled her legs off over the side of the gazebo as she faced him.

Those dazzlingly vert orbs were staring into hers, searching. "Are you regretting meeting my family?" He asked softly.

"No." Raven's pale feet kicked at the sand swept air absentmindedly, feeling childish as she did so. "I just wanted everything to go perfectly..." Then, even more so as she spoke the words aloud. "I wanted to make the best impression possible - I wasn't prepared and I didn't pack enough outfits or separates..." She dragged a hand down her face. "I didn't even know separates were their own clothing category until two days ago."

Damian fixed her a disbelieving stare. "Separates...?"

"I'll never fit in at a yacht club, I don't tan, and this is the one white dress I packed... " She gestured down to the loose linen mini dress. She was losing her nerve or her grip - she didn't know what, but she was losing it. "I hardly have enough white to make it through the rest of the trip -"

Her words died in her throat the second he placed those comforting hands onto her thighs. Holding her steady and supporting her with ease. "That's too bad." Raven froze and he smirked. "I'm sorry, but you have to stay for the whole weekend, my family already loves you... It's too late for you."

Her mouth opened and closed several times before she could finally bring herself to speak. "I made a horrible first impression..." Raven's lips parted. "And I was much too quiet... There's no way - they could...?" She couldn't bear to finish her words.

"I do... So why wouldn't they?" And Damian braced himself on the wood railing on either side of her hips and placed a long kiss to her forehead, trailing down to each of her cheeks and Raven promptly muffled her face into his chest.

She gasped. "Game night," Raven realized, wiping an escaped tear quickly. "Is it...too late for game night? Did I miss it?"

Damian traced her cheek with his fingers. "No, everyone waited for you. It's not a proper game night without you. You're one of us now." Damian smiled. For one long moment, his handsome face lit up, painted with vibrant reds, pinks, yellows, like the sunset. He looked ridiculously, genuinely happy in ways Raven had never seen before. And he captured her lips softly. Solidifying that fact. Driving it home over and over with his warm mouth caressing hers. She was one of them, she belonged.

"Okay... What about -" He kissed her again and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Don't worry. We'll get you more white -" Raven's entire being rose up with the tides at what he said next. "A dress..." It sounded like a promise of so much more. "The perfect white dress."

And true to Damian's words, Raven looked stunning in white.

Damian clasped her hand, stretching out their interlaced fingers between them, until only their pinkies remained linked before the colors of the sunset. And they walked with their bare feet kicking up the sand on the wind by the glistening water of the beach. Until they finally made their way to the back of the house where his family stood waiting.

They were silent - no chattering or arguing, but waiting patiently, tensely, or even eagerly.

With his other hand, Damian reached into his trouser pocket and dragged a finger once more over the black velvet box before squeezing it tight.

Yes.

He had known for a while.

That Raven belonged at his side, with his family all around them, wearing a white dress.

[yellowocaballero]

Continuation of Human Relations (Oh My God, They Were Roommates)

This is a 16k story that’s a bit too short for AO3 but a bit too long for Tumblr that acts as a continuation of my Archivist!Sasha and Immortal!Jon fic Human Relations. I recommend that you read that before this. This story takes place between S2 and S3, and is about Sasha and Georgie’s roommate adventures. I’m uncertain if I’ll continue this and post it on AO3, post it on AO3 as it is, or what, but for the time being I’ll at least post it here. 

Serious content warnings for discussion of abusive friendships, gaslighting, discussion of 19th century racism, implied transphobia, and discussion of police brutality. Nothing more serious than what we saw in Human Relations, but it does have a much more explicit investigation of Jon and Elias’ relationship. Rest under the cut. Happy Birthday, @magickko. 

EDIT: HAHA READMORE DIDN’T WORK, YIKES. 

Sasha dreams, every night.

Nightmares, mostly. Statements given and Statements stolen run endlessly through her head in a scrolling loop, crying out for mercy, as its figures cry and scream. Sasha looks at them through a camera, pushing the button and clicking the shutter again and again and again, searching for that perfect shot frozen in time. 

A woman, trapped under a thousand pounds of dirt and crumpling metal. Snap. A woman, chewing keycaps, eyes riveted on a flickering screen. Snap. A woman, lost in her fiance’s grave, pleading for someone to find her. Snap. 

A man, eating canned peaches, alone. Snap. A man, swinging an axe with a frantic strength born of terror. Snap. A man, and the look in his eyes, betrayed. Snap. A man, gunshot wound leaking blood out of his chest, eyes rolling in the fluorescent lights. Snap.

When Sasha wakes up she is always surprised to find herself in a guest room, always out of place and out of time as she stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe the worst part is those two seconds after waking, where she doesn’t know where she is, adrift in time and space. Then she remembers, and she’s faced with the situation all over again. 

Namely, the fact that she was couch surfing in the Grim Reaper’s guest bedroom. 

Sasha dreams, every night.

Nightmares, mostly. Statements given and Statements stolen run endlessly through her head in a scrolling loop, crying out for mercy, as its figures cry and scream. Sasha looks at them through a camera, pushing the button and clicking the shutter again and again and again, searching for that perfect shot frozen in time. 

A woman, trapped under a thousand pounds of dirt and crumpling metal. Snap. A woman, chewing keycaps, eyes riveted on a flickering screen. Snap. A woman, lost in her fiance’s grave, pleading for someone to find her. Snap. 

A man, eating canned peaches, alone. Snap. A man, swinging an axe with a frantic strength born of terror. Snap. A man, and the look in his eyes, betrayed. Snap. A man, gunshot wound leaking blood out of his chest, eyes rolling in the fluorescent lights. Snap.

When Sasha wakes up she is always surprised to find herself in a guest room, always out of place and out of time as she stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe the worst part is those two seconds after waking, where she doesn’t know where she is, adrift in time and space. Then she remembers, and she’s faced with the situation all over again. 

Namely, the fact that she was couch surfing in the Grim Reaper’s guest bedroom. 

Georgie Barker wasn’t a mystery, and she’d be the first to tell you.

Of course you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, honey! I always love having Jonah owe me a favor. Don’t worry about the cops and the law, nobody will ever find you here. Seriously, the entire department’s in my pocket. It’s no hassle having you here, it’s a big flat! It’s been years since I’ve had a roommate, this’ll be fun!

The one thing she hadn’t understood was Sasha begging her not to let Jon in to see her. He knows exactly where you are, Georgie pointed out. He knows you’re not actually a murderer, Georgie said. He might be able to help explain some of what’s going on, Georgie hinted. Jon would respect my wishes, but if Jonah really wants him to talk to you, he’ll definitely do it...

“Please,” Sasha had croaked, the uncomfortable morning after she had stumbled into Georgie’s flat. The Admiral wove around her legs, purring up a storm, and Georgie was munching on avocado toast and sipping pomegranate juice. “I just - I just need some space.”

“Why?” Georgie asked obliviously. That was something that Sasha was rapidly learning about Georgie - she didn’t hold back with impolite questions, or her opinion. She seemed to be regarding Sasha’s life as her own personal Youtuber Drama, which Sasha really didn’t know how she felt about. Her life wasn’t a spectacle, but she guessed even the warfare and tragedy of ants were of obscure and strange interest to humanity. “He’s feeling, like, totally bad about framing you for murder. I can tell he super wants to apologize to you about everything.”

Martin’s words echoed through her mind, from what felt like a decade ago: Jon had ruined Martin’s life, but to him it was as simple as a momentary inconvenience. “I don’t want his apology,” Sasha croaked. “I want not to be on the run from the police. I want to go back to my flat. Unless he’s going to make me human again I don’t want any stupid apologies. They’re useless.”

“Hm. Well, you’re free to stay here as long as you need to, of course.” Georgie sipped at her tea. They were sitting around the breakfast table, Sasha desolately shoving eggs into her mouth as Georgie drank her tea that Sasha was reasonably sure was spiked with brandy. Rich people were literally never sober. “It’ll be so much fun, like a sleepover. We can do each other’s nails and talk about boys!”

“My boyfriend thought I was a monster for the past month and now thinks I’m a murderer,” Sasha said flatly. 

“Oh, I see.” Georgie tapped her lips thoughtfully. “We have to get you laid, huh?”

“I am literally on the run from the cops.”

“That’s very sexy to some people,” Georgie assured her. 

After that, Georgie waved goodbye and swanned out of the house, either going to her studio to work on her podcast or doing some work for her real estate empire or writing a best-selling book or schmoozing with celebrities or attending parties at exclusive nightclubs or working part-time as a bartender just for gossip or devouring souls. Just from Sasha’s one day at Georgie’s flat, she knew that she did all of these things and then some. It was a stunning contrast to Jon’s laziness, or Elias (Jonah’s) single-mindedness. 

Maybe you lost the energy to be so productive after your two hundredth year. Sasha didn’t fucking know. Hopefully she would never know. Or maybe Jon just appeared to be lazy, and every moment that he was complaining about being bored he was secretly manipulating world leaders. Maybe Jonah’s dedication to spreadsheets and dress code was a front, and he was secretly pulling the puppet strings of her entire life…

In the empty spaces of Georgie’s spacious flat, it was easy to be paranoid. Sasha lay on her luxurious couch, hands folded across her chest like a corpse, trying not to think of anything, thinking of everything. Thinking of Tim: of his smile, of his scowl, of his cold looks given to someone he had thought was a stranger. Thinking of Martin: his warm smile, his sharp looks. 

She struggled to think of other friends, other family members who gave her comfort, but drew up a blank. Her parent’s faces were blurred after ten years of no contact, not so much forgotten as repressed, and her baby siblings were likely unrecognizable to her now. Almost as unrecognizable as she was to them, probably. Tim, her boyfriend who hated her, and Martin, her subordinate who she had almost never had a conversation with that wasn’t about work or Jon...that was it. All the friends she had in the world. She was sleeping in the guest room of a podcast host/Grim Reaper whom she had met once, and that was all she had.

Loneliness was Sasha’s constant companion. In a crowd, in her family, in the world - no matter how many people she had been surrounded by, she had always been alone. She had never had anybody in the world to rely on besides herself, and for the first time in a long time she was achingly aware of it. Nobody who loved her was going to help her. She was alone now.

After an hour of lying on the couch and crying, Sasha desolately watched Netflix cooking shows on Georgie’s gigantic flat-screen TV, trying very hard to think of absolutely nothing at all. She only moved to pet Georgie’s silky long-haired cat whose name she had already forgotten, and even he left quickly once she lost the energy to give him attention.

That was how Georgie found Sasha when she came home: lying on the couch, still dressed in borrowed silk pyjamas, watching idiots on television fuck up cakes. Georgie’s arms were laden with shopping bags, with names of exclusive London boutiques sprawled along the side, her deep black pits of eyes hidden by designer sunglasses. She burst through the door happily, her cat running up to her and winding through her laps as he purred, and easily kicked off her red pumps. She stopped in the doorway of the living room, looking strangely excited. 

“Sorry I’m back to late! Utterly bogged up at work, there was a plane crash and I was processing corpses for hours. I had to do some serious retail therapy just to deal with the tedium - darling, have you moved?”

Sasha grunted. 

“You look like Mikey Crew threw you off the Shard,” Georgie said sympathetically. “Utterly disastrous. Don’t worry, Aunt Georgie’s here to make you feel better.” She lifted her bag triumphantly. “I bought you new outfits!”

Sasha eyed her warily. 

“You get no say in this,” Georgie said kindly. “Chop chop, we’re doing face masks too.”

That’s how, somehow, Sasha found herself playing an unwilling dress-up doll for the Grim Reaper. Georgie had taken Sasha’s casual mention that she had no clothing besides her work pantsuit to heart, and had hit up her favorite boutiques for ‘cute outfits that accentuated her figure and made her eyes pop!’. Or something. Sasha wasn’t much one for fashion. 

As it turned out, Georgie Barker had a walk-in closet. Because of course she did. 

The looks ranged from Sasha’s usual, as Georgie put it, ‘sexy librarian’ look, to ballgowns, to tennis outfits, to moddish, to vintage, to wintery. It was February, the seasons lingering in British chill, and according to Georgie the perfect solution to this was a mink coat that was probably worth a month’s rent on her flat. 

Strangely, all of the outfits fit perfectly - and Sasha knew that her measurements were difficult to find. Georgie took it in stride, clapping enthusiastically each time and suggesting accessories and how to mix and match the outfits. 

She would have thought that she was too dead inside to actually enjoy it, but so far as distractions went it actually worked pretty well. Georgie chatted about everything but their actual problems, and Sasha had absolutely no input or choice in what Georgie decided to dress her in, and by the time they had transitioned from nail painting to watching Legally Blonde and eating ice cream from the carton Sasha was actually feeling a little relaxed. 

“The musical’s better,” Georgie informed Sasha imperiously as Sasha dug around in her carton for chunks of cookie dough. Georgie was clutching a glass of wine in one hand, while Sasha was contenting herself with ice cream. Best not to drink when she was this sad. “Reese is such a doll, though. Allergic to shellfish, poor dear, but I told her not to let Leo pick the restaurant.”

“What I’m wondering,” Sasha said carefully, teeth cracking into the frozen chunk of cookie dough, “is that half the time when I see you, you’re dressed like a 2008 goth in jeans and t-shirts.”

“Oh, honey,” Georgie said pityingly, patting her hand. “I used to spend two hours getting dressed each morning. I’m never doing that to myself again. You, however, clearly have never had nice clothing in your life. It’s written all over your face. People’ll walk all over you if you always look like you’re straight from a charity shop. We gotta buy you some self-confidence.”

“Thanks. I think.” On screen, Elle flourished and achieved her dreams. Sasha tried not to feel jealous. “It’s not really as if I had a lot of girly sleepovers as a kid…”

“Word,” Georgie said sympathetically. She patted Sasha’s hand again. “Jon was the same way, you know. I can��t count the number of times I’ve had to renovate that boy’s wardrobe. He has no idea how to dress to impress.”

“Do we have to talk about Jon right now,” Sasha groused. “He’s the last person I want to think about.”

“He means well,” Georgie soothed, as Elle Woods proudly proclaimed on television how she, yes, she, was a strong independent woman - who didn’t need a man! “It’s not his fault he’s stupid. He’s just so helpless on his own, you know, he needs girls like you and me to make sure he’s not wasting a decade fixating on obscure Bolivian religious practices or whatever.”

“Helpless? He’s a two hundred year old man.” Sasha spitefully grabbed the bottle of wine from the coffee table, pouring it into a spare glass and drinking it quickly. It probably cost thousands of pounds, but it just tasted like wine to her. “It’s not my job to make sure his little feelings aren’t hurt.”

“Of course not,” Georgie said, but Sasha had the sense she was being calmed instead of listened to. “But Jon’s...you know.”

“I don’t, actually.”

Georgie made an interpretive hand gesture. Sasha stared at her blankly. 

“...I still don’t.”

Georgie sighed. “He’s delicate. Jonah babies him, honestly.” She patted Sasha’s hand for the third time, making her skin crawl. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him see you until you’re ready to forgive him. Every woman has the right to some time to herself after a guy fucks her over. You two’ll patch things up, right as rain.”

There was nothing Sasha wanted to say to that, nothing she wanted to think about, and she kept drinking her wine and watching the movie, out of lack of any other options.

That night, she drunkenly tipped into bed, so blasted that she slid immediately into sleep and did not dream. It was the first relief she’d had in what felt like a very long time. 

It wasn’t Sasha’s job to fix Jonathan Sims. 

It really, really wasn’t. It wasn’t her job to make him feel better, or forgive him, or save him from himself. If Martin wanted to waste his time and energy doing that, then god fucking speed, but Sasha had other priorities. She had been profoundly fucked over and had her trust abused by three different men lately, and she wasn’t going to be the one to patch things up.

Two of them she had no desire to patch things up with at all. Two of them she’d be perfectly happy if she never saw again. The last one...Sasha didn’t know what she felt. But that was nothing new. 

That being said, as Sasha chewed her way through hangover medication and an acai bowl the next morning, Georgie’s inane chattering about tricking some celebrity or another into taking her to Hungary for authentic Hungarian food didn’t register nearly as loudly in Sasha’s mind as her words about Jonah and Jon. 

Jonah babies Jon. That was what she had said. It...it was accurate, right? It had to be. Georgie had known Jonah and Jon for a hundred years, and Sasha had barely heard one authentic conversation between them. She’d known them for a year, and known Jonah’s true nature for maybe a few days. There was no way Sasha understood their relationship better than Georgie did. It just didn’t make sense. 

Finally, she put her spoon down, cutting Georgie off in the middle of her ramble about the majesty of Hungarian food made by genuine Hungarian grandma hands. “What did you mean, ‘Jonah babies Jon’?”

Georgie blinked at her, clearly barely remembering the conversation, before recognition dawned. Then she shrugged, sipping her protein smoothie. Which may or may not be spiked. It seemed as if her solution to hangovers was to just not stop being drunk. “Oh, you know how those two are. Jon swans around the world doing whatever he wants, Jonah holds the fort down at home. That’s why Jon’s fun, you know.” She sighed nostalgically. “Romantic cruises to the Bahamas for two months, we tear up the Bahaman government and start a minor military coup, then we take a tour of the beaches. You haven’t lived until you’ve dug your toes into Bahaman sand.” 

That was something Georgie said frequently: you haven’t lived until you’ve done X, Y, or Z. It seemed as if Georgie was very intent on living, and very intent on defining it in discretionary ways. To Sasha, living was simply the act of not being dead, but Georgie was almost fanatical about experiencing life. 

“If he’s so much fun, then why did you break up?” Sasha asked, before she realized what she said. “I mean, it’s really none of my business, feel free not to answer that -”

But Georgie just laughed lightly. “That’s just how Jon and I work. We spend a few weeks together in bliss, and then we go our separate ways for six months or a year or whatever. Work’s always taking us different places, and seeing each other all day would make us hate each other. Some people work best when they’re not in each other’s pocket.” She took a long drag of the smoothie before speaking again. “Besides, he’ll always be second in my life to having fun. And I’ll always be second in his life to Jonah. It’s just how we work. It works for us!”

It seemed to. Last Sasha checked, Georgie and Jon seemed to be very amicable despite being exes. Lackadaisical, on-and-off, passionate yet going years without seeing each other - it was a relationship uniquely in the providence of workaholic immortals. 

It wasn’t until Georgie had already waved goodbye, making Sasha promise not to spend all day on the couch again, that she realized that Georgie hadn’t quite answered her question. 

An image flashed through Sasha’s mind - Jon’s face, as he dared to disagree with Jonah, and was utterly ground into the dust for it. 

There was something more to this. Something that wasn’t obvious on the surface, something that was so well hidden maybe nobody even knew it was going on. Or maybe it was deeper than that, more insidious: maybe whatever was going on was so well-known and pervasive that it simply wasn’t spoken about. Not polite, not the kind of thing you say about your friends, not normal. Not in polite company. Not vocalized. Utterly taken for granted. 

Sasha walked into the guest room, pulling out her phone from her bag and staring at its blank screen. Holding her breath, she hesitantly turned it on, staring at it blankly as it slowly booted up. 

She shouldn’t be turning it on. She was perfectly aware of how, given a warrant, the police could track cell phone location, texts sent and received, everything. She could do it herself. The crushing weight of surveillance, the fear of being found and seen and rooted out, settled over her shoulders like an old, familiar friend. A comforting blanket to wrap herself up in at night: where, even if the fear was terrible and awful, at least it was familiar. 

You could get used to anything, Sasha thought. Any behavior, any fears, any horrors or tragedies - anything could become normal, given enough time. A year. A hundred years. After two hundred years, maybe you wouldn’t even recognize it as happening at all.

Like a flood, the text messages poured in. Notifications chimed in a cacophony, as text after text after text popped up on her phone. Missed calls. Emails popped up, notifications from the doorbell camera, reminders from her fucking Duolingo...

Dizzily, Sasha scrolled through the texts. Lots from Tim, as expected, and a few from Martin, as expected. Some texts from her mother, which - which wasn’t expected. At all. Sasha hadn’t even known that she knew her number. 

Sasha’s brain stuttered over the Spanish, having been years since she spoke it. Her brain also stuttered over the gratuitous misgendering, which was also blissfully novel yet just as uncomfortable and upsetting as ever. Translated, it was a slightly accusatory question about why the police had been calling them about her whereabouts. What had she done? Had she gotten in trouble?

No matter what you did, the text read, God will forgive you. Just call them back. 

Sasha stared at the texts, brain buzzing. She felt sick. Forgive her? They’d forgive her? They thought she’d done it? They thought she was capable of -

Horribly, awfully, tears pricked at her eyes. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe you never really grew accustomed to pain, even if it was felt a thousand times. Maybe some pain you never acclimated to, never scarred over or calloused. Maybe sometimes the more you were hurt, the worse it hurt. The pain her parents gave her - how they cut off contact, the misgendering, the coldness - hurt just as badly at thirty six as it had at twenty six, at twenty, at fifteen, at nine. It had always hurt. 

So stupid. Sasha deleted the text messages. She didn’t have time for this. She wasn’t a child. She was thirty six goddamn years old, that was way too old to still care about your parents. To still need them.

She clicked on Martin’s texts next. The first one had a timestamp before the murder, the rest afterwards.

Martin: where are you?? I found Tim (he tried to kill me w/an axe but we’re ok now) and were trying to get out of here. I explained everything to him. We’ll meet you in the archives. 

Martin: Police are looking for you. I know you didn’t do it so call me back. Tim’s worried. Jon doesn’t seem that worried...

Martin: Shouldn’t text you anymore. Please be safe & careful. 

Jesus. Jesus, she had been terrible to Martin. She was a rotten friend. Sasha hiccuped, rubbing at her eyes. She needed to get him a gift basket. Five. He was a freak, but he was her freak. Maybe. 

Finally, almost holding her breath, she pressed on Tim’s messages. There were a lot of them - more than was safe, Sasha distantly registered. The first five were from the same time Martin had sent the second text. She guessed it was right after the police finished talking to them. He had called her slightly before - likely when they found the body - but there were also two texts from two am last night. 

Tim: pick up your phone

Tim: pick up your phone are you okay im so sorry

Tim: baby please please pick up

Tim: we need to talk & im sorry & i hope ur safe

Tim: dont text me back 

Then two texts from two am:

Tim: to warn you im drunk but im sorry (AND DRUNK) but in my defense im a shitty boyfriend. If you want to break up its fine but id like to make it work but i get if you cant because cops i guess. Bitch tonner wont stop bothering me make her stoppp

Tim: I love you and I wish that was enough. 

Sasha rubbed at her eyes, exhausted. She wished it was enough too. She knew it wasn’t. Strongly, like burning, Sasha wished so desperately that she had never met Jonathan Sims. Maybe, in that world, things were okay. She and Tim were happy. 

She scrolled through the rest of the notifications. Strangely, she even had two texts from Melanie. 

Melanie: Hey, I heard what’s going on. I know you couldn’t have done it. A LOT of cops are bothering me - Hussein and Tonner have called like five times. I think you know them? For legal purposes I’ll say that you should turn yourself in or whatever. 

Melanie: oh and Martin said to tell you that Mr. Bouchard’s been asking me a lot of questions about what im doing and my job situation - dunno y tho

That….probably wasn’t good. 

No texts from Jon. She wouldn’t know what to do if he had. She doubted he knew her number, or how to work a phone. The last thing she could deal with emotionally right now was an apology. She didn’t know what to do about Tonner or Hussein or Melanie. Those were all problems she couldn’t fix right now. 

Really, there was only one problem she could fix right now. She walked over to the door to the balcony, carefully stepping out onto the 20th story balcony. She carefully ejected her SIM card, snapped it in half, looked underneath her to make sure there were no passerby in the exclusive London neighborhood, and forced her fingers to release from the phone so she could watch it fall twenty stories onto the concrete. 

She imagined a smash, a crack, but it didn’t make any sound at all. Sasha forced herself to step back inside, leaving the past behind her. 

There was a lot Sasha had to force herself to do that day. Georgie owned a few laptops, but she hadn’t given Sasha permission to use any of them yet, and she didn’t want to intrude. Despite Sasha’s own...reservations about her personality, she really was being incredibly kind by letting her stay and trying to cheer her up. She did, however, have a great deal of antique books, and Sasha eagerly cracked open the first edition copies of fiction novels from the 19th century. Was that a first edition Pride & Prejudice? Oh, score!

She wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to eat. Food tasted like ash in her mouth, but that always happened whenever she was upset. She forced herself to take a shower, impossibly intimidated by Georgie’s small army of hair care and hygiene products, and even cautiously let herself take a bubble bath with a bath bomb. It was...weirdly luxurious, but maybe not surprisingly. Georgie’s bathroom was like the Queen’s, and you could practically swim in the bathtub. It was intimidating and weird and uncomfortable, but Sasha forced herself to appreciate it. How many people got to take a shower in a stall with five different showerheads?

Halfway through the day the housekeeper came in, terrifying Sasha deeply, and she retreated to her guest bedroom to let the woman work. She inspected her newly painted toenails glumly, halfway through Pride & Prejudice, forcing herself not to think about how Jon could have been a background character in the novel. Wasn’t he in his twenties in this time period? Wasn’t that when he and Jonah Magnus had -

Sasha drank more wine, and put on another cooking program. She hadn’t watched telly all day, so technically she could tell Georgie that. Besides, it wasn’t as if there was anything productive to do. No work, which sucked when she was a workaholic. No computer to waste time on. No friends she could talk to without the police investigating her. She couldn’t go outside, again due to the aforementioned cop situation. Her life was her work, and her bosses had just framed her for murder. 

Somewhat buzzed, Sasha stole several pieces of intricate stationary and wrote down everything Leitner had told her before he was murdered. It wasn’t nearly as much as she wanted, yet far more than she knew what to do with. Halfway through her notes deteriorated into a bizarre sort of mind map, lists of cases connected together and obscure monsters and figures pointing to each other. Salasea and his endless array of dangerous trinkets, mysterious yet lonely ship captains, Michael and his gently twisting deceit, Gerry Keay and his bizarre heroism, Leitner and his ruinous imprints, Agnes and her desolate fate, and the oft-mentioned yet barely understood man, whose name was whispered by shadowy figures entrenched in  the supernatural world, Jonathan Sims…

Did he know? How often his shadow stained her statements? Did he care? Did he know how thoroughly he had ruined her life? 

She scoured her memory for hints, writing down everything she could remember of his cameos in random statements. Of Leitner’s testimony, the immortal figure who so easily attained what Leitner and Mary Keay had spent their entire lives grasping for. Was there a hint to his true nature, his true allegiance? 

In the corners of the cute stationary, Sasha doodled a small eye. She stared at it, and couldn’t help but fight the notion that it was staring back. 

She scratched it out, feeling paranoid, not feeling paranoid enough. 

A few hours later, Georgie came home, and Sasha fought the pathetically hopeful trepidation. When she heard the front door rattle she left her room, intending on welcoming Georgie back and proving that she hadn’t been watching telly all day, but she stopped short in the hallway when she heard the loud sound of voices. Specifically, the loud sound of Georgie’s still slightly unfamiliar voice, and the quieter tones of a voice that was far too familiar to her.  

“ - if you’ll just let me talk to her, she’ll understand.”

“And she said that she’s not seeing you,” Georgie said firmly. Sasha held her breath, pressing herself up against the hallway wall. Next to her was a doorway that led to the living room, that led to a foyer. If she craned her head she could just barely see Georgie standing in the foyer, arguing with a figure holding a leather briefcase that made Sasha’s heart leap into her throat. “You really did screw her over, you know.”

“I know,” Jonathan Sims whined. “I want to apologize. It’s not my fault. Jonah got pushy again, you know how he is.”

“Ugh, tell me about it.” Georgie scoffed. “Did something happen between you two? Sasha was asking all sorts of weird questions.”

“Just Jonah being his usual insufferable self,” Jon said, so carelessly and casually that if Sasha hadn’t known better she would have believed him. “It probably alarmed her, seeing how that man really is. I’m sure she’s feeling very overwhelmed right now.”

“She really is, the poor dear,” Georgie said sympathetically. Sasha’s hands clenched into fists. “But you aren’t getting past this foyer, honey. I’m sure she’ll want to be friends again once Jonah gets the cops off her case.”

“Martin’s giving me a hard time,” Jon sulked. “Says this is all my fault that the dreadful little wolf girl is sniffing around. It’s not my fault. If my Archivist just let me explain, she’d see that it’s not my fault.”

“That Blackwood boy’s always giving you a hard time,” Georgie sniffed. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with him. He’s overly moralistic and doesn’t know how to have fun. You spend too much time with him.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Georgina Barker,” Jon teased. He stepped forward a little closer, and although Sasah couldn’t see his face she had the feeling he was smiling. “It’s a bad look on you.”

“Idiot,” Georgie said fondly, “everything’s a good look on me.” She stretched up on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. “Ditch him and come party with me, darling, I’ll show you a wonderful time. Maybe after all of this nonsense blows over.”

“Judging from what I can make out of Jonah’s monologuing, we ought to get our parties in while we still can,” Jon said glumly. He opened his briefcase, passing a manila folder to Georgie. “Give her these. She’ll be getting hungry. Tell her that the top one is from work, and the second is from me.” He hesitated for a second. “You really think she’ll forgive me?”

“If it’s not your fault, then why do you need to be forgiven?”

Jon was silent for a long minute. Finally, he said, “I’ll talk to you later, Georgie. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Georgie said easily, casually, as if she had said it a thousand times, a million times. “Take care of yourself.”

She stood in the foyer after he left, arms folded, one delicately manicured finger tapping against her arm. She eventually turned around, poking her head into the living room. 

“You can come out, darling, I don’t bite.”

