#i have arrived and offer lesbian yearning in this trying time

[songofsoma]

My Drengr

fandom: assassin’s creed valhalla pairing: f!eivor x randvi words: 1,598 rating: general

read it on ao3

The fire in the hearth was dwindling, bathing the room in the dim light that cast exaggerated shadows crawling up the wall where the light still reached. It was just enough for Randvi to see was she was doing. She did not want to break away to stoke the flames and restore her full sight. Not when a wounded Drengr sat before her.

Eivor returned with the setting of the sun. She and her crew had looked worse for wear. Many were bloody and battered with sullen demeanors from a raid gone awry.

Randvi had been there on the dock, waiting for them to dismount. The children had seen the boat approaching and ran through the settlement to announce the arrival of their Raiders. Joy smoldered into concern at the sight.

Spouses ushered their warriors from the docks to tend to wounds and soothe bruised egos. The ones who weren’t coupled shuffled into the barracks together. Nothing seemed fatal at first glance and the same number of people that had left were present. That in itself was a win.

“What happened?” Randvi asked when Eivor approached her.

Her mouth twisted into a frown, the movement pulling at the scar on her cheek. It was something Randvi always found endearing. How many times had she dreamed about running her finger along its length, feeling the marred skin, and hearing the story of how it came to be once more. “We were ambushed.” She crossed her arms, drawing Randvi’s attention from her face to the dried blood and torn sleeve. “It was as if they were expecting us and had prepared more men than we had planned for—more than we could dispose of.”

She ushered Eivor to follow her as they set off in the direction of the Longhouse. “What matters is that you’re safe. You and the others have returned with your lives. That is something to be grateful for.”

Eivor grunted. She was limping slightly, favoring her left leg. “Yes, but that still doesn’t excuse our failure.”

Randvi sighed, her boots crunching along the dirt path. “We can discuss that more later. You are injured.” She nodded to the obvious wounds on her arm.

“I can tend to them myself,” she insisted.

“You will do no such thing.”

People greeted them as they entered the Longhouse, forcing Eivor’s protests to be silenced. Too often she adopted solitude, especially when a day turned sour. She would shoulder the blame like it was somehow her fault that someone had known where they were planning on raiding. She would convince herself she could have been better, braver, stronger when she was already the epitome of those traits in Randvi’s eyes.

For once, she wished for Eivor to allow someone else to look out for her, even if it was something as small as tending her wounds.

Besides, Randvi had missed her terribly.

Watching the waters take her Wolf-Kissed away was brutal and it never got easier. At night, she would lay in her bed and not think about her husband who had been away for many moons, but at the blonde Valkyrie that had plagued her mind from the day she had laid eyes on her. She would dream of embracing her on days like this when she’d come home after days or weeks or months of plundering and making a better life for her people. She would smell of salt and blood and glory. She would taste divine and feel divine as Randvi wrapped her in a kiss, desperate to express just how much she had missed her. Yes, every time Eivor left, a little piece of Randvi went with her.

But she could do none of those things and she could not voice the images that kept sleep at bay. Or how she would wake in the night glistening with sweat and chest heaving as the space between her thighs ached for the lover that existed in only her dreams.

Randvi had turned her gaze after insisting Eivor strip off her tunic so she could dress her wounds. It was partly out of respect while also acting as a way to mask the heat blossoming over her cheeks. She had seen Eivor in less before. There was a night when the Wolf-Kissed had one too many drinks and bared herself to the party before a flustered Randvi could wrap her in a tablecloth. She had never lived that one down.

But something about this was much more intimate. Perhaps it was the lack of mead flowing in their veins. Randvi suspected it was her own foolish heart and the insistence of her taking care of Eivor.

Fabric shifted from behind her as Randvi gathered a bowl of water and cloth as well as necessary medical supplies. She was no Valka, but she could bandage wounds just fine.

Incense was burning on a nearby table, its woody scent filling the room. She breathed it in to try and steady herself as she turned around. Any grounding that may have been achieved was quickly lost at the sight of Eivor hunched over the side of her bed.

She wore little else than the bindings of her breasts and trousers rolled up past her knees. The waistband dipped dangerously low, the ties having been undone for her comfort. Lines of harsh muscle were painted gold from the light of the fire and the blood that stuck to now golden skin contrasted is sickly splotches. Eivor looked like one of the oil paintings they looted from kings and lords. Randvi wished she possessed that talent to capture her beauty to hang on her wall. Alas, she would have to settle on savoring the memory.

Randvi came to stand beside her, placing the bowl on the nearby table. She dunked the cloth, wringing out excess water before taking Eivor’s forearm to inspect the slash on her bicep. To her relief, it wasn’t too deep. With proper dressings and hygiene to avoid infection, it would fade into the mirage of scars already littering pale skin.

Eivor hissed when Randvi dabbed at it, wiping away blood until the water was pink. She had to keep herself from leaning forward and swallowing the sounds of pain with a kiss, to promise her everything would be alright, to tell her how well she was doing.

Instead, she settled on a simple sentiment. “I was worried for you.”

Eivor glanced at her quizzically. “Why?”

“I always worry for you.” Her brows knitted together. This wasn’t the play she should’ve made. It teetered dangerously close to the truth buried in her heart.

She said nothing for a long while, choosing to simply stare at Randvi while she wrapped thick cotton around Eivor’s arm.

“I think of you, every day.”

Randvi’s gaze shot up in surprise. “What?”

Eivor smiled shyly, trying to play it off with a casual shrug. “I enjoy our time together and miss it when I am absent. My crew tries their best, but none can fill the void of your company.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Randvi’s fingers trailed down her arm, brushing over the back of Eivor’s hand, feeling the raised skin where runes were inked into it. The touch was so light and hesitant like it wasn’t even there. 

Randvi quickly regained herself, clearing her throat as she stood to rinse out the rag in the water fogged with blood. She had to busy herself before she got tied up in the fantasies living in her mind.

Eivor pulling her into a kiss. Falling back onto the soft mattress. The weight of her body pressed against her own and the heat of her skin seeping through Randvi’s clothes.

She clenched her jaw.

Eivor cherished her friendship. There was nothing more to it. She had to stop reading into every little word.

“Where else are you injured?” she asked, nearly cringing at the way her voice shook.

Eivor peered up at her, blue eyes blazing against the coal smudged around them. “My calf, but I can do it on my own. Really.”

Randvi knelt before her, watching the way blonde lashes cast thin shadows over her angled cheeks. Her hands slid up her leg, the hair tickling her fingers until she felt the accumulation of dried gore. “Can you turn to the side?”

She complied, revealing the ugly slash on the back of her leg. “Axe,” Eivor explained unprompted. “Bastard got me while laying on the ground. I didn’t jump fast enough.”

It was the same process as before. Clean the wound, check for infection, and dress it—all while trying to ignore the loveliness of her physique.

“Keep the bandages dry and change them in a few hours. I will have Valka bring salves to aid the healing,” Randvi said, wiping off her hands with a vaguely clean corner of her cloth. “Although you will need to bathe soon, you smell rank.” Her lips tilted into a playful grin.

Eivor rolled her eyes but chuckled. “Fighting an army of men will yield that result.”

She gathered her things. “Yes, well, if you should need anything. I will be close by.”

And as she was making to slip out of the room, Eivor called her name.

Randvi turned, hand pressed against the archway. 

“Thank you.”

“Of course, my Drengr.” The possessiveness added to the title made her face heat. Eivor’s eyes widened a fraction in surprise, but a smile formed on her lips as well.

Randvi left in a hurry, afraid if she lingered any longer her traitorous tongue would become her undoing. 

[dannystattoo]

‘tis the damn season

Pairing: Jamie x Dani (The Haunting of Bly Manor)

Word Count: 7,191

Warnings: None, other than it’s a little cheesy. Also, I haven’t written anything in five years, so if I’m a little rusty, sorry ‘bout that. 

AU, Dani and Jamie broke up, Dani goes back to America and finds herself back in England for Hannah and Owen’s wedding (this is my AU and I refuse to let Hannah die). Of course, the au pair and the gardener cross paths and hometown yearning AU comences. Loosely based on the song “tis the damn season” by Taylor Swift, but it took on it’s own life after a bit.   Also, image above is not mine 

It had been years since Dani had set foot in the countryside near Bly Manor, let alone anywhere in England. Her au pair job hadn’t worked out, so she’d gone back to America. Then again, to say the job itself hadn’t worked out was a bit of a misstatement. The job had always been fine and the kids had been, as Flora would say “perfectly splendid” (after the whole possession thing, anyway). No, the real problem was she had been foolish enough to fall for someone else who worked at the Manor alongside her.

After everything that happened with the Lady in the Lake, everyone had understandably left Bly Manor. Henry took guardianship of the children, though Dani still helped care for them quite often. Owen and Hannah finally gotten their chance to move back to Paris for a time before coming back to the countryside to be closer to Owen’s mother. Owen had also finally opened the restaurant he’d always dreamt of, which had been a massive success.  This left Dani and Jamie, who moved closer to town, specifically to Jamie’s apartment over the “boring old pub”. Some might say things moved a little quickly, but given everything that had taken place over the summer, it seemed like the logical next step. Staring death in the face really has a way of bringing people together after all. They’d opened The Leafling after sometime and everything seemed perfect, at least for the first year anyway.

While it was true the events at Bly Manor had brought Jamie and Dani to realize how strong their feelings for each other truly were, dealing with the aftermath of those events presented some challenges to say the least. Despite having escaped the Lady in the Lake, Dani had a constant, nagging worry she was going to come back for her at any moment. Try as she might to move on with life, to enjoy her newfound romance with the gardener, she simply couldn’t. She was always sleeping with one eye open, looking behind her everywhere she went, constantly fearing Viola would come not only for her, but possibly Jamie as well. Or worse yet, knowing that Viola could possess her victims, what if she caused Dani to bring any harm to Jamie? In the end, her fears and worries caused her  to distance herself from Jamie. Jamie did everything she could to let Dani know she didn’t need to do this, that whatever happened, they were in it together, but Dani couldn’t bring herself to listen.

One night, Dani dreamt that Viola had overtaken her completely. Viola used Dani as a vessel to continue unleashing rage and carnage on the world, and forced Dani to strangle Jamie in her sleep. Even after waking and being assured by her girlfriend numerous times it was only a dream; she was fine, they were fine, everyone was fine, it didn’t matter. Dani broke things off a few days later, not giving any explanation even though they both knew the reason. The two had gone their separate ways, both completely heartbroken. Dani convinced herself everyday she’d done the right thing. She tried to continue living in Essex for a while, but in the end, she went back stateside, trying her hardest to leave all the trauma of Bly behind.

That was two years ago. Now here she was, driving back into the town she’d run so far to get away from. Hannah and Owen were getting married after how many years of pining after each other. Despite knowing she’d have to face Jamie again after cutting contact two years before, there was no way she would miss out on the wedding. As she rode in the back of the car Henry had kindly arranged to come pick her up, she began to pick up on familiar sights through fogged up windows. Then she saw it: the pub, and if she saw the pub, that meant Jamie’s apartment was just above it. Well, what had been her apartment anyway. It had been a while and it was entirely possible she’d moved out of there by now. Was she even still in Bly? Why did she care so much? She was the one who had broken things off and had convinced herself that both she and Jamie were better off.  

Her question was answered pretty quickly though; at least she thought it was. While she couldn’t see her face, Dani saw the silhouette of a woman with dark shoulder length curls, dressed very similarly to how she knew Jamie to dress. Dani felt a longing ache the second she made the connection. The woman looked back at the passing car and for a second, Dani could have sworn the two of them made eye contact. It was almost certainly Jamie, and this was proof that Dani wasn’t truly over her despite pretending everyday.

At that very moment, Jamie was indeed heading up to her apartment. The flower shop had been closed for the day, a little early due to the obligations that went along with Hannah and Owen’s upcoming wedding. She was leaving the store in the complete care of one of the associates she’d hired on after Dani left - it was the first time she’d left the store in someone else’s hands for more than a day or two and she couldn’t stop overthinking through the list of things she’d dreamt up to go wrong. Her anxiety over the upcoming wedding wasn’t helping any either. Owen had given fair warning that Dani would be invited to the wedding, and a few weeks ago she’d received confirmation that Dani was coming over from America just for the occasion.

Jamie would be lying if she said she didn’t still have feelings for Dani. She tried every god damn day to remind herself of all the pain the au pair had caused her, running out when Jamie wanted nothing more than to be there for her. It never worked though; she’d remember everything Dani was going through at the time and Jamie would find herself justifying her actions, justifying her distancing herself, justifying her leaving as abruptly as she did. Jamie had tried going on a few dates since their breakup, but no one had ever caught her attention beyond a few dates and that regrettable one night stand shortly after Dani left. It also didn’t help that the lesbian population of the town was almost non-existent. That’s how she found herself being set up with one of Hannah’s friend’s sisters a while back, who was now her plus one. If she was being honest, Jamie would have much preferred to go alone as she didn’t see this relationship going anywhere. However, the conversation of going to the wedding together had come up months ago, Jamie had mentioned it to her way too soon, and now here she was stuck in this predicament.  God, how she wished this weekend would just be over already.

As Jamie began to ascend the steps to her apartment, she saw a car pass by, one with a woman who looked suspiciously like Dani in the backseat. She experienced such a longing ache, not unlike the one Dani had experienced at the same moment. She swore they made the briefest eye contact, but she couldn’t be sure. It was probably her imagination playing tricks on her. Seeing as the rehearsal dinner was in just a few hours, she’d have see Dani sooner than later anyway.

When Dani arrived at the Wingraves, who had offered to host her on her stay, no one was home - Henry would be at work for a few more hours and the kids were still a little while out from being finished with school. There was a spare key left under the mat that Dani used to let herself in. She dropped her stuff in the spare bedroom she’d used on numerous occasions before while watching the children and decided she didn’t want to sit in the house and think about how much she was dreading seeing her ex again after the way things had ended. She decided to change and walk to the quaint downtown area to grab some food, seeing as she was starving after the long flight. Dani should have realized that going downtown would only make her more likely to run into Jamie. On some level, maybe it’s what Dani was hoping for. Within minutes, the two ran into each other.

“Pop-Dani, that you?”

“Um, yeah, yeah it is,” Dani said awkwardly, clearly not expecting to run into Jamie so soon.

“What brings you out this way?”Jamie asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

“I just got into town a little bit ago. Figured I’d come and get some food before the Wingraves get back to the house - you know, after the long flight and all.”

“The kids will be happy to see you, I reckon.”

“I sure hope so, it’s been a while,” Dani paused for a moment. “So what about you? What are you doing out this way?”

“I mean, I still live in the same apartment just down the street, but I was getting everything ready for tonight, realized I needed to run to the drug store and pick up a few things.” Dani simply nodded.

“Would you, um, would you want to -“ Dani gestured to the restaurant, her mouth clearly working faster than her brain. It took Jamie a second to register what she was asking, especially given the last time they’d seen each other.

“Oh - no, much as I’d love to, I really need to freshen up before tonight. I think I may be having drinks with a…friend of Hannah’s before dinner. A friends she’s been trying to set me up with for ages.”

Dani nodded, having no idea how to respond. Not that she hadn’t expected Jamie to move on after their breakup, but she was more upset about her mentioning this than she could have anticipated, especially as casually as she did. She knew she was overreacting, but if Dani had wanted to know what was going on in Jamie’s love life since she’d left, she would have asked.

“Ok. Well, I hope that works out for you,” Dani finally said after a moment. “I guess I’ll um, I guess I’ll see you at dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, i’ll see you at dinner.”

The rehearsal dinner was painful, much more painful than Dani could have imagined. Sure, it had been wonderful to see Owen and Hannah after so many years, but as always happens with weddings, it’s impossible to see the couple for more than a few minutes. She tried her best to enjoy her time with Henry, Flora, and Miles, but it was hard to do seeing Jamie there with another woman. The restaurant was small and there was nowhere to get away. It also didn’t help that the kids, too young to really understand that the two would not want to see each other, had a way of continually calling Jamie’s attention over to their table. Both women were doing their best to act as though they weren’t both horribly uncomfortable. Thankfully the second the food was served, all the mingling came to a halt and the gardener and the au pair were seated on opposite sides of the room once again; and once dinner was through, the party dissipated rather quickly as they would be losing the event space soon -thank god.

Dani was beyond ready to get back to the house, but she stupidly offered to stay and help clean up the banquet room. She tried to look on the bright side, telling herself it might afford her a few more minutes to catch up with her old friends. Clean up was quick, and before they knew it, they were dumping the last of the loose ends in the back of Owen’s car.

“Dani! Glad I caught you before you left,” Hannah approached as Dani, who was trying to wrestle an usually large gift bag into the trunk. “Any plans for the rest of the night?”

“Can’t say that I have any- why, what do you have up your sleeve?”

“Nothing much, we thought it might be fun to have a small nightcap at the pub downtown. It’s so disappointing you traveled all this way after so long and I’ve barely been able to chat with you. It’s absolutely expected, but still.”

Dani thought on it for moment, nearly declining as she knew Jamie would likely be invited too and there’d be no getting away from each other in the pub. However, her desire to spend some time with those who had become like family to her over that summer at Bly won out, and she accepted the invitation.

“I think I could swing that. Are you heading straight over?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing that needs to go back to the flat right away. Will you need a ride there? I think there may be space in the backseat as long as you don’t mind wedging yourself in there,” Hannah offered.

“That would be great. I left my jacket and my bag in the banquet room, do you mind if I run and grab them? ”

“Take your time, I think Owen has to take care of another thing or two.”

Dani headed back inside and who should be standing in the middle of the banquet room but Jamie. She was alone though, something Dani hadn’t expected.

“Hey,”Jamie greeted her.

“Hey…I’m just coming to grab my stuff,” Dani said, making her way over to her belongings. She knew she shouldn’t ask, but her curiosity go the better of her.

“So what happened to your date?” she ventured.

“Oh, she left,” Jamie shrugged. “To be honest, I would have been fine doing the whole weekend alone, but you know how it is. Friend tries to set you up with one of their friends, you casually mention the wedding you’re both conveniently invited to, and before you know it, you’ve committed to be her date even though it’s pretty clear nothing’s ever gonna happen between you two.”

“Drinks tonight was just…I don’t know, giving her another chance, I guess,” Jamie explained after noticing Dani’s inquisitive look. “I can’t say it hasn’t been lonely around here since you left. Anyway though, what about you? Anyone waiting over in the states?”

“No, can’t say that there is. I mean, my mother’s been trying to find me a nice boy since i’ve been back but she doesn’t know about the whole gay thing,” Dani explained. “Anyway, I’m assuming you’re going to the nightcap down at pub?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, especially since I live right upstairs. Do you have a ride out that way?”

“Owen and Hannah offered to take me, but I’m not sure they actually have room for me in their car.”

“I can drive you over if you want?” Jamie offered. Dani knew it was probably against her better judgement to accept, but in that moment everything felt just as it had years before. It was comfortable.

“Yeah, that would be great actually.”

From the minute the two women got in Jamie’s pickup, it was as though the last two years had never happened. Once the ice had been broken, it felt like home, though neither of them would admit it. To Dani, it felt even more so once she was at the bar, finally able to chat with Hannah and Owen, hear about their adventures in Paris, and everything they’d been up to since the au pair had last seen them. At that moment, surrounded by her found family from Bly, Dani had no idea why she’d left. Despite everything that had happened here, she couldn’t say she’d ever felt more at home than with these people. For the first time since she’d returned, Dani actually felt at ease. The copious amount of alcohol she’d had since arriving probably also had a bit to do with that.

As the evening wore on, Dani noticed that she and Jamie seemed to be gravitating closer and closer in the small both their group was seated at. All night though, Dani reminded herself it was probably just the alcohol and nothing more. After their long and complicated history, nothing good could come from rekindling their connection. She also had to remind herself she didn’t live here anymore; she had to go back to the States next week. Despite everything she was telling herself, after a few strong drinks and out of instinct, Dani found her hand brushing Jamie’s thigh. Exactly how she used to.  Once she realized what she was doing, she quickly recoiled her hand. Jamie looked over at her, though she didn’t look upset.

“I’m so sorry,” Dani quickly apologized.

“You know, I really don’t mind, Poppins.” Jamie was just getting confirmation of what she’d known all along, even though she tried to pretend it wasn’t the case: she’d never moved on from Dani and honestly, she didn’t want to. Now it was her turn to act against her better judgement. She reached her hand out, fingers grazing Dani’s. She immediately began to think about what a terrible idea this is, but before she could think about it too much, she could feel Dani’s fingers intertwining with hers.  Sure, Dani would be leaving next week. Jamie knew she was setting herself up to get her heart broken all over again. In that moment though, with the love of her life back, if only for the weekend, she didn’t care.

They hadn’t planned it, but Dani, Jamie, Owen, and Hannah stayed at the pub until they were kicked out at close. Some of the other folks who had been invited trickled out earlier, but those four could have stayed for hours more if they were able.

“It’s a damn good thing the wedding isn’t tomorrow, huh?” Jamie laughed.

“You can say that again,” Owen agreed. “Putting a day between the rehearsal and the wedding was one of the best decisions we could have made. Then again, it was fully Hannah’s idea and she known to be full of good ones.”

“Oh stop,” Hannah laughed. “Are you all ok to get home?”

“I just have to go upstairs,” Jamie said. “What about you guys? I know you don’t have far to go, but is one of you able to drive back?”

“I stopped drinking ages ago, I’ll be fine to get us home. Dani, do you want a ride back to the Wingraves?” Owen asked.

“If you don’t mind. I know they live really out of the way but -“

“Did you want to stay here?” Jamie volunteered. The other three looked at her, all equally shocked.

“It just seems easier, is all. I mean, the Wingraves are what, almost thirty minutes away now? It doesn’t make sense for you guys to drive all that way when you’re only five minutes down the road.”

“Jamie, if you’re sure, that sounds great,” Dani said. After saying their goodbyes, the pairs parted ways.

Dani and Jamie made their way up the stairs, stumbling slight as neither of them had sobered up yet.

“Where am I gonna sleep? Your place isn’t that big,” Dani pointed out.

“You good on the sofa?”

“I mean, yeah, I’ll take it but that sofa’s terrible.”

“For your information, I’ve got a new one since you ran off. ‘is better, I swear.”

“I guess it’ll do,” Dani playfully rolled her eyes.

Being back in Jamie’s apartment - what had once been their apartment - was weird. It was slightly uncomfortable, as she couldn’t stop replaying the last time she’d  set foot in this house. On the other hand, just like so many other things over the past few hours, she felt at home. She could still remember all the details of the apartment, noticing what had changed and what had remained the same. Sure enough, there was a new couch in the middle of the living room. Dani plopped down on the sofa, not even bothering to take her shoes off.

“You want to change into something a little more comfy, Poppins?”

“Huh?” Dani looked up at Jamie, already half asleep. She looked down and realized she was indeed still wearing the dress and heels she’d worn to dinner. “I would, but I don’t have anything here. I’ll survive til tomorrow morning.”

“Nonsense - that dress looks amazing on you, but please don’t try to sleep in it. Come ‘ere, let me get you something else.”  Jamie led Dani to her room and went into her dresser drawer. She pulled out a baggy t-shirt and tossed it over to Dani.

“Will that be ok?” Jamie asked.

“This is perfect. Is the bathroom still where it used to be?…I’m sorry, that was such a dumb question, of course your bathroom’s still in the same place. I’m still drunk, I’m sorry. I’m um, I’m gonna go change.” Dani disappeared to the bathroom. Jamie couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. God, she’d missed Dani.

“Damn it, she ran out on you,” Jamie muttered to herself, trying to stop herself from getting too attached to the idea anything might happen between them this weekend. After Jamie changed, she sat on the bed and waited for Dani to finish up in the bathroom.

Oh, fuck, Jamie thought as she looked up and saw Dani emerging from the bathroom. She forgot how good Dani looked wearing her nightshirts and how much of a turn on it was. Unbeknownst to her, similar thoughts are running through Dani’s head. The two sat and stared at each other, clearly both wanting to make a move, but neither having the courage to do it.

Dani moved first, crossing to the other side of the room, grabbing Jamie’s hands and pulling them to her waist. Before Jamie could process what was happening, Dani’s lips were on hers and she found herself leaning into it. After moment though, she forced herself to pull back.

“Dani, we can’t.”

“Ugh, god I’m sorry. I don’t know…I don’t know why I did that. i mean, I do, but I shouldn’t have -“

“No, it’s not that I didn’t want you to,” Jamie sighed. “I’ve been wanting that since you got  here. We’re both drunk though, I can’t do this while we’re drunk. Not to mention we didn’t exactly end on good terms, but that’s not a discussion for right now.”

Dani was silent, though nodding in agreement. After a moment of awkward silence, she started walking towards the bedroom door.

“I’m just um, I’m just gonna go in the living room. I saw some blankets out there, I’ll make myself comfy. G’night, thanks for letting me crash with you.”

“Wait, Dani - would you…would you want to stay in here tonight? I know I shouldn’t do this and I can’t help but think I’m just going to end up getting myself hurt, but god Dani, I’ve missed you.” Dani started at her for a moment, shocked by Jamie’s offer.

“God, I’m sorry, I just made this weirder than it already is. Please, you can say no.”

“I actually wanted to say yes. Are you sure it’s ok?” Jamie nodded, shifting over so there was room for Dani on the bed with her. She made sure to stick to her side of the bed, not daring to cross to Dani’s side right now. Her body fought sleep for a little while before she eventually faded off.

It took the au pair even longer to fall asleep. She had started sobering up and couldn’t stop overthinking the events of the evening. She’d had an amazing time, but this was a mistake. Not only was she clearly going to hurt herself, but now that she knew Jamie hadn’t been able to date anyone since their breakup, she knew whatever happened would likely hurt them both. The more she thought about it, the more she just wished Jamie would have just been dating that other woman. Sure it would have sucked, but at least she wouldn’t have found herself in the predicament she was in now. After what felt like an eternity, Dani eventually fell asleep, her mind still racing.

A few hours later, the sun started poking in through the curtains. Dani woke up, nowhere near rested. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since she’d finally fallen asleep. It also felt she’d been hit by a train. She saw the clock on the nightstand said it was just after 7:00AM and while she wanted to go back to sleep, the pounding headache from her hangover wasn’t allowing her to do that. Dani tried to roll over and make her way to the bathroom to see if she could dig up any pain reliever. She knew where it was once upon a time, hopefully Jamie hadn’t reorganized her bathroom. It was a struggle to get up though; while they had been sleeping, both Jamie and Dani had migrated towards the middle of the bed. Legs were completely tangled and Jamie’s arm had ended up around Dani’s waist. She tried to move it away gently, trying not to wake Jamie in the process.

“Babe, come back to bed,” Jamie said, still very clearly half asleep. Dani sighed when she heard that.

“Sure, call me babe for the weekend,” Dani said under her breath, quiet enough Jamie couldn’t hear her. She returned to bed, hoping that with some relief for her hangover, she’d be able to get a little more sleep. Once again, her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. Watching Jamie sleep, all Dani could think of was the constant regret of running away. The road not travel looked real good now.

Jamie woke up a few hours later to an empty bed. God, how had she slept til noon? She supposed staying out until the wee hours of the morning had something to do with it.  She momentarily forgot Dani had stayed over, but as soon as she remembered she got out of bed to see where the au pair had gone.

“Dani?” she called out.

“I’m in the kitchen! Did you want breakfast? I made eggs and coffee.”

“Sounds great, thanks. How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well,” Dani lied. “I woke up with a pounding headache around seven though, and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“So that’s why I heard up and about so early. Do you need anything?”

“Nah, I found some ibuprofen and I’m feeling a lot better. The coffee helped too. Do you still take yours with a lot of cream, a little sugar?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jamie was surprised Dani still remembered that after all this time.

“What about you? How did you sleep?”

“Really well once I fell asleep. So what are your plans for the day?”

“I need to get back to the Wingraves. I told Flora and Miles we’d spend the day together today. I should actually go start getting myself presentable again and get going.”

“Do you have a ride out there?” Jamie asked. “I can take you if you need.”

“Only if it isn’t too much trouble. I talked to Henry this morning and he said he can come out here if I need, but I know he has to bring the kids with him if he comes out -“

“It’s ok, Dani, I’ll drive ya. I don’t have anything else going on.” The gardener wouldn’t admit this was also a ploy to spend more time with Dani.

“That would be great if you don’t mind. I’m going to go freshen up and we can go whenever you want.” With that, Dani headed to the bathroom, leaving Jamie alone with her thoughts.  

She couldn’t believe how easily she and Dani had just fallen back into it as if the last two years hadn’t happened. The last twenty four hours were something Jamie could have only dreamt about: falling asleep and waking up with Dani beside her, enjoying breakfast together, the domestic monotony she’d taken for granted before. Jamie found herself longing for things to be like this again all the time; even after Dani leaving how she did, there was still no one who could make Jamie feel the way she did. She would have loved to have been able to just ask Dani to stay- hell, she wished Dani would ask her to go back to Vermont, where she’d learned Dani had been for the last two years. She would have considered it. But neither of those things would happen and Jamie knew it was probably for the best. Either would be a mess. Her musings were interrupted by the bedroom door opening, Dani emerging looking as put together as she had upon arriving at dinner last night.

“Well you clean up pretty nice for someone who was nursing a hangover all morning,” Jamie said, perhaps a little more flirtatious than she’d anticipated. “Let me just brush my teeth and throw on some pants and we can go.”

The pair went downstairs, loading into Jamie’s truck. This time it was Dani reminiscing about the past, thinking how right all of this still felt to her; sitting in the comfortable silence, the radio playing in the background, the countryside winding out the window. Even after all this time, Dani still felt right at home. Now that she was back, she couldn’t help but think that in trying to do right by Jamie, she’d ruined everything.

“You know, I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’ve really missed you,” Dani broke the silence.  Jamie didn’t immediately respond, trying to figure if now was the time to pour her heart out.

“Dani, I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve missed you, but I can’t just pretend like you didn’t just push me away for months and then run off to another country with no explanation.”

“You know why I did what I did. I know that doesn’t make it any better, but I couldn’t live with the thought of possibly hurting you.”

“Don’t you see that’s exactly what you did anyway?”

“You know what I meant. I was scared, still convinced the Lady of the Lake wasn’t done with me yet. Do you now how many I times I dreamt that she would take over me and hurt you? Would take over me and kill you? I couldn’t live with myself it that happened!”

“If you’d have talked to me about any of this, I would’ve helped you.”

“I did tell you.”

“No, no you didn’t. Well you did, but you mentioned it and then you pulled away from me.”

“And trust me, if I could change that now, I would. I can’t though, and the most I hoped to get out of this weekend was that you didn’t absolutely hate me.”

“I don’t think I can hate you. By all accounts, I should hate you. But here I am, getting drunk with you, letting you stay at my apartment, letting you sleep in my fucking bed. I have tried, trust me I have tried to date other people, but it always just come right back to you and I know the only heart I’m breaking the entire time is my own,” Jamie felt her voice crack and took a breath, determined not to get into this conversation right now.

“I know there’s nothing I can really say, but I do just want to let you know I’m sorry for what I did, for leaving you how I did. I mean it when I say if I could take it all back in hindsight, I would.”

“Well, you can’t. Listen, Dani, I don’t want to get into this conversation right now. Last night was amazing, we’ll have a great time at the wedding tomorrow, and then you’ll go back home, I’ll be here, and it’ll be like this whole weekend never happened. I can’t ask you to stay and even if I wanted to, I can’t go back with you. So where does that leave us? Things are already getting messy as it is and you know it.”

Dani just sighed, knowing Jamie was right. They sat back in silence after this, except it was no longer comfortable. Both women had finally gotten to speak the words they’d been holding onto for the last two years, both knowing it wouldn’t change anything.

After what felt like hours, though it couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes, the pickup pulled up in front of the Wingrave’s home.

“Here’s your stop. So I’ll, um, I’ll see you for the wedding tomorrow I guess?”

“Yep, I guess so,” Dani said as she headed towards the house.

“Dani!” Jamie called before driving away.

“Yeah?”

“I just…i have to ask, did you ever see her again?” Jamie couldn’t help herself, she had to know.

“Huh?”

“Did you ever see her again? After Bly?”

“Oh,” Dani realized she was asking about Viola. “No, actually and honestly that just makes the fact I left hurt even more.”

Jamie nodded before saying a quick goodbye and the two parted ways until tomorrow.

The next afternoon, Dani rode out to town with the Wingraves. The mood was overall very light, everyone excited to see some happiness come from their hellish time at Bly Manor. Dani should have been excited too, and she was - excited for her friends at least. After yesterday, she’d been feeling pretty shitty about things with Jamie, even more so than usual. Maybe it was finally learning exactly how much pain she’d caused, maybe it was the fact that Jamie seemed to put the final nail in the coffin with their conversation yesterday. Then again, what did she expect? That Jamie would just ask her to come back to England for good? That Jamie would be willing to leave The Leafling and come back to Vermont with her? The more she thought about it, the more laughable it seemed. The other night was beginning to feel like a drunken mistake. For a few hours yesterday morning, she stupidly believed any of the above could have been possible. A distant possibility, sure, but a possibility no less. She tried to put it out of her head and try her best to have a good time. It was a happy day after all.

Dani had finally gotten in a little bit better headspace upon arriving at the small church where the ceremony was taking place, but that changed quickly when she realized where they were. This was a part of town she knew well, one she was in almost as much as the area near Jamie’s flat and all the memories came rushing back. Right next to the church was the school where Flora and Miles had gone for a year before Henry found a more permanent home for them in the country. She’d attended a fair number of school plays and sporting events there that year.  A little further down was the gas station she distinctly remembered stopping at with Jamie when they had taken a road trip a few hours out into the country for their first anniversary, right before everything went to shit. She remembered stopping to stock up on junk food, the euphoria of finally having some time just the two of them after what she remembered had been a hellishly busy month. There was the restaurant they would end up at quite often after both of them had worked a full day and didn’t feel like cooking; the video store they frequented. God, everything in this area reminded her of what she and Jamie had, what they could have continued to have if she hadn’t fucked it all up.

“Dani, are you coming?” Flora’s voice broke her thoughts, Dani hadn’t even realized she’d been zoning out.

“Yeah, sorry. I was miles away, but here I come!”

“Doesn’t it all just look perfectly splendid?”

“It does Flora, it really does.”

The ceremony was small and short, but beautiful. Once everything wrapped, Hannah and Owen disappeared for more photos while everyone else began to migrate towards the venue that would be hosting the reception. Dani noticed Jamie wasn’t placed at the same table as her and the Wingraves, which she had expected, especially after the other night. The au pair hadn’t seen the gardener yet, at least nothing more than making eye contact across the church. Dani did take note that Jamie didn’t appear to be with a date like she’d said. Just as Dani was thinking this, Jamie appeared at the table.

“You lot don’t happen to have room for one more person here, do you?”

“Eh, I guess we can find a place for you,” Dani joked, knowing full well there was more than enough space.

“Thank god. I forgot to update Hannah on the whole date situation and how after things ended at the rehearsal dinner, I would not be attending with Morgan after all. However, since she was unfortunately invited to the wedding before we agreed to go together, we were still sat at the same table.”

“Yikes. Well, we’re happy to take in a stray.”

“Jamie! I’m so excited to be able to sit with both of you tonight!” Flora exclaimed after seeing there was one additional guest at their table. “Oh this is splendid - does this mean Dani’s back and you’re together again?”

“Not quite, squirt,” Dani laughed, “but it’ll be good for us all to spend some time together tonight, I think.” Flora nodded, content with that answer,

“Ah, if only it were that easy,” Jamie mused.

“Yeah, if only. You wanna go find the bar?”

“Please. I thought you’d never ask.”

The entire rest of the evening was wonderful. Dinner and dessert were delicious, but with the team from Owen’s restaurant catering, who would have expected anything else? The toasts were lovely, the music had been perfectly chosen with wordless melodies to set the mood while dinner was happening and some great dance music for afterwards. Before everyone knew it, it was nearing midnight and people were beginning to trickle out.

“So…is this it?” Dani asked.

“I reckon it might be,” Jamie sighed. “Listen, I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been dreading seeing you since Owen told me you’d bought your plane ticket and would be coming, but this weekend has actually been a lot of fun.”

“It really has. Thank you for still being willing to spend time with me. After everything I wouldn’t have blamed you if you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Like I said yesterday, I don’t have it in me to hate you, Poppins. Thank you for an unexpectedly enjoyable weekend.” The two stood in silence for a moment before Jamie spoke up again.

“I know it’s completely against my better judgment, but would you want to come over again tonight? Honestly the company the other night was nice.”

“I shouldn’t,” Dani declined. “Trust me, I would love that more than anything, but I can’t. I know we had that conversation about it never working out between us yesterday and it’s not fair to either of us if I come over tonight and who knows what happens from there. Plus you’re still a little drunk. If you were completely sober would you have asked me to stay the night?”

“Probably,” Jamie shrugged.

“How are you getting home, by the way? Don’t tell me you’re driving?”

“Nah, awkwardly enough, Morgan still gave me a ride here today.  Even though we weren’t going together anymore, she still offered to drive me. You know how much I hate being DD for weddings, so I still took her up on it. Though she uh, seems to have left the party already.”

“Let me find Henry, I’m sure he would be willing to give you a ride back home if you needed.” Dani ran off and returned a few minutes later. Henry was saying his goodbyes to a few other folks from around town, as well as trying to separate the kids from their newfound group of friends that consisted of the few other children who had been at the reception.

“He said it’s fine, he wants to know you get home safely too. Before we get ganged up on by kiddos who are on an obscene sugar high, I wanted to ask if you have any plans for the rest of the week?”

“Just work as far as I can think,” Jamie said.

“Good. I’m sure I mentioned it before, but when I said I was coming over for the wedding, the Wingraves asked if I’d want to stay for a little bit longer, spend some time with the kids. Thing is, if you happened to have any more free days, I’d love to see you another time or two if it worked out.”

“I would love that,” Jamie said. “Do you still have my phone number, maybe we can hash out details tomorrow?”

“It’s very possible I still have it memorized.” Dani stuck her hand out, fingers grazing Jamie’s for the second time in three days. Jamie grabbed her hand right back. They both knew this felt right, maybe their relationship could be salvaged after all. They also knew it was too soon to know, but there was hope. Jamie pulled Dani a little closer, about ready to go in for a kiss, when she was interrupted.

“I thought you said you weren’t dating anymore?” Miles asked.

“We’re not,” Dani said, not wanting to give the kids any false hope that they’d be seeing significantly more of her in their lives again.

“But you were going to kiss, weren’t you?”

“Miles, none of your business,” Henry interjected. “Everyone ready to head out?” Everyone nodded in agreement and made their way out into the chilly evening to the car. Dani could hear that Flora and Miles were walking a little farther behind the group and apparently hadn’t dropped the conversation of Dani and Jamie dating once again.

“Wasn’t that night just so much fun, Miles? I just love weddings. Well, I loved this one, I haven’t been to any others. What if Jamie and Dani get married next? We could all go to their wedding and it would be perfectly splendid!”

Dani and Jamie both overhead this and exchanged a quiet, knowing laugh. If only the rest of the world could be as accepting as these kids. While they couldn’t be sure what the future would really look like and they knew there’d be countless challenges to work through. It wouldn’t be easy, but maybe their love, like the moonflower, might be worth it.

A/N - if you made it all the way through, thank you and I hope you enjoyed it! If y’all want a sequel, lemme know because @90smallaesthetic​ has already asked for one 🤣

[askintothevoids]

The Epilogue:

Roman and Virgil:

They never did get married, because they didn’t want to. Virgil believes it to be a british social construct to control women and the lower class, and Roman believes marriage to be bad luck.

They did get into that huge funky war that we were talking about, and had to put Babe with Protection. After weeks of convincing, Valentine, Mac-Kenzie, and Junius fought by Virgil and Roman’s side, and they won after 5 years of fighting.

Virgil fulfilled his lifelong dream of making Bonner regret his words, and plunged his mother’s dagger into his chest. Something about Bonner that Virgil never mentioned was the fact that the man often shared the same words as his former husband, so perhaps that fueled his anger. After a lot of crying, Virgil came to the conclusion that maybe he’d leave the fighting to Angie, and hire a royal therapist.

There was more to Virgil’s story than that though, he did raise Babe with his beloved partner, Roman, after the war. He made an excellent father. Anne even came back and apologized, earning her role back into Virgil’s and his son’s life. He even got to see his nephews more often.

Seeing that his son is now only 12 years away from being a full fledged adult (to him that isn’t very long), Virgil now has to see that Babe is very different from other children. Honestly, he never thought his own very very dead mother would be assisting in the parenting of his child, but hey, Virgil has to remember that he isn’t always right, even if he can see the future.

Meanwhile Roman pursued his love for music and theatre, he even opened a music program for Oteriphanne, showing the lovely folks the beauty of music that isn’t just only about killing the French and Brits in order to stop deculturalization of their land (though that’s not a bad topic, Roman literally just wanted 14th century vampires to enjoy Spice Girls and it worked).

He obviously, but admittedly very awkwardly, learned how to parent a child. Roman wasn’t as picture perfect as he would’ve liked to be, he did after all accidentally make his son cry many times. Like Virgil, he now sees that their kid is different. His son’s ears are full of words that he can’t understand, but hopes to try his best to ease Babe’s worries and hardships in life.

Through five years of virgous studying, Roman became a quarter fluent in Pterannan. With even more studying and training, he finally became a fully trained Knight and earned his spot next to Virgil with his forementioned music program (turns out teaching a population several new skills, means he bettered the population which is a requirement to become a king when you're not blood related to royalty).

Still there’s somethings that Roman still regrets, he never did come to an understanding with his stepfather, who was his namesake. Nor does he see Remus and his husband as often as he wishes he did. And he kinda wants to buy a cow.

Even after being together for almost 10 years, they still love each other, and yes, Virgil still calls a phone, a magic box because some things never change.

Patton:

After he and Logan adopted the children from the Dragonwitch au that they accidently orphaned, Patton certainly was trying his best to keep going, and he did a pretty alright job.

Patton single handedly traveled across the country from Florida to Indiana with four small children whose identities he had to hide along his.

Once he had made it to the David-Dase residence, he explained what had happened and asked for help, and here’s what happened.

Nicholas and James owned property in rural Saskatchewan, which they had inherited from Jane Phoebe David (James’ deceased mother) and never really knew what to do with it. So in order to keep their son’s husband and their new grandchildren safe, James and Nicholas let Patton and their grandchildren live there. It was a good spot for them, it kept the reporters away from Patton and kept people away from Daniel, Jane, Harper and Buddy.

After receiving help from James and Nicholas, Patton had to figure out how to explain his disappearance to the police so that he could gain some form of normality, and a good enough job to support his growing family.

Stuff didn’t exactly go well at first. Still grieving over his separation from Logan, he did often find it hard to smile for his children, nor did he find it easy to explain to them that they couldn’t out in public without being hidden from the world’s view. It didn’t help when his O’Pa (Janus Van Den Bosch-Brzozowski) passed away from a deteriorating body, it was for the best, but it hurt to lose another parent.

He kept going though. His brother, Patton Reyes-Baker, moved in with him and got a job helping a local beekeeper. It wasn’t so bad, grief can strengthen some bonds. His step father, Remus, visited every so often, it was clear that he probably wouldn’t be around much longer either.

He’s doing a pretty good job raising those kids. Still it doesn’t help that Patton wishes he did it with his beloved. There have been many long nights of waiting and crying. There’s a good chance that Patton won’t move on until old age, which could be a good thing for a certain someone. Overall, if he were to describe it, it’s like the worst nightmare and the best dream ever at the same time.

Patton did get to open that diner, he did get to take his puppies home with him, and he did teach his kids how to ride bikes (except Buddy), but it still wasn’t the same. For all he cares, he’s still a married man.

Hymnthian:

Being one of the oldest motherfuckers ever, Hymnthian is still kicking it. Under Virgil and Roman’s rule, he’s pretty happy. He does find some common ground with his great (times a couple hundreds) grandchild though. Babe’s remarkable ability to hear the dead often comes in handy for a grieving widower. In return for hearing what his dead wife has to say, he teaches Babe how to play To-Ouch, an Oterian instrument.

Janus and Remus:

As you might've heard earlier, Janus passed away. It’s important to remember that death is an important part of life. In Janus’ case, they were fine with it. After an aspiring career as a ballerina and potter, not being able to use your hands or foot can often be depressing. When their body finally gave out, Janus figured it best if their sister took their place. Janus died comfortably and happily. What else can I say that will convince you? Death isn’t always a bad thing.

Remus O’Malley-Gator was a different story. After the death of Janus, he found himself once again lost. He visited Patton, Patton, and his step-grandkids every so often. Remus spent most of time adventuring, looking for some kind of fulfillment. I suppose that sounds bad, but I always write a bittersweet ending.

Camila and Lotte:

After spending most of her adult life in the void, Camila was beginning to feel hopeless. Her sons were already grown and had found their soulmates, while she had still had nothing. Camila wandered for a while, universe after universe, she turned up with nothing once again.

With Janus having passed, their replacement would soon have to come in. And well, she was certainly surprised. Camila had no idea Janus had a younger sister! Lotte had been frozen for over 200 years, and arrived fresh from the fridge at the ripe old age of 48.

Camila had her fair share of trying to tell this beautiful, intelligent, strong woman that she was from a soulmate universe and that Lotte was her long awaited soulmate. Let’s just say, it took her a couple years.

Lotte had her share of pining as well. I mean, Camila is an equally beautiful, intelligent, strong woman who was tall (every short lesbian’s weakness).

She found her footing as her sibling’s replacement eventually, while she didn’t wield a shepherd's crook but having arms of pure steel sure did come handy when dealing with the dangers of the void.

Eventually, you know that their had to be an equally cute lesbian void wedding, where Patton and Roman became cousins, so that’s cool.

Logan:

As the only void dweller that actually only lives in the void, his life, honestly, sucks.

As the years go by, Logan’s hair only gets grayer and his yearning only grows stronger. He builds his tough exterior up once more, with some dull hope still intact. Logan knows the probability of never seeing his husband and kids again, and lets the gnawing feeling eat away at him.

But you know what? He did get to be cool Uncle Logan (his Ultra Secret Oterian Code Name was Protection) for about five years. He loved the shit out of Babe, even taught that boy some french and how to clear his mind even when people’s thoughts are louder than all shit.

Then he had to give Babe back to Virgil and Roman, knowing he should take the offer to live in Oteriphanne, he did.

Nothing became of it, he’s just a guy in a country full of vampires. There’s nothing there for him after all. Logan knows Babe isn’t his to parent, and chooses to keep his distance so he doesn’t crowd Roman and Virgil. Maybe in a few years, he’ll risk his life. For now, he’ll just become a grizzled middle aged man.

[agenzproject]

Love above all

It’s been years. Years since I last felt the comfort in her texts.

I thought I could move on. How foolish I was. I find myself chuckling as I recall old me bravely telling her goodbye.

I stare out the window of the car as the quiet uber driver takes me to the hotel I will be staying in. London is exactly as I expected it to be. Gloomy, Grey and rainy.

Staring at the raindrops falling on the window, my mind starts chasing a train of thought. If there’s anything that movies have taught me, it’s that the heart must always be followed. And my heart, it yearns for her.

I haven’t heard from her since I turned sixteen, which was six years ago. I wonder if she still remembers me. I am sure she does not. Yet, I must satisfy this desire within the muscle that dominates my nerves.

We met through text, on a BTS fan account.

I didn’t even know her real name yet, ‘lover’ was enough to know her. We never shared pictures, yet I saw her in my dreams. I had never heard her voice yet; her words were enough to soothe me. I didn’t even know if she was a girl, yet I imagined being with her forever. I didn’t even know if she was real, yet I led myself to find comfort in my moments shared with her.

Was I chasing a dream, or was I going to reunite with the love of my life?

The sudden halt of the uber pulls me out of my thoughts and I look over to see that we have parked in front of the hotel I have a room reserved in.

I smile and thank the driver, to which he responds with an earnest nod. He is a nice man. As I step out, he calls out to me.

“You sure you don’t need an umbrella?”

I look up to see the sky painted Grey, my favorite colour. A smile takes its place on my face and I shake my head. “No, sir, I don’t think that will be necessary. Thank you for offering.”

He nods once again and waits for me to reach the Valet standing at the front door before he drives away.

The valet, a young man in his twenties with blonde hair and brown eyes, bends down in a curt bow upon my arrival and I nod at him.

As I’m about to enter through the sliding doors, I hear yelling and turn to see a man, who I assume is in his thirties, shouting at a girl who is no less than ten for running out onto the road and playing in the rain with her favourite clothes on.

The exchange warms my heart as I watch the girl nod and the father then lead her over to another building, soft yet angry as he does so. It reminds me of my own father. A strong-willed man with a firm hand on things. And it also reminds me of why I have to be in London like this in the first place.

I sigh at the thought, recalling all those nights he yelled at me.

I walk over to the receptionist and smile at the young-looking woman. She offers me a well-practiced smile in return. “How may I help you, miss?”

“I made a reservation under the name Aqsa Malik.” I tell her.

She nods and after seeing proof of my identity, hands me the key to my room on the second floor.

I leave for the elevator after thanking her but before I press the button, I notice two young ladies sitting in the lounge, close to each other. They clearly aren’t English and judging by the curly hair and Arabic written on the bags, I would assume they are from North Africa.

I feel a smile tugging at my lips as I press the elevator button after noticing the two marital silver bands on their ring fingers.

Inside the elevator, I inhale and exhale deeply, happy for those two women, who seemed only a tad bit older than me.

It is a good time to be homosexual. I hope that this works out for me too. I hope that the girl I came to see resonates with me. I hope she agrees that now is the right time. Because six years ago, if you were born a Muslim female, being lesbian always ended in tragedy.

I was hoping this would be an exception as I entered my three-star hotel room, heading straight for the bed, ready for some rest.

Before I slip into my bed-sheets for some sleep, I play a few songs that remind me of her.

Blue and Grey by V is what encouraged me to confess to her.

Rewrite the Stars from the musical, The Greatest Showman, was the song we listened to think of each other.

Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars was what made me cry every night after we cut communication.

These songs lull me into a peaceful sleep as the soft rain keeps patting my window, giving the room a sense of coolness.       

 

 

He yelled at me. He told me to forget her.

I wished I had just turned the tab off when my father got home, pretending as if nothing had ever happened. But I didn’t, and he ended up reading all of my texts with her, with a long lecture following afterwards.

Being a Muslim with an ex-girlfriend isn’t easy, especially when you’re just fifteen.

“You’re too young to even think about these things!” He yelled. “How can you determine your sexuality at just fifteen! Straight is the natural orientation of a person, drop this lesbian bullshit!”

I hadn’t cried. I didn’t say anything in response. It would have been of no use. Rewa had already broken up with me, albeit she had said she would still like for us to be friends.

I had apologized to my father a few days later and snuck online through another device, from where I was caught later on as well, all of this happening in a span of just two months.

Three months later, I had a friend contact Rewa’s social media and tell her I’m okay.

We both finally had the chance to talk again over Wattpad.

I smiled, satisfied as I texted her a detailed message on how I was planning to meet her, asking her as much details as the online relationship would allow me to.

I promised her that till the day we met, I would sing Blue and Grey every night the moon was visible in the sky. And I did just that.

But then a text appeared on my screen once she had received the message.

‘Aqsa, I think we should break up.’

Confusion filled my insides. Weren’t we already broken up? If she didn’t want to be in a relationship with me, why would she lead me on and sweet talk me like that so much?

I was furious. For a few moments, I had no idea what to say to her.

Then, I did.

‘Wait, aren’t we already broken up?

Did you seriously forget that you broke up with me?

Did you really sweet talk me all that much just to make me go through the worst moment of my life a second time?

Now I know what my dad feels like every time I go up to him with a half-assed apology with no intention of listening to him a second time.

Unless you have anything important to say,

Goodbye, Rewa.’

And that was the last thing I ever said to her. She didn’t answer and I deleted our chats, promising myself to never look back. Oh, how bad I am at sticking to promises.

Maybe I should’ve gone easier on her. She was just thirteen, after all.

 

 

I haven’t sung Blue and Grey to the moon since.

The words come out of my mouth as I stare at the moon, having woken up from my sleep at 3 a.m. My voice comes out deep and heavy, my heart aching with every worse.

Where’s my angel?

I’m sick and tired of everything,

Someone come and save myself,

‘Cuz I am feeling blue and Grey,

 

Everywhere I go, everything I see,

Can you look at me ‘cause I am blue and Grey?

Every time I smile, Every time I cry,

Can you look at me ‘cause I am blue and Grey?

 

Oh, I just wanna be happier,

Baby don’t you let me go,

I feel tired in the winter sky,

I just wanna feel stronger

The tears slip down my cheeks without warning as I sit at the chair, huddling into myself further.

I hope she remembers me when I pay her a surprise visit in the morning.

 

Anxiety is getting the best of me as I stand in front of her college dorm room. Should I knock?

What if her roommate thinks I’m weird? What if Rewa reports me to security? What if she hates me? What if she wants to have nothing to do with me?

I try walking away but then tell myself that I didn’t come all the way from Pakistan just to run away when I am right at her doorstep. I miss her, and whether she does or not, doesn’t matter. I have to see her.

I knock at the door, swallowing down my fear as a shudder runs through my body.

I have to do this. There is no turning back now.

The door opens. A tall, dark skinned, African woman, looks down at me.

It is her.

My breath gets caught in my throat as I stare at her in awe.

It has to be her. Dark skin, curly black hair tied in a pony above her head, and about six feet tall. It is, without a doubt, Olanrewaju, my ex-girlfriend.

Holy shit.

I am not prepared for this.

“Um, can I help you?” She asks, concerned. Her voice is deep, yet smooth as she speaks in a British accent.

I just offer a weak nod, still taking her appearance in for the first time. I try to say hi but it just comes out as a guttural croak. Embarrassing.

“Um, are you okay?” She touches my shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before. What’s your name?”

Upon her touching my shoulder, my body tenses tenfold. She quickly retreats upon noticing my panicked expression.

“I’ll let you inside and give you a glass of water.” She takes a hold of my forearm, and gently walks me into her dorm.

I don’t register my surroundings as I continue to stare at her strong and bold figure. This is the love of my life and she doesn’t even know it.

She sits me down on what I assume is her bed as she walks over to the jug of water on the table. Thankfully, I caught her alone. Roommate isn’t home.

Rewa presses a full glass of water up to my lips and makes sure it all goes down, allowing me to inhale deep breaths, trying to regain my posture.

It takes a few minutes, but I get better.

I nod at her, offering a small smile.

She smiles back. “Now, tell me, what’s your name?”

I stare at her, my gaze piercing hers. “Aqsa.”

There is a flash of something in her eyes that I hope is familiarity and I think I am right when she takes a double take. “What?”

“Aqsa.” I repeat, as if I have no idea what history she might have with that name. “Why?”

She frowns in confusion, her eyes scanning my entire figure before she shakes her head. “Oh, uh, nothing.”

I nod.

“Where’re you from?” She asks. It’s no secret that she’s trying to figure out if I am the Aqsa she knew all those years ago.

“Pakistan.” I tell her.

Her frown deepens. “Where did you grow up?”

I have decided that I’m going to let her figure it out on her own and act as if I’ve never met her. “Why do you ask?”

She shakes her head a bit, then raises her eyebrows. “Middle East?”

She remembers. I nod.

Her breath hitches just a little and she visibly gulps, studying my features carefully.

“Do I know you?” She asks, her voice small and doubtful.

I stare into her big eyes and nod.

She exhales and looks away, leaning back in the chair next to the bed. She folds her arms across her chest, pondering the situation, her expression unreadable. But the tension in her posture can be sensed without having to try twice. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you I’d find my way to you, didn’t I?” I tilt my head, a soft smile on my face.

She clenches her jaw and I can feel the heavy emotion in the atmosphere that replaces her prior concern. “You also said goodbye.” Her voice is heavy.

I pursue my lips in a thin line and nod. “That wasn’t a promise. I promised that I would come to you when I could, though.”

“How did you find me?” Her voice is a bit steady, yet forceful.

I smile. “You told me you lived in London. I have connections around the place. I have the internet. I know you wanted to study mechanical engineering so searching in all the good colleges amongst the mechanical engineering students was the best way to go about it.”

She is looking at me now, her dark chocolate eyes searching my face for something. “You remember?” Her voice cracks as the words leave her mouth.

I nod, trying my best to not get teary-eyed five minutes into our reunion.

Rewa clears her throat and tries to regain her steady posture. “And what about you? What are you doing?”

Ah, small talk. I allow myself to relax. “I’m studying medicine. I’m in my third year. Also, I’m writing.”

She nods and points at something behind me. I turn around to see a small wooden shelf nailed to the wall above her bed, all of my books resting on top of it.

A small smile appears on my face and my jaw stings, an indicator that I am about to cry. “That’s all of them.”

“I had two since when you first wrote them four years ago and then I just gave up, trying to forget you.” She tells me. “But then Noah noticed them and bought more books as gifts.”

“Noah?” I turn to look at her, frowning a bit in confusion.

She sighs and sits back once again. “He thought that maybe I like the writer, so got all the books he could find written by her.”

I nod, that not being what I wanted for the answer. “Who’s Noah?”

Rewa sighs again. “Forget him. He’s unimportant.”

I clutch the glass in my hands tighter, my desire for knowing who Noah was increasing. I am a curious person. I try to shrug it off by distracting myself with something else.

“Where’s your roommate?” I ask.

She looks to the side to see an empty bed. “Semester just started, so she’s out with her friends.”

“You got any?”

Rewa nods. “One is at home due to an emergency and another is probably at her job right now.”

“Do you have a job?”

She shakes her head. “My parents are still paying for me, it’s all going smoothly. They say I have to start paying my own fees when third year starts.”

I nod. That sounds reasonable.

“They’re divorced, right?” I remember she mentioned it.

She nods and there’s an emotion on her face I have a little trouble trying to understand. She seems satisfied, yet in pain, as if she wished I didn’t remind her of her parents. But on the other hand, she seems happy that I cared enough to remember.

“How’s your sister?” I ask, recalling that she mentioned having a younger sister.

Rewa’s expression eases a little as she thinks of her sister. “She’s doing great. Last year of high school then college.”

“That’s good.” I nod.

The door to the room opens and we both turn to see a girl about Rewa’s age standing there, studying me with her critical green eyes, attempting to determine who I am. Her white skin is covered in patches of brown, as if she was playing in the mud.

Once she’s established that she doesn’t know me, she turns to Rewa for an explanation. “Ju?” Her voice is an indicator to the fact that she’s sensed something is wrong.

Rewa sighs. “An old friend.” Then she addresses me. “Aqsa, this is my roommate, Jessica.”

Jessica advances towards me in a friendly manner, extending her hand out for me to shake, her thin lips forming a warm smile. “Nice to meet you. You can call me Jess.” She has a Scottish accent.

I smile back and shake her hand, nodding. “Nice to meet you too, Jess.”

She nods, her curly, red hair bobbing as she does so. “Where’re you from?” She lets my hand go.

“Pakistan.” I answer. “You?”

“Scotland.” She laughs. “Anyways, I have to hit the shower. See you later.”

I nod. “See you.”

Once Jessica is gone, I turn back to Rewa. “Wanna go out for a drive?”

“You have a car?”

“I rented it.”

She seems to ponder over the offer for a bit, as if carefully weighing the pros and cons of going on a ride with her ex. Finally, she nods. “I don’t see why I can’t go.”

The walk towards the rented Honda is quiet as Rewa seems to be deep in thought while I take in my surroundings, not feeling too nervous to notice them anymore. It’s still cloudy outside, but I think it won’t rain till late in the evening.

I get into the car parked outside the campus and Rewa hesitates once she’s opened the door to the passenger seat. She bows down and looks at me. “Where are we going?”

“We’re circling the next five blocks until we get tired.” I tell her.

She whips out her phone and I think she texts somebody that. A faint smile appears on my face. This is my Rewa. Wary of everybody, no matter how trustworthy they may seem.

She then enters the car and closes the door, fastening her seatbelt.

I start the car and smile at her. “You really think a bestselling author would try to kidnap you?”

            She gives me a sheepish smile, a little pink creeping up her cheeks. “You only have one bestseller and I don’t want to take any chances.”

I nod, turning forwards, driving onto the road. “You’d probably win in a fight against me anyway.”

At that, she laughs and that is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard in my life. More beautiful than a waterfall splashing into a river below it. I want to be the one who keeps her laughing like that all the time.

Her laugh dies down after some time and we fall quiet.

“Do you still listen to K-pop?” I ask her, breaking the silence.

“Sometimes.”

“BTS?”

“Yeah. They disbanded though.”

“I know that.” I nod. “Can I play a song?”

“Which one?”

“I don’t know…” I think for a minute, observing the wet streets of London. “Spring day?”

She seems to ponder over it too before agreeing to play Spring day. Once the music plays in the car, something… settles within me. I feel… calm. I don’t know if it’s because of the song or because I’m finally meeting Rewa, but I enjoy this feeling.

The song ends in a few minutes and it’s quiet again. But this time, it’s welcome. It’s not awkward, it feels good.

“Can we be friends again?” I ask all of a sudden.

She doesn’t respond for at least two minutes before nodding. “Wont your dad find out?”

“He doesn’t need to know it’s you.” I smile. “Besides, I’ll be independent in two years and have a job, so no worries.”

“Wont he get you married after that?” She asks.

Why does she care about that? I suggested being friends. Maybe… she’s hoping we can be more? My stomach does a flip at that exciting thought.

“I’ll get out of there.” I tell her. “Do a job here, be free of their restricting opinions.”

She doesn’t respond.

“Will you give me another chance?” In the silence, I ask her the question I have been aching to ask for a long time.

“At dating?” She gets right down to the point.

I shrug. “If you want to. I just want to be a part of your life again.”

“So, it doesn’t matter how?” She asks.

I draw in a deep breath. “I just want to make you happy. I still love you. You can decide how I make you happy. I can be whatever you want me to be. My love for you exists beyond any label this world could slap on us.”

There’s silence again. Then she speaks up. “You’re still the same.”

I blink, eyes still on the road. “What?”

“Before, when we used to text,” She says. “You’d always say something that would fluster me so much. You’re still the same.”

At that, I smile, recalling all the many times I would say something cheesy and make her feel butterflies in her stomach. “Glad to know.”

She gives a soft chuckle in response. “I think we can start off fresh, with you as my friend. I still need time getting over Noah, so-“

“Noah was your date?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is quiet.

“What happened?” I ask, concerned. I swear if this Noah hurt her, I might just have to put ‘become a hitwoman’ on my bucket list, not that I haven’t already considered that.

She lets out a puff of breath, hugging herself. “I don’t know, we both wanted very different things from life. He was too serious about it and I wanted to focus on my future.”

“Oh.” That is all I can say. Noah hadn’t hurt her so there was no reason to be mad. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“So, we can be friends?” I smile.

“Of course.”

I feel all giddy on the inside.

I look to my side and smile at her, slowing the car down. She smiles back, both of us sharing eye contact for a swift moment before I turn back to the road.

I go back to the radio on the car and play Seesaw by Suga, a song and artist we both adore to pieces.

And at that moment, as Suga’s soothing voice instills a sense of safety and Rewa at my side awakes a sense of assurance, I feel complete.

Who knows?

Maybe I can make her love me again, we can resume our relationship and maybe even get married.

Live a happy life.

Six years later, standing at the altar, Blue and Grey playing in the background, as I hold Rewa’s hands, I realize just how right I was.

“I love you, Aqsa.”

“I love you so, my love.”

“I declare you married! You may kiss!”

And we do. A beautiful, passionate kiss, marking the beginning of our life together.

Some tales do have happy endings.

A Story by Riley Gray

[illbeyourreasonwhy]

So Much I Think It Must Be...

Chapter 10: Out

Andi took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the couch, trying to work out what to do from here. She had taken a decision. She was going to tell her parents.

As soon as her mind stopped feeling like it was on fire.

*

Chapter 10 of my Ambi Enemies to Friends to Lovers fic! You can read it on ao3 here and from the beginning here. Hope you like it!

*

“Is movie night over already?”

Andi ignored Bex’s question, putting her coat down and pacing.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” Andi said forcefully, rushing into the kitchen to avoid more questions.

“Okay, uh – there’s leftover pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry,” Bowie’s voice called from the living room.

Andi knew they could tell something was up, but figured they would leave her alone for now, which she was grateful for. She kept pacing around the kitchen, chewing mechanically on pizza, and trying to get her mind to shut up.

She liked girls. Okay.

It wasn’t that big a shock. She had been questioning it for a while now. But there was something about realising it was true…

She liked girls. Did that mean she was bisexual? She really had liked Jonah… she thought… But it had felt different than this, than an all-encompassing and consuming stream of thoughts, this pure yearning tugging at her, digging into her and wanting, wanting… wanting what, exactly? She was freaking out too much to understand.

She made her way to her room, sitting on her bed and trying to mute the constant buzzing in her brain.

She needed to keep busy.

She took a shower. She changed into fresh pyjamas. She ate a yoghurt.

Then she went back to the living room. Bex was sitting in the corner of the couch, a book in her lap, and offered her a small smile.

Andi took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the couch, trying to work out what to do from here. She had taken a decision. She was going to tell her parents.

As soon as her mind stopped feeling like it was on fire.

 *

“Where’s Bowie?”

“In the shower. He went after you.” Bex cocked her head, concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Andi nodded, her mouth suddenly dry.

For the next ten minutes she sat in silence, her mom occasionally shooting her worried looks over her book, trying to get the words out. She played with her sleeve, fidgeting as she tried to work up the courage to say the words tumbling in her head. She was terrified, more terrified than she could ever remember. Of course she thought her parents were going to accept her – this was Bex and Bowie she was talking about, the most accepting people she knew, and after everything they went through this should be nothing – but what if they didn’t?

She had been planning on waiting for Bowie to be back, but then her mom shot her another one of those concerned looks, and it just slipped out.

“Mom, I like girls.”

As soon as she said it, she fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. She couldn’t look at Bex, only heard her move closer from the rustle on the couch. Her heart was beating so fast and her face was hot and she felt like she was about to faint.

“Really?” her mother asked, her voice soft.

Andi could only nod weakly, still not meeting her eyes.

Then Bex said, “Okay, cool. Thanks for telling me.”

Andi looked up then. She had done it. She had come out. Oh, god, she had – she had come out.

It was out. She was out. If only to one person. She couldn’t take it back now. And she didn’t want to take it back.

She looked back at her mom, holding her breath. This couldn’t be it, there had to be more, her mom had to have an opinion on this, this couldn’t be it.

“Cool? That’s it?”

Bex moved to sit right next to her, a hand reaching up to go through Andi’s short hair. That, more than anything, helped Andi exhale. She still wasn’t sure she wasn’t going to pass out, but her mom still loved her. And that meant everything.

“Do you know how I met your dad?” Bex asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. Andi shook her head, still too emotional to say a word, and kind of wondering what this had to do with her coming out. “We were introduced to each other by my ex. Roxie.” Andi stared on, not getting her point, and Bex rolled her eyes fondly. “Short for Roxanne.”

Wait.

What?

“Funny story, she was his ex too,” Bex went on, Andi barely hearing her over her mind imploding. “When we started dating, we actually found out that we had four exes in common.”

And then, somehow, Andi found her voice again.

“You’re kidding.” Bex shook her head, deadly serious despite the teasing smile on her lips. And suddenly Andi burst out laughing. “You dated a girl called Roxie?”

“Hey, she was in a band! That’s always been my weakness.”

She joined in Andi’s laughter after a few seconds. Andi couldn’t help it. It was as if all the tension and worry that had been emanating off her for the past hour – no, longer than that, so much longer than that – had transformed into this dizzying mix of relief, glee and elation, leaving her light-headed with happiness. Bex seemed to get it – of course she did.

Bex hugged her after they had calmed down. “I’m proud of you,” she said quietly, and Andi wrapped her arms around her as tightly as she could.

Bowie found them like that a few minutes later. He asked what he had missed, and Andi almost laughed, despite the lead weight settling on her chest at the idea of doing this again, of coming out to another person. It wasn’t as huge this time, though. This time, she knew she was going to be okay.

“I like girls,” she said.

Her dad’s expression barely changed, aside from one of his eyebrows raising slightly. His eyes flitted over quickly to Bex, before settling onto Andi, a warm smile on his face.

“Cool,” he said, moving to sit next to her.

Andi did laugh this time, the elated feeling back in full force. “You two are made for each other.”

Bowie kissed the top of her forehead. The three of them stayed that way for the better part of the night, Andi sandwiched between her parents and feeling more at ease than she could remember.

 *

Andi was in a daze as she called Buffy and Cyrus, unable to sit in one place as the pixelized faces of her friends appeared on her phone.

“Andi? What’s –”

“I came out to my parents.”

There were a few seconds of silence, then an outburst.

“Andi, that’s amazing,” Cyrus said, beaming.

“How did it go?” Buffy asked.

Andi gave them a full recap, from her realisation to coming out to her parents to going back to her room and having too much energy to sit still, prompting her to call her friends at 10 at night.

“I’m so proud of you,” Cyrus said, and Andi felt a rush of affection for him so powerful she almost cried. She hadn’t even told Cyrus about any of this, but here he was, reacting perfectly as always.

“We’re going to give you at least a million hugs when we get back,” Buffy added, and this time Andi did cry. Only a few tears, mostly of relief, and Buffy and Cyrus didn’t comment on it, only kept smiling at her.

“I have to go,” Buffy eventually said. “We’re leaving early in the morning. But we’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”

They said their goodbyes, and Andi laid down in her bed, smiling. She knew she wouldn’t be getting sleep anytime soon, but it was worth it if it was to feel like this. She was more hyper than she could ever remember, an energy running deep in her entire body. She felt unstoppable, as if anything were possible.

Her phone tinged with a notification, and she opened a message from Cyrus.

 Cyrus: so so proud of you <3

 Cyrus: I’m sorry I wasn’t there while you figuring things out

 Me: you were great

 Me: i promise

 Me: i just wasn’t ready to face it yet when you tried to get me to talk to you

I get it, he texted back, and Andi felt herself tear up again. Of course he understood. This was Cyrus. She felt a rush of love and affection go out to him.

 Me: i love you

 Cyrus: I love you too

 *

True to her word, Buffy greeted Andi with a huge hug that almost knocked the air out of her lungs. Andi hugged her back just as tightly. She had missed her. A lot.

“I missed you so much,” Buffy said, mirroring her thoughts. “And I’m so proud of you.”

She had come over to Andi’s as soon as she arrived back in Shadyside, the middle of the afternoon after Andi had come out to her parents. Emotions were still running pretty high.

She stayed over for the rest of the day, the two of them catching up about everything and nothing, until a text from Jonah lit up both their phones.

 Jonah: I’m back, let’s meet up

 Marty: YES YES YES

 Marty: FINALLY

 Marty: My girlfriend and my best friend back the same day. Perhaps miracles do exist

 TJ: rude

 Marty: How many times do I have to tell you

 Marty: You’re both my best friends

 Jonah: anyways

 Jonah: where are we meeting up?

Buffy rolled her eyes over at Andi, who just grinned. She didn’t think anything could dampen her mood today.

 Buffy: if you guys are done

 Buffy: I’m at Andi’s, she says you can all come over

 TJ: except for me and cy

 TJ: we’re excluded from everything

 Buffy: forgive me for not feeling bad for you two living your best life on the coast in a 4 star hotel

 TJ: smh

 *

Everyone did end up coming over to Andi’s, even Amber. She and Andi watched in fascination as Marty ran as fast as he could to pick Buffy up and spin her in his arms, a bright smile on both their faces.

“What was up with you leaving so fast yesterday?” she asked.

“I, uh, remembered I had something to tell my parents,” Andi stammered.

Amber raised an eyebrow. “Fine, keep your secrets, Mack.”

But Andi found that she really, really didn’t want to. She wanted to tell Amber, she wanted to tell everyone. And yet… There was still this feeling buried deep inside of her, the fear of bearing this part of herself again and it not going well. She knew it was irrational (Amber was a lesbian, for goodness’ sake, and three of their friends were also gay), but, well, she wasn’t known for being rational, was she?

She was spared from answering by Jonah walking through the door. Marty let out a roar of delight before rushing over so the two of them could proceed to do a very complicated handshake that lasted a good fifteen seconds. Buffy just stared in consternation the whole time.

They all crowded in the living room, Andi and Jonah ending up sitting on the floor when the couch couldn’t fit all of them. Andi and Amber listened to everyone recapping their holidays; Amber told everyone about Andi’s contest coming up, which prompted Buffy to say that they would all come to see the results; Jonah announced an upcoming gig. It wasn’t until Marty mentioned that they should all get together for a new movie night soon that Andi was reminded of what had happened the previous night.

She shot a look at Buffy, who just gave her a supportive smile. It’s your choice, I’ll support you no matter what, she seemed to be telling her.

Andi looked around at all her friends. Her heart was beating irrationally fast again, like it had every time before she attempted to come out, but she wasn’t worried, not really. These were her friends, the people she loved the most in the world. It was going to be okay.

So she straightened up, opened her mouth, and said, “You know how I left in the middle of the show last night?”

Jonah looked clueless, but Amber, Marty and Iris turned to look at her curiously. It was obvious that they had been concerned but decided not to mention anything (at least, in Iris and Marty’s cases).

“It’s because…” The words wouldn’t come out and Andi panicked, searching for Buffy, who nodded, and managed a small smile. Andi took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, and then she said it. “It’s because I realised that I like girls.”

There was a short stunned silence. Then Marty said, “Oooh, that makes sense,” and suddenly everyone was talking.

Jonah and Marty both hugged her, Iris joked that she hadn’t meant to awaken anything in her, and Amber just watched, giving her an unreadable look when Andi met her eyes.

“Anyways,” Buffy said once the excitement died down. “Food?”

The crew made their way to the kitchen, raiding the fridge. Andi made a mental note to pay Bex and Bowie back for a few of the things that would have mysteriously disappeared when they got back from the gym.

“Hey, Jonah,” Marty called, “what does it say about you that all three of your ex-girlfriends ended up being lesbians?”

Jonah gave him a look while everyone roared with laughter.

“Hey, I think I like boys, too,” Andi said. She caught Amber’s eye, who smiled almost shyly, looking down. “I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.”

Amber gave her a tiny smile, something in her eyes that Andi couldn’t describe, and Andi’s heart skipped a beat.

The group separated not long after that; Iris said that she had to get going if she wanted to pick up Natalie from her ultimate frisbee practise, which prompted Jonah to go with her so that he could see his friend again. Marty and Buffy decided to go to the Spoon so that they could catch up.

Which left Andi with Amber.

“I, uh, I can go too, if you want,” Amber said after a few moments.

“You don’t have to,” Andi said, and was surprised to find that she meant it.

Amber smiled at that. She didn’t seem to be able to look at Andi directly in the eye, always looking away after a few seconds, but her gaze always seemed to find her anyways.

“No, it’s fine, I should go,” she said eventually. Andi nodded, a little disappointed. “But, uh…” She hesitated, looking away from Andi again. “I just wanted to say that I’m glad you worked it out.”

“You mean you knew?”

Amber blushed. “No, I just meant that I’ve been through trying to figure yourself out, and I know it’s not always fun. Or easy.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “If you… want to talk about it, or anything, I’m there. No pressure.”

Andi looked down, touched. “Thanks.”

Amber smiled. “I’ll see you around.”

Andi walked her to the door; Amber left and Andi went back inside, catching herself looking back at the other girl as she walked away.

[ezeelife-blog1]

Kissing Boys, Dreaming Girls

Me.

Since the age of 5 I knew I was different.

I mean, I was the same as other kids when it came to toys, cartoons, films and music…but when it came to who I wanted to play with, and get a cuddle from…it was always about girls.

But this was weird! Every romantic scene on TV would involve a boy and a girl – never a girl and another girl. So what was wrong with me? Surely I needed to stop these feelings, and try and be ‘normal’.

This is my earliest memory how I would suppress my true self. And I became really good at it. So much so, I forced myself to find guys attractive. And it worked. I had crushes on boy bands, actors, even the odd friend at school.

Year 8, and I had my first boyfriend. Michael was a cool guy, one of the coolest in my year. We broke up after a week – actually after our first kiss (which was awful!!). I remember thinking how much I wished it was nicer, because then I could stop thinking about girls. But I didn’t. I knew kissing a girl would have been nicer, softer, and way more exciting than what I had just experienced.

And so I carried on through my school and university years this way. Dating boys, but dreaming girls.

Not once did I ever cross paths with another lesbian…not once!

My mum.

Me and my mother shared a wonderful relationship (I realise I used the past tense in that sentence). Really wonderful. Home was cosy because of her. Our house was full of laughter. Dad was at work most of the time, and so me, mum and my sister would just have fun every day.

Growing up in a Mauritian household was very different to anything my friends would tell me about. We were unique. Different language, mindsets…we dipped in and out of our Muslim religion. I grew up knowing I was Muslim, and yet knowing it was ok to drink (my Dad loved his Guinness), it was ok to dance, and it was ok to have fun. BUT, some things were not ok. Like it wasn’t ok to go out clubbing, it wasn’t ok to embarrass your parents, and it definitelywas not ok to be gay.

Mum was always proud of my sister and me. On the phone she would always take pride in saying to her mates ‘Yes, well as least my girls are sensible…No, they would never embarrass us like that…’

Once my mum even asked me why I didn’t have a boyfriend. I was at uni at the time, and flippantly replied ‘because I don’t like boys’. Her face was an absolute picture of horror. She looked at me and asked ‘Oh my god, you’re not a lesbian are you???’. That was my chance. But no, her face frightened me. I couldn’t tell her, and make her face stay like that forever! So I simply replied: ‘No, I mean I don’t like the boys I have met.’

The marriage.

Fast forward a few years, and the inevitable happened…I got married. To be fair I did fall in love with a man. And did agree to marry him (for the sake of this story I will call him Nestor). By then I had accepted that this was the life I had to lead. So, I did it. I let the normal life I was conditioned to lead. I can’t complain. I was very lucky, I had a lovely life. The best thing from this life was the birth of my daughter. It was the most wonderful moment, and the best thing that had ever happened to me at that point of my life. I fell into the role of being a mother easily. Of course, the beginning was tough, but once I had settled into motherhood – it was wonderful. I returned to work part-time after a year at home. I struggled with the idea, do I become a full-time stay at home mum, or do I return to work and try the ‘working-mum’ thing? I chose the latter – and this is the decision that would change my life forever.

Work.

I worked in a courthouse, part-time to begin with. When my daughter turned 3 I started full-time. I loved my job. Loved the people, loved the work, and loved being a working mum. I would finish work at a reasonable time, collect my daughter from the grandparents and rush home to play. When her father would arrive home, it would be bedtime for her, dinner time for us, then a relaxing evening of chillaxing. I lived a fantasy in my mind though. In my mind, at night, I was gay. My life was as it was, but I was with a woman. She was a faceless woman (I am aware this sounds scary), I simply couldn’t picture what she looked like. I can’t explain why it was that I chose to live this way in my mind. I wasn’t unhappy in my real life, but there was something cosy about living a fantasy life at night. It genuinely made me contently fall asleep, just thinking of being in a woman’s arms.

This was how life went on, and while it did something strange started to happen. Me and my husband (sounds weird using that term now!) started to do our own thing. I enjoyed hobbies such as fitness and gardening, whilst he enjoyed studying and playing videogames. It didn’t bother us that we enjoyed our own company, because that was us. We enjoyed hanging out with one another, but did our own thing. It didn’t matter if he was out on a Friday night, because I LOVED my own company. BUT, this led to a new hobby…

Books.

I have always loved to read. But my Kindle offered me something new. The ability to search and buy a new book at any time of the day (or night). One evening I stumbled upon a new book of my favourite genre: murder-mystery. However, this one was different. The main character was a lesbian. I couldn’t believe it. A lesbian, an actual lesbian. Until now, these women had only existed in my mind – and maybe in the odd movie. But to read about her in a book, left nothing to the imagination (especially the naughty bits). I had unlocked a gate. I started reading one after the other. Every night, after all the chores of the evening were done, out came the books. And to be honest, I did love the murder/mystery elements, but it was the romance between the characters of every book that would capture me each time.

My fantasies started to grow. All of a sudden I wasn’t dreaming about women at night to help me sleep, but I was day-dreaming about women. Where it had previously been ok to live a life with my husband where it was cool to do our own thing in the evenings. I found myself looking forward to those moments, yet feeling sad that I was missing out on something that I wanted with someone else. No one in particular mind, just another being…a female being.

Erin.

It sounds cliché. But not once did I go searching for her, she just appeared one day – at work. For years I worked there and not once did my eyes ever stray onto anyone. Sure, you might check the crowd for a hot woman, but not oncewas there ever a hot woman where I worked. Until one morning, driving into work, I was stopped by an officer of the court directing a van into the building. She was beautiful. Literally took my breath way (again, I am aware everything I am saying is cliché – but it is all true!). just as quickly as she appeared, she quickly disappeared into the building. And I never saw her again for months. Again, I was a married woman, so I was never going to seek her out, nor was I ever going to ask around about the hot newbie woman. It just wasn’t something I would ever do to my husband. I respected him and my daughter too much.

But…my fantasy woman finally had a face! I don’t know what it was about her. But her face soon became implanted in my mind. I would think about her a lot. I’d wonder what she was like as a person, was she funny, what her voice sounded like. It was a proper crush. My first realcrush because let’s face it, my Angelina Jolie crush clearly didn’t count.

Busy months went by, birthdays, engagements, work, typical life stuffs. One day during a long court case, I was ploughing away through paperwork, when I looked up and saw her! She was there at the back of the room. Where she came from, and when she walked in I did not know, yet there she was. She was truly beautiful. We locked eyes for a split second. So quick, till this day I still don’t know whether it happened or not. All those books I had read suddenly made sense. Reading them you would think that a lot of it is made up, and so cheesy. But god, it was all true. True beauty can literally stop you in your tracks. Make your heart thump. And make you forget yourself. But of course, I was married, so in my head and heart although I had never felt this way about a woman before, I was able to draw a line and just appreciate her for who she was – but more importantly, the wonderful feeling she had given me. She truly helped me unlock a gate I never thought could be unlocked. And that’s all I needed.

By the end of the day I had learned her name. Of course, me being the friendly person I am, I had to introduce myself to her, the way I’d do to all the new people I’d meet. Her first words to me weren’t great – she thought I was another woman who worked with me! I corrected her with my name, saw she was a little embarrassed and made a little joke to let her know it was ok.

That was it. For the rest of the day I felt like I was on cloud nine. At home I was able to carry on as normal, putting my daughter to bed, cooking dinner and doing all the usual things. But in the evening, I fell asleep smiling. The stories I read were true. Beautiful women do exist, and I was clearly gay.

Coming out to myself.

I have struggled to sit and write this chapter, for many reasons. Having spent years pushing down my true feelings, it was overwhelming for them to resurface in such a powerful and real way. I experienced a mixture of emotions. Happiness. Light-bulb moment that I was gay and couldn’t hide it anymore. Guilt. Sadness. All mixed into one. It sucked. In life, I thought I was happy, my daughter made me happy, and my husband provided a life for us. Nestor was my best friend, and we made a wonderful home based on that. We had fun. But on my part, my daughter was the glue to all that. My yearning for being with a woman had somehow shot out of my mind and morphed into the real world. But I wasn’t the type of person who would ever act on that. I believed in the notion of marriage. I frowned upon people who would flirt, or took it further with others, when they were married. For me when you were committed to someone, then that was that. Plus, I wasn’t suffering in my marriage, I just felt there was no connection there anymore.

Erin…again.

All of a sudden she was everywhere. After almost a year of working together, we kept on bumping into each other. She would end up being in my courtroom just by chance. We would spend every available minute chatting away. She was funny. And had a wonderful outlook on life. She found me fascinating. She had never met a Muslim woman, so found it fascinating that I was nothing like she had read in news. I didn’t wear a hijab, yet I was fasting for Ramadan. I didn’t wear a hijab, yet I spoke and acted like a normal human being. Nothing like the media portrayed Muslim women. We would spend hours talking about her life, my life, and just life in general. She was wonderful.

My religion.

Backtracking a little I know. But religion has always been something at the forefront of my life – and yet it never felt like I was religious as my friends at school. Firstly, no one in my immediate family wore hijabs (the headscarf), or had a beard. My dad enjoyed the occasional Guinness during the weekends, and my mum loved to party and entertain guests. Behaviour that you would not expect from a Muslim family. However, during Ramadan my mum, my sister and me would always keep our fasts. We would pray, listen to holy music, not watch tv, and do all the things that a typical Muslim family would do. But then after Eid, things would go back as they were.

My family, however, were very traditional. Where they lacked in following their faith, they made up by following their culture. Mauritius is a tiny island, and with it comes my parents’ generation where the majority would have a very particular mindset.

1.    Ideally marry another Mauritian, if not then marry a Muslim, if not then they must convert to Islam.

2.    Never embarrass your parents.

3.    Don’t give ‘people’ a chance to talk about us because you went against #2.

4.    Parents are always right – obey their rules and all will be ok.

5.    Gays do not exist.

Now I can’t speak for all Mauritians out there – and there may be some who read this who get really offended. But this was the culture that I grew up in, and it was the image that was portrayed to me. I was conditioned to do all of the above. And although I was truly blessed by having wonderful parents who took care of us, paid for our education so we didn’t have to take any loans, fed us and taught us to be kind and forgiving – they cut my wings. And I guess it was inevitable that it took 30 years for them to grow…and for me to do what I eventually did.

Coming out to a friend.

I had no idea how Erin felt for me. I would see it in her eyes that she cared for me a lot – and at times I would think I saw more. But never did I ask, and never did she say. What I did know is how I felt for her. I loved her. I don’t know how it happened, or when it happened, but she was in my heart. I couldn’t do anything without thinking of her. My weekends would be spent wondering what she was doing. She was with someone else, so I wouldn’t text her in case I said something silly and got her into trouble. Not that I would have done anyways…I had my own issue to deal with – how do I tell my Nestor that I’m in love with a woman?

But tell him I did… and being the friend he was – he understood. I was honest. Told him I had feelings for Erin. In some ways I felt he already knew. We had grown so distant – but our friendship was there. He listened to me explain what I was feeling. Explain that I didn’t know what to do because I had a life with him. We had a daughter. But my head and my heart was somewhere else. I needed help. And help he did…he told me I should follow my heart. He didn’t want to live a life where he/I/we were not happy. Whatever it took , we would make this work. I was lucky. And make it work we did – but I will get into that later.

Back to Erin.

I did everything mentioned above without speaking to Erin. But I couldn’t carry on lying to myself, or my him. He deserved to be in relationship with someone that was on the same page as him. I respected him too much to carry on living such a lie. So, I told him – but didn’t tell her. I clearly enjoy making things difficult for myself right?? Erin was with someone else. They had plans for a life together, and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin that for her. So that night I planned to simply keep quiet about what I had just done. Maybe one day, there would be a chance for her and I – but for now I will just take her friendship.

The next morning, I went to work. Everything seemed surreal at home. Nestor and I still had tea, still said our goodbyes, and made plans for what we were going to have for dinner. It seemed we had just fallen into the role of friends (even it was the calm before the storm that was perfectly fine – it was how we needed to manage it). At some point during the day, I met Erin. I tried my absolute best to be normal, but she knew something was up. So I simply told her that I had ended my marriage, and left it at that. This was when she told me that she too had ended her relationship that very night. How, and why we did this at the same time without conferring with one another is one of life’s greatest unknowns. But what we did know was we are free now to declare to one another what we were too afraid to say before. We had fallen in love. At some point during our hours of conversations, and laughter, we fell in love. And it felt wonderful, and so right. Alarm bells were sounding in my head, but in my heart, I knew I had done the right thing.

Building a foundation.

Our first few months together as a couple were like no other. We didn’t do the usual things that new couples got to do…dates every night, short weekend getaways, spending the night together – no, none of those wonderful things! We had bigger fish to fry. First thing on the agenda, Erin had to meet my daughter. Second thing on the agenda, we had to phase out our family unit so that the transition to her new life would seem normal. Finally, Erin would have to meet my good friend Nestor. I wanted an unconventional family. And all three of us agreed that it was something that we would willingly do in order to build a unit for our daughter. It was not going to be easy, but we had a goal and a plan, and we stuck to it.

Honesty. This was key here. When me and Erin got together I lay all my cards on the table. If she wanted me she would have to accept my baggage. That baggage included a daughter, and for the sake of that daughter, she would have to accept her father. Those same terms were agreed by Nestor because above all he agreed that he did not want our daughter to suffer. So if that meant swallowing his pride to meet and try and get on with Erin – then so be it. Operation ‘phasing-out’ entailed him and I continuing to live together (separate bedrooms). My evening would remain the same in that I would still cook and tuck her to bed. But once she was asleep, and he got back in from work, I would spend the evening with Erin, then return home later. I would be home in case she woke up during the night, and I would to be there for her breakfast. Her life did not change, but ours did.

A few months went this way, until one day he and Erin met for the first time. Tea. Tea is one of life’s most wonderful glue. We sat, drank tea, and made small talk. Erin and Nestor got on really well. Got to talking, and before they knew it they were making little jokes here and there, and the ice was slowly starting to melt. My daughter was loving life, because all of a sudden everyone was together and it all felt cosy. She would sit and play her dolls, whilst we just learned how to be with one another.

Another week went by, and then there was dinner. The next week we went to a restaurant. And a few months, and dinners, after that – we went on holiday. We became this unit, an unconventional unit that somehow made sense.

Nestor and I lived with each this way for a year. During that year I was able to find and purchase a home exactly five minutes away from Nestor. We did this so that our daughter would be able to walk back and forth between her two homes, as if they were one. We were able to amicably finalise our divorce. But most importantly, we were able to learn how to be with one another. Accept the situation, and build a new relationship based on it. Only when we were completely comfortable with everything, did we feel ready to tell the parents. This did not go down well.

Losing my mum.

Nestor and I did this together. We asked for our parents to join us for tea. And told them. They were distraught. Completely and utterly distraught. This was probably the worst moment of this entire story. Our parents were happy, they got on with one another, they adored their granddaughter, and were just coasting through life. This brought them back down to reality, brought them back to square one. After the initial shock Nestor’s parents were the first to calm down. They asked me about my plans, asked if I needed help, and were genuinely concerned. I mean they were clearly angry, but they respected our decision and kept their reservations to themselves. Till this day we have kept in close contact with them. Nestor’s mother adores our son, and thinks Erin is wonderful. Time seemed to help them heal.

My parents on the other hand were not as helpful. They withdrew. Completely went into their own minds and hid there. Four years later they are still hiding, sadly.

There were no longer dinner parties, music, or laughter. Just sadness and loneliness. They didn’t want to face the ‘whispers’ that ‘people’ would talk. Ask them what ‘people’ and they would never give you an answer. They just had (have) it in their heads that everyone were talking about them. They were embarrassed and ashamed. I had done the one thing they had always asked me not to do.

For four years we did keep in contact – via my daughter. They would still offer to collect her from school, just so they could get a chance to see her. Which was nice because I would never deprive them of that. However, they would not talk to me. Not even when I would go and collect my daughter, my parents would not talk to me. I have since stopped trying (mostly because I no longer know what to say to them). I know they are there. They are ok, and healthy. That is all that matters to me.

Wait…what? I thought this was meant to be a happy story.

This IS a happy story.

My daughter is happy, she has two wonderful homes with parents (and guardians) who love her very much. She’s a cool kid. So proud that I am gay, and so proud that I chose Erin. They have grown a wonderful maternal bond over the years – it has been beautiful to see it grow.

My ex is happy, having travelled the world and met an amazing partner during that time…AND lost loads of weight – he is happy.

Me and Erin are happy, we have a wonderful home, a son – another story for another time! He is a beautiful little boy. Watching him explore the world is a pleasure. And knowing that he is lucky to be growing up part of a beautiful family makes our hearts smile. He is adorned by us all. Oh, and we have a cat.

For the best part of four years, every Sunday both households take it in turns to cook a family dinner. ‘Family Sunday’ has since welcomed his partner, who is French born so has a wonderful love for cheese – so we do enjoy her food! The evenings either involve playing board games, or just talking around the table. We are unconventional, but we work.

Yes, I miss my parents tremendously, but I know they are ok. They get on with life, and in a way are happy with the way things are. I am not in the family anymore, so I can’t embarrass them. They see my sister often, and she visits me often, so that just works.

I guess I wanted to write this all down to help others out there. Other people who are stuck in a life where they are not free to be themselves. Yes, I was very lucky to have people in my life to support me. But, a lot of this happened because of honesty. Be honest with yourself, and with others – and something, or someone, out there will just help make it all work. Somehow.

[theliterateape]

"You’ll Never See His Like Again!": Revisiting Comics Legend Stan Lee’s Best, Most Literary (and Vastly Underrated) Story, The Silver Surfer (1978)

By Jarret Keene

Stan “the Man” Lee is dead, but his creations are alive, pouncing across theaters, game screens, and t-shirts with equal parts vitality and sorrow. Today, Spider-Man and Thor and Captain America and Black Panther and so many others dominate our media landscape to a degree unthinkable 40 years ago when my father bought me The Silver Surfer graphic novel from a B. Dalton inside Tampa Bay Mall.

Back then comics (22-page floppies) were relegated to a single spinner rack in mall bookshops, a gimmick to draw kids into the store so their parents felt obliged to pick up garbage Sidney Sheldon’s thriller Bloodline. But The Silver Surfer didn’t fit in a metal rung; instead it was displayed amidst the regular literary trade paperbacks. Today it is vaguely praised on obscure blogs as being among the very first efforts to push comics into the realm of the literary epic during a brutal moment in the history of the comics industry. Staggering inflation, a crushing 1977 (and then a 1978) blizzard, and rising paper costs nearly sank DC Comics. Marvel, though, endured such challenges with Stan Lee’s relentless cheer, his grace under pressure, his courage to always try something new when everyone else cowered, caved.

In the late 1970s, the U.S. continued to fall apart. There was the ongoing energy crisis, serial killers like Ted Bundy lurked in every shadow, the Jonestown mass suicide played out like a dress rehearsal for a larger and more diabolical event, toxic waste burbled in landfills adjacent to pleasant neighborhoods, and Soviet Russia  rattled its nuclear saber. You wouldn’t know this from reading Marvel Comics, every issue offering a column called Stan’s Soapbox, wherein Lee waxed passionately, positively, and with the eloquence of a poetry-reading pitchman, about what was forthcoming from “the House of Ideas.”

Today Marvel is an idea-resistant shell of the company Lee built and oversaw, a house of ideology teeming with dour, OMG-chirping social-justice superheroes (gay mutant Iceman, lesbian Latinx warrior America Chavez, Muslim teenager Kamala Khan a.k.a. Ms. Marvel, female cancer-stricken Thor). Instead of debuting new characters, the current editorial team is content to reverse race and flip gender of, and add a dash of disability to, classic characters. In its prime, though—and starting in 1961 with the first issue of Fantastic Four — Marvel excelled at depicting authentic outcasts who felt a fierce responsibility to protect even those who hated them, feared them, wanted them dead. Lee’s characters — which he co-created with Jack Kirby, the artist who visually defined comics for an international audience — didn’t nurture wounds of identity and grievance; they waged their internal battles on a mythic scale. In the same way Oedipus confronted the ignorance of his birth, in the same way petulant Achilles struggled to overcome his narcissism, so did hapless high school reject and science nerd Peter Parker combat his own teenage doubt and ego and feelings of inadequacy.

Amazing Fantasy #15 (1962) containing the debut of Spider-Man, is arguably the single greatest and most important comics story ever written, its 11 pages defining not just the Marvel superhero but also the last half-century of U.S. comics. “With great power comes great responsibility” wasn’t merely an inspirational and moral slogan; it was also a metaphor for American exceptionalism, which could only result in senseless death (like, say, the murder of Peter’s uncle, Ben) if not applied toward just and proper ends. Parker is spoiled, his own worst enemy. He’s a purveyor of fake news, taking photos of himself in action as Spider-Man and selling them to the Daily Bugle to cover the cost of college tuition. We love Parker for his flaws, though, and for his commitment to overcoming them. We cherish his humanity even as we’re thrilled by his brawls with violent predators like Kraven the Hunter, bulky crime boss Kingpin, hideously armed Doctor Octopus.

The Silver Surfer isn’t human like Parker. The Surfer is carved from the “doomed messiah from beyond” mold a la Superman (or Beowulf or Jesus). But he isn’t adopted as a baby and given a Midwest upbringing. He is a silver-skinned alien riding a floating board, arriving on Earth to determine if it’s suitable for his planet-eating master Galactus. Lee and Kirby made a wise choice in never pinning down the exact size of this god of interstellar death, who, like the Surfer, was first introduced in the pages of Fantastic Four #48–50 (1966). That three-part story is a must-read, yes, but then, a decade later, Lee and Kirby collaborated on a 100-page retelling of the Surfer-and-Galactus saga, only this time the superheroes were removed, leaving just the god and his fallen angel. The result is a romantic, philosophical, and artistic statement that outstrips everything else Lee and Kirby collaborated on prior — which is saying a lot. It is also the last major work either of them would produce for Marvel, or for any company thereafter.

Today Marvel is an idea-resistant shell of the company Lee built and oversaw, a house of ideology teeming with dour, OMG-chirping social-justice superheroes

The Silver Surfer was published by arrangement with Fireside Books, an imprint of Simon and Schuster in New York known for publishing a famous chess book. Based on a Kirby sketch, the cover is by artist Earl Norem, known for painting the covers of men’s adventure magazines and more than a few Marvel mags (like Savage Sword of Conan). Indeed, the painted cover gives the book literary gravitas. The interior art is all prime Kirby, with eloquent inks by Joe Sinnott, colors by Glynis Wein (first wife of the late Len Wein, who created Wolverine). The Silver Surfer is a feast for a comics-lover’s eyes; my battered copy still radiates visual power. But it’s the heartbreaking story and dialogue that set this effort apart from anything else in the history of comics and in the bibliography of Lee and Kirby.

Here the protagonist must choose between living forever to serve a devourer of worlds, or else die alongside eight billion earthlings to be rejoined with the obliterated love of his life, lovely and golden Ardina. In The Silver Surfer, Lee gives us a hero who sells his soul to the devil so as to thwart a holocaust and save a populated globe. He only meets a few dozen — many of who attack him physically. But he understands their potential to grow beyond their limitations. It’s not a story in tune with the 1970s, that post-Vietnam, post-JFK, post-Watergate era during which Marvel delivered dark, humorous characters like Ghost Rider. No, this was something else entirely.

The opening splash page is the closed fist of the planet-eater: Behold! The hand of Galactus! Behold! The hand of him who is like unto a god. Behold! The clutch of harnessed power — about to be released! The tone here is elevated, serious, Lee is writing in a style that evokes the Old Testament of the King James. The second page is a splash, too; in it, the mitt of Galactus opens and from it erupts the Surfer, who “streaks through the currents of space — ever-seeking, ever-searching — for he alone is herald to mighty Galactus.” The image is the visual distillation of an artist’s self-confidence, his arrogance. After all, doesn’t every artist believe himself to be God as he  manipulates his characters, his images, to suit his imaginative fancy? It’s also a breathtaking rendering of a big bang, or a biblical birth of the universe, without a benevolent designer in control. Here the god of the universe is a destroyer.

The universe seems endless and infinitely alluring to this mysterious star-wanderer, who yearns for  his own homeworld, Zenn-La, lost to him forever for reasons Lee doesn’t initially explain, but we presume Galactus ate it.

The Surfer enters the atmosphere of “a verdant sphere” unlike any he’s seen before. Soaring high above the streets of New York, he doesn’t hide from view. He is fascinated by the fear in the eyes of people, noting “how it is always the young who are the first to accept — and to trust.” He sees a woman who reminds him of Shalla Bal, a woman the Surfer loved on his own world. Haunted by her memory, he pursues this woman through the alleyways of Manhattan while imagining a conversation with this Shalla Bal lookalike. We learn that, years ago, the Surfer sacrificed his mortal body to Galactus to save Zenn-La from destruction.

Finally, the woman abandons him to his painful recollections… and then Galactus suddenly appears in a whirlwind of crackling energy, ready to devour Earth.

He congratulates the Surfer on a job well done and articulates in excruciating detail how he plans to sate his appetite: “Here shall I drain the gently rolling seas. Here shall the bountiful land yield to me its gift of life.” It is an impending act of reverse creation, a backward Genesis. But the herald of Galactus isn’t having any of it. When the Surfer fails to convince his master that the price of eight billion souls is too high, he lashes out at Galactus with “the power cosmic,” using it seal the destroyer in a concrete cocoon. It doesn’t hold Galactus for long. Disgusted, the world-eater blasts the Surfer from the sky, cursing the herald to live amidst “the dunghills of man” for a spell in order to ponder his mistake. Then Galactus disappears.

The Surfer recovers from his fall, then disguises himself by altering his appearance to resemble a male fashion model from a billboard. He wanders the city with admiration for its denizens until muggers approach him in Central Park. The Surfer shoos them away with a pyrotechnical display, then pledges to walk around without hiding his identity; concealment did nothing for him anyway. Meanwhile, we witness Galactus gorging on a planet in another solar system. Sated, his thoughts turn toward his missing herald. What can Galactus do to make the Surfer submit? The world-eater’s counsel, a sniveling Master of Guile, advises Galactus to provide the Surfer — our alien Adam — with an Eve, someone to betray the Surfer’s heart.

And so beautiful Ardina enters the picture. She sneaks the instantly smitten Surfer beyond Earth’s atmosphere, and they share in the pleasures of the spaceways. Floating now on a patch of green ringed with bright flowers in a neighboring galaxy, our hero is tempted to give up his standoff with Galactus. In the same way Dido tempted Aeneas to give up his destiny to found Rome, so does Ardina begin to entice the Surfer to submit to her — and by extension Galactus. He refuses, says he’s willing to die to save Earth, and so Ardina leads the Surfer on a journey into human darkness. “You will perish for a worthless cause,” she warns. She shows him “brutal images, a morbid montage of heart-rending scenes filled with carnage and strife.” Domestic violence. A child killed by a hit-and-run driver. A mass execution. Bombed ruins of a once-thriving city. The Surfer is jarred but not dissuaded.

And then something interesting happens: Ardina, designed to coldly seduce the Surfer to make him betray his convictions, ends up feeling a warm love for him.

So much so that when the Surfer, driven mad from having set foot inside a suburban home where the walls seem to be closing on him:

The ceiling — almost touching my head! No room to move! No place to soar! I see no sun — no sky — no endless reaches of rolling space! Wherever I face — wherever I turn — I am surrounded by smothering objects! Shelves and books! Pictures, clocks, and lamps! Chairs and drapes and shuttered windows! But where is the sky? Where is the cold, crisp touch of rolling space? Where are the hills, the seas, the nourishing stars in endless profusion? Without them I perish! 

Interestingly, the aspect of humankind that nearly causes the Surfer to surrender his mission is man’s stultifying existence inside tract-housing boxes.

Troubled by the experience, the Surfer races to escape Earth’s atmosphere. Riding bitch, Ardina screams: “The barrier! You have forgotten the barrier!”

The Surfer falls to Earth while Ardina re-materializes before Galactus inside his giant space vehicle. She admits she has failed. She confesses her love for the Surfer. Displeased, Galactus recalibrates her cloned body for one last mission. A mission that involves shattering the Surfer’s heart.

Meanwhile, the Surfer continues to be attacked by various humans. He is shot at, shackled and hammer-smashed, then the U.S. military blasts him with an ultra-sonic cannon, which nearly kills him. Ardina consoles him for a moment, kisses him, telling the Surfer she is with him and by his side, even after death. Which is when Galactus dissolves her into dead particles using a matrix-drone.

Now Galactus asks the Surfer to again join him in scouting the universe for other edible planets. It’s the only way Earth can be saved. The command is agonizing, for what Galactus offers is a living hell. To save Earth, the Surfer must cast off death, the ultimate escape and the one chance he has at being reunited with Ardina. But as the Surfer himself says: “Never was there a choice!”

The curse of immortality at the cost of true love is a familiar idea in ancient epics. The sea nymph Calypso offered Odysseus eternal life, but he refused it in order to be with his wife Penelope. But the Surfer has no options; he can’t be selfish enough to die and thus doom the Earth. What makes him a hero is his refusal to surrender and his willingness to embrace the agony of existence, of enslavement. He must deny himself every exit for humans to live on until they hopefully change themselves for the better. They must have a chance; the Surfer and Galactus give them one. 

The Surfer returns to the gauntlet of Galactus, disappearing within the destroyer’s fist.

✶

In this story, there is no Fantastic Four. No cameo appearances by Lee and Kirby. No clever narrative captions. Just the purest narrative of a hero fighting for an ideal, for the steadfast belief in our ability to one day rise above our petty evils, our arrogance and wrath. Lee wrote so many masterpieces of comics literature, but this one is his best because it best speaks to the principle he and his characters lived by: Never succumb to nihilism and despair. Never forget that we are similar in our anxieties and weaknesses, and that our individual identities matter less than our collective aspiration to improve our world and the lives of the people who inhabit it.

It’s a moral stance that today remains obscured by Internet social-justice frothing and the political insanity of being ruled by a reality-TV star. But the embers of Lee’s views are there for anyone to ignite and carry forward. Make no mistake: the world is poorer now without Lee. As the blurb on The Silver Surfer ’s back cover announces: “You will never see his like again!” We can, however, always see Lee’s passion and his love for humanity — for life! — in the work he and Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko and others left for us to enjoy.

Lee didn’t need to die for our sins. He endures, and so will we.

Never was there a choice.

Jarret Keene is an assistant professor in residence in the English Department at UNLV, where he teaches creative writing and ancient and medieval literature. His fiction, essays and verse have appeared in literary journals such as New England Review, Carolina Quarterly, and the Southeast Review. He is the author of several books and editor of acclaimed short-fiction anthologies. He is currently working on a critical biography of comic book legend Jack Kirby.

[thewebofslime]

She was an 18-year-old virgin and had just become the 65th wife of the ‘prophet’ who led an extreme Mormon cult, abused children as young as four and ran "heavenly teachings" on how to satisfy him. 16 Briell Decker was just 18 when she was forced to marry Jeffs, 50 The Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-Day Saints (FLDS) teaches that all men should have three or more wives. In many cases girls as young as 12 were forced to marry older men - and Jeffs would tie them up and rape them. Now one of his 80 wives Briell Briell exclusively tells the Sun Online of her horrific ordeal. 16 Warren Jeffs used his position as leader to abuse women and children 16 Briell (second row down, fifth from the left) poses with Warren Jeffs' other wives in traditional dress in front of his portrait Abused at eight by family member Briell was born in the Mormon Short Creek Community in Utah as the 11th of 14 kids of her mother and father, who also had a second childless wife. At eight, she was sexually assaulted by a family member who also abused two of her sisters. “He would just touch us where he shouldn’t,” she reveals “He didn’t show himself to us at all, and never took his off his clothes at all. But he was in a curious phase and he would fondle us. “But I was eight, which in the FLDS, is the age you are judged as an adult. So even though I hadn’t done anything, I was tainted.” 16 Briell grew up in the FLDS and had two mothers Sister married 80-year-old leader at 18 At 13, Briell watched as 18-year-old Colleen was forced to wed Warren Jeffs’ dad Rulon, then the cult’s leader who was in his eighties. When Rulon died, in 2002, Jeffs married all but two of Rulon's 20 wives – including Colleen – and took his father’s 60 children as his own. Three years later Briell was taken away by her dad, without the knowledge of her mothers or siblings, and forced to become Jeffs' latest bride. By this time, Jeffs was wanted by the police after being accused of raping his six-year-old nephew Brent and arranging the marriage and rape of 14-year-old Elissa Wall. 16 Brielle was 18 when she wed JeffsCredit: Supplied 'Tainted' by abuse and unable to satisfy Jeffs Briell, then 18, was asked by her father to “come for a ride” and was driven to Jeffs' Short Creek mansion where she was told she would be married in secret, because Jeffs was on the run. After the ceremony, he demanded Briell sat on his lap - but Jeffs didn’t try to consummate their marriage because she was ‘tainted’ by the earlier child abuse. “I was a virgin, but I had been touched so I knew I probably wouldn't be ‘blessed’,” she says. “In Jeffs’ family, there's a structure and only the honoured few have kids or look after kids. I felt I'd always be at the bottom of the pile so I was scared. Jeffs tried to get me to respond but I froze.” Briell describes the sexual contact as “fondling, just like my abuser had done,” and “a kind of rape that wasn't a rape.” Getting no response, he sent her back home, banning her from telling the family of the wedding. 16 Briell left the cult in 2013 and changed her nameCredit: Facebook 'I was too old for paedophile Jeffs' Jeffs left the FLDS base and later called for Briell to follow him to the a new commune, known as the YFZ Ranch, or Yearning for Zion Ranch, in Texas. There, 700 of the "elite", including many of Jeffs’ 65 wives, were crammed into trailers on a muddy patch of land with sleeping bags strewn across the floors. Briell was forced to wear a long pastel-coloured prairie dress that all his wives wore and take “higher elite training” – learning how to gratify Jeffs sexually, but the still-traumatised Briell doesn't want to elaborate on what they were taught. Terrified, she would often hide in the cupboard, which angered him and made him constantly criticise her. Soon after she arrived, Jeffs became more interested in his two new wives – aged around 14 and 15. “Jeffs was a paedophile,” she says. “So he wasn’t that attracted to me.” 16 Jeffs' dad Rulon - who married Briell's sister - with his last two wives, gifted to him for his 90th birthdayCredit: Youtube 16 Women in the pastel dresses Briell was ordered to wear 16 The compound that was eventually built on the YFZ Ranch in Texas Mothers cruelly torn from children With the police after him, Jeffs became increasingly paranoid. As she distanced herself from her husband, he no longer considered her 'elite’ and sent her off to another campus, known as the Dream Centre. There she met 30 other wives who he had forcibly separated from their children, who were now with Jeffs in Texas. “Jeffs said God had revealed none of the mothers were worthy of their children which was a shock to me," she says. “It was deliberate cruelty. Now I know that paedophiles don't want children to feel safe or trust anyone enough to tell them of abuse, so he took them away from their mothers." Some of Jeffs' children have since accused him of abusing them. Daughter Rachel said she was sexually assaulted from eight and forced to watch pornography. Another daughter, Becky, said her earliest memory was being sexually abused by her father and her half-brother Roy Jeffs, who took his own life in June, also claimed he was abused. 16 Jeffs with daughter Rachel, who claims she was abused from eight 16 Warren Jeffs with his huge brood of children, some of whom claim they were abused 16 Roy Jeffs took his own life after claiming he was raped by his fatherCredit: AP Wives tied down a 12-year-old and watched him rape her Eventually, Briell returned to the YFZ Ranch where she said Jeffs was marrying even younger brides. “We were told they were wild, and needed to get married to stop them straying,” she says. “But these were from faithful families and he was actually raping them.” Briell resumed her“training” in how to please him but says the teachings were getting more sexual. Jeffs was finally arrested, in 2006, and in three subsequent trials Briell discovered that he had been raping a 12-year-old bride. “There were ladies who were required to tie down that 12-year-old,” says Briell. “And they watched as he had sex with her. I wasn't in that training but I was just beginning to be introduced to sh** like that.” He also introduced the "Law of Sarah" which forced his wives to put on lesbian sex shows for his gratification. If they refused, they were sent away to 'redeem themselves'. 16 Women talking to the media after the YFZ Ranch was raided in 2006 Locked in a bedroom by brother After Jeffs' arrest Briell returned to Short Creek to live with her father but was “pyschologically tortured” by the elders who were trying to wrestle power from Jeffs. They would follow her, creep into her house in the night and, on one occasion, left a noose in her room. She also claims she was drugged with high doses of Seroquel, an anti-psychotic drug, until she could hardly walk. She ran away several times but was returned to the campus by other community members. In 2013, she was sent to live with an older brother who locked her in a bedroom. “There were screws in the window and I couldn't open it. The doorknob was turned around so the lock was in the hallway.” After two weeks, Briell managed to hide some scissors in her room and unscrew the window to climb out before running through the Creek to escape. She eventually reached the garden of a woman who offered to help her and rang an organisation that helps members of the community escape, who drove her to a safe house, hundreds of miles away. 16 The wanted poster for Jeffs, who went on the run in 2005 Iron grip from prison In 2011, Jeffs was sentenced to life after being convicted in a Utah court of sexually assaulting two girls aged 12 and 14. But even after he was convicted in 2011 he still has a grip on the cult. Just last week two brothers were jailed for tax fraud of $9.7m in payments to the church. From prison he has decreed that special “seed bearers” should be the only fathers of the next generation of FLDS kids. “He’s still running the sect from his jail cell and he set up the seedbearers from there,” she says. He also wrote into the doctrine that paedophilia is acceptable "which is a really bad thing because after he dies, the next leader is required to keep everything the last leader did." Incredible return to house where she wed Jeffs Briell's experiences have left her with post-traumatic stress disorder and physical damage from years of being drugged. But amazingly, in 2017, Brielle returned to the £1million, 44-room mansion where Warner had lived with his wives - seized by the authorities after his 2006 arrest - and turned it into a refuge for other women fleeing the church. She has also found love with new husband Steven who she says “had been amazing for my life.” 16 The house where Briell married Jeffs is now a refuge for women leaving the FLDSCredit: AP:Associated Press 16 Jeffs was convicted in 2011 and sentenced to life

[billcrandall-blog]

From West to East to North and back again

It’s interesting how obsessions that have directed the course of my life - and my art - have always been about culture intertwined with place. As I’ve felt somewhat alien in my own country for much of my adult life, usually 'place' meant somewhere else.

London

In my teens and early 20s, London was everything. The mother lode of just about every cultural touchstone that mattered, especially musically. In high school I went there on a school trip - which for me was more like a pilgrimage - and was hooked.

So a few years later I picked up and went there with a guitar and too-few bucks. My band at the time, Modest Proposal, had been offered to play at the famed 100 Club, so we all went and I tried to stay on.

The record label guy who got us the show, Mark Johnson, was also managing The Sharp, a band which was basically The Jam minus Paul Weller, with Jimmy Edwards on guitar and vocals. Mark said he was going to try to get me in on second guitar. The Jam’s drummer Rick Buckler was in attendance at our 100 Club gig, and one afternoon we got to hang with him at his London recording studio, Arkantide. Unfortunately, Mark clearly had other, um, personal designs on me as well, so that all evaporated pretty quickly when it was clear I didn’t roll that way. I was 20 years old and, suddenly, completely alone. It was just too hard, soon I was back home. (Years later we heard rumors Mark had died of AIDS in Morocco or someplace. There's a pretty extensive thread about him on this mod revival forum from a while back.)

A few years passed and I tried again. My longtime friend and mod-mate David T had moved to London for his PhD, so I took a fall semester abroad, which was really just a cover for trying to get a band going with David.

[A couple dudes who auditioned with David (right) on his balcony in Primrose Hill]

I was living in a one room bedsit in north London, with an electric meter I had to pump with 50p coins to keep the heat on. The band never got off the ground unfortunately. As the weather turned colder I remember being riveted to a crappy little TV in a friend’s freezing flat, watching what would become known as the Velvet Revolution in Prague. I thought about going there, as I was getting more into photography and it seemed a golden opportunity. But I was headed home to the US in a matter of days, and my mother was coming for a visit, so I didn’t even try. Probably best, I was way too green.

Prague

Around the same time I was reading Milan Kundera and poring over the photography of Josef Koudelka, tapping into new physical and psychological terrain via art. My cultural compass was shifting east, especially with the London yearning seemingly tapped out. While I missed the Velvet Revolution, by 1991 I was in Prague teaching English. Never in my life had I felt such affinity with the textures, smells, sounds, and general vibes of a place. Communism was gone but the ghosts hadn’t cleared out yet and globalism hadn’t arrived. There were few tourists. It was that in-between period, when things were gorgeously rough and all seemed possible.

I learned some Czech, met a girl, went back several times over the next few years. The girl didn’t work out in the end, maybe I was more in love with the place. I remember thinking of the city at the time as feeling like a comforting, motherly embrace. The complex sensibility of the people - unsentimental yet warm, understated but with that dark humor, without some of the American excesses I disliked - made a deep and lasting impression. As did Czech photography and photographers that I met, which became hugely formative influences. I began to understand the link between sensibility and being an artist. On one hand I used to think, well, damn, once again the dreams didn’t work out. But they did in other unexpected ways. I’d go so far as to say that Czech people helped make me the person I am, and Czech photography helped make me the photographer I am.

DC

Starting a family obviously grounded me at home in the US. Not without some leftover wanderlust, if I’m being honest. So I kept going, when I could. From Prague’s maternal lap I hopscotched to the Baltics, the postwar Balkans, Belarus, and other parts of Eastern Europe.

Of course I was making photos, that was a big driver along with basic curiosity. But I also still had that almost primal urge to situate myself in a different place, to breath different cultural air, even if I always snapped back home in the end.

Finally, with a young daughter and a ‘normal’ job, I found a way to work photographically with what was right under my nose in DC. But while I was feeling more invested at home, I couldn’t shake the sense that maybe all I was doing was projecting my Eastern inclinations onto my hometown. Maybe it was wishful art-making, seeing what I wanted to see.

But soon there was a shift again, this time to the north. My fixations began to skew toward the Nordic countries, and as always, dovetailed with their cultural output and informed my own. I love Finland’s Tove Jansson and her Moomins stories and art. She knew something about wishful art-making: as a lesbian, anti-fascist artist in WWII Finland, she constructed the Moomins’ humanitarian paradise partly as a rebuttal and antidote to the ugliness and despair of wartime.

There was Denmark’s bike culture. The Swedish film Let the Right One In, such a beautiful and atmospheric thriller. Iceland’s music scene, beginning with Sigur Ros like most people but there are so many more. I find it perhaps the most creatively fertile region at the moment, but that’s a different post.

As I became less restless and more concerned with making the art I needed to make, these became new inspirations. And I felt I could tap into them without needing to *be* there, it was almost enough to let them live in my head. I discovered the evocative soundscape approach and new musical vocabularies of bands like Sigur Ros and Norway’s Royksopp. Suddenly, after many years away from making music, I started having ideas again, new ways of assembling a palette of sounds, melodies, and song structures. This helped lead to my 2016 solo album New World Voyage, a concept album that imagined the first people to leave Earth forever for a distant planet.

So maybe heading East made me a photographer, and looking North resurrected me as a musician. As I work on stripped-down acoustic versions that I can manage playing live, and new songs for the followup record, I find that, finally, maybe I’m turning to my own country for inspiration. (Lately I do find myself listening to more Jackson Browne than I ever thought I would, does that count as a guilty pleasure?)

What’s hard though is finding current American musicians pushing the envelope, going beyond genre, in ways I find as satisfying as what Nordic artists like Jonsi, Pascal Pinon, and Farao are doing. So I try to do it myself, to bring some of that into my own work as I tried to bring Eastern Europe into my photography.

As my friend and mentor the great Czech photographer Viktor Kolar - who himself has a tremendous affinity for place, in his case his industrial hometown of Ostrava - told me, if you have a vision and are able to create, then you have a duty to do so. So much of that vision has been shaped by where I've been, where I've been drawn to like a magnet.