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#i have not watched empires i just think he is cat coded

cosmicgalaxies · 3 months

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* ◟ : 〔 bie thassapak hsu , cis male + he/him 〕 "bank" supachai shinawatra , some say you’re a thirty-three-year-old lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both dutiful and destructive, one can’t help but think of nobody by mitski when you walk by. are you still a CIO at NEWS CORPORATION LIMITED / SOLDIER FOR THE BURNING GODS, even with your reputation as the broken crown? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and expensive watches, ruined paintings, and late nights, although we can’t help but think of kendall roy, sisyphus, the green knight gawain whenever we see you down these rainy streets. ( kit , 25 , she/her , cst . )

Name: Bank Supachai Shinawatra Age: Thirty-three Birthday: April 27th Zodiac: Taurus

Hobbies: Art collecting, watch collecting, casual drug use Habits: Staying up until the sun rises, no social life outside of work, watching only old movies, never wears the same clothes twice. Family: Mongkut Shinawatra ( father ) Li Hua Tsai ( mother ), Anchali Shinawatra ( half-sister ) Orientation: Bisexual, biromantic

Inspirations: Kendall Roy, Sisyphus, The Green Knight, Icarus, Jay Gatsby Aesthetics: Newly pressed shirts, aging oak barrels, vintage cologne bottles, an open endless ocean, walking alone in the snow, glowing office lights at night. Headcanons:

Bank loves cats. His penthouse always has at least three or four cats running around. If Bank had a will, he would probably leave some of his money to them.

Mongkut and Bank's mother, Li Hua, was perhaps the shortest of his fathers' marriages, lasting less than six months. Bank's birth was a surprise to them all, with Li Hua believing herself unable to have children. Between the two, Bank has always spent more time with his father. Once he started making enough money of his own, Bank made sure to give his mother a nice home to reside in, and he has a standing dinner with her monthly.

College is perhaps the only time Bank had a genuine social life. Coding languages came to him naturally. And for his other classes, he had no trouble paying off others to do the work for him so he could party or drink.

History: ( prison mention tw )

Born into the prestigious Shinawatra family, Bank was raised in the face of his father's company. Born just months after his father, Mongkut Shinawatra, and his mother, Li Hua Tsai were divorced, Bank was taken under his father's wing and given anything a young boy could ask for. He was surrounded by wealth, privilege, and experienced a life of pure opulence.

The empire belonging to the Shinawatra family grew with each passing year, and from the time he was a young boy, Bank was promised it all, the name, the glory, the respect that comes with leading people to victory, success, and riches. With any agreement, Bank had his own promise to uphold - to prove himself, to mold his young soul into his father's image of what should and should not be. A prince is simply gifted a crown, Bank was expected to earn it.

News Corporation Limited was not the only growing empire. Bank had watched technology grow alongside each asset his father purchased, and in that, Bank saw an opening. He had no passion for computers and languages, but an innate talent seemed etched inside of him. With the desire to inherit his family's business, Bank saw it to make himself integral to the company's support system. Coding, websites and programs and filters, Bank saw to it that he would learn them all in order to keep his corporate world as up to date with their competitors.

A talent initially meant to attract the attention of his father brought about the attention of more than what Bank could have expected. The Burning Gods, responsible for Mongkut's corporate success naturally had an interest in what services his son could offer to them. Eager to prove himself, Bank was more than happy to oblige. Social Security numbers, banking information, credit cards, and more. Any information uploaded online, Bank could get his hands on. He was untouchable, with a goose chase covering up his tracks.

— Or so he wished. A long-standing operation to take down a serial identity thief eventually led investigators to Bank himself. His father's influence could only save him from so much. From Mongkut's perspective, it was time his son learned his actions still had their consequences. Money could do a lot, but wouldn't save everyone. Bank sat through a lengthy trial, and even with the best lawyers, too many signs pointed back to him. Sentenced for five years in prison, Bank only served three, and was then released for good behavior.

For so much of his life, Bank's name meant one of respect, even fear of how far their influence reached. To Bank, it now feels like a collar chained around his neck, an inescapable shadow, and the fear that lurks around every corner. Bank still retains his position at his father's company, but expects every e-mail to be his last. And his position within The Burning Gods has been burned to the point of no return. Bank still recalls what he was promised as a young boy, and remains acutely aware of his own talents. His father, his family, his associates, may not believe in his ability to rise to the top, but he intends on showing them all just how cutthroat he can be.

#quarters & dimes !! intro #lawlessintro

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bookgeekgrrl · 3 months

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My media this week (21-27 Jan 2024)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 Cat Person (The_She_Devil) - 72K, shrunkyclunks - Bucky's the SHIELD agt tasked with bringing newly defrosted Steve up to speed on the 21st century - there's really hot sex in a secluded cabin PLUS feelings. All around deliciousness.

😊 Dark Carnivals: Modern Horrors and the Origins of American Empire (W. Scott Poole, author; Enrique McGavin, narrator) - interesting, edifying, depressing. Not as much discusssion of the films as I expected/would have liked - like 70% rundown of USian imperial activities of the last two centuries, 30% horror/scifi film discussion. [In hindsight, should have read this in text, as there were passages I really wanted to highlight/quote and the narration was…weird. Voice sound & tone was OK but there were lots of bizarre pauses. Sometimes when reading a quotes from a notable figure, the narrator did do some very credible imitations of Clinton & Reagan.]

😍 Waking Up Slow (odetteandodile) - 44K, shrunkyclunks - single dad Bucky, living in a isolated lighthouse in Canada, finds an amesiac, just-thawed Steve Rogers washed up on his beach… (reread for stucky bookclub, forever fave!)

😊 for a good time, call… (EvanesDust) - 46K, sterek, omegaverse fake-dating - solidly enjoyable

😊 Maurice (E.M. Forester, author; Peter Firth, narrator) - read this for a discord book club, can't believe I hadn't read it before & it's been 30 years since I watched the movie. Forester's language & turn of phrase is amazing.

🥰 And My Love Life Waits for Me (Bittersweet_in_Boston (author); Alaskan_Outsider (artist)) - 62K, shrunkyclunks soulmate fic - satisfyingly enjoyable, not nearly as dark as the tags might make you think

💖💖 +190K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

Own Me series (nrnyx) - TW: Jordan/Derek /Stiles, 62K (series) - Stiles gets picked up by husbands Jordan & Derek at the club and what starts as a very hot one night stand becomes so much more. Very werewolfy omegaverse stuff. Hot quality smut but also action-y plot!

Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Goncharov (berlincorpography) - Goncharov (1973): OFC / OFC, 6K - very clever & funny fic featuring disaster lesbians, film criticism & academia

Once Upon a Time (softestpunk) - The Sandman: Dreamling, 14K - just so soft & warm, pure delight! They're both single dads! Falling in love! Dream is a children's librarian!

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Brooklyn Nine-Nine - s8, e5-10

D20: Fantasy High: Junior Year - "Not All Who Wanda Are Lost" (s21, e3)

D20: Adventuring Party - "I Wanda'd In" (s16, e3)

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

What Next: TBD - Have Algorithms Ruined Our Culture?

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Whimzeyland

The Sporkful - Deep Dish With Sohla And Ham: Delta Tamales

Today, Explained - Frosty the Tesla

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Slowjamastan

It's Been a Minute - Benny Safdie on 'The Curse' — and performing goodness

Shedunnit - A Reading Life

Pop Culture Happy Hour - 2024 Oscar Nominations

Switched on Pop - Kali Uchis takes on the world

Today, Explained - Modi’s temple grandstanding

⭐ Vibe Check - A Special Conversation with Cord Jefferson

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Buffalo Bayou Park Cistern

Code Switch - What happens when public housing goes private?

ICYMI - The TikTok Joy of Mychal the Librarian

Vibe Check - Heavy Negro Sigh

Culture Gabfest - True Detective’s Coldest Case Yet

Ologies with Alie Ward - Carcinology (CRABS) Part 2 with Adam Wall

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - A Giant Spectacle in Goffstown

Films To Be Buried With - Vincent D'Onofrio

The Sporkful - Deep Dish With Sohla And Ham: Tteokbokki

Off Menu - Ep 218: Jada Pinkett Smith

Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - Into the Huluverse

Endless Thread - The schism at the end of the tunnel

Dear Prudence - My Husband Stopped Using Soap and He Stinks. Help!

⭐ 99% Invisible #567 - The Double Kick

You're Dead to Me - Pythagoras

It's Been a Minute - South Africa's case for preventing genocide in Palestine; plus, why people love cults

Today, Explained - Music’s Pitchfork in the road

99% Invisible - Roman Mars Describes Chicago As It Is

Hit Parade - The Bridge: The Number of the Nominees Shall Be Five

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Folk Radio • Chill

Pop Radio • Downbeat

Dive Bar Karaoke

"Unholy" [Sam Smith & Kim Petras] radio

Essential New Wave

Melanie Radio • Familiar

My Mix 4 (Jimmy Buffett, Gordon Lightfoot, Jim Croce, Eagles)

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arctrooper69 · 2 years

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Enemies to Lovers: Tech

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 of my "enemies to lovers" Tech fic. Hope you enjoy! @zoeykallus

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 2: Something Unexpected

Warnings: Mentions of panic/anxiety. Sassy Tech. Violence/fighting, vague threats.

_________________________________________

Tech’s pov

Tech climbed down the ladder with ease, taking note of the cable hanging down beside him, coming from a ceiling hatch.

That’s new he thought, the cable looked sturdy enough.

No rust on the hooks, no fraying of the cable itself. Carabiner is new too.

Tech frowned, adjusting his goggles to be sure they were recording. He looked down as his comlink chirped “What’s the situation, Tech?” Hunter’s deep voice echoed loudly through the empty hall. Tech jumped, cringing at the jarring interruption and quickly dialed down the volume. Looking around carefully, he pressed the button on his wrist rerouting the frequency to his helmet as to avoid lending information to any potential enemy or whoever was down here with him.

“There’s someone else here,” he reported back. The comlink chirped again, this time Hunter’s voice responded only to Tech’s own ears, “Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

“Cid did say she thought someone else was after the data.”

“Indeed. My guess would be that Trandoshan gang we saw lurking around.”

“Yeah,” Hunter agreed, “Need us to come down?”

“Negative. No trouble as of yet.”

“Alright, be careful. Com us if you run into trouble and we’ll be right behind you.”

“Acknowledged.”

Tech unclipped his blaster as a precautionary measure and headed down the hall towards the room that the blueprints they’d been given said that the data would be. There was indeed someone in the room already muttering to themselves, oblivious to the fact that Tech had entered the room. He adjusted his goggles.

Not Trandoshan. That much he could easily tell.

Human probably- or humanoid at the very least. Female. Bounty Hunter maybe? Empire more likely. They pay decent credits for a job like this.

He peeked around the figure to get a look at the console screen. It wouldn’t do to have whoever it was getting away with the data.

Impressive. He watched her progress with interest. But wrong. Missed a couple steps.

Whoever it was didn’t look very threatening but he unholstered his weapon anyway and coughed to get her attention hoping she’d be reasonable. If she wasn’t - and the likelihood of that was high - he’d be forced to stun her. The woman froze and slowly turned to face him. He opened his mouth to tell her exactly where she’d made the mistake in her coding but the words died halfway out of his mouth.

Definitely not Trandoshan. Definitely human and most definitely female.

**********************************************

I froze, clutching the data stick I’d been about to use tightly in my hand.

There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else here. This day just keeps getting better and better.

The strange man seemed to be deep in thought, his gaze moving between me and the console behind me.

Considering his next move no doubt.

Then he’d shoot me for the info and I’d be dead and no one would ever find my body in this junk heap of a wreckage not that anyone would really care and my cat would be left all alone and -

Stop.

I took a deep breath, feeling stupid for the way my thoughts always spiraled into the worst possible outcome.

Think. He’s got a blaster. But so do I.

He took a step towards me and without allowing myself to overthink my next moves I pulled my blaster and launched myself at him. I wasn’t expecting to be met with a kriffing brick wall. Pain shot up my arm as he grabbed my wrist and twisted it forcing me to drop the blaster and fall to my knees. Tears filled my eyes threatening to spill down my cheeks. I wasn’t sure if they were tears of pain, panic, humiliation or a combination of all three.

Kriff, stronger than he looks. I winced. A lot stronger. He frowned,

“That was not very smart.”

No shit.

I didn’t reply as I tried to yank my arm away. His grip tightened, this time drawing a few tears down my cheeks. He looked down, regarding me with a quizzical look.

Probably thinking about how ridiculous I look now. Or how he’s gonna kill me.

I glared at him. He didn’t look angry, just annoyed. “There are 30 bones in the human body comprising of the hand, wrist, and arm. And approximately 265 different ways to break them.“ he deadpanned.

Oh.

Shit.

Whelp…I’m dead.

“If you kill me, my friends will come for you and you’ll be hunted for the rest of your kriffing life!” I lied trying to keep up my tough guy attitude but failing as my voice cracked. He raised an eyebrow at that and chuckled dryly. His expression softened as he sighed, relaxing his tight lipped impatient look.

“I’m not going to kill you and I’m not going to hurt you. You can relax.” He released his grip on my wrist and I sank to the ground scooting away from him. We both looked over to the flashing console at the same time. He adjusted his goggles looking over at me, “However, we still seem to have a problem. That console holds some very important information and I cannot let you have it.”

“Yeah,” I replied softly, “I guess we do still have a problem.” We both sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity.

"What is your name?" he asked suddenly. I was silent, still not sure if I could trust him.

Definitely not.

I kept silent. He shifted awkwardly. "I'm Tech. You can call me Tech."

I looked over to him but still didn't say anything. The silence felt nearly suffocating somehow.

"Y/N" I spoke after awhile.

"What?"

"Y/N. My name is Y/N."

"Ah. Very well." The room fell silent again.

I could feel him watching me and suddenly realized I’d been staring at him the same way. I quickly looked away rubbing my sore wrist. His eyes followed my gaze and he frowned,

“Are you okay?” he asked carefully.

“I’m….I’m fine.” I pulled myself to my feet.

He seemed to hesitate, then nodded sharply. “Good.”

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fahrni · 8 months

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Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

Just poured my first cup, letting it sit a spell while I get started. Kolby and Gracie are chillin’ at the moment, which is nice. It means I don’t have to get them to leave the cats alone. Even though Flynn usually starts the loud morning play fest.

The leaves have started falling off the trees and early mornings have been extremely cool. It’s really nice and is a signal to me fall is coming. 🍁

However, Charlottesville weather is unkind and likes to play mind games. This is fake fall. Next week daytime highs are forecast to be in the 90’s. Ugh. 🥵

I hope you enjoy the links.

Rolling Stone

Jimmy Buffett, the singer-songwriter known for his enduring anthem “Margaritaville” and businessman who transformed the 1977 song into an empire that encompassed restaurants, resorts, and more, has died at the age of 76.

RIP Jimmy.

amo

One interesting choice we’ve decided to stick to throughout the years and on to this new project is to have the app infrastructure (networking, authentication, data synchronization and persistence, feature data backends, etc.) done using the same technology as the backend (in Rust, see more in Production Environment) and shared across iOS and Android.

I like this choice. I’ve tried to sell this idea inside WillowTree but I think we’ll be doing more React Native going forward. Look, if your primary business is not shipping applications it makes sense to use cross platform tooling. From what I’ve seen of our React Native work it’s quite good and you can’t tell the difference.

If you are an application developer and want to get some shared code across native platforms, Rust is a good alternative to languages like C and C++ — even though I still really love C++. 😁

Using Rust for all that common code just feels right to me.

Jennifer Sandlin • Boing Boing

According to Pizzagate conspiracy theorists, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on Pizza Hut boxes are encouraging Satanic ritual abuse

I watched the YouTube video linked from the piece and boy do these folks have to do a bunch of mental gymnastics to make this stuff up. It is crazy. If the entire Q phenomenon did anything it was to create a legion of complete nut jobs.

Heck we all thought al-Qaeda was a threat to our nation. We’ve been able to screw things up from the inside with things like the Orange Menace, the GOP, and Q. No outside help necessary.

Denise Yu

Your job title says “software engineer”, but you seem to spend most of your time in meetings. You’d like to have time to code, but nobody else is onboarding the junior engineers, updating the roadmap, talking to the users, noticing the things that got dropped, asking questions on design documents, and making sure that everyone’s going roughly in the same direction. If you stop doing those things, the team won’t be as successful. But now someone’s suggesting that you might be happier in a less technical role. If this describes you, congratulations: you’re the glue. If it’s not, have you thought about who is filling this role on your team?

This is why I wanted to become an Engineering Director at WillowTree. Turns out I was good at team building but horrible at all the management stuff, like reviews.

Now that I’ve gone back to an engineering role I can focus more on team building from a technical perspective, which I love. Sure, I do day-to-day coding, but I also help other grow and do whatever needs doing.

Keri Blakinger • The New York Times

The first time Tony Ford played Dungeons & Dragons, he was a wiry Black kid who had never seen the inside of a prison. His mother, a police officer in Detroit, had quit the force and moved the family to West Texas. To Ford, it seemed like a different world. Strangers talked funny, and El Paso was half desert. But he could skateboard in all that open space, and he eventually befriended a nerdy white kid with a passion for Dungeons & Dragons. Ford fell in love with the role-playing game right away; it was complex and cerebral, a saga you could lose yourself in. And in the 1980s, everyone seemed to be playing it.

My brothers, their friends, and I were part of that nerdy set who played D&D in the 80s. I have wonderful memories of that time in my life. An easier time. The 80s was a great time to be a teenager and D&D contributed heavily to that greatness.

Tim Hardwick • MacRumors

Apple will receive all of TSMC’s first-generation 3-nanometer process chips this year for upcoming iPhones, Macs, and iPads, according to industry sources cited by DigiTimes.

Isn’t it wild to think Apple will take the entire capacity of a chip manufacturer? Heck, I think Intel is finally at 10-nanometer and is expected to move to 7-nanometer this year — maybe they already have, I’m not sure.

It makes me wonder if Intel could get to the point that they’re manufacturing chips for Apple?

Thomas Ricouard

I’ve seen countless of tweets and stories lately about modern iOS architecture. I’ve been a huge fan of trying new architecture on iOS, and in the past I have worked with Redux / TCA like architecture because I believe unidirectional data flow is the only way to have a good & robust architecture.

Thomas is a super smart fella and is worth a read. He’s the author of the excellent iOS Mastodon client, Ice Cubes. He’s done an amazing amount to work in the area of SwiftUI performance tuning. Give his piece a read.

George Wright • BBC

Canada has issued a new travel warning to its LGBT citizens planning to visit the United States.

This doesn’t surprise me. Our nation, as a whole, has taken so many steps backwards. Most of the nation wants to move forward but the GOP wants to take us back. They hate women and want them to stay home and be baby making machines, they want to exterminate trans folks, they’re racist, and they’d like to destroy the planet in the name of capitalism.

Meanwhile the sane people want healthcare for all, would like to see an educated America, let the LGBTQ+ and BIPOC communities exist and be first class citizens, amongst other things.

The choice has always been easy for me. I believe in people and want the best for everyone. We’re all so much better off being a diverse nation.

Sam Gold • lickability.com

SwiftUI is really good. (Stop booing me, I’m right.) However, there comes a time when you may look at your app and think, “this reeks of SwiftUI.” System-provided list layouts, the same typography, the same colors as every other app.

It’s always been a bit hacky to do a good job of theming an iOS App. Especially if you want to support dynamic text in your app, which you most definitely should.

I’m always on the lookout for articles that try to solve this problem.

This article isn’t about that as much as it’s about how to make your app shine in multiple ways.

Yahoo

Managers should not use the budget cuts as an “explanation” for compensation decisions for individual employees and instead should emphasize that the employee’s own “impact” determines “rewards.”

This guidance feels so scummy. Just say you had to do because of budget cuts. Sure, folks will be pissed off they’re missing their raise because of the cuts but do you think allowing them to believe they didn’t get a raise because of their lack of performance is better?

Maybe the goal is to get people to quit? If that is the goal, I think this is a good way to do it. Nice work.

Xe Iaso

WebAssembly is a compiler target for an imaginary CPU that your phones, tablets, laptops, gaming towers and even watches can run. It’s intended to be a level below JavaScript to allow us to ship code in maintainable languages.

I love they this article uses the term imaginary CPU. That imaginary CPU is a computer program that interprets the WebAssembly and executes it on your particular platform. Yes, in almost all cases, it’s going to be a JavaScript runtime.

If you’d like to learn more about WebAssembly you should read the official docs but I’d also encourage you to read my colleagues work on the subject. I’ve mentioned Nish Tahir before. The man’s pretty much a genius and can make a computer do anything he wants with any language. Oh, he can also handle DevOps as well as anyone. A real glue engineer if ever there was one. WillowTree is really lucky to have him.

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the-lightning-strikes-again · 3 years

Note

I really liked reading your fics of Lotor watching movies! Do you think Lotor would like watching Atlantis or lilo and stitch? And who would he watch them with? (Hopefully either Allura or Pidge)

Movie Time with TSL Lotor – Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)

It was a cold and rainy morning on the planet of Olkarion, with an emaciated Galran prince swaddled in blankets on the floor of the paladin’s lounge room. Lotor still wore his night robe and Earth-fashion pajamas, his white hair disheveled from sleep. He yawned. His face pulled tight with his harvesting scars, and his long fangs gleamed in the lamplight. He tiredly scratched at his cheek. “Why did you wake me so early, little one?”

Across the room, a pajama-clad Pidge sat cross-legged, plugging in a few cables. “Because. It’s Saturday.”

The bleary-eyed man blinked. “I know not what a Saturday is.”

She looked up, readjusting her glasses. “It’s the day where people get up to eat cereal and binge-watch cartoons. Like a tradition. My brother and I used to do this all the time. And sometimes my dad too, but he slept in a lot.” Her face twisted in a pout. “And everyone here sleeps in for, like, ever.”

“Even the princess?”

“Even the princess.”

Lotor’s gaze slid to the container of milk, courtesy of Kaltenecker, and then to the sacred box of—he narrowed his gaze curiously—frosted cheerios. Pidge had procured two bowls and two little spoons. He raised his nose and sniffed delicately. The box smelled of sweetness and grains, and saliva swarmed through his mouth in anticipation of food. Beneath the blankets, he scratched at his stomach. Wakefulness began to seep through him at the thought of eating and watching more animated drawings from Earth. “You wish to share in this…tradition with me, then?”

“You were sleeping out here on the couch,” Pidge deadpanned, giving him a look, “so you were gonna share in it no matter what.” A small emotion came over her. She glanced down, returning to connecting the cables. “And my brother’s still off-planet, so you’ll have to do.”

He huffed in amusement. “I am a companion of convenience, then. A replacement brother.”

“Yeah, something like that.” She began to scoot away from the cables, grabbing for her cereal bowl.

Lotor quirked a brow. His blanket shifted around him as he picked up the remaining bowl, mimicking her actions. “What is the topic of today’s entertainment adventure?” He watched curiously as she dumped cereal into her bowl and filled it with milk. And then he followed in kind, hesitantly dipping his spoon into the concoction and biting down.

His slit pupils dilated at the sweet taste.

His fangs crunched down loudly.

Pidge munched more quietly, but her lips stretched as she moved to turn on the movie. “It’s called Atlantis: The Lost Empire.”

Lotor’s elfin ears flicked in interest. “Lost empire?” he repeated curiously, voice muffled by cereal.

As the movie began to play, Pidge’s face brightened. “The whole movie involves an old human legend, about this advanced civilization that sunk under the sea in a sudden cataclysm.”

“Fascinating.” His explorer’s heart lifted in excitement, the sleeping disappearing fully from his eyes. In that moment, it did not matter to him that he was 10,000 years old or watching something that was most assuredly meant for children and families. “Does the legend have any form of validity?”

“Well, being mentioned by Plato, who was a real philosopher—” she pointed to the screen to the opening quote—“has made people search all over for it. But so far, nothing’s proven because there’s a lot of sunken cities on Earth.” She paused. “The movie definitely takes some creative license with ancient human tech, too. Like, ancient humans did not fly in fish ships.”

“I see.” Lotor crunched down happily on the cereal, eyes wide. The screen brightened with the cartoon colors of human animation. Strange, fish-like planes streaked through a blue sky in a panic. Lotor instinctively leaned along with the framing of the movie, as if he were on the ships as well. “Calamity is rather fun to indulge in when it’s not real.”

“I know, right?” Pidge grabbed onto her blanket, wrapping it around her.

And the two remained sitting on the floor of the great lounge, increasingly lost in the tale of Atlantis.

***

It was at some point after Milo Thatch’s introduction that Lotor hesitantly spoke up, his voice catching oddly. “This animation.” He tried again. “I thought you said once that humans were unaware of the planet Altea.”

Pidge pushed up her glasses, still cradling her cereal bowl in her lap. “Yep. Didn’t know about it at all.”

Lotor puzzled at the screen. He hummed, setting his cereal bowl down on his lap. “This Atlantis bears significant similarities to Altean technology and to its people, down to being significantly advanced even ten-thousand years ago.”

The human girl blinked. And then her face twisted in a mischief. “Oh, yeah. It might have more similarities than you think.” She began to waggle her bows. “Including to a certain Altean princess.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Also, you kinda remind me of Milo,” she declared. “Just saying.”

His eyes slit further in consternation, for at that moment, the somewhat bumbling but intelligent character of Milo Thatch was sitting in a water puddle after his museum colleagues rejected his proposal. For good measure, Lotor crunched down on another bite of cereal. “I may enjoy ancient history,” he declared, voice muffled, “but I am not as scrawny as he.”

Pidge poked him hard in his ribs, which still jutted out beneath his sleeping robe. “You’re right. You’re scrawnier.”

Lotor flinched away, shooting her a playfully dark glare. “A temporary consequence of being harvested by the witch. I will reclaim my health, and then you will regret making fun of me so.”

Her face split in a wicked smile. “Nah. You’re definitely Milo. Muscle can’t hide that you’re a nerd.”

He sputtered, waving his cereal spoon. “And what of you? With your books and codes. And cat memes.”

“Oh, I’m a nerd,” she declared. “I just own it proudly.”

The fallen prince ate of his cereal in a light disgruntlement. He watched Milo as the character awkwardly stumbled through meeting a busty blond human woman and then a spastic old man in a bathrobe—his objective always set on discovering the secrets of Atlantis and its sources of power.

Milo Thatch owned a cat too.

Lotor’s face began to heat in realization that he did have a lot in common with this strange human man.

***

By the time the character Milo Thatch met the Princess Kida of Atlantis, a real princess had sleepily trailed into the movie room. Allura’s long, pink robes slipped against the tiles of the halls, her curls a tumble down her shoulders. She yawned and proceeded to stumble her way over to Lotor and Pidge.

With little preamble, she flopped over them.

Pidge barely managed to raise her bowl of frosted cheerios in time, squawking. Lotor froze entirely as Allura’s white curls spilled across his lap—her warm cheek leaning against his leg.

“It’s too early for movies,” the princess whined lightly. She snuggled against him and wiggled a bit to get comfortable, laying across two bodies. “I could hear the sound all the way from my room.” Lotor’s attention split from the animated Princess Kida to the living, breathing princess in his lap. His elfin ears flicked back, and his sharp cheeks heated.

Pidge grumped and tried to shove her off.

The princess did not budge, save for a grump right back.

Lotor had long finished off his bowl of frosted cheerios—leaving not even a drop of milk in his wake. But he carefully pushed the bowl further away, in fear that her hair would end up in it. “We are watching Atlantis: The Lost Empire,” he murmured to her, voice straining. “Would you not like to watch it with us?”

Allura made a noncommittal noise, appearing to fall back asleep, the lines in her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled deeply. The action suggested she had grown to trust him a great deal, for the back of her neck lay bare where her hair had parted.

Lotor swallowed hard.

He turned to look at Pidge, who had sighed and given up trying to push Allura off—instead, she’d moved to accept Allura’s robe as something of a blanket and had rested her arms over the back of the princess’s legs.

Lotor hesitated, knowing that the paladins often piled upon each other as a means of displaying familial affection.

As Milo Thatch moved to swim alongside Princess Kida in search of the Heart of Atlantis, Lotor moved to brush his fingers against the waves of Allura’s curls.

It was a soft, hesitant action—testing the waters of her trust. She made a soft noise in response, her lips sleepily stretching. Her elfin ear flicked lightly as the calloused pads of his fingers ran over it. The action itself meant things to Alteans and Galrans, for only family and lovers touched one’s ears.

The princess nuzzled against him.

His heart skipped. Careful of his claws, he continued to toy with her hair as he turned his attention back to the movie, in which Milo’s very interest in Atlantis had now endangered the Royal Atlantean family.

Lotor bit his lip, feeling a great protectiveness for Allura wash over him.

***

The movie indicated that Atlanteans received their power from a great, sentient crystal—the animation of which was not unlike pure quintessence.

“Do you think,” Lotor asked quietly to Pidge, “that it is possible your Atlantis was real, and that some piece of a quintessence-rich substance—a comet, perhaps—landed upon your Earth?”

Pidge looked over at him, readjusting her glasses in interest. “I suppose it would be possible, but you’re suggesting then that Atlantis is real. And that the power in this movie is real.”

“How do you know it isn’t?”

“What would you do with it?” she challenged right back, raising a brow. “You got plans for that power or something?”

The fallen prince made a face. He was still absentmindedly running his claws through Princess Allura’s hair. “No. I simply fear that concentrated sources of quintessence may have this effect in our world—that it bonds to a host and…overtakes them, somehow.” His white brows knitted together. “As it did my own mother, who has been lost to quintessence, and a demon has taken her place.”

Pidge’s gaze fell to Lotor’s hand, which ran along the tip of Princess Allura’s ear. The princess herself was fully asleep against him, her mouth open with a trail of drool slipping against Lotor’s pajama-clad leg.

The girl’s face curled with a sneaky smile. “You’re worried about Allura? Afraid you’re gonna lose her over something, because you loveher?”

Lotor’s eyes snapped to Pidge, his face heating. “I know she has successfully navigated Oriande, but…” He fell silent with emotion for a time before he could add, “My mother came across something of great power, and it changed her.”

The strain in his voice made Pidge’s mischievous smile falter. She hesitated.

The movie played between them as the animated humans fought to steal Kida, who was bonded to the crystal.

Pidge eventually said, voice softer, “Allura’s really powerful. We’re not gonna lose her over anything.”

Lotor’s throat tightened. He continued to stroke Allura’s hair as she slept against him. “You do not know what I have seen quintessence do to people. Even now, if certain groups knew what all Princess Allura could do, they would seek to control her, just as the evil humans in this cartoon wish to do with the crystal-bonded Kida.”

An emotion came over Pidge. “Well—I mean, we wouldn’t let that happen.”

Within the movie, Milo Thatch had accrued a small band willing to risk their lives to retrieve the princess.

Lotor watched, his heart rising in a pound. “Do tell me that they save her,” he demanded. “I will not watch the rest of this if the Princess Kida dies.”

The human girl gave him a look. “It’s a children’s cartoon. They’re not gonna kill off the princess.”

His breath caught oddly, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing. He pulled his hand away from Allura’s hair. “Right, yes. Of course, they wouldn’t.” He breathed out slowly. “That is well.”

“You take these shows too seriously,” Pidge warned. “Half the fun is knowing that it turns out okay, but not knowing how. You just gotta watch.”

“And Princess Kida?” Lotor demanded. “She is not permanently bonded to the crystal by the end, is she?”

Pidge groaned. “Oh my god. Just watch the movie.”

The princess suddenly whined at the loss of Lotor’s touch, her blue eyes cracking open. “No,” she pleaded blearily. She disjointedly reached up, searching for Lotor’s hand. “Keep petting me; it was quite nice.”

He looked down at her, face tightening in a mix of amusement and protectiveness. “Apologies, princess,” he said, moving to run the back of his knuckles against her warm temple. “I will do as you wish.”

She made a happy noise, settling back into sleep.

***

Lotor did not relax until after Milo Thatch had released Princess Kida from her prison, and until after Princess Kida had saved Atlantis and reappeared from out of the crystal’s aura—to land in Milo’s arms.

“You see?” Pidge called, waving her hand at the screen. “What did I tell you?”

Lotor swallowed down emotion. His fingers stilled against Allura’s stiff curls and the warm of her cheek. Despite the fact that he knew the story to be a children’s fairy tale, an odd burn appeared in his eyes. He exhaled shakily. “You were right,” he relented. “The princess lived.”

“Exactly,” Pidge said. For all her youth, she narrowed her eyes with a critical level of awareness. “They saved the princess. Because she had people to fight for her too.”

He raised his vulnerable eyes to her.

An unspoken truth wavered between them—which was that he and the paladins would fight to protect Princess Allura in much the same way, if it ever came to it.

Then, Pidge broke the mood, her expression shifting with a demonic mischief. She waggled her brows. “You love Princess Allura.” She began to shove at Allura’s legs. “Wake up. Lotor wants to declare his undying love for you and tell you that he’ll save you from crystals and evil people and—”

“—Stop it,” he hissed, his cheeks heating. He grabbed for one of the extra pillows that hung off the edge of the couch—and he flung it directly at Pidge. “You gremlin.”

It struck her soundly, but it did not hide her cackle, nor did it stop Princess Allura waking up from all the unsettled movement and raised voices. Her eyes opened a slit. She made a noise of confusion. “What is—going…on?”

She sleepily raised up from Lotor’s lap, her white curls tumbling down her shoulders.

Pidge opened her mouth to respond with a tease, but Lotor smoothly cut in. “Pidge was just putting in another movie,” he said, voice straining. “Weren’t you, Pidge?”

Allura turned to him, still rapidly blinking her eyes. In that moment, she appeared so entirely vulnerable that Lotor struggled against an instinct to gather her into his arms. “Oh, another one?” She yawned. “But I think—I missed all of this one.”

The human girl crawled away, reaching for her watch with her movie collection on it. “Don’t worry,” she called merrily. “I’m sure Lotor wouldn’t mind reenacting it with you one day.”

“I should hope not,” he retorted, his lavender cheeks still in a flame of emotion. “I’d prefer the princess not be in danger at all. And I am not a Milo Thatch.”

“You are definitely a Milo Thatch,” Pidge deadpanned. “Allura, tell him he’s a Milo Thatch. You know he is.”

The sleepy princess only half-understand the plea. She rubbed at her eyes before leaning back against Lotor, resting her heavy cheek against his shoulder, curling up against him. “He’s—my Milo,” she murmured groggily. “Thatch.”

Lotor pressed his lips together, and he damned the skip of his heart.

Allura’s Milo.

He managed a glare at Pidge, but it lacked fire.

The human girl simply smiled back with that demonic mischief before turning away to look for another movie.

#Voltron #The Second Law #Movie Time with TSL Lotor #Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)#Lotura #Lotor #Allura #Pidge #Thank you for the request amnshe-wolf!#I hope you enjoyed it #Sorry it took me this long to finish this lil drabble #I love this movie though and love the thought of Lotor watching it #idk if you even like Voltron or Lotor or TSL still at this point lolll #But for what it's worth I hope it's meaningful in some way!#My writings #fanfiction

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Note

Your writing is DEVASTATINGLY lovely, thank you for sharing it with us!

Catch me tearing up at this, Nonnie. You are far too lovely and kind. Have a little thank you ficlet which I hope you enjoy <3

If you haven’t played Witcher 3 or read the books, this will contain major spoilers about Ciri!

To say that Geralt wasn’t friendly could be taken as a bit of an understatement. Somehow Jaskier had either missed that memo or he straight up didn’t care, sticking around until he became part of Geralt’s everyday landscape. Then Ciri came along and Geralt stopped fighting destiny. They were in Kaedwen when another figure turned up at their camp, looking dishevelled and exhausted. Cahir had been running north, away from Nilfgaard and hoping to help protect Ciri. Not that Geralt was having any of it, he gruffly tried to warn off the interloper on their camp.

“It’s you!” Ciri exclaimed. “I see you in my dreams.”

Politely baffled, Cahir offered her a hesitant smile. “I only know you’re Emhyr's daughter and I firmly believe that under no circumstance should you fall into his hands."

Being everyone's friend, Jaskier struck up conversation with Cahir. However, Geralt couldn't help but feel like they were being fooled, given a sob story of someone who grew to resent the empire they led an army for. It was just too perfect, like something Jaskier would make up to sing a heart-warming song about to bring everyone together on a dreary night. Still, Geralt wasn't in the habit of being aggressive with humans if he could help it. But he could still make things unbearably awkward so they didn't stick around. That had always been the case (with Jaskier being the exception) so Geralt kept to his tried and tested method.

Nights were spent on the cold forest floor. While Geralt would meditate and keep guard, Jaskier curled up with Ciri under all the blankets they had in an attempt to keep warm. It was too risky to have a fire. Only, Cahir wasn't allowed to curl up with them, even as he passed over one of his own furs when he saw Ciri shivering. That night, Geralt watched as the rather strange human huddled against a tree, tucked under as many of his paltry belonging as possible to stay warm. Even more strangely, he slept as if he trusted Geralt to keep him safe for the night.

"How long will you travel with us?" Ciri asked innocently a few mornings later. She didn't seem to notice the way Cahir was flexing his hands to try and get some heat back into his fingers. Not that Geralt cared, he had seen the hand flop out from under a cloak as Cahir had turned in the night. It served him right, the fool that he was for thinking he could just travel with a Witcher and his family of choice and Destiny.

"I don't know," Cahir replied, the honesty raw in his voice.

Ciri didn't waste time, smiling at him as she declared, "You should come with us! Geralt said Kaer Morhen is big, so there will be room for you too."

Such simple, childish logic. Geralt wished Ciri hadn't opened her mouth though. Judging my the hesitant look Cahir was casting him, it was quite evident the invitation wasn't taken to heart. Until Jaskier joined in too.

"Yes, come with us! It will be nice to have another boring old human among the beefcakes of Kaer Morhen." He must have seen Cahir looking at Geralt because Jaskier scoffed out a laugh. "ignore his sour demeanour. He's just a grouch until he gets home."

The trek to Kaer Morhen was slow and several times Geralt wondered whether he could guide then in a way that meant he could keep Ciri on Roach, a hand on Jaskier and if, by some mishap, Cahir slipped, they could all say it was an accident. However, Geralt had a moral code that was better than that, as much as he cursed himself for it. But they made it to Kaer Morhen as a quartet. Introductions were made swiftly and Geralt showed everyone to rooms. Jaskier would share with him, Ciri would be near by. However, he led Cahir to a further part of the old keep and opened the door to room that was still functional but it was definitely not, by any definition, nice. To Geralt, the further Cahir was from him and his family, the better.

"This is your room."

He didn't expect the large eyed awe and gratitude.

"You sure? I thought you'd put me in a communal room."

There were no communal rooms but Geralt didn't want to say that. Instead, he shrugged. "This room is yours now."

It wasn't like it had much, a lumpy, straw filled mattress, a rickety chest of drawers and a fireplace. Not much more would fit in there really. Yet Cahir seemed almost overwhelmed by it.

Everything Geralt tried to do to make Cahir less eager to stick around seemed to backfire. The pass was still open and Geralt hoped Cahir would try to go back to his masters and perish along the way. One less threat to Ciri that way. However, Cahir eagerly took to kitchen duties, saying he wanted to earn his keep. He also willingly joined in with training, even sharing some of Nilfgaard's fighting styles and dirty tricks with the others.

All of Geralt's pushing had an interesting side effect. While Cahir tried to give him space while living up to expectations, he got closer to the other Witchers. Especially, Lambert and Eskel. However, like with most things not in his immediate interest, Geralt decided to stick his head in the sand about it. It didn't concern him so it wasn't his problem.

He was making his last rounds of the keep, something he didn't feel the need to do quite so often anymore. However, a soft, very human snuffle from the stall next to Roach had him suspicious. Silently peering into the stall, Geralt's eyebrows rose to see Cahir under his cloak, curled into some straw.

"Something wrong with your room?"

The words startled Cahir and he jerked, staring wide eyed at Geralt. There was straw stuck in his hair.

"Sorry. No. The room you gave me is very nice and really generous of you." That should have been an absolute lie but Cahir didn't seem to be anything but honest. So Geralt stayed quiet and allowed him to fill the awkwardly lengthening silence. "It was so quiet, I'm not used to it. The army is noisy, even when it sleeps. And I missed the stars. It's been years since I've spent more than a couple of nights indoors at a time."

Life on the road was something Geralt could understand. But it sounded like maybe Cahir had been without creature comforts for a lot longer than a Witcher. At least Geralt had a home to return to. With Nilfgaard's aggressive spread, he could easily imagine Cahir being at the forefront of that. That realisation didn't sit well with Geralt, it gnawed away at him for some reason. So he did the only thing he was capable of, he grunted and left.

However, the next day he mentioned the encounter to Eskel, hoping that he or Lambert would have a better solution. They did, but not the way Geralt had hoped. He was the one to much out the stables that week. Mostly confident that the others had sorted his little problem, Geralt didn't think much of the noise he was making. At least, not until he walked past what should have been an empty stall. Twin sets of amber eyes glared at him from within. More straw had been piled into the stall, a few more throws and furs brought in too and Cahir was nestled between two Witchers, sleeping more soundly than Geralt had seen him before.

That should have been the worst of it but, that night, Geralt found his partner missing from their shared bed. Assuming Jaskier was singing to Ciri, he crept closer, puzzled by the silence. Her room was empty too. There weren't many places they could have gone, so Geralt headed down to the kitchen, determinedly not panicking. A Witcher didn't panic, especially not in his own home. He only encountered Vesemir who looked over him once.

"Ah, you're here. Take this to the others." Geralt was handed a tray of six steaming mugs. Vesemir was holding a seventh. At the hesitation in Geralt's posture, he rolled his eyes. "Take that to the stables."

Something akin to dread curled in Geralt's chest as he approached the stables. He hadn't been good to Cahir, so he wasn't likely to be welcomed into the group. So he'd just put the tray down and make a hasty retreat.

"Drinks!" Jaskier declared with a cheer and the others in the stall all seemed to brighten too. It looked quite cosy in an odd way. Ciri was between Jaskier and Eskel but she wormed her way out to grab a drink, eyes closed as the steam wafted over her face.

"You have the best ideas, thanks," she declared.

One by one, Geralt handed out the drinks until one more was left on the tray. Everyone stared at him until Cahir took pity.

"We have room for one more if you'd like to join."

Hesitant, Geralt settled down and let out an "oof" as Jaskier snuggled in on one side and Ciri vigorously claimed his other. It was nice, a little odd but not as alienating as Geralt had feared. Though Cahir's words had been a little bit of a lie, as Geralt found out the following year. There wasn't room for just one more. Because, against all odds, they managed to somehow squeeze in a Cat Witcher that Lambert had dragged home too.

#geraskier #lambskel #lambert/eskel/cahir #mentioned lambert/eskel/cahir/aiden #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #lambert #eskel #vesemir #tldr: geralt is an ass to cahir who is still grateful

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 3 years

Text

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter One

Master List

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x OFC Baast’Mal

Warnings: I'm making this up as a go, Canon divergent from the series during chapter 13, mild violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn't do it on purpose, but I'm new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I'm trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We'll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

In the sweltering heat of the jungle, Din Djarin crouched to better scan for tracks in the rotting foliage at the base of the tall trees. Pools of light made it difficult to adjust correctly for the shadowy depths; add in the thermal activity of the plants and animals in this stinking sewer of a planet, and he was having a hard time tracking his quarry.

When he'd accepted the puck, he hadn't known what he was getting into as her chain code was surprisingly sparse. The only additional information he had was her name - Taa Marel - her last known location and face.

And what a face. Even on a holo, she was stunning, not that the Mandalorian would let that sway him one way or the other.

He'd tracked the stolen ship from Bogano, where she'd initially been hiding out to this skug hole of a world that was made to torment men in beskar, causing them to swelter in their helmet.

The kid, however, loved the place.

Constantly cooing, riding in his pouch, he touched everything he could get his chubby green fingers on. Leaves, flowers, bugs; those, of course, went straight in his mouth. By this point, Mando accepted the womp rat could and would eat just about anything.

Upon arrival, they'd found the ship nose down, destroyed, and abandoned, but the crash landing had created just enough space for Mando to set the Razor Crest down. Then the hunt began.

After three hours of slogging through the heat, he was ready to kill her. After four, he decided death was too good for someone who made him sweat this hard. After five, he was determined to make her suffer. But they were closing in. He could feel it like an ache in his bones.

Tracks led forward, but something didn't sit right with that. They were too obvious. After hours of following such a well-covered trail, this was an insult to his skills. Footprints led straight down a game trail like a beacon meant to lure him astray.

It wasn't right, too easy by far, and the skin on his nape crawled.

He looked up, straight into the eyes of the woman he was hunting. Even through the distorted colour of heat vision, he could see they were a vibrant green.

He moved on instinct, whipcord shooting out, wrapping around her shoulders, and dragging her out of the tree.

She screamed the battle cry of a hunting cat, an inhuman sound before she twisted mid-air and landed lightly, crouched but on her feet.

"Taa Marel, I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold," he warned her, hand hovering over his blaster.

"That is not my name. And I choose option three."

Her voice kicked him in the groin and made his dick twitch. Stunned, he could only watch as her hands came up and nails like talons shredded his whipcord.

Someone had left a few things out of her chain code.

"Put the child down."

Mando blinked. "Why would I do that?"

What did she want with his foundling? Had she heard about him? Would she attempt to take him?

"I intend to kick your ass, Mandalorian, but I do not hurt children. Put him down."

Surprised, Mando reached for the strap across his chest instead of his blaster. "You're not going to run?"

She lifted a proud chin. "You will continue to hunt me. I would rather die than return to that hell hole, but I will not go easy. I will fight."

She was beginning to impress him with more than just her face.

Din lifted the strap over his head, his eyes fixed on the target, studying her outside of the holo he'd memorized.

She stood with her chin raised, body slightly turned in a stance that bespoke proper training. If one could call it that, her green tunic had no sleeves, crossed over her breasts, tied just beneath them, and ended a few inches thereafter, baring the wealth of sun-darkened skin over tightly packed muscles. Pants hugged slim hips, billowed at her thighs, and tied tight to her calves thanks to the soft, short boots that went to her knee.

Sweat gave her a sheen that made her glow, her vibrant eyes shadowed behind thick, long lashes. Her face was a treasure trove of sculpted brows, sharp nose, and high cheekbones over lips that looked like ripe fruit, begging for teeth.

A mass of hair, the colour of sand, fell in heavy waves to her hips. It began to darken toward the tips until it was as black as the deepest corner of space.

As he moved the kid, she untied a thin cord from her wrist and slowly began to bind her hair in a low tail.

He'd never met a woman like her, a bounty like her, ever. This one - fugitive or not - had honour in her.

The kid cooed and waved. Her lips twitched into a smile as she winked and waved back.

"Fear not, Mandalorian. Should I kill you today, I will raise your foundling as my own."

Din's blood ran cold. "You won't get the chance."

He hung the child's satchel on a low tree knot and drew the beskar spear from his back in the same motion. Though he'd won the spear from magistrate Morgan Elsbeth on Corvus and helped the Jedi Ahsoka Tano defeat her forces, the Jedi held no answers when it came to the kid. Though, Din wondered if that had more to do with him than the little green monster. She'd told him to seek another Jedi, someone with more training than she, but had given him no direction in which to search.

"He is rather cute," she smirked. "But his kind age so slowly. You will be long dead before he is grown."

Mando paused. "You know of his kind?"

She arched a brow. "You do not?"

He lowered the spear and held up his off-hand. "I am tasked with returning him to his people."

Her posture never changed, but her eyes filled with sorrow. "He has no more people. The last of his kind, or what was thought to be the last, died some years ago. Master Yoda was his name."

"I'm to help him find the Jedi," Mando murmured.

Her eyes lost their sadness. "I cannot help you."

"Will not."

"They are one and the same," she whispered.

Lightning fast, she rushed him. Mando barely blocked the first swipe of her claws before the second clanged off his pauldron. He used the spear's shaft to knock her back, even as she kicked him in the ribs, bypassing the beskar.

"Do you know the life you condemn me to, Mandalorian, if you return me to that horrible place?" she asked, crouched once again, a few feet away.

"You're a bounty. I don't make deals," he stated, watching his quarry while keeping his body between her and the kid. His ribs smarted, but he'd had worse.

"No. You just work for the people who Purged your planet!" she spat, leaping and clawing.

She was fast, damn fast. Barely able to keep up, it was all Mando could do not to lose ground until he saw an opening and swept the butt of the spear at her leg.

She jumped back, breath coming hard.

"I didn't ask who the bounty was for." Greef Karga offered him the chance for a big payday, and right now, they could use it.

"You work for the Empire," she sneered. "Returning me to torture and experimentation. Do you think I was always like this!?" She stood and held out her arms, flexing fingers tipped in dark claws. She bared her teeth, revealing wicked-looking canines, then lifted a portion of hair to reveal a sharply pointed ear.

Again he paused, a thing unheard of, to ask, "What are you?" Her chain code said human, but she was certainly not that.

Her proud chin lifted in defiance. "Do you know what a Zentari is, Mandalorian?"

Din inhaled sharply. "That's not possible. They were wiped out."

"All but one. I am Baast'mal, last of the Zentari. The Empire took me as a child and used my gift to ruin me. They bound my blood to the Corellian Sand Panther and Manka Cat. They have so thoroughly defiled my biorhythms that if the constellations were kind enough to cross my path with that of my mate, I do not know if I could bond with him." Pain flickered across her features. "I am sullied, broken. I am a monster," she whispered before shaking herself free of the melancholia and raising that proud chin once more. "So kill me if you can, Mandalorian, for I will not go willingly."

The beskar spear fell from his fingers as Din dropped to a knee and bowed his head. "I am a Child of the Watch. I must offer aid, Zentari. This is the Way."

"The Way?" She took a step back. "The Mandalorians no longer follow the Old Ways. They no longer conceal their face from all but their riduur and ad. The creed is long dead."

He shook his head. "My Tribe is one of zealots. We hold to the old ways of Mandalore. I only recently learned of this as I was raised with them in hiding. The Purge took much, but the ways of the Zentari are remembered in the covert."

She hesitated, eyes wary. "I have faced Mandalorians before. They knew not the Way."

Din stripped his gloves from his hands and held them out, palms up as if catching water. He raised them above his head and brought them down over his helmet, appearing to another as if he washed with air. "Zentari of the Bright Star, may the constellations bless this warrior with a treasure greater than beskar that they would be mine. Cyar'ika. Ka'rta. Riduur."

She inhaled sharply. He watched her fight tears, lip trembling before she closed the distance between them and knelt. She dipped her fingers into his cupped palms as if they held water, brought them to her brow and stroked them down over her eyes and out along her cheeks.

Her hands shook as she lifted them toward his helmet and laid her palms lightly on the sides of the beskar.

His hands gently grasped her wrists, her skin warm and soft beneath his fingers. She wouldn't remove it, that he was sure of, but it was an instinct he couldn't deny when someone touched his helmet.

Her voice was whisper soft when she spoke. "Mandalorian, Holder of the Creed, blessed of the constellations. May you raise warriors strong in the Way and find your riduur. Your cyar'ika. Your ka'rta."

"This is the Way," he murmured, shaken by the encounter.

"This is the Way," she agreed as she drew him forward until his helmet lightly kissed her brow.

The shudder that raced through her raced through him with equal intensity. The Zentari race was a myth, a legend, a beautiful dream. They were so lost to time Din felt like his heart would burst with joy.

"Have you ever removed your helmet, Mando?" she asked softly.

The shortened form of address made his heart skip. "Not before any living thing." The Droid on Nevarro didn't count, and no matter what Bo'Katan said, the creed was his way. He would never show his face to any besides his wife or children.

Let Koska scoff as she liked at his traditions. She had not found a Zentari. She likely wouldn't know what to do with the Zentari if she did.

Din rocked back on his toes and pushed to his feet, surprised when she followed him with equal grace. "Zentari, we should return to my ship. The Alor will want to meet you. The covert will rejoice."

"Baast."

He froze as her hands landed lightly on his beskar covered chest. "What?"

"To you, I am Baast." She stared into his visor as if able to see his eyes.

"Baast," he murmured, wishing he could speak her name without the modulator.

"Yes, Din Djarin," she smiled.

He still held her wrists, and his hands became her shackles. "How do you know that name?" he demanded.

Long lashes swept her cheeks, a coy smile curling her lips. "Grogu told me."

His grip tightened more. "Who is Grogu?"

She tilted her head to look past him at the kid cooing at them. "He is Grogu."

"You can understand him?" Din asked, his shock registering even through the modulator.

"Not in words, but he speaks to those who can listen. Images. Impressions. The Force is strong in him," she smiled at Grogu. "He loves you."

"He's okay." Mando was grateful for the helmet that hid his foolish grin.

"You fool no one," Baast chuckled. She gently twisted her wrists, reminding him of her bondage.

He let her go and stepped back to pick up the spear.

"You are a man blessed of beskar," she murmured. "You must be a great hunter."

"Something like that," he murmured. It still shamed him how he'd acquired his armour, but if he hadn't turned in the kid - Grogu - he wouldn't have been as well-equipped to get him back and keep him safe as they ran from the Empire.

Baast headed for Grogu, her smile growing as she lifted down his carrier and situated the baby against her chest. Grogu giggled and babbled something Mando didn't understand.

"Oh, I see," Baast chuckled, casting a side-eye his direction.

"What?" Mando muttered.

"Clan of the Mudhorn. A clan of two." She flicked her claws over his sigil. "I wondered. Grogu explained."

Mando glared at the kid- Grogu. "Don't tell her all my secrets."

Grogu cooed. Baast cuddled him and smiled slyly. By that look, he was pretty sure it was too late for his secrets.

He turned to go, heading back the way he'd come. It would take hours to return to the Razor Crest, and it was already getting dark.

***

They didn't make it back to the ship before nightfall, but he found a hollow tree in which to spend the dark hours. Creeper vines had choked the life out of the behemoth, leaving them in a cage of vines and dry, dead bark with a wealth of firewood to choose from.

The fire burned brightly, drafting well, casting shadows across Baast's face and keeping the larger predators at bay. She slept curled around Grogu, lips gently parted. The air had finally cooled at sundown, but now he could see the shivers and goosebumps developing on her flesh.

Slowly, he leaned forward to remove the cape from his back. Then, just as quietly, he rose, rounded the fire, and draped it over her and Grogu. She stirred but didn't wake, and Din returned to his watch on the far side of the fire.

A Zentari. He could scarce believe it.

She was a myth made flesh—a beautiful dream. Once, when Mandalore still followed the old ways, Zentarus was where many warriors sought their mates, their most cherished riduur.

A Zentari was always fast and strong and incredibly rare. They grew quickly but aged slowly, their years stretching out into eternity, some said. Fine in face and form, when they met their match, they bonded, taking on traits of the other and giving a few as well.

A Mandalorian could live a very long time with a Zentari mate.

But most Mandalorians came home empty-handed as a bond with a Zentari could not be forced, but those who the stars smiled upon, those most blessed with a cherished mate, bonded in ways that grew legends. It was said their children were the most incredible of warriors.

Baast'mal was everything he imagined when told stories of Zentari as a child new to the Tribe. It didn't hurt that she was the most mesh'la female he'd ever seen. Fast. Strong. Deadly. He wondered at what the Empire had done to her, how they could force the blood bonds on Sand Panthers and Manka cats, and just what other mutations they'd caused.

He also wondered at her Force sensitivity. What she felt or even what she could do had not been discussed, but Mando knew there was more to her than he had yet discovered.

But it was the ache in him, the growing need to once again touch her skin that concerned him.

It was primal. Feral. It clawed at him. It had him itching to be closer - much closer - to her. He wanted to show her his face and hope she found him as pleasing as he did her.

Din had nothing to go by in comparison. He'd seen his reflection before, of course, but he had no way of knowing if a woman would think him handsome. He'd had encounters before, ones in which everyone walked away satisfied, some paid for, others freely offered, but the helmet and the beskar never came off.

With her, he wanted to be bare, stripped off all trappings. Din wanted to feel his naked skin against hers. He wanted to taste it.

"You are a very loud thinker," she mumbled, bright eyes glowing softly beyond the fire.

Mortification filled him. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I do not know your thoughts, Mando," she clarified, "just feel a gentle buzzing from the beskar. It restricts what I pick up from you."

Relief almost had him sagging. Baast closed her eyes, but he was loath to let the conversation end.

"How old are you?" She looked young, maybe twenty-five.

Her brow twitched, amusement in her smile. "It is rude to ask."

"I wondered how long the Empire had you," he explained.

Shadows darkened her eyes. "Forty years."

"But they've only been around for thirty," he frowned.

She gave a hollow laugh and sat up. "They have been around much, much longer. I remember the day they came for us. They slaughtered all who fought, men and women. Every child they could catch was rounded up and taken away." She looked away, down at dark claws. "I was the only Zentari to survive the experiments."

"I'm sorry." He was. "I know what it's like to lose everything."

She tilted her head. "You were a foundling."

It wasn't a question, and Din didn't answer her.

"They began experimenting with my blood almost immediately. I was ten when they bound traits of the Manka to me. I was fifteen when they brought in the Panther."

"How? Why?"

Her eyes burned into his. "Because they could." She flexed her fingers. "Because they are depraved. Because they are monsters, who turn others into abominations."

"You're not."

She looked at him in surprise.

Din shifted until he stood and made his way around to her side, where he offered his hand. Baast took it and joined him in the shadows as he led her a few steps away from Grogu. He stripped his gloves from his hands, the need to touch her no longer under his control.

Slowly, he reached up to caress her cheek. He pushed her hair back, revealing the pointed tip of her ear. Her eyes gleamed from behind heavy lids when he stroked his fingers down her tricep and finally cupped her elbow.

He closed his opposite hand around her nape; his thumb pressed to her spiking pulse. "You are no monster."

"My blood is sullied."

"Perhaps. But you remain unbroken," he murmured. "You lived. You escaped. Mesh'la, you are a beacon of shining hope to my Tribe. If there is one Zentari, perhaps there are others."

She closed her eyes. "There is not."

"How do you know?"

A tear trickled down her cheek. "I felt the last die three years ago. It was what gave me the strength to escape."

"Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore," he murmured, rubbing his thumb on her pulse.

"Pressure makes gems; ease makes decay?" A small smile twitched her lips. "Am I a gem, Mando?"

"No."

She arched an amused brow.

"You are something more precious than any gem," he murmured.

Colour dusted her cheeks. "A Mandalorian who has a way with words? I truly have seen it all," she teased.

He sighed and made sure it echoed through the modulator. "Get some rest." He attempted to move away, but she grabbed him by the belt.

"Stay."

"Baast?"

"Stay." She took his hand, led him closer to Grogu, encouraged him to sit against a fallen chunk of tree, and then curled up beside him, tucking herself under his arm.

"The beskar is too hard," he worried.

"No harder than a prison cell, and you are much warmer. I have not known the comfort of another since I was seven," she admitted.

He sighed again but gave in, curling his arm around her.

"Thank you for your cape."

"Hm."

Her chuckle was more of a low purr. When it rippled through him, Din swore he felt something inside him purr back.

Next Chapter

#Star-Crossed #mandalorian #Mandalorian fanfiction

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bedlamsbard · 3 years

Text

All right, reactions to Mando 2.05, “The Jedi”, in...semi-coherent form. Spoilers, obvs. I hated this episode, so keep scrolling now if you don’t want to see negativity. This is not in any kind of order except stream-of-conscious.

again, I reiterate, spoilers.

again, I reiterate, this is REALLY negative.

Rosario Dawson...yikes.

how...did Bo-Katan know that Ahsoka was on Corvus? are they in contact? since when? Ahsoka seems to have been on Corvus for long enough to be a nuisance to the Magistrate (Morgan Elsbeth), but normally Ahsoka is very efficient and she just...really does not seem to be here? I did not get the impression she was planning on sticking around for any period of time.

(the same could be true for Frog Lady and Bo-Katan on Trask several episodes back. that wasn’t a convert, that was three Mandalorians hanging around the port in cloaks. I guess they could be doing that on the regular, but? would the Empire not then be more worried about being attacked by Mandalorians?)

there was only ever a very, very slim chance that I was going to be happy with any translation of Ahsoka from animation to live action. I am on record as thinking that animation is the medium for Star Wars and that live action is always going to be a weaker medium than animation and that a lot of things that can be done in animation just cannot be translated to live action in any meaningful form. I knew Ahsoka’s fighting style couldn’t translate to live action convincingly (here’s what I said about the mo-capped duel in TCW); it never occurred to me that they couldn’t pull off TOGRUTA given that Shaak Ti, you know, exists, and also there are so many excellent Ahsoka cosplayers.

(Consider KM Creations’ excellent silicone lekku (S7), which have beautiful movement; the cosplayer behind that is CallMeSnips and her epilogue prototype is from SWCC is in there somewhere. I think Rei Kennex’s are latex (you can tell they don’t have much movement) but at least they’re the right length. I think Ahsoka94′s are also latex (again with the movement); this is her Mortis vision grown-up Ahsoka.)

AND YES, THE LEKKU/MONTRALS WERE A DEAL-BREAKER FOR ME.

I feel very “you have made your bed and now you have to die in it” about that -- apparently the reasoning is for stunts and movement, but for me here’s the thing: her lekku length wasn’t optional. This is not the equivalent of changing a hair style, which some people seem to think (believe me, I have read so many hot takes); this is like...I’m trying to think of a good comparison. Like putting Peter Mayhew or Joonas Suotamo in a wig because Chewie’s head was too hard for the actor to see out of, or giving them normal human hands because they can’t grip with the Wookiee hands.

Also your main character wears a helmet at all times that (if it’s anything like my Mandalorian helmet) is pretty poor visibility and full body armor and THIS was your breaking point for stunts?

Ahsoka’s lekku and montrals grow as she ages. These are about S7 length; as @reena-jenkins put it, THEY DE-AGED HER HEAD. Ahsoka fans coming in know this. PEOPLE SAW THE REBELS EPILOGUE.

I wonder how many of the people being self-righteous about being totally fine about Ahsoka’s lekku are the same people who claim that Katee Sackhoff is too young to play Bo-Katan.

this also puts them in a weird position in regards to the inevitable merchandise: do they go with normal Ahsoka from TCW and Rebels, the one everyone is familiar with, or do they go with these stunted lekku?

(I can’t believe they’re going to make Her Universe sell merch with this Ahsoka on it. it’s not going to happen but I wish HU was going to be petty enough to not sell any nu!Ahsoka merch.)

Here is some nice art of how Ahsoka’s lekku and montral should have looked.

hoo boy were those prosthetics also just Bad.

“but the stunts” buddy I’m sure Pedro Pascal and his various stunt doubles aren’t having a great time in full armor with almost no visibility either

if you’re going to put the character in, do it right

YOU CAN’T CHEAT

look, I am really, really aural -- the best example I can give is that even though intellectually I know that Matt Lanter and Hayden Christensen both play Anakin Skywalker, I literally cannot parse them as both being the same Anakin Skywalker and for that reason TCW and the PT don’t exist for the same continuity for me. (This also goes for Ewan McGregor and James Arnold Taylor, Natalie Portman and Cat Taber, and Samuel L. Jackson and TC Carson. I can kinda cope with the multiple Palpatine VAs. Yes, the decision to use Hayden and Sam in Ahsoka’s vision in “Shattered,” even blending into Matt’s voice from Hayden’s, threw me so badly I couldn’t take the vision seriously.) Ashley Eckstein has a very distinctive voice, and moreover has been the only person to ever voice Ahsoka up to this point (even in the Ahsoka novel audiobook). Barring a MIRACLE I was never going to be able to parse another actress’s voice as Ahsoka’s, solely because of how my brain works.

I could probably have parsed someone else’s face because animated Ahsoka is pretty stylized but the voice thing is a huge problem for me because of how aural I am.

(I say this but when Squadrons did a more live action-style Hera -- knowing they mo-capped Vanessa Marshall I think they used Vanessa’s face for Hera’s, which is also what it looks like on the revised art and face sculpt for the Black Series Hera -- I kind of had a meltdown about it (for...weird reasons). And that was the same VA.)

(The timeskip between TCW and Rogue One, then Rebels, probably saved Saw Gerrera for me here, but he was also never a main character.)

can you believe that Sam Witwer’s Maul got more live action respect than Ashley Eckstein’s Ahsoka

I love Sam’s Maul but wow

this is particularly jarring because Dave Filoni and Ashley Eckstein always seemed like they were friends? I realize that this gets skewed by how little of their actual lives we see online, but that is the vibe that I’ve gotten from interviews and social media posts.

can you believe that TROS gave more respect to Ashley Eckstein’s Ahsoka than Dave Filoni’s Mando episode did (here is her statement on TROS.)

back in March, when the Dawson casting rumors first dropped (or leaked, as the case may be), Ashley posted a statement about it saying that she was not involved in The Mandalorian. she has over the years been very vocal about desperately wanting to play live-action Ahsoka, who is a character solely associated with her up until today, and honestly this just breaks my heart.

I am not the massive Ashley Eckstein fan that many Ahsoka fans are, but I have never heard anything bad about her (I saw her at my hotel at SWCC while I was waiting for my roommate to arrive! that’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to her, a distance of about six feet), and I really desperately hope that someone told her about this beforehand and she didn’t find out from watching the episode.

Also, while I’m here talking about Ashley Eckstein, the characterization here was extremely off, in that specific way that happens when a writer/director is working with their absolute favorite character, DAVE FILONI. I do trust Ashley to course-correct Dave on Ahsoka (in the same way we’ve heard about Sam Witwer pushing back on people about Maul), and that...was not happening here. (I think Katee Sachoff said something similar to this about Bo-Katan in her interview last week, as well.)

how did you get Bo-Katan so right and Ahsoka so wrong

look, Dave Filoni is truly living up to George Lucas’s legacy in that he can story tell pretty well but he’s not actually that great at nitty-gritty of writing and directing. (none of the really good TCW episodes are his.)

this episode made me think of A Friend in Need (which he directed) which is not, like, a BAD episode but quite notoriously includes the Bo-Katan ass-slap and also Ahsoka beheading four Mandalorians at once.

it also includes a helpless village of oppressed and exploited Asian-coded civilians who are there mostly as background scenery so the bad guys can be bad and the heroes can feel righteous

I’ll come back to that one

the level of violence in this episode was...weird. honestly, too high? in a way that probably would not have registered if it was anyone but Ahsoka. look, I am an animated shows person. I know TCW and Rebels inside and out. I know that neither one is particularly shy about killing off faceless bad guys (though if you watch Rebels S1 compared to Rebels S4 they really dial back the amount of fatal violence the main characters commit in the last season, lol). But this felt off for Ahsoka in a way I can’t really articulate.

why is Ahsoka attacking a random Mandalorian (her allies are Mandalorians!) who is walking through the woods WITH A BABY? WITHOUT WARNING?

part of that is just her movement -- when they animated her for TCW back in 2008, they made a deliberate decision to give her mannerisms and movement and a fighting style that a human can’t do because she isn’t human and animation can do that. which means that they hobbled themselves when they came to translating her to live action because uh a human can’t do that.

something about her lightsaber blades looked really, really wrong and I can’t put my finger on what. it’s like they just used the illuminated blades of the stunt sabers but didn’t do the extra CGI that the films do? I don’t know.

Ahsoka did a LOT of dramatic posing and what WAS that?

Dave can’t direct live action, that’s what that was

since when can you canonically convey that much information mind to mind

are Ahsoka and Grogu a dyad in the Force (I know the answer is no but also: what? what was happening?)

the only people we’ve seen who can do that sort of thing are Quinlan Vos and Cal Kestis, who both have the rare talent for telemetry, and even that’s not mind to mind communication, that’s touching a thing and going “YIKES”

you are telling me that Ahsoka Tano, whom six months ago we saw take on Darth Maul, a whole barrage of Mandalorian warriors, and her entire clone trooper battalion and walk away without a scratch, had to work up a sweat fighting one woman with a spear

you do know that we all saw TCW and Rebels right

and here’s the problem! this episode makes zero sense if you HAVE seen TCW and Rebels because (1) she doesn’t look right (2) she doesn’t fight right (3) timelines? we’ve never heard of them? (4) is Thrawn back? did you find the Chimaera? (you all do remember that Ezra and Thrawn aren’t out there alone and are in fact with a 40,000 man crewed star destroyer right) (5) did you NOT find them? (6) are you even looking? (7) this is supposed to be AFTER the Rebels epilogue unless you’ve decided to take advantage of that specific ending scene not being super specifically dated and if it’s before IT MAKES IT EVEN WORSE! because I desperately hate that epilogue and its implications EVEN AS IT IS! (8) why would you call this episode “The Jedi” when since 2013 Ahsoka’s whole thing has been not being a Jedi

to be fair I’m pretty sure S7 tried very hard to course correct that but unfortunately, they could not because the rest of canon exists

are you still trying to deny me grown Ahsoka and Rex when we know you got Temuera back for a five second shot of Boba

to be fair I would have the same aural problems with Temuera voicing Rex because that’s Dee Bradley Baker as far as I’m concerned (I reiterate that this is because of how my brain process character and sound, not anythign else)

if you haven’t seen TCW and Rebels this is a random Jedi wandering around for no specific reason namedropping a completely random person who has no prior significance unless it’s going to turn up later

this entire show has consisted of namedropping random people and things with no prior significance within the show itself and it remains entirely unclear whether they’re ever going to have significance within the show itself

look, I can buy Ahsoka not wanting to train the kid both for her stated reasons and for some implied stuff from earlier on in canon (the kids in the Ahsoka novel, the babies from Future of the Force), even what happened with Ezra, and obviously she has Plans and cannot haul a baby around with her when that baby is going to be a baby for an indeterminate amount of time

which honestly is something that ought to come up because even if Ahsoka wanted to train the kid by the time she grew old and died he might, if we were very lucky, have advanced to being essentially a pre-teen and then would be on his own again? this is also true for Din.

lol sure go cast yourself out into the Force, I’m sure there’s absolutely not a single darksider still wandering around the galaxy who might perk up at “ooh, free apprentice!”

I’m literally starting to think that this show takes place in an alternate universe where Luke and Leia either don’t exist or died at some point in the OT

me, baffled, last season: you’re telling me Cara Dune, Alderaanian, had never heard of the Jedi? was she not keeping up with whatever Leia Organa was doing? was the Rebel Alliance actually big enough that PEOPLE IN IT HADN’T HEARD OF LUKE SKYWALKER?

what...is Luke doing right now. isn’t he training Leia?

WHAT HAS AHSOKA BEEN DOING FOR TEN YEARS are we seriously supposed to believe she peaced out of the Rebel Alliance after Malachor and whatever the hell they’re going to make that out to be (honestly at this point I’m betting on “they will never touch it”)

does or does Ahsoka not know that Luke exists

hoo boy can you just see them trying to cast a younger Luke, or do you think they’d CGI de-age Mark Hamill?

oh yeah let’s go through this again in a season with someone else playing young Luke, let’s, I’m not emotionally invested in that so I’m prepared to be entertained

hasn’t Sebastian Stan been floated (even if just on Twitter) for young Luke?

why are these not-imperials on this planet. what are they doing here. what’s the point.

why is the planet...being burned? I was half-expecting, like, normal deforestation (in terms of logging for lumber) but I’m also a bit ??? about this.

since when is beskar resistant to lightsabers, I thought cortosis was the only thing that was? whatever, it’s new canon, they can do whatever they want. (ETA: apparently that’s been true for a while; I am more a Jedi person than a Mandalorian one as far as the EU goes and my Mandalorian lore is my weakest point.)

dear god were these fight scenes bad

I did spot Morai and I appreciated the tookas

okay, I am taking the next thing out of bullet points because I was really, really upset by it, and as an Asian-American woman it affects me directly.

I was really, really shaken by the use of village of (space) Asian people who were portrayed solely as background victims to be tortured and exploited. Star Wars has a long history of Orientalism, and some of it I can look away from and some of I can’t. Mando especially has a very bad track record with its treatment of Asian characters (Fennec Shand), and in recent years the rest of Star Wars live action has also been pretty bad about it; I will never forget how shaken and upset I was by Paige Tico’s death at the beginning of TLJ, and Rose’s sidelining in TROS was a lot to deal with. There has also been some pretty appalling anti-Asian racism from the Mandalorian fandom that I have seen in regards towards casting rumors about Sabine (which brought me to the point of tears as recently as yesterday).

I had been braced for Rosario Dawson Ahsoka because it’s been rumored for so long, if never officially confirmed by Lucasfilm, and after they pulled the original VA for Leia from Resistance a few years ago (without ever making an official statement but it was after she made really dismissive statements during the Kavanaugh hearings) I was still really hoping they’d pull Dawson for the transphobic assault allegations, or that the rumors were false, or...something. I was not expecting the way that they treated the Asian civilian population here. I kept hoping that there was going to be something, and it’s like they kept almost going there with Governor Wing (you want to make either his name or his position clear in the actual episode, maybe?) but then kept pulling back, which just made the whole population victims that had to be rescued by outsiders. And exploited, and tortured, and abused in general.

And yes, I’m aware the Magistrate/Morgan Elsbeth is an Asian-American woman. That doesn’t make it better? Since Ahsoka presumably kills her offscreen?

(Also Diana Lee Inosanto is a stunt performer and a fight choreographer, why is that fight scene so wooden, damn.)

okay back to bullet points to wrap up

I realize I haven’t said much about Din and the kid and that’s because they didn’t...do...much? I guess if you’re actually invested in them “YAY HE HAS FEELINGS” is a major thing but I’m not

I have flashes of being invested in Din, but the problem is that I never know what the hell this show is doing because it’s all over the place. We are 5/8 of the way into season 2 and I have no idea what it’s trying to do: they keep setting stuff up and then not doing anything with it. I can make vague predictions based on what’s set up and based on my knowledge of canon, but this show is so weirdly set up and paced that I can never tell if they’re something for A Reason, for the lulz, or for the Aesthetic.

I feel extremely vindicated by the revelation a few weeks ago that Din grew up in a cult but I also straight-up feel like I spent the past year being gaslighted about what Mandalorians were, and that’s...not a great feeling. Do I think that the show is going to do anything with that? Fuck, I don’t know. I hope so. I know what I’d do as a writer. But I can’t predict anything they’re doing and that makes me really uneasy.

jeez, at least when George Lucas was making Star Wars you knew he was doing it to entertain himself and tell a specific story rather than constantly having to go back and wonder what story lines got compromised for a project down the road.

like, is this why they did mo-cap Ahsoka in S7, to brace us for live action Ahsoka here? I know they had already filmed Mando S2 before S1 came out. WHY THEY DIDN’T THEY REUSE LAUREN MARY KIM AS AHSOKA’S STUNT DOUBLE THEN? it’s not like she hasn’t stunted in Mando before?

if this was supposed to be a backdoor pilot to a Rebels sequel...I will flip a table

I enjoyed the Bad Batch eps in TCW S7 but knowing that there’s going to be a Bad Batch show I’m now wondering if they’re only in S7 to backdoor pilot that show

how far back does this go? did they put the Legacy of Mandalore story line in Rebels S4 solely to set up for this? especially considering that that’s the one thing in S4 that actually has saga weight and then they immediately got rid of everything it accomplished to set up for this?

I presume that this is the reason they refused to release the turnaround for Ahsoka’s epilogue look two years ago. apparently it doesn’t matter given they changed her entire epilogue color scheme and also her lekku and personality.

Look -- at the end of the day, there was only about a 2% chance I was ever going to like this episode, but I was holding out for it nevertheless. I do get surprised from time to time! I liked the Bo-Katan episode! This was, however, a hot mess. And yes: a lot of the things that bother me are not going to bother other people. (I haven’t seen anyone comment on the Asian villagers, for example.)

#just so there is no doubt: I HATED THIS EPISODE #the mandalorian spoilers #bedlam watches the mandalorian #mando the jedi

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bangtan-pugh-bug · 3 years

Text

Scott Lang x reader

Chapter 2

I apologise this is a long chapter but domesticated Avengers makes me happy. If you’re reading this it’s meant to be a slow burnnn so enjoy the burning, the Tony x reader friendship and Thor being domesticated. If you like unsmashed lamps this chapter may be hard for you to read I’m sorry.

Warnings: none. unless you count archers breaking things.

You opened your weary eyes but everything was still black. Something warm was brushing against your face. You were warm... and in bed. ‘Please tell me I’m in my own bed.’ Without moving your splitting head you had no idea who could hear you until the unmistakable voice of Thor replied ‘It’s your own.’ He sounded amused. Somehow you felt well rested and more tired than you’d felt since Scott kept you up all night showing you card tricks, all at the same time. Although out of all the occupants in Stark Tower, Parker tired you out the most. The child. He was lucky you liked him.

Groaning you rolled over and face dived into your pillow clenching your eyes closed. Of course it was your bed. No one else’s smelt this good. Unless you’d gone nose blind as that weird advert went. ‘What day is it?’ You felt ridiculous asking but wasn’t this how you were supposed to behave? Youth? because Peter was in the minority being so morally well adjusted.

‘Sunday.’ That voice woke you up. ‘Y/N we can leave if you really want to sleep for another hundred years,’ you finally opened your eyes to see a much happier Scott smiling at you. Next to him was a smiling Thor glancing outside at the blue sky like a bird and a Peter looking apprehensive. You weren’t sure what as wrong with him he didn’t have the worst hangover of all time.

‘Come on get up,’ Scott spoke to you like you were five which just made you scowl... like a five year old. Looking mockingly scared Scott raised his hands up in ‘defeat’. ‘Okay don’t get up. I’ll just eat all the delicious pancakes Thor made myself.’

Thor snapped out of his bird watching trance to grunt before nodding ‘Yes. I’m afraid they are delicious.’ What did you do to deserve such generosity? And how could you resist pancakes? Oh but bed or pancakes?

‘These are amazing!’ You exclaimed (you had chosen pancakes). Thor grinned at your compliment as you ate like a rabid dog. Scott closed all the kitchen cupboards - he was such a dad sometimes - before leaning on the worktop facing you. ‘I’m glad you like them ,’ Thor remarked before finishing his breakfast and going to presumably get a shower leaving you with your favourite ant and third wheeling spider.

‘S- so I have an assignment due next month which is gonna take forever but Mr Stark-‘ as Peter launched himself into a long winded story about homework Scott caught your eye and smirked. You felt as if you were speaking in code. He watched you listen to your friends tangled tale with as much enthusiasm as you could muster despite your hangover. It seemed to amuse him.

‘And I was thinking who do I know that knows a lot about this sort of stuff? Y/N but I didn’t know how to ask y-‘

Scott gave you his best: can-you-believe-this-shit look and chuckled quietly keeping his eyes on yours. You smiled back but tried not to laugh - not wanting to upset Peter. Scott wasn’t as used to him as you were. He must have felt ancient beside someone as young and sprightly as the kid because even you felt middle aged in comparison. Luckily Peter had the attention span of a little child so before Scott could even try and think about asking him to leave he was off. Where? Chasing butterflies and doing something you did not need to know about.

You swallowed your words before they came out once Peter had left you and Scott alone. He was washing up and you weren’t even bothering to offer to do it instead. The hangover brain was strong and you didn’t even remember drinking never mind being pissed. Just as you watched him wash the final plate Scott turned to look at you. ‘You don’t even remember what you did last night do you?’

Oh fuck. Shit. What did you do? What could you have done? How could Scott tell you didn’t know? Was he turning into a psychic because of the quantum realm? It wouldn’t surprise you. Less and less shit did since moving to Stark Tower.

‘No. How can