Sasha guiltily stepped into the living room, crossing her arms defensively. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

But Georgie just rolled her eyes. “Please. My best friends are Jonathan Sims and Jonah Magnus.” She looked thoughtful for a second. “Well. My oldest friends. Anyway, if you’re in the same house as one of those Beholding types you aren’t getting a private conversation. I’m super used to it.” She held out the manila folder, and Sasha cautiously stepped forward and took it from her. 

“Beholding types?” 

“Oh, you know, you and your lot,” Georgie said dismissively. “Can’t do anything about that annoying little megalomania the Eye gives you. Have fun with lunch, I have to freshen up. It takes ages to get the scent of Jon’s musty old books off me.”

But Sasha was already tuning her out, because in the manilla envelope there were two Statements. They thrummed under her fingers, charged with energy and power and fear, and Sasha could feel herself gripping them. The first one was a classic Magnus Institute Statement, just like she would have read at work, but the second was what looked like a photocopy of a piece of paper. Judging from the ornate script, it was old, and when Sasha’s eyes wandered to the date her eyes widened. July 21st, 1823. 

She looked up, already frantically searching for a tape recorder, and immediately saw one sitting on the coffee table. She didn’t think twice about it, already sitting on the plush white couch and setting the papers out. Which one first - oh man, they were both so exciting - her fingers drifted to the one Jon gave her, and she picked it up. That one, then. 

Sasha James pressed play on the tape deck, feeling a familiar thrill go through her at the gentle whirring. She cleared her throat. 

“Statement of Sasha James, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, regarding a letter sent by Barnabas Bennet to Jonah Magnus. Statement begins.”

And, as Sasha’s blood ran cold, she began to read. 

My dearest Jonah,

I hope you are well. It was an absolute pleasure to vacation at your estate this summer. I’ve never had such interesting conversations with a like-minded individual, and since returning to my own estate I have been sorely missing your company. You have introduced a great deal of brightness and acute interest to my life, and without you the luminescence of Heaven does not thrill me. How I wish you were around to thrill me again!

Do not concern yourself - I have maintained my studies. The library you loaned me is of great interest, and I have been spending many a quiet night bent over one of your occult tomes. I have never felt so enlightened. A world is opening up before us, Jonah, one of richness and wonder, and for the first time in many years I find myself excited to rise each morning. I thank our Heavenly Father each day that I was so fortunate as to cross your path. You must remind me to discuss with you the report by Smirke in detail - fascinating! Theoretical, of course, all theoretical - but the concept of classifying the devils that so bewitch man into fourteen unique taxonomies fascinates me. We must discuss it. 

Jonah, I trust that this letter reaches you in private, and that you shall not betray my confidence by discussing it with anyone. I have a private grievance I wish to address with you. It is regarding your boy, the one kept so close in your confidence and trust. 

I would never hasten to question any of your decisions, for I trust they are made with great deliberation and forethought. But I must question why you keep that boy so close to you. His air is strange and fey. While summering at your estate, I would frequently see him awake at late hours, pouring over some tome or report or another (I would swear that he reads better than I!). I know he’s somewhat of a project of yours, bringing him into Christianity and your charity, which will surely be rewarded etc etc, but I cannot shake my strange trepidation. 

If I were to be quite honest, my fear of him. 

He always asks questions. Disturbing and distressing questions. And when I deign to answer them, he acts as if he truly understands. Moreover, that he understands more than me - that he possesses some secret knowledge that only he has obtained. I catch him listening at doorways and around corners frequently, and no matter how many times I box him about the ears for it he will not cease. You encourage it, allowing this behavior. Even after I reported to you the pagan rituals which I am confident he is performing, you brush me off. You two are strangely close. I’m simply concerned for you, Jonah. Please heed my advice: that boy is trouble. I fear that he will bring you into trouble also. Do not allow this paganism to steer you away from the light of our heavenly Father. I understand that the occult is of great interest to all of us, discovering the secrets of the world and its many mysteries, but it is only an academic interest. I would never go so far as to partake of these devilish rituals myself, and you ought to dissuade yourself of such a notion also. Do not allow that John to lead you astray. 

I wish you most well. I am encountering some trouble of my own - debts and such - but do not concern yourself with them. The situation is well-handled. I hope to write to you again soon.

Yours, faithfully,

Barnabas

...supplemental.

Jon. Why did you show me this?

Is this your definition of vulnerability? Of honesty? What, are you trying to justify your decisions to me? I get it, it’s disgusting. These people were disgusting to you. I can’t know how you feel, but I think I - my parents -

What I mean is, I can’t understand. I can’t imagine how hard this must have been. I understand how Jonah was the only one to… ‘get’ you or whatever. How he was the only person to see how brilliant you are, how much you have to give. 

But, Jon - I don’t think Jonah thought any better of you than Barnabas did. He was just better at hiding it. I don’t know, I didn’t know him and I still don’t know him - but you get that the way he talked to you back then wasn’t right, right? You get that it was fucked up, right?

I don’t know. I don’t think you get that. I don’t think anybody does. Georgie’s too close to it, too used to you and Jonah’s ‘quirks’ or whatever. I...don’t know anything Martin thinks, but I feel as if you’d be pretty invested in keeping this from him. But I’m close enough to you to see it, and I’m far enough away from this that I understand. Something’s really fucked up about this situation. I’m worried I’m the only person who sees it. I hate being that person, the person who Sees it all, who knows it all, but is powerless to do anything about it. You understand, right? You understand how much this is hurting me?

I’m not sure you do. If you’re showing me this, trying to show me how hard you had it, how misunderstood you were, just so I forgive you...I don’t. And it’s manipulative, so cut it out. I’m not sure if you’re consciously doing that, I really don’t think you’re emotionally intelligent enough.

But you aren’t dumb, Jon. I know it’s a defence mechanism or whatever to pretend that you are, to act childish, but you aren’t. 

Ugh, listen to me. I sound like Martin. Disgusting. I don’t give a shit about this, I’m not your therapist. But you keep on making your problems my problems, and I’m not tolerating that. We’ll talk when I’m not fucking wanted for murder for something you were complicit in. 

Get your act together. I don’t forgive you. Statement fucking ends. 

As if Sasha’s life wasn’t hard enough, Georgie wanted to go dancing. 

“I am literally wanted by the police.”

“The nightclub’s so dark, nobody’ll even see your face,” Georgie promised. 

“Shouldn’t I be spending my time working on my conspiracy theory board?”

“Honey, no offence, that thing is so tacky.”

“I hate clubbing.”

“You’ll like the way I do it!”

“I really don’t want to -”

“Tough nuts.”

So, of course, that’s how Sasha ended up shoved into a tight dress, heels, and makeup, pushed into a taxi, and quickly deposited in front of a warehouse looking building. There was a long line out the door, of women with straightened hair dressed somehow identically, yet way worse, than Sasha, all looking very cold. Georgie looped her arm through Sasha’s, white teeth flashing as she grinned widely, and escorted them both straight through the doors and past security. 

She, it seemed, was a known quantity. Sasha, who had spent the last year working in a mill to feed evil psychic vampires and the ten years before that locked in academia, which was basically the same thing, was not a known quantity to any nightclub. She had not been clubbing since uni, which was approximately five lifetimes ago.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Sasha said into Georgie’s ear as they transitioned from the furiously cold February air into the swelteringly hot club. It was dim and smoky, the noise overwhelmingly grating at her ears. After so long in a quiet office, in a silent flat, she could barely handle it. 

Georgie said something to her. 

“What?” Sasha yelled. “Georgie, I don’t want to be here!”

Georgie frowned at her, and unlinked their arms so she could reach up on her tiptoes and clasp Sasha on the shoulders. “You have been accused of murder! You just split with your boyfriend because of clown trauma! You haven’t had fun in years! You deserve this, queen!”

You know...maybe she did. 

Georgie pressed a drink into her hands, mysteriously procured from somewhere, and without thinking too hard about it Sasha downed it in one gulp. Georgie whooped, clapping her on the back, and directed her towards the bar. She flashed her platinum credit card at the bartender, and suddenly Sasha was MVP of the night. 

You know, Sasha thought dizzily as she was given a toxic blue drink and pushed onto the dance floor, maybe she did deserve this. Didn’t she deserve to have fun? After the way things ended with Tim, couldn’t she just act like a normal girl and go clubbing with her friends to dance away the pain? She was almost forty, way too old for this, but maybe she could forget for a little bit. She had never had the opportunity as a teenager, not even as a young adult. Couldn’t she do this, before she died?

Maybe women closer to forty than thirty dealt with this with - with book clubs, with sisterhood, whatever. Maybe women closer to forty than thirty were married, had kids of their own. But Sasha was just Sasha, stuck in a literal dead-end job, going nowhere good, and this was all she would ever have. 

Maybe Georgie was right. Why not live, before she died? Everybody on earth died - everybody, that is, except for a small group of people who were willing to sell their soul for the privilege.  At least maybe this way she could have whatever joy she could fit into her life before all opportunity was lost, and she was lost. 

A man sidled up to her, asking for a dance, and she evaded him. But then there was another one, and another one, and Sasha found herself fleeing back to the bar and ordering another drink. Too soon. Way too soon. She found herself digging in her borrowed purse, searching for her phone, wanting to call Tim or talk to him or ask him if they really were broken up so she could have rebound sex with random dudes in bars, but the purse was empty of both a phone and a wallet. That’s right - she had destroyed it. Because the cops were after her. 

Next to her, out of the corner of her eye, a man sat down at a barstool. He said something to the bartender and leaned towards her, mouth spilling something obscured by the crush and heat and sound of the club. He seemed to be asking if he could buy her a drink. Sasha shook her head dizzily, confused and lost. Then he leaned in closer, and Sasha could smell the alcohol on his breath. 

“Are you sure? I’d like to dance with you!”

Sasha shook her head no again, frantically. 

“Aw, come on -”

Then, as if by magic, Georgie was at her elbow. Unintimidating, not more than one hundred and seventy centimeters, with teased hair and sharp black lipstick and eyeliner, she raised an eyebrow at the guy. But there must have been something in her eyes, or a lack of something, because the guy rapidly slipped off the barstool and melted into the crowd, leaving the drink the bartender slid onto the counter behind. 

As if she had planned it, Georgie easily stole the drink and knocked it back. She tugged Sasha down, yelling into her ear. “Come with me, darling, let’s check out where the real party is.”

Without taking no for an answer, Georgie grabbed Sasha’s hand and tugged her through the outskirts of the crowd, ducking and weaving between small clusters of people and women dancing the night away. Sasha’s vision swam, details and faces lost in the endless ripple of flashing lights and sound, until all she felt was Georgie’s cool hand in hers, and it wasn’t until they emerged from the choppy sea of people into a small hallway off the main room that she felt like she could breathe. Sasha’s head swam with movement and smoke, and she was barely cognizant that they were in a hallway for a bathroom or something. 

But Georgie walked confidently past the bathrooms, into what appeared to be a storage closet. She confidently opened it, halting at the door frame to glance backwards at Sasha. A smile quirked at her bow lips. 

“You coming?”

Sasha, slightly intoxicated though she was, couldn’t fight the skepticism. “This is where the real party is? A supply closet?”

“Oh, my dear Archivist,” Georgie said, smirking slightly. “The world is full of far more delights than you could understand. Follow me, and stay close.”

Then Georgie stepped forward, disappearing into the closet, and as little as Sasha wanted to step inside more dubiously supernatural hallways she wanted to be left alone in this club even less, and she ducked after Georgie into the unknown. 

The unknown, as it turned out, was another club. 

Or, more accurately, a pub. It was a nice pub too, all smoky yellow lights and burnished wood booths. The booths were upholstered in soft and cushy looking brown leather, and the sound where nowhere above a quiet murmur. It didn’t seem to be abandoned, the shadows at some booths deeper than others, but for the life of her Sasha couldn’t puzzle out the faces or figures of anybody at these shadowy corners. There was a single bartender, wiping a grimy glass over and over. He nodded at Georgie when he walked in, and Sasha was forced to wonder how many dubiously physical supernatural bars and hang-outs existed in random back rooms of mundane stores. Were these things just everywhere? Or were there only a few, and so long as you had the right key any door could be an entrance? It was just Sasha’s intuition, but she felt as if it was the latter. 

What would, could Georgie open up for her? What power, what majesty? What world of power and control could Jon give her, that Jon was trying to hard to give her that she kept refusing? Nobody was telling her the cost. Nobody was letting her make a decision. She was being swept up in the wake of giants, and Sasha was just trying to keep her head above water. 

Georgie was still walking confidently down the aisles, and Sasha stumbled trying to keep up. Finally, she came to a stop in a back corner, utterly secluded with a booth that stretched the entire corner, large enough for seven or more people. Georgie turned to Sasha, smiling broadly, and Sasha tried not to feel intimidated. 

“Honey, these are my friends. Girls, this is my new roommate, Sasha James!”

With a flourish, she made a little tah-dah motion, and the smoky yellow lamp above the table flickered on. 

The table was crowded with women, or women appearing people. Absolutely none of them were familiar. No - in the corner, there was one person who was familiar. Michael, blonde hair hurting her eyes in curly ringlets, hands in his coat pockets. He smiled crookedly at her, jarring her adrift. 

“Uh,” Sasha said, confused. Who were these people? “Hello?”

A short East Asian woman in a white tank top and black jeans scowled from where she was slouching in her seat. “One of those Beholding patsies? Please, Georgie, they’re so insufferable.”

“I like this one,” Georgie said cheerfully. She slid into an empty seat, and Sasha cautiously sat next to her. “Play nice, everyone.”

“You’re such a grouch, Jude,” a woman said, leaning forward and looking interestedly at Sasha. Her eyes were dark and big, her head cocked, giving her an almost insectoid air. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person finally, Archivist. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re really making waves in our little community.”

“Patsy Archivist,” a tall and burly white woman with cascading brown hair said shortly, taking long gulps of a pint. “What’s impressive about that?”

“I’m impressed with anyone who puts up with Sims and Magnus long enough,” the insectish woman said. “No offence, Georgie.”

“Oh, they’re insufferable,” Georgie said cheerfully. “Have you heard how those two like to socialize? They go to galas. With those awful little Fairchilds and Lukases and whatever. It’s just tragic.”

“Word,” the insect woman said, raising her glass. The rim seemed to be coated in cobwebs, making Sasha feel vaguely ill. “Much rather have a pint at a nice little pub with friends. But we haven’t introduced ourselves, have we? My name’s Annabelle Cane. I’m sure you’ve heard of me in all those little stories you like.”

Anabelle Cane. Sasha swallowed. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“A proxy Archivist she may be,” Michael said serenely, “but perhaps our most successful yet. She’s already coming along so much further than Gertrude ever did.” He winked bizarrely at Sasha. “Michael, but you already know that. They and them, if you please.”

Oh. Sasha blinked at them. “Thanks for...saving my life back there. And Tim’s and Martin’s.”

“My pleasure,” Michael said affably. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in awhile. Always nice to have the Eye owe me a favor.”

“They’re just mad they didn’t get to kill Gertrude,” the brunette said evenly. “Julia Montauk. You should know me too, I think. Is it true you killed someone?”

“I definitely didn’t,” Sasha said heatedly. “It was a set-up.”

“Relax, we’re all killers here,” the woman in a tank top said. She scowled at Sasha. “Jude Perry. What the fuck do those old money ponces think they’re doing, installing another patsy Archivist this late in the game? I would have thought that they learned their lesson after that bitch Gertrude.”

“Archivists are quite slow learners,” a woman piped up. She sat in the corner, strangely oddly. Her skin was shiny and strange in the dim light, almost plasticish, and her dark eyes hadn’t moved from Sasha’s face since she walked in. “Nikola. A pleasure, Archivist.”

“Are you guys all…” Sasha trailed off uncomfortably. “You know?”

“Serial killers?” Julia Mauntauk asked flatly. 

“Inhuman monstrosities of plastic and flesh?” Nikola inquired. 

“Daughters of fear entities that control our every action?” Annabelle said. 

“Embodiments of unknown concepts made sentient, forced into a shape that cannot suit them, locked in flesh and fractal prisons, always screaming in endless turmoil, unable to understand the horrors of the concepts of ourselves, always searching for the sweet release of death that can never quite be obtained, because that which does not live can never die?” Michael said serenely. 

“Assholes?” Jude Perry said flatly. 

“The sexiest Avatars around?” Georgie asked. 

How did Sasha’s life devolve to this point. 

“...yeah,” Sasha said. “Hey, where can I get more drinks?”

Unsurprisingly enough, the drinks came very fast. Service was excellent when you hung out with eldritch women, Sasha supposed. 

The conversion flew thick and fast after that. In Sasha’s experience, joining a new group of established friends meant being ignored for favor of pre-existing dynamics. It was always uncomfortable, and no small part of why she just didn’t join new groups. Tim had never had that problem - he had a loud and persistent personality, the kind that made you pay attention to him. He dominated any room he entered, by force if necessary. It always seemed exhausting to Sasha, but Tim didn’t really seem to have anymore real friends than she did lately. His personality was like an ocean, overwhelming and everywhere, but when his mood turned sour it was just as intense. Gulfs of pleasure, intense pain - it seemed exhausting, to feel so deeply. God knows Sasha didn’t. 

But today, in this group, she seemed to be novel. Maybe new fear avatars were a rare enough thing, or at least ones with Georgie’s seal of approval. They aimed a barrage of questions at her, and Sasha did her best to keep up with each one.

How did Sasha know Georgie? Mostly through a mutual enemy. Oh, fuckin’ Sims, right - you guys friends? No, I hate him. You guys fucking? Ew. Right, right, Sims is a giant prude - actually I heard that he doesn’t really - no, Jon decided a while back he doesn’t do that, and we all respect his decision - ew, though, nobody wants to imagine that. So why are you two friends? We’re roommates, mostly, I’m kinda on the run from the cops. Who’d you kill? Nobody. Who’d that old fucker Bouchard kill? Jurgen Leitner, mostly. 

“Cheers to that!” Julia said abruptly, raising her glass. “Hate that fucker.”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Annabelle said, downing her own drink and what seemed like an improbable quantity of spiders. She leaned over the table to where Sasha had hastily been stuffed in, beetle-black eyes gleaming. “But really. What are you doing here?”

“As I said,” Sasha said uncomfortably, “I got framed for murder -”

But Annabelle just waved her hand. “No, no, we know that. I’m asking what are you doing here? With people like us, in a place like us? You’re just a sexy librarian. Your highest goal in life was owning your own cottage house one day. How’d you get wrapped up in the tangled web of our world?”

Sasha’s mouth ran dry, her head spinning in a way that didn’t really seem to have anything to do with the alcohol. How had she ended up like this? Who was to blame?”

“Jonathan Sims,” Sasha said dizzily. “He -”

“Didn’t know you Beholding types were in the process of lying to yourselves,” Annabelle said, casually yet brutally. “No, really.”

Sasha opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she said, “I guess I just asked all the wrong questions.”

It was a pretty way of dressing up the real answer: that Sasha didn’t know. 

Maybe her thoughts were obvious, because Georgie cooed sympathetically and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Cheer up, honey, it’s not so bad. Not everything happens for a reason. Sometimes it’s just your own rotten luck.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jude called, lifting her glass. “I love my fucking life. It’s hookers, coke, and blow from here to Scotland. The life of a woman with power’s a thousand times better than the life of a woman without, James.”

“What is with you people and hedonism,” Sasha muttered. 

“Why not?” Nikola asked, tilting her head strangely. “Life’s so short when it’s this long. It’s just bread and circuses, Archivist. We all need...entertainment.”

“Humans are always trying to make sense of it all,” Michael said arily. They were digging their fingers into the table, scoring long grooves in it. “When you know there’s no meaning, no purpose, then everything else just...falls away.”

Sasha didn’t know if she believed that, but she bit her tongue. Instead, she said, “What about those Avatars like Magnus or Raynor? They seem really...driven.”

Georgie giggled, light and airy, and leaned in. “That’s because they don’t know.”

She shouldn’t even ask. She shouldn’t - “Know what?”

Georgie smiled, sharp and wicked. “That there’s no point.”

And that was all she would say on that for the night: conversation after that devolved into parties, restaurants, drugs, and conquests. Maybe the women were right, in their own clearly demented way: that without death there was no meaning, when when there was no meaning only pleasure held any significance. If there was no afterlife, no reward or punishment - which Sasha didn’t believe, but they seemed to - then there was no reason not to do what you wanted. To have fun. To take revenge. 

If all Georgie wanted was to have fun, and if all Jon wanted was revenge, then what did Jonah Magnus want? Sasha didn’t know. She had the feeling that if she didn’t figure it out, she wasn’t going to live much longer. 

Why had Jonah Magnus done this to her? What was the point of framing her for murder? She couldn’t do her job like this. What’s the point? 

Half-drunk, head spinning, she found herself vocalizing this. Somehow, Annabelle Cane had ended up sitting next to her, letting spiders run along her slightly too long and too jointed fingers. Annabelle Cane just smiled at her, jaw slightly slacking open to expose teeth. 

“Maybe it’s just to fuck with you,” Annabelle posited. “Why not? Do you think he has another reason?”

“I don’t know,” Sasha groaned. “I don’t know anything. Everything’s confusing and terrible. I could never understand those psychopaths.”

“You won’t make it very far in this line of work if you never ask why,” Annabelle scolded. She paused a second, spider running thoughtfully across her eyeball. “But too many questions damns you just as effectively, I suppose. Hm. Jonah’s quite good, isn’t he.”

“Why me,” Sasha groaned. “Everyone’s trying to keep shit from me, it fuckin’ - it fuckin’ sucks, man. It sucks. Nobody would tell me what’s going on, but I don’t think anybody knows what’s going on. Not even Jonah, or Jon, or - or anyone. Nobody but me.”

Annabelle blinked at her, somewhat curiously, before leaning in. Her perfume lingered in the air, a heavy rosy scent. “Do you know something that Jonah doesn’t?”

“Yeah,” Sasha slurred, world fading in and out. “Jonah doesn’t know that Jon -”

Then the world faded into black, and Sasha fell asleep. 

If she had felt too old for this at the nightclub, she definitely felt too old for this hangover. Sasha spent twenty minutes crouched over a toilet bowl, reluctantly shoved the Eggs Benedict in her mouth that Georgie insisted was a hangover cure, somehow, and refused the Bloody Mary that Georgie also insisted was a hangover cure that her Mum used to feed her. The thought of Georgie’s Mum filled Sasha with a deep fear, incapable of imagining somebody who was both likely born in the 1800s and who had raised a hellion like Georgie. 

When Sasha mumbled this to Georgie, she didn’t look offended. She just smiled, strangely fond. “Oh, none of this is my Mum’s fault. She was a darling, her and my Da. My childhood was positively idyllic. All things considered, you know.”

Yes, Sasha thought, struggling to imagine 1910s London in her mind, idyllic. She took another look at Georgie, squinting slightly as her head throbbed. She definitely seemed younger physically than Jon, but Jon had a particular way of carrying age about him that had nothing to do with his appearance. “When did you stop aging?”

“I forget, honestly,” Georgie said airly, sipping her own bloody mary. For some reason, Sasha didn’t believe her. “It always takes a while to notice, you know. I suppose, logically, it would be about when I died the first time.”

That, more than anything, alarmed Sasha. “I thought you couldn’t die.”

“Not permanently,” Georgie said, as if this was somehow obvious. “Eat your eggs, they’ll get cold.” Sasha frantically shoved eggs in her mouth, desperate for the story. But Georgie just sighed and propped her chin on her hand, eyes distant. “You know how it is. Small town girl, grew up in North Birmingham, Alabama - back when it was just a tiny little thing, you know. I wanted to be a star. I always did. Scared of dyin’ in the dirt. If I was gonna die young, I wanted to do it where everybody knew my name. So long as they remember you, it’s no kind of death at all, really.” She sighed, lost in memory. “I could sing so good...so I went to Harlem, ‘cause all my friends and I always had dreams of going to Harlem and making it big singing in the jazz clubs. They didn’t get so far, staying at home with their babies, but I did. Wasn’t really made for babies and such, I think.” Something strange emerged in her words, the last vestiges of a Southern accent. “I was pretty, and I could sing, and I took to the spotlight like a duck to water. It was tough, but man - if it ain’t tough, it ain’t worth it. I worked so hard. Like I was working myself to death, almost.”

She trailed off, birds softly trilling outside, and Sasha was silent. 

Quietly, Georgie began speaking again. “Got into some trouble. You know how it is. I spent dozens of years wondering if it was my fault, if there was something I coulda done differently, zig instead of zag...but now, I don’t think so. Just my own rotten luck, you know. Put my trust in the wrong people. Had the wrong sentence whispered into my ear.” She shrugged listlessly. “Couldn’t handle the truth. Just another girl who couldn’t handle the limelight, that was what they said. But I was set up to fail. All those jazz clubs were ganger run, you couldn’t avoid it. Every girl in that golden age fell prey to those men, same as I did. I just wanted to feel again. Tried everything once, just to feel something.” She sighed, taking another drink. “Got shot. Got back up. I remember it, clear as day. Must have been 1923. I scrubbed the blood out of my show dress and went back on stage that night, cuz you can’t get a rep as a flake. They said, that day...that day was my best performance.”

She trailed off, Sasha finally alert. She wanted more details, almost desperately, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to risk putting the whammy on her host, even if she wasn’t sure that she could. If Georgie was being purposefully vague...well, Sasha wasn’t entitled to her pain. 

Instead, she said, “I bet you were good.”

Georgie smiled at her wanly, eyes far away. “I was the best.”

They sat in silence for a little while, eating their food, Sasha’s head ringing and mind buzzing. What about this picture was she not understanding? What was so important that she was missing?

Finally, Sasha carefully floated, “I bet you must have met Jon soon after.”

Georgie looked up from her bloody mary, surprised. “Oh, yes. Just a few months after. He must have caught the word on the wind, you know, of that singing girl who got back up after getting shot in the lungs.” She sighed, propping her chin on her hand again. “Saw him in the front row of my club. He was so handsome, and so finely dressed. But there had been something strange in his eyes, you know? Like little marbles, reflecting the lamps. He caught up to me afterwards, and I figured he was just another fan to squeeze dry, but he told me in his funny little accent I’d never heard before that he could help me.” She swallowed, looking away. “That he could help me understand what was happening to me. Why I was having those strange dreams, seeing those strange tendrils. I guess he was right. After I met him, I understood it all. Things moved fast after that.” She smiled weakly at Sasha. “I suppose you know the rest.”

She really didn’t, but Sasha understood the dismissal for what it was. “Yeah. Thanks for telling me all of that.”

“It’s no secret,” Georgie said dismissively. She smiled cunningly. “A hundred years later almost exactly, and what I did to those gangsters was still my finest work. They say that if you pass by an old building on St. Nicholas Avenue, you can still hear the screams. Anyway, I have a meeting with my land development company in an hour, must run, ta!”

On that distressing note Georgie swanned out the door, and Sasha was left alone with nothing but a stack of conspiracy theories, an opulent flat, and bad memories. 

Time seemed to move quickly, yet sluggishly, after that. After another day of writing down literally every Statement she could remember off the top of her head and trying to fit them into the weird and seemingly kind of arbitrary categories that Leitner had given her, she had hit a roadblock. She couldn’t remember any more Statements, she didn’t have access to them, and the ones she did remember she either already sorted or couldn’t dredge up enough memory of them to sort them in a satisfactory way. Either that, or the Statement itself was just incomprehensible - Sasha still didn’t know what the fuck was going on with Tessa’s problem. She tended to have a better memory of the ones that seemingly mentioned the Avatars in the background, just because it had been so startling to actually meet them - and a few even mentioned Jon, usually in context of Salasea or any Eye Statement. 

When Georgie came home that night, they watched another movie and they both studiously avoided mentioning anything supernatural. Best not to take work home with you, even if Sasha had never quite been good at that. 

The next day Sasha did what she should have done in the first place, and hacked into the Magnus Institute server. 

It was seriously, comically easy. Sasha had installed a backdoor connection to the desktop of her work computer from her laptop ages ago, and all she had to do was borrow one of Georgie’s laptops and redownload the program. With an easy virtual desktop she was already in. It was somehow satisfying to see all of her work programs pop up on the borrowed laptop, and it was almost a relief to access the Archive drive that connected all of their computers. More importantly, where they all put their research follow-ups and the spreadsheet that documented the debunked, uncertain, and verified statements. It had gotten to the point where if the statement refused to record on the computer they automatically put it on verified, but what Sasha really wanted from that spreadsheet was the one sentence description they had all put for each Statement. 

From there, it was much easier. Sasha, sick of the disorganized conspiracy theorist aesthetic, made her own spreadsheet and began categorizing the verified Statements that way. Much more reliable than working from memory. 

If only she could actually access the Statements...Sasha’s life would be so much easier if everything could be digitized. The debunked ones were typed up, filed, and recorded, but the verified ones only existed on paper. Couldn’t be typed up, couldn’t be recorded. It was so stupid. 

Sasha checked the clock. Eleven am on a Wednesday. They were definitely all still working. Maybe…

It was an invasion of privacy. Did she actually care about that? No. Was she worried about apparently being locked into an employment contract with an...entity of some sort that preyed on invasions of privacy? No, although she felt like she should. Was she concerned that Jon and Jonah were trying to turn into her a conduit of this entity’s power into the world, probably gradually turning her, if not evil, at least into a giant dick? Somewhat. 

Words echoed through her mind, and Sasha’s fingers halted over the keyboard. Her powers manifesting differently than Jon’s...her unique skill with hacking…

Well, that was just kind of offensive. Sasha had worked hard for her skills. They weren’t given to her by Jon’s weird god. Also - seriously, a god? It was just a malevolent eldritch entity living in a separate dimension that encroached tendrils into Sasha’s life. There was nothing divine about it. That was just offensive. Sasha was a good feminist, transgender Catholic on the run from the law and didn’t worship false idols. 

It was only then that Sasha noticed a folder on the drive that she hadn’t created. It was labelled ‘For the Archivist’. Despite herself, she clicked on it. 

It held a few pdfs. Sasha clicked on one curiously, and saw that they were photocopies of statements. No - of Statements. She was already recognizing this one as one of those spider ones. She quickly printed them all out, conscientious of how easily supernatural files corrupted, and quickly exited the drive and the virtual desktop.

It wasn’t until Sasha was already in the kitchen and pulling down a bottle of Jack that she realized what she was doing. She sighed, replaced it, and fetched herself some sparkling water instead. She drank it slowly as she returned to her laptop and logged remotely into the police database, which she already had a backdoor into. 

It occurred to Sasha, perhaps belatedly, that if the police found her laptop and the incredible variety of highly illegal programs meant explicitly for accessing secure servers she was probably triple going to jail. This time, for something she had actually did. 

All of the hacking had never felt illegal. It had just felt...well, fun and necessary. It had never been about whether or not she should, it had been about if she could. 

Was that how it had started for Jon? Collecting household secrets because he had to, so secure the money and influence he desperately needed, because he could, because it was fun? 

Whatever. Sasha shook herself. She could have her moral crisis after she was no longer on the run from the cops for murder. This wasn’t the time to be squeamish about something that wasn’t hurting anybody. She knew, as Jon probably did, that just because something was illegal didn’t make it wrong. 

It was easy to log onto the police database and check out her own open case. She frequently checked out open homicide cases for fun, but it somehow hit a little different when it was her they were talking about. Incident, Senior Citizen, Offence: First Degree Murder, Location of Arrest: N/A, yeah, yeah, yeah…

One victim, a John Doe. Foul play was suspected...yes that’d be the gunshot wound. No witnesses. Reporting officer’s narrative...Elias Bouchard and Jonathan Sims the Fifth had walked into Head Archivist Sasha James’ office to discuss work with her when they found the body. Both were shocked and called the police...gun found at the scene had her fingerprints and the ballistics matched...suspect still at large. Friends and family had been contacted, everyone denied knowledge of where she was. Suspect had a noted history of mental illness...great…

The officers dispatched had been Alice Tonner and Basira Hussein. Sasha found that strange: Basira had history with one of the witnesses and the suspect, wouldn’t it be unprofessional to send her out? 

There couldn’t be that many sectioned officers, Sasha reasoned. Even if the incident hadn’t officially been sectioned, because the police report still existed, as a general rule if something happened at the Magnus Institute it was sectioned until proven otherwise. Even if the murder itself was seemingly mundane. 

Out of curiosity, she searched up Detective Tonner’s records. Been on the force for a long time, worked her way up the ranks. Very, very few cases and incident reports for a detective who had been on the force as long as she had. Sectioned, obviously, but even Basira had more official cases than she did. When Sasha clicked on the incident reports, they were extremely spotty and strange. Obvious details were omitted or censored. 

Something cold began to creep down Sasha’s spine. She found the arrest records of the latest four people with official records of Detective Tonner arresting them. 

Almost all of them had entered custody with bruises, cuts, and in one case a broken limb. They all had records down as ‘resisting arrest’. Sasha felt sick. 

There was one case that stopped strangely short. A clear perp, a rapist but one with little evidence, who Tonner had quickly caught. That was where the case ended: the report that Tonner had found his hiding spot, but no arrest, no trial, no prison sentence. When Sasha investigated the perp, she found that he had unceremoniously vanished shortly after Tonner had reported that she had found his hiding spot. A month later, a death certificate had been filed. 

Sasha stared at the death certificate, nauseated. This was who she was dealing with. A vigilante, some batshit pig who had obviously decided that the law was best taken into her own hands. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, but...if anybody looked at Sasha’s case on paper, they’d say the same thing. 

And that was just the cases on record. It was the only obvious instance Sasha could see of Tonner having offed someone just because she felt like it, but cops were good at covering shit like that up. How many other arrest records had fallen in the cracks? How many other dead perps that nobody gave a shit about? How many sectioned cases? 

God, Sasha was fucked. 

She begged off hanging out with Georgie that night, instead staying in bed with the covers pulled tight over her head as if that could ever protect her. Why was Jonah doing this to her? What did he have to gain? If he wanted her to die a mysterious death in the bottom of a ditch, why wasn’t he man enough to do it himself?

Tonner was going to murder her, Sasha thought hysterically, and she was going to pat herself on the back for keeping another monster off the streets. 

And Jon knew. The fucking hypocrite. He wasn’t going to help her. Nobody was. But, god, she was so alone…

The next morning, as if she knew, Georgie slipped Sasha a burner phone over the breakfast table as they both robotically ate quiches. 

“It should be untraceable, but just know that anybody you call you’re putting at serious risk,” Georgie warned, before her expression softened. “This’ll all be over soon, honey. I promise.”

“Did Jonah tell you that?” Sasha asked bitterly. 

“Nah. I just know those two.” Georgie delicately ate a forkful of quiche. “They get bored of terrorizing humans pretty quickly. Now, Michael’s a different story. They’ll terrorize someone for decades. I’ve seen them do it!”

“Great,” Sasha said. 

It seemed to be at this point that Georgie realized she was actually making Sasha feel much worse, because a slightly panicked expression crossed her face and she quickly reached out to pat Sasha on the hand. “But I’m sure they won’t do that to you,” Georgie said quickly. “They love you! Jon especially. Jonah’s just on another of his little power trips right now, he’ll get over it. And Jon, like, feels really bad about this whole thing. He’s been super annoying about it, actually -”

“See,” Sasha said, standing up to clear away her dishes, “I would rather handle an enemy who obviously wants to kill me than a friend whose good side I always have to be careful to stay on, who I can’t afford to ever make mad. I guess that’s the only difference left between me and you people.”

She angrily put her dishes in the sink, where the housekeeper would do them, and stalked to what was rapidly becoming her room, slamming the door. 

Flopping down on the bed, she stared at the burner phone. Tim wouldn’t be at work yet. They could talk. They could - 

Do what? Get back together? Split up? Could he explain, beg for her forgiveness? Did she have to apologize too? Sasha didn’t understand. 

That was rare for her. She understood a lot of things, or at least she thought she did. Maybe she had been lying to herself, about everything: that her and Tim were a good idea, that Martin was sketchy,  that Jon was evil, that Jon was kind, that Georgie just wanted to help her, that there was nothing that Jonah Magnus would do to her, that she was safe and human and a good person. 

God, her capacity for self-delusion was ridiculous. But maybe people needed a little bit of self-delusion to survive. Nobody could live in complete honesty, in full sight of their flaws and shortcomings. You could burn away, living like that. 

No. No time or space for fear. Sasha wasn’t afraid of anything. If she kept telling herself that, maybe it would be true. She desperately punched in a number that she didn’t remember memorizing, holding the phone desperately to her ear, her one connection to humanity. 

It rung, and rung, and one, and Sasha’s heart thumped in her chest. 

Finally, the ringing stopped, and a slightly sleepy voice punctuated the dead air. “Hello?”

“Tim, it’s me,” Sasha burst out, everything she wanted to say to him rushing through her throat and choking her, and she burst into tears. 

Distantly, through the sound of her crying, she could hear Tim on the other side losing his shit, and eventually wrangling himself to calmness. 

It was almost funny, how they could work each other up like that. Eventually, by the time Sasha had managed to wrangle her own crying, Tim had calmed himself down enough that he was able to clumsily try to cheer her up. 

“We’re all fine. Everyone’s perfectly safe. Martin’s gotten, uh, even more annoying since you left, and we’ve technically hired Melanie, which is - not good but it’s funny? Are you still crying? Please don’t still be crying.”

“I’m fine,” Sasha hiccuped. She rubbed at her red eyes. God, she’d missed him. “Tim, what happened?”

The line was silent for a while. Finally, he said, “Is this line secure?”

“Uh - probably? I mean -” Sasha quickly checked herself. She didn’t want to mention Georgie. The less he knew the better. “ - it’s a burner, if that’s what you’re asking, and I’m not the one who bought it.”

“Where are you living?” Tim asked harshly. “Are you homeless? You have to come stay with me, I can -”

“You mean the first place Tonner will look?” Sasha shot back. “No. I’m safe, I’m dry, things are fine. That’s all you need to know.” She softened her voice. “I promise, if it was safe I’d tell you more. I want to see you again. Tim, I - I’m really sorry.”

Tim laughed hoarsely, without humor. “Shouldn’t it be me saying that? I’m the one who thought you were a monster.”

“...yeah, that one’s on you.” Sasha sighed miserably, lying down on her bed, wishing Tim was next to her. “I am, though. A monster, I mean. Tim, I - I’m definitely not entirely human anymore.”

“God, Sash, that’s the least of our problems right now,” Tim said, laughing slightly again. “Can you just tell me what happened? I know you didn’t fucking do it. That dick Bouchard keeps playing dumb and his shitlead lackey keeps on avoiding the Archives. I bet Sims killed that old man, right? He totally did. Martin keeps on saying that his precious Jon wouldn’t let you take the fall for something he did, but I’m not so sure.”

“I...it’s more complicated than that.”

Sasha explained in short order. For once, Tim was totally silent the entire time, letting Sasha dispassionately recite the entire sad story. She finished it at Michael helping her escape, not detailing where she had been dropped off. 

Finally, after a long silence, Tim said, “So this is my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Sasha said harshly. “You were manipulated, same as I was.”

“I’m the idiot who -”

“Yes, you were being an idiot. You should have talked to me, talked to anyone. You should have done anything other than your homicidal partner in crime. You definitely shouldn’t have been buying a fucking black market gun when I know for a fact you have no idea how to shoot. But you tried playing hero and you played straight into Magnus’ hands. You fucked up. Okay? Now let’s try to do better.”

More silence, until Tim sighed. “Can’t believe the Douche’s Jonah Magnus. Explains why Sims is always playing lackey for him. Can’t wait to spill to Martin how his boyfriend framed his boss for murder.”

Sasha chewed her lip, uncertain. She hadn’t shared the details of Jonah and Jon’s conversation too closely - it had seemed private. “See, I’m not sure this is...entirely Jon’s fault.”

Tim groaned. “Not you too! Why is everyone but me and Melanie a fucking Sims apologist?”

“Jon and Jonah are...they’re weird, okay?” Sasha moved to chewing her hair, uncertain of how to describe it. If it should even be described. It seemed so private, so unsuitable to name...but maybe everybody thinking that was how these things stayed perpetuated for so long. “I think Jonah’s kind of, you know, abusive?”

The line went silent again. 

“Wow,” Tim said finally, “Martin’s going to be so disappointed his boyfriend’s taken.”

“They’re just friends! I think. I’m like, ninety percent sure. But you didn’t hear them, Tim. They’re really...it’s messed up. Trust me.”

“Jesus, Sash, why are you defending someone who fucked all of us over like this? Sims is a big boy, he’s responsible for his own shitty decisions and the shitty company he keeps.” Tim snorted. “I’ve heard them talk, anyway. If anything, Magnus is the one always giving into Sims and his little tantrums. Jesus, I just want to throttle the both of them.”

“Maybe you need to get over your anger issues and focus on actually solving the problem for once,” Sasha snapped. “Nobody has time for your revenge fantasy, Tim! We need to fix all of this.”

“Which one is it, Sash?” Tim asked coldly. “Was I manipulated, or was it my anger issues and hero complex? Are you going to decide if this is my fault or not?”

Sasha’s heart stuttered in her chest. She didn’t know how to explain to him what she knew - that it was everything, that it was all of the above, that he was manipulated through his anger issues and hero complex, that Tim had been pushed in a direction but he had taken the steps all by himself. But she couldn’t blame him entirely, because Sasha had been manipulated the same way, and so had Jon and Martin and Georgie, and if she started thinking like that then she would have to start hating the whole damn world. 

“Tim, are we going to stay together?” Sasha whispered, broken-hearted. “Can we even still be together? I love you. I want you here with me. But there’s so much ugliness that’s growing between us. I don’t know if this can be fixed.”

A long silence again. Sasha wanted to be there with him, to read his face, to see what he was thinking. She had always understood him so well, or at least she thought that he did. 

“I love you too,” Tim said finally. “I want to fix this too. I - I don’t know, Sasha. I love you. The thought of you alone, in danger, and not even knowing where you are, is fucking me up. It’s like Danny all over again, Sasha, I can’t handle this. Can we have this conversation again when I know you’re safe?”

“Okay,” Sasha said, and she knew that this was probably the best both of them could do right now. “Are we staying together?”

“...I don’t know.”

“...are we breaking up?”

“...still don’t know.”

“Okay,” Sasha repeated again, and sighed. “I won’t call you from this phone twice. I’m doing the best I can here. I’m safe, I think. Things will be okay, Tim.”

“Sash,” Tim said, “I don’t remember the last time things were okay.”

And neither did she, and they both knew it, and she hung up on him without saying anything further. She lay on the bed, listening faintly to the sound of the housekeeper vacuuming, staring up at the fan as it beat in a steady rhythm on the ceiling. 

Was Tim right? Was she reading too much into Jon and Jonah? It wasn’t her job to fix Jon, to puzzle out his weird psychology. Maybe he was just an asshole without a spine,and there wasn’t anything more to that.

No. Sasha didn’t believe that. This was a puzzle that she hadn’t solved yet, and she had the feeling that at the heart of this puzzle was the key to finally keeping herself and Tim safe. She couldn’t abide a mystery, couldn’t trick herself into thinking that the truth wasn’t important. The truth was all Sasha had. She couldn’t close her eyes to it, that awful and ugly reality. 

Tim...he had been such a bad idea. But he had always been her favorite one: the way he could always cheer her up, his bright and bold smile, his courage and heart and sensitivity and vulnerability. He had loved her, truly and wholly, for who she was. He knew the ugly corners of her and loved them as much as he loved her best attributes. 

Was that still true? Was Sasha turning into a person that Tim just couldn’t love? Was Tim turning into someone that Sasha couldn’t love? 

People changed. Sometimes they changed apart. And for some strange reason, Sasha just couldn’t bear the thought of that. 

Lying on the bed of a grim reaper, crying like a broken-hearted teenager, Sasha didn’t notice that the housekeeper’s vacuum had stopped running. She didn’t notice the knock on the door, or the creak of the door opening, or the gentle rise and fall of voices. She only heard it when there was a soft knock at her own door, and she was forced to roll off the bed to open her bedroom door. 

Standing in front of her, looking nervous, was the housekeeper. Standing behind her was Jonathan Sims. 

He looked pretty bad, Sasha noted clinically. Eye bags, even more pronounced than usual, stood starkly under his eyes, and his hair wasn’t as cropped short and styled as it usually was. It had grown out a little, making Jon look more like a tired modern guy walking the streets of London than a centuries old immortal psychic vampire. He was still dressed in a suit, as he always was, but the suit jacket was off and his dress shirt was rolled up to the elbow.

He stared at Sasha, probably registering every minute change in her appearance as she did his, before glancing down at the housekeeper. “You’re excused for the day. Thank you for your time.”

He passed her something - probably neatly folded bills - and nodded at her as she shakily nodded back and escaped the flat as quickly as possible. Jon stepped backwards in the hallway, gesturing for her to come out, and walked back into the living room. Because Sasha was just slightly too prideful to barricade herself in the bedroom, and partly because she wasn’t sure that Jon wouldn’t break into a woman’s bedroom, she stepped out into the grandiose yet cluttered living room with him. He stood in the center, hands in his pockets, looking over the flat with a clinical eye. 

“Georgie’s sense of interior decoration is as immaculate as ever,” Jon noted clinically. “She used to spend months getting every house we ever lived in just right. Said it was her job as lady of the household. She had never been a lady of any household, of course, not in the way that Jonah and I had once known - but her fun’s important to her, and it doesn’t hurt anybody important.” He sniffed slightly. “You coming to stay here was for the best after all. She’s been lonely, I think.” 

“I’m staying here because I’m homeless,” Sasha said flatly. For the first time, she noticed a small manila envelope under his arm, tucked slightly into his back pocket. “Because of you.”

“I’ve kept your flat for you,” Jon said eagerly, stepping forward, and letting his cold mask fall. In him now was something eager, something almost pleading. Sasha forced herself not to step away. “All of your possessions are intact, and I can get your bank accounts unfrozen easily enough. Once all of this blows over, your life can be right back to normal.”

“Wow,” Sasha drawled, crossing her arms, “how kind. Were you so busy being this nice to me that you forgot that Georgie barred you from this flat because I don’t want to fucking look at you?”

“She’ll get over it,” Jon said dismissively. “She’s been wanting us to make up, anyhow.” He stepped closer again, fluorescent green eyes fixed on her large and warm brown ones, and Sasha fought the tingle crawling up her spine. “Sasha, I really am sorry. Jonah was out of line in what he did. But - but you know, he really does know best. Even if it doesn’t seem so. What we’re doing now, it’s for the best for your development. I promise this will all blow over soon, and things will be better. For all of us.”

“For a subject of a truth god,” Sasha said, voice dripping sarcasm, “you have a unique ability to lie to yourself.”

Jon puffed up, scowling down at her. “That’s ridiculous. I -”

“Does Jonah Magnus respect you?” Sasha pressed. 

Jon...hesitated, and they both saw it. Jon frantically tried to cover, quickly saying, “Of course he does. I’m his partner, and we’ve been partners for two hundred years. There’s nobody on earth he respects more than me. There’s nobody he respects but me.”

“Then why does he talk to you like you’re an idiot?”

“He talks to everyone like that.”

“Because he doesn’t respect anyone but you. You just said that. But if he respects you, then wouldn’t he talk to you differently?”

There it is - Jon’s shoulders hunched slightly, unconsciously on the defensive. “Does he give you equal input on decisions?”

“I always give my -”

“Does he listen to them?”

Jon was silent. Finally, slowly, he said, “Jonah was right. He said you’d get like this.”

Fuck. Sasha’s heart sank, even as her jaw dropped in incredulity. She had lost him. “You must be kidding.”

“He said you’d get jealous.” Jon crossed his arms, turning slightly away from her, but what he clearly meant to be a closed-off stance just seemed defensive. “He said that you’d get upset that I’m more loyal to him than to you. What we’re doing now is for your own good, Miss James. You’ll see one day that this - this unpleasantness is helping you grow.”

Unpleasantness? Unpleasantness?! Putting her life at risk was an inconvenience? “I’ll see, huh?” Sasha said bitterly. “Just like you saw? Just like how you changed your mind from this being cruel and traumatic to it being a momentary unpleasantness?” She barked a short laugh, not very humorous at all. “I was there. He called you stupid, he said that you couldn’t trust anybody but him, and he called you an idiot. Are those the words of someone who respects you? Of someone who even likes you?”

Jon stiffened, mouth tightening, and he broke eye contact and looked away. “Don’t concern yourself with the private business between Jonah and I.”

“When you’re having the conversation over a cooling corpse that you framed me for then you’re making it my business, you absolute shitheel!” Sasha yelled, finally losing her temper. “Your bullshit is ruining my life! Your complete inability to stand up to that sack of shit is ruining my life!”

“Shut up!” Jon yelled, seemingly having taken her losing her temper as permission to lose his. Distantly, Sasha was aware of his stupid this must have looked: two fully grown adults, yelling in a living room like children. “You’re a spoiled child who doesn’t know anything! All I’ve ever done is try to help you, and you spit in my face! You’re no better than Martin!”

Abruptly, strangely, Jon stopped short. He seemed almost embarrassed, almost in pain. 

And just like that, Sasha knew. “He’s not letting you see Martin, is he.”

For just a split second, Jon’s expression crumpled, but he forced it back into his haughty mask. “I decided that it was best I didn’t waste my time with manipulative traitors.”

“Was that your idea?” Sasha asked flatly, abruptly extremely tired. “Or was it Jonah’s?”

Jon was silent. They both knew the answer. 

“If you walked up to Jonah now and told him that you wanted to start dating Martin, do you think that you’d leave that conversation still wanting to do it? Or would you somehow decide, all by yourself, that you’ll end up doing what Jonah wants anyway?”

Jon didn’t say anything.

A strange mix of emotions swirled in Sasha’s stomach. Anger and disgust mixed with pity and sadness. What had Jon been like, before he met Jonah Magnus? Had he been a good person?

But maybe that wasn’t so important. Maybe the question that had to be asked was - what kind of person would Jonathan Sims be without Jonah Magnus in his life?

All at once, the fight seemed to go out of Jon. His shoulders sagged, and he abruptly deflated. He looked down at the ground, ashamed and aware of it. He had always been aware of it. He had just been lying to himself. Maybe it was impossible to live without it. 

“I don’t know what to do without him,” Jon said quietly. “I’ve never - I need him.”

“You don’t,” Sasha said, abruptly exhausted. “You want to help me, Jon? You want to protect me and Martin? You can’t do that while staying friends with Jonah Magnus. You have to choose. So long as you stay close to him, you are going to stay within his complete control. That’s what he does. He controls everybody and everything. And you’re letting him. You’re justifying it. You’re doing his work for him. Everybody around him is - even Georgie. There are two people in your life who are trying to get you away from him, and he’s trying to convince you to cut them out of your life. You think that’s a coincidence?”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed it. Weakly, he said, “You’re wrong.”

“I need your help, Jon,” Sasha whispered, and to her shame found her voice cracking. “I need someone on my side. I can do it alone, but - but I’m scared. And I don’t want to. I need help. I’m scared.”

But she knew, even as she said it, that Jon was scared too. He couldn’t reach out a hand to her - not now, not here. Jon had carried around his fear for hundreds of years, pushing it down and pretending it wasn’t there, and it informed everything he’d ever done. Scrambling for power, exerting that power, desperately dominating even as he was dominated - it stemmed from that fear, all of it. And Jonah Magnus kept those flames fanned, because a Jon who was afraid was a Jon who could be controlled. 

A Sasha who was afraid, who was isolated, who was trapped, was one who could be controlled. 

The realization was dizzying. Somehow, the thought that kept running through her mind was - who’d do that? Who was such a terrible person that they’d go through all that trouble, all of that plotting, just to make someone suffer? Not because they disliked them, not in revenge, not because of any human emotion - but just because it was convenient? Useful?

Because you could?

So this was what power did to a person, Sasha realized. So this was what power and immortality and money and supernatural gifts did to you. It made you someone who Sasha could never hope to understand, whose depths of depravity she could never truly rationalize. To Sasha, who prided herself on knowing people and being able to understand them and their motives - it was almost a relief, almost a blessing, that she couldn’t possibly understand the motives of Jonah Magnus at all. 

Jon stared at her, fluorescent green eyes wide, and for just a minute she could see the fear that she knew was there written all over his face. For just a minute, Sasha and Jon were scared together, both trapped in tumultuous waters that they couldn’t control. For the first time Sasha empathized with Jon. 

Jonah Magnus was somebody that Sasha could never understand. But Jon was, and for the first time Sasha knew what Martin meant when he said that he felt as if Jon had been a good person, a long time ago. 

You can’t understand someone and hate them. Not really. You could be angry, upset, betrayed...but if you really understood someone, backwards and forwards, true hate was difficult to find. 

“I have to go,” Jon said, almost dizzily. He shoved the manila folder at her, both of them having forgotten that it was even there in the first place. He glanced at it, frightened and guilty. “Be - be careful when meeting Jude Perry. Don’t take her at her word. I have to go.”

He fled, as if the hounds of hell themselves were snapping at his heels, and Sasha was left standing in an opulent hallway, clutching a manila folder as if it was a time bomb, completely certain that it was meant to hurt her and cause her pain and damage her, completely certain that she was going to read it anyway. 

Like Jon - what choice did she have? 

But as she stumbled back to her room, as she sat down on the comfortable chair and thumbed on the tape recorder that sat at the desk, the words of Jonathan Sims ran through her mind. His warning. A clumsy attempt at protection. At the very least, a signifier of desire. 

Sasha knew, as she sometimes knew things, that Jon had started out somebody who deeply desired to protect others like him. To take revenge, to grab power, yes, but also to spread that precious knowledge and resources around. He had never stopped thinking of himself as one of those vulnerable people, people who society had stepped on and ground into the dirt. Deep down he had just wanted things to be fair, wanted some justice in the world. Jon, at one point, had only wanted to help. 

Maybe she wasn’t so alone after all. 

“Statement of Sasha James, Head Archivist…”

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 8

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

A/N: I really wanted to write Sonny and conflict with his family in Transgender Bridge so this chapter includes transphobia via his mom and then talk about past homo- and transphobia in Sonny. I think Sonny’s acceptance of things is really interesting, especially given he seems like he’s from a traditional/conservative family. 

June  2015

“Hey, doll. Can we wait and do dinner? I know it’s an anniversary dinner, but this was a bad one.” She didn’t like how his voice sounded. He’d been keeping her in the loop, and there’d been a spirited, to say the least, discussion at the Carisi family dinner that Sunday. His mom had fought him regarding Avery, a transgender teenager, over the phone. The case had been everywhere it felt like, and the traditional Carisis felt that Avery wanted attention. Sonny, for his part, was confused, but between Amanda and Victoria’s reminders he didn’t know a single guy who would wear a dress for no reason, he’d come to realize it wasn’t a choice, just like being gay, straight, or bi.

It was hard for him sometimes. Despite the fact Victoria had always been open and accepting, a result of her mother’s influence and LGBT family members, Sonny was raised that all of it was wrong in the eyes of God. That said, as he grew, he saw how much harder it was for Victoria’s aunts. It started to dawn on him that he didn’t choose to want to be in his body or be attracted to women. Why would he assume someone woke up and chose something that didn’t make their lives easier? He also came to believe that God did make them exactly as they were, and human influence had bastardized the love everyone part of His message. When he stood up to his mother, Victoria was pleased to see the growth in him; usually, he’d have let it lie. 

“Of course it can wait. What happened?”

“She died,” he said, voice tight. “The boy that pushed her is being tried as an adult, but Tor, her parents don’t want it. He’s just a kid. He even drew her this comic apologizing. He got scared because she was different.”

She knew what he wasn’t saying. As good as Sonny was, as much as he’d grown, they’d both been easily influenced at one point. When they grew up, it was easy to get swept into easy homophobia and transphobia. Sonny had said things she knew he regretted as he learned more, and they both knew how easy it would’ve been for him to get swept up in the crowd at that age, trying to prove he was tough and manly and straight.

“How about I pick up the pizza ya like? We can stay in? I’ll tell ma I don’t feel good. I don’t think that visit is what you need right now.”

“Thank you.” They said their I love yous, and she quickly scheduled pick up for the pizza and tucked his favorite treats from the cooler into a box. When she got home, she straightened up the apartment and threw his favorite pajamas in the dryer so they’d be warm when he got home. One pizza and beer run later, Sonny came through the door, and he was visibly exhausted. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, taking his coat. 

“You pajamas are in the dryer.” He let out a grateful groan, changing into them before coming back and dropping onto the couch, arms out over the back. She sat beside him, handing him a beer and opting to sit in silence as he nursed it. Her Sonny was a big softy, but she also knew he’d talk about things when he was ready; that was a change she could rely on. He wrapped his arm around her, caging her against his chest as he laid back. His eyes were closed, but his brow was heavy and his mouth set in a frown. Carefully, she smoothed his hair, and he pressed into her hand. 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely audible. 

“Any time. Thank you for telling me what you needed.” He nodded, rubbing her back. 

“I saw a pink box.”

“It’s an assortment. I got all your favorites. And the pizzas.”

“I love you so fucking much.”

“I’ll call ma tomorrow to get us out of going there. It’s just you and me all weekend, okay?” 

He nodded gently, cheek pressed against her forehead. This case didn’t sit well, and in this moment he was deeply grateful not to be the ADA for this case. He understood logically where they were coming from, but he was also acutely aware of how little Avery’s parents agreed with trying Darius as an adult. Their daughter believed in forgiveness, and he was a kid. His colleagues liked to pretend they’d always been the cops they are now, but Sonny remembered being sheltered and ignorant. If Victoria hadn’t been there to tear him a new asshole when he was 13 and started using slurs he didn’t fully understand, he could have gotten swept up in this type of accident. Lord knew his mother didn’t think this case was anything but bad luck for the boy. She thought Avery had finally gotten the attention she wanted. That had set him off at dinner, and he swore Mia was proud of him, sitting by Victoria as he defended where this may have been coming from.

Sonny, God made him a him. He doesn’t make mistakes.

Or, ma, maybe all those things you like to call trials? Maybe transitioning and dealing with this kind of ignorance is a part of her trial. No teenage boy would wear a dress if it weren’t real. Avery is a girl, and if you can remember Aunt Rhonda’s new name every year when she gets married again, you can at least call Avery she.

I’m just saying, any of my grandkids pull that, we’ll be taking them somewhere. That’s attention seeking behavior, and needs to be taken care of.

If Victoria and I’s child ever comes out and you are anything but supportive, you will not be a part of their life.

You can’t do that. I’m your mother.

I don’t know ma. Making your own blood feel less than? Sounds like real attention seekin’ behavior to me. Needs to be taken care of.

He let Victoria guide him to the car afterwards, but he hadn’t cancelled the next family dinner. Knowing Avery had died? He couldn’t do it. Meeting her had taken a logical belief that trans people were the gender they identified as and made it more serious. He’d known his mother felt that way, but he’d never heard her articulate it like this. Before the separation and therapy, he’d have bottled up how wrong she was, tucked it away to keep the peace. Now? He couldn’t do it.

“Thank you, Tor. For all of this. And for calling her. I’m still so angry.”

“I know, Dom. I love you.”

“I love you too. And I meant what I told her. If our kid is gay or trans or something else that exists that I’m sure I don’t know about, I don’t care. They’re our baby and I’ll love them and I’ll take them to whatever store to get whatever they need or whatever doctor. I’ll beat the ever living shit out of anyone who makes them feel like they're wrong for how God made them.”

“You’re going to be an amazing father.”

“That should be the bare minimum though, shouldn’t it? Loving your kids no matter what?”

“It should. But that can be hard, you know? Like your mom. She exists in that really conservative vacuum. I’m proud of you for changing when you learn about things, not ignoring it and doubling down.”

“That means a lot, doll. People act like I’m supposed to have been born knowing. Our priest was open minded, and I met you. Otherwise, I may not have turned out like this. And that was scary to realize?”

“Bella, Theresa, and Gina all did it too. You’d all have grown.”

“What if our kid is gay or somethin?”

“We’ll love them. If your mom can’t handle it, we’ll keep them from her.”

“You mean it?”

“Yeah. we’ll get close to my family or something. Or have holidays with Amanda and Liv.”

“Good,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t want to, but I won’t subject them to their grandma actin’ like that. The world is so shitty. I want family to be supportive.”

“I know. We’ll be okay. And who knows? Maybe you snapping makes her reevaluate. I had to yell at you to make you start reevaluating things. We didn’t talk for awhile month. That’s years in thirteen year old time.”

“True,” he chuckled, rubbing her back. “One can only hope. You’d have liked Avery. Into photography and comics.”

“She sounds awful cool.”

“She was. And she was so kind. Like she was hurt, but the last thing she did was forgive him, Tor. Can you imagine? He drew her a comic, and she forgave him. Then she died.” He was facing the ceiling with his eyes closed as he talked. 

“Do you want me to be there?”

“Maybe come by at lunch?”

“I’ll be there, okay?”

“Thank you, Doll.”

“Thank you for sharing how you’re feeling.” 

@cycat4077 @fear-less-write-more

[slashscowboyboots]

The Blackboard Jungle: Amarillo by Morning (Part 2)

Part 1

I think I can get all of this out by Christmas (if my Internet doesn’t take a shit like it has the last two days).  Thank you for your great feedback

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket​ @no-stone-no-bone​ @sexcoffeeandrockandroll @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands ​ @smokeandmirrorz ​ @sodalitefully ​ @roger-taylors-car ​ @harley-m-rose ​ @whisperess33 ​ @shawolat​ ​ @80snikki @rumoured-whispers

Warnings: asshole alert, more stuff coming out of the kids, fanfic smut.  All credit to the songwriters and I hope Ian Ziering is having a good time wherever he is

“Is tonight the night?” you wondered, glancing at your hair and smoothing your dress in the mirror.  You were getting ready to go out on a date tonight, possibly with your soulmate.  Someone named Ian Ziering.

No, not the actor.  He was actually a friend of yours, since you’d contacted him on Facebook, dming him a photo of your arm and asking if he had a tattoo of your name.  He sent back a picture of “Hortensia” boldly inked between his shoulder blades and the two of you commiserated for hours.

Eventually, though, love struck.  Ian invited you to be his guest at his latest “Sharknado” premiere, and you ended up seated next to a stunningly pretty actress carrying a flask in her purse, and as the two of you imbibed, she spilled the tea on everyone in Hollywood, delicious and hot and fresh.  

More than a little drunk, you asked her what her soulmate mark was, and she pulled her dress up her thigh to reveal the initials “I. A. Z.,” which made you collapse into stupefied giggles.

“Heeeeyyyy, Sia,” you slurred, snickering loud enough people turned around and stared, “heeeeyy, you gotta meet my friend.”

Ian had Facetimed you, saying that someone had reached out to him saying that he had the same name as him, although he wasn’t a member of Ian’s family.  When he realized this Ian only lived an hour from you, he immediately got in touch.

“Maybe he’s the one,” he said, hope visible in his icy blue eyes.  “Do you want me to set you up with him?”

“Sure,” you replied.  It was completely pointless to carry a torch for Jeff Isbell, his initials didn’t match up with your marking, although he was completely under your skin.  He’d bought you two cases of paste, as well as a sour cherry scone from the bakery across from the school, and because his room was next to yours, you frequently consolidated your classes, often with eye-opening results.

“Miss Teacher,” one of his students said, and you bent down to her.  “I gotta birfmark.”  She removed her shoe, then yanked her sock off and held out her right foot, proudly displaying the TAD decorating the top of it.

“Oh, you said, squatting next to her, “T. A. D.”

She drew her head back, her tiny face creasing in disgust at your horrifying ignorance.  “No, that’s Tad, Miss Teacher.  I can read, you know.”

You were immediately apologetic.  “Oh, yes, of course, um-?”

“Mari,” Jeff gently provided.

“Did you call me?” one of your pupils asked, and you looked into Tad Wilson’s huge brown eyes.

“Uh, no, honey, I didn’t,” and before you could say anything else, Mari lunged her still naked foot at him.

“I got your name on my foot,” she said.  “It’s a birfmark.  You got one?”

Tad blinked at her, then yanked up his shirt.  Over his heart was a small but intricate swallowtail butterfly.

Jeff gasped.  “It-no, it can’t be.  That’s unbelievable.”

You looked at him, his face visibly paler and his eyes enormous.  “What’s unbelievable?”

“Her name-her name is Mariposa.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.”

“That’s me,” Mari giggled, touching the butterfly and making Tad blush.  “Can I hug you?”

He pulled his shirt down and held out his arms.  “Sure.”  They pulled each other into a sweet embrace, and Jeff sat down at his desk and rubbed his hands against his face.

“That would’ve made my life easier,” he muttered.

You watched the two kids giggle and twirl each other around, your heart aching at how adorable and lucky they were, and asked, “You haven’t met your soulmate yet, Mr. Isbell?”

“No, and I probably never will.”

“Why?” you asked, curious.

He looked up at you, and his eyes were so tired, you could have cried for him.  “It’s not a picture, or initials, or even a name.  At least I don’t think it’s a name.”  He dug a palm into his left eye, then sighed.  “Uh, have you found yours?”

“No,” you said quietly.  

“What did you end up with?”

“Uh, initials.   They aren’t common.”  You looked away, feeling a lump aching in your throat.  “I-I have a date tonight, though.”

Jeff jerked his head up, then set his mouth in a thin line.  “Hey, that’s great.  Good luck.”

He’s not who I want, though, you thought, and before you could say that out loud, Tad threw Mari on the ground and ran to you.

“OW!” she howled, holding her head.  “Mr. Isbell, he hurt me!”

“Miss Teacher,” Tad gasped, holding his rear, “I need to poop!”

“Go, go!” you said, escorting him to the toilet in the back of the room.  When he shut the door, you gave the thumbs up to Jeff, who nodded, his eyes still heartbreakingly sad.

You’d agreed to meet Ian at an upscale restaurant halfway between your locations, and when you arrived at Sur La Table, he was nowhere to be found.  

“Reservation for Ziering,” you said to the hostess, and she guided you back to a private table.

After you were seated, you checked your phone to see if he’d sent you any texts saying he’d be late.  He hadn’t.

He was attractive, not as Jeff but not bad, you thought, scrolling through your very limited correspondences and sighing as you thought, Maybe this is what’s meant to be.  You took another drink of water, and another, and after three glasses of it you were ready to leave when he flopped down in front of you.

“Hey, babe,” he said, throwing you a wink and aiming finger guns at you.

“Um, hello, Ian,” you said politely, noticing a lack of apology for his lateness.  “Did you get held up at work?”

He took a long drink of water, then snapped his fingers at your server.  “I need a beer, toots, like now,” he said to her.  “Chop chop.”  He rolled his eyes. “Stupid college kids.  No, I found this new filter on Snapchat and I was really feeling it, y’know.  Sent it to a couple of my honeys.”

“Did you now?” you asked, ice creeping into your voice.

He threw his arm over the back of his chair.  “Yeah, I mean, my hair looked good today, so why waste it?”

On what? you thought irritably, as your server sat his beer down.

Ian grabbed her arm.  “I’d like the filet, well done.  You got ketchup here?” he asked, and you bit back a wince at what he planned on doing to such a nice cut of steak.  He handed the menu back to her, then snatched yours out of your hands.  “She’ll have salad, no croutons, no dressing.”

“I beg your pardon?” you snapped.

“Can”t have you porking up if you’re my soulmate. I need you to eat quick, too, hun, I gotta ‘Stop the Steal’ meeting starting in 20 minutes.  My man Trump was robbed.”

You stood up so fast, your chair nearly tipped over behind you.  “I think I’m done here,” you announced, throwing an arm in your jacket.

“Un uh, I ain’t getting stuck with the bill!” he hissed, standing up as well.  “You make all the money, you’re supposed to pay for this.”

Although it pained you to remain in his presence, you had to ask, “Ian, just what exactly was your soulmate tattoo?”  

Heart pounding and terrified you’d find your own initials, you watched him pull his shirt sleeve up and reveal a cat on his inner forearm.  “It’s pussy,” he smirked.  “I get all the snatch I want.” 

“Good luck with that,” you said, already heading towards the door.  Before you left, you stopped your server and handed her two 20 dollar bills.  “Please cancel our order.  And I’m sorry he was such a prick.”

“No shit?” Ian asked, his mouth hanging open as he held his phone.

“What an asshole,” Sia said.  “Did you hit him in the balls?”

“Now, love,” Ian said, shaking his head, “violence is never the answer.”

She shrugged, flicking her dark hair back.  “I guess you’re right.  So did you key his car?”

“No, Sia,” you sighed.  “I think I’m going to take a hot bath and try to forget today.”

“That sounds good Sis,” she replied.  “I think I’m going to flood his email with VD and ED ads.  Goodnight, honey.”

“I love this woman,” Ian said, grinning as he pecked her on the cheek.  “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Mmm, Blaze, that was incredible.”

“You were like a tornado.  I’ve never been with a woman who had so much passion.  You nearly made me pass out.”  Blaze’s eyes crinkled at the corners.  “That was like angry sex.  Are you mad at me?”

You chuckled.  “No, my handsome cowboy.  I’ll never be mad at you. I-” you wanted to tell Blaze you loved him, that you hadn’t thought about anyone but him since you first laid eyes on him at the faculty meeting rodeo.  

But Blaze was heading to Amarillo in the morning, up from your San Antone home.  He’d only be wearing everything he owned, and your heart ached to watch him leave.  It was heartbreaking that love wasn’t enough to keep the two of you together, that an unseen hand controlling the universe opted to keep the two of you apart.

He turned over, his large hand caressing your face, his greenish eyes questioning. “I what, baby?”

You threw the covers off of you and trotted over to your gun safe.  “I want to target practice.”

After lining up a row of cantaloupes and pumpkins, you neatly dispatched them one by one, thinking about jerks, feeling the bullets leaving the chamber with a scream and watching the fruit blow apart with a happy thrill.

“Well, that was terrifying,” Blaze drawled in his midwestern twang.

You opened the pistol, barrel still smoking, and said, “Little sister don’t miss when she aims her gun.”

[current-mcr-news]

Behind the Scenes: The Umbrella Academy - Episode 1

BRANDON JENKINS: In 1953, a 25 year old director named Phil Tucker had $16,000 and just four days to make his first sci-fi film. The plot? A creature comes to Earth with a death ray and wipes out all of humanity, except for eight people who are immune to the creature’s weapons. He called the film Robot Monster.

Movie clip: With the swiftness of a deadly cosmic ray, the Earth is inundated by indestructible moon monsters. Their ghastly mission? Death for all humans.

B: The film was so low budget, Tucker couldn’t even afford to get alien costumes, so he had the monster in a gorilla suit with a TV for a head.

Movie clip: What astounding technical developments are being made to protect mankind?

B: The release was a disaster. It was widely panned. Its lasting legacy would’ve been that it was one of the worst movies of all time. But in the early 2000s, a kid from New Jersey with a knack for drawing comics saw a picture of the Robot Monster and it stuck with him.

Gerard Way: I’ve never even actually seen the film, but I saw pictures of this creature over the years, and they’ve got a TV set, kind of circular space looking head, and they have a gorilla body, and I was like, “I want a superhero that’s kind of inspired by this.”

B: The kid’s name was Gerard. He’d been writing comics since he was 15 and was on his way to making it as a professional comic book artist.

WAY: I went to art school and I was an illustration and cartooning major, so comics were kind of like my major, and I was like this perpetual intern. I interned at DC, I pitched a cartoon to Cartoon Network, and then I landed a job as a toy designer at this place called FunHaus in Hoboken. But that’s like right when the band took off.

B: That band, Gerard’s side hustle, would become massive alt-punk sensation, My Chemical Romance. Seemingly overnight, My Chemical Romance and Gerard were making some of the most popular music in the world, getting spins on terrestrial radio, dominating music video countdowns, they were even nominated for a Grammy. But while he traveled across the globe leading a rockstar life, Gerard kept up with his first love - drawing.

WAY: So I really missed comics and we were in Japan and we did a signing at a shop, and one of the fans gave me a little marker set and it was Copic markers. They were like the greatest markers that I’d ever used before, and so I started to create Luther.

B: Luther, a superhero with a gorilla body and space helmet who lives on the moon was the very first character Gerard drew in what would become his hit comic The Umbrella Academy. I’m Branden Jenkins and this is Behind the Scenes: The Umbrella Academy. This season, we’re going backstage and inside the making of season 2. The first season of the show, based on Gerard’s comic of the same name, launched in February of last year and quickly became one of the most beloved series on Netflix. Now it’s back for its second season with bigger effects, bigger characters, and bigger drama. We’re going to catch you up on everything that’s gone down in The Umbrella Academy universe so far, and we’ll spend the next five episodes breaking down how the team shot the multi-million dollar superhero production across two countries, and how in the midst of a global pandemic, they managed to finish it from inside their own homes. But first, we wanted to take a look back and dig into the roots of The Umbrella Academy. So today, I’m catching up with the creators of the comic and the guy tasked with making the TV series. We talk about how the graphic novel was adapted for your screens.

B: Alright, so if you haven’t watched season 1, go back and watch season 1 on Netflix. For those of you who just need a quick recap: At 12pm on October 1, 1989, a supernatural event occurred. Forty-three babies across the planet were born to mothers who were not pregnant just seconds before. The world was confused, intrigued, and one eccentric billionaire wanted to find the babies and adopt them. He ended up with seven. Each baby had a superpower, and what do you do when you’re a billionaire with a group of kids with superpowers? You train them to become a crime fighting family.

Reginald: I give you the inaugural class of The Umbrella Academy!

B: When Gerard Way started creating the members of the Academy, he started with the most fundamental material. 

WAY: I created a list of all the things that interested me. It could be anything from ouija board, fortune teller, spaceman, gorilla body, just a list of stuff.

B: Then he drew from that list and started creating these characters. All in all, he would draw seven. The first, Luther, the half-man half-gorilla, was the team’s defective leader. He was also the child closest with their father. 

Luther: Just at Dad’s favorite spot. Allison: Dad had a favorite spot? Luther: Yeah, you know, under the oak tree. We used to sit out there all the time, none of you ever did that?

B: Next, he created Klaus and Allison, the boy who talks to the dead and the girl who can make people bend to her will with just a few words.

WAY: Klaus, he has some pretty serious addiction and addiction is something that I dealt with in my life. He’s also a little bit spooky and supernatural, and my personality in My Chemical Romance was very similar to that.

Klaus: I can’t just call Dad in the afterlife and be like, “Dad, could you just stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?” Luther: Since when? That’s your thing. Klaus: I’m not in the right frame of mind! Allison: You’re high? Klaus: Yeah yeah! I mean, how are you not listening to this nonsense?

WAY: He was kind of my version of Doctor Strange. I find Allison to be the one that is easiest to write and I put the most of myself into Allison.

B: Her superpower is that she can make you do pretty much anything she tells you with a few magic words.

Allison: I heard a rumor you want to be my friend. I heard a rumor that you like Bradley. I heard a rumor that you left me alone. I heard a rumor that you stop crying.

WAY: There’s a bit of a tragic nature that comes with her power.

B: Allison, out of all of her super powered siblings, is the only one grasping for a normal life - career, husband, children. In a way, she’s the most human. The fourth character Gerard created is Diego, a guy with an uncanny ability to throw knives. He’s also stubborn as hell.

WAY: I knew early on he was gonna be the one that was gonna be really difficult with the leader. I figured that.

Diego: You know, you of all people should be on my side here, Number One. Luther: I am warning you. Diego: After everything he did to you, he had to ship you a million miles away. Luther: Diego, stop talking! Diego: That’s how much he couldn’t stand the sight of you!

B: The fifth character, a kid who can travel through time and space, who simply goes by Five. Despite the other character growing up into adults, he has remained a teenager, sort of.

WAY: He was a time traveler who then got stuck in his young body when he traveled back in time because time travel is complicated. 

Klaus: Where are you going? Five: To get a decent cup of coffee. Allison: Do you even know how to drive? Five: I know how to do everything.

WAY: So then came The Horror.

B: The Horror, aka Ben, aka the dead sibling who only Klaus can see.

WAY: I imagined this character that had all these monsters living under his skin that came from another dimension. And he was very tortured to me. It actually kind of hurts him and it’s scary to him.

Ben: Do I really have to do this? Klaus: Come on, Ben. There’s more guys in the vault. Ben: I didn’t sign up for this.

B: And then finally, Number Seven, Vanya, who seemingly has no powers besides playing the violin.

WAY: I was at this cafe in Manhattan when I was living in Brooklyn, and it was called The Sidewalk Cafe I believe, and on the wall they had a white violin just as decoration. And I remember looking at that and thinking to myself, “That would be a cool superhero.” And Vanya was always kind of designed to be a character who wasn’t special, that was going to transform into that.

Vanya: Look, if I was special I would’ve been in The Umbrella Academy. I’m so sorry you got stuck with the ordinary one.

B: These seven adopted siblings forced together by supernatural events formed The Umbrella Academy. Both the original comic and season 1 of the show start at the funeral for the Academy’s patriarch, the eccentric Sir Reginald Hargreeves. We learn that while the siblings ventured away from home as teenagers, after years of fighting and a toxic upbringing, they’ve returned home, back together for the first time in years, and all their dysfunctions and old conflicts come bubbling to the surface.

Diego: He was a bad person and a worse father. The world’s better off without him. Allison: Diego! Diego: My name is Number Two.

B: When he started writing the comic, Gerard was focused on his own strained relationships. He saw his band as his own dysfunctional family at the time.

WAY: When you’re a baby band, you’re in this van and it’s like a submarine but it’s smaller. It’s like a closet that you're all living in and sometimes you’re going on seventeen hour drives, and you have very strong personalities. This dynamic starts to develop between all of the members and you really do kind of become a dysfunctional family. Like, there’s times where I felt like I was the mom.

GABRIEL BA: They know each other’s weaknesses.

B: Turns out, family dynamics was a theme with everyone who joined the Umbrella team, including the illustrator and Umbrella’s co-creator, a Brazilian artist named Gabriel Ba.

BA: And sometimes they say it to hurt the other intentionally and they do that a lot in Umbrella because they’re all angry at each other all the time. And even though I have a great relationship with my brother, I have that. We have a younger sister as well, so she’s very opinionated and she’s strong. I wouldn’t say we fight a lot, but sometimes we- I just know how to hurt her if I want to say something.

B: Family is present in Gabriel’s life more than for most people. He works every day with his twin brother, fellow comic book artist, Fabio Moon. But his work made him an unconventional choice for Umbrella.

BA: In the mid 90s, we moved away from superheroes. We, my brother and I, we figured the type of story that we liked to tell and wanted to tell was more real life, day by day life relationship, this kind of stuff. 

B: Gabriel grew up in Brazil and now lives in Sao Paulo. His brother had been making experimental comics for well over a decade.

BA: But The Umbrella Academy was a superhero book with this day by day life relationship drama, and that was really interesting for me.

B: What excited Gerard about Gabriel was his style. His characters weren’t macho. They didn’t have big ripped muscles. They’re the kind of comics you could imagine being drawn in the margins of a notebook. There's nothing stereotypically super about them.

BA: It was not a straightforward American superhero artstyle. It was a mix of European and more fluid, but also could handle action and crazy stuff. And also, I can’t deny The Umbrella Academy was my first paid job in the U.S.

B: Wow.

BA: For the first ten years of our career, my brother and I were making comics for free. Just for ourselves, just getting [?], if there were any. So when I got the invitation to get involved with The Umbrella Academy it was this whole package of factors.

WAY: Gabriel climbing on board was a huge thing for us because he’s such a fantastic artist. He brought these characters to life. The interesting thing about Gabriel,  he didn’t have to make Umbrella Academy. He was doing really well on his own and making really experimental artistic comics, but he liked the idea so much that he said, “I’m gonna do superheroes.”

BA: The superhero aspect of The Umbrella Academy is really just a layer in the story. I like the development of these characters, their struggles, their relationships, there’s romance, there’s deception.

Vanya: You are unbelievable, you’re trying to dig up dirt on a guy I like? Who does that? Allison: Look, I’ve had my fair share of stalkers and creeps, I don’t trust him! Vanya: You mean you don’t trust me.

BA: And it had the fun explosions and action scenes. So that’s the good mix.

B: The first book of the comic is called Apocalypse Suite. After their father’s death, The Umbrella Academy gets a warning from their time traveling brother that the world is going to end in 10 days. They don’t know how, they just know that it will. And now, back together for the first time, they’ve got to figure out how to save the planet and learn how to look past their differences. Which sounds dope, right? But when it first published back in 2007, it wasn’t immediately clear that people would dig it.

WAY: So one of the things I was dealing with when Umbrella Academy came out was a lot of people in the press before the comic came out saying things like, “Here’s a musician and he’s writing a comic.” They didn’t really know my background, they didn’t know that I’d written at 15, they didn’t know I went to art school. All they knew was that I was the singer in this rock band that a lot of teenagers liked. So, all I really wanted was a fair shake. I didn’t write The Umbrella Academy to become a TV show or a film. I wrote it to be an amazing comic. But we knew that first issue, and we knew it was good, and we knew that if you didn't get it by the first seven pages you just weren’t gonna like it, and I was totally fine with that. But then it came out and then the response started to happen and then reviewers loved it and people loved it.

B: The comic went on to win an Eisner award, which is like the Oscar of comics, and pretty quickly, Gerard gets an offer to turn the comic into a full length movie.

WAY: I got swept up in the Hollywood thing.

B: But it doesn’t pan out.

WAY: That’s actually one of the reasons why there was such a big gap between comics, is because I was really, you know, I was trying- at the end of the day, I was trying to be helpful. If this was gonna be a movie version of what Gabriel and I had made, I wanted it to be great so I put in a lot of time and it kept me away from the comics.

B: But then Netflix hits you up and is interested in making this into a series.

WAY: Right.

B: I guess I'm curious, as someone who just initially wanted to make just a really good comic, what about turning that project into a television show was interesting?

WAY: Straight up, I want to make a great comic and that’s all I’m really interested in. If I can write great comics, you’ll have great material to make TV shows. So let me focus on that.

B: In other words, Gerard wanted to focus on the comics and let someone else adapt it.

WAY: And that’s when Steve came in and he changed things and he ran with it. 

STEVE BLACKMAN: I’m Steve Blackman, I’m the showrunner and I’m executive producer.

B: Steve is a master at adapting books, comics, and film into television. Before The Umbrella Academy, he’d worked on shows like Fargo, Legion, and Altered Carbon, all of which originated from other sources. So he knew coming in that adaptation can be tricky work.

BLACKMAN: At first, I think Gerard and Gabriel, who co-did this with him, were very protective of the work like parents of their baby. And I think I had to prove to them initially that I would love and protect this child that they had worked on for so many years, so here I am, an outsider coming in and they were very nice to me, but I could see there was like, “Is this guy gonna totally screw up our baby here?”

B: Is it something that you can come to the table with Gerard and be like, “Hey, here’s my arsenal of adaptations, this is why it will work.”

BLACKMAN: Yeah, I worked on the show Fargo for three years. Fargo was obviously based on the Joel and Ethan Coen movie from 1996. I don’t think Gerard had ever seen my shows, I don’t think he watches a lot of television, so for him, it didn’t matter what I’d done before. It’s just what I was gonna do in the here and now on this show. I wasn’t intimidated by the challenge but I really did sort of have a sense of I know which direction I’m going.

B: What was your first initial reaction? Were you sort of like, “Oh, maybe I’ve never done anything like this, or this does feel familiar to other work  that I’ve done.” Or, “I can do this, this is right up my alley.”

BLACKMAN: Well, what I liked about it from the beginning was what I saw in the subject matter and I saw a dysfunctional family. But right away, I was very inspired by Wes Anderson’s work. The Royal Tenenbaums is one of those movies that really was always something I truly loved. So, I saw that in this show.

Five: An entire square block, 42 bedrooms, 19 bathrooms, but not a single drop of coffee. Vanya: Dad hated caffeine.  Klaus: Well he hated children too and he had plenty of us.

BLACKMAN: It was a family show, it was a very relatable dysfunctional family show that I wanted to tell.

WAY: Steve’s a great collaborator. Steve Blackman, the showrunner, he had a vision. I respected him and his vision. I realized it was gonna be different from the comic, and I let him run with it because he cared deeply about it.

BLACKMAN: My first conversation with Gerard over the phone, I said to him, I told him one of the words was subversive, we wanted to subvert the expectation of what a superhero show could be because there were many other shows, either on the air or coming down the pipe to be next, and we wanted this to stand out. And that was sort of the first hurdle with me, was to say to Gerard that I could do that and I could definitely make this thing feel special. And right away he said, “Okay, yeah. You get it.”

B: You’ve adapted something like Fargo which is a unique adaptation, right? You’re adapting from a different medium, like a feature film. Does that change the way you understand adaptation?

BLACKMAN: At a story point of view, no, I don’t think they’re that different. I think adapting a story, whether it's a graphic novel or the source material comes from a movie, a book, there’s a lot of care into doing it that the tricky thing is, I need to put my creative spin on it. I had Gerard and Gabriel, who lived with this for ten years, and then I have to come in and say, “Look, I’m going to honor you. At the same time, what is the Steve Blackman part of the show? How can I add my spin to it?”

B: For fans of the comic who’ve seen season 1 of the show, you’ll recognize some of that Steve Blackman spin. For example, the group who governs the laws of time in the comics, the Temps Aeternalis, in the TV show they become the Commission, an entire bureaucratic system running and adjusting linear time. Steve made some other changes too. 

WAY: One of the things that I thought was an ingenious idea was making Ben a ghost that Klaus could communicate with. I was most impressed by that change.

Ben: You know what the worst part of being dead is? You’re stuck. Nowhere to go, nowhere to change, that’s the real torture if you gotta know. Watching your brother take for granted everything you lost, and pissing it all away.

B: Perhaps the biggest change from the comic to the show is the diversity of the characters. Diverse in race, diverse in region, diverse in sexual orientation, these characters on screen look a lot more like what the world actually looks like.

WAY: It’s built into it. They’re all from different places, they’re all from different countries, so I think that’s really the biggest improvement on the source material, is how diverse it is.

B: Steve felt the pressure of both fan expectations, and Gerard and Gabriel’s trust in him.

BLACKMAN: There’s nothing worse than having pre-existing source material and having the fans dislike it. You want to make the fans feel honored and respected, at the same time I felt it was incredibly important that Gerard and Gabriel walked out of this thinking, “He did a good job.” If they hated it, I would’ve been crushed. If the fans hated it, I think I’d also be crushed. I knew I couldn’t make everybody happy, but I wasn’t doing a page for page translation. My adaptation wasn’t gonna be that.

B: The adaption worked. Season 1 was a massive success. In the finale of the first season, the Academy thinks they’ve managed to stop the end of the world from happening, but unintentionally, they’ve actually just initiated it. The moon has been destroyed and its remnants are now heading directly for Earth.

Five: We might as well accept our fate because in less than a minute we’re gonna be vaporized.  Diego: What’s your idea then? Five: We use my ability to time travel, but this time I’ll take you with me. Luther: You can do that?

B: The family, latching onto their time traveling brother Five, manage to escape the chaos. But we’re left to wonder where and when they’ll turn up, and that’s where season 2 begins.

Five: We brought the end of the world back here with us. Klaus: Oh my god, again?

BLACKMAN: It’s a pretty crazy journey this year and I think people will be hooked. I hope they binge the hell out of it and love every second of it.

B: Coming up in this season of Behind the Scenes, we’ll be taking you on that crazy journey with the people who make it happen.

“We hired meteorologists, we knew that snow was gonna come, but we had planned it. We went away for a day, we came back, and there was four feet of snow on the ground.”

“It’s 60s Dallas. Okay, so that’s a very different story for Allison. We have to talk about this somehow. Her experience is just different from her siblings.”

EMMY LAMPMAN: And a lot of people would come up to me and apologize for doing their job and I was like, “Please stop apologizing.”

“That was a wishlist fight scene that Steve had always wanted to do.”

“So we actually had our guys throwing plates up in the air and taking photos of them to try to get these UFO imageries.”

“You know, we have a new point in our resume: Can produce and deliver a show during a pandemic.”

B: Behind the Scenes of The Umbrella Academy is a Netflix and Pineapple Street Studios Production. I’m your host, Brandon Jenkins. Make sure to subscribe, rate, and review this podcast. It really does help other people find it. Thank you all for listening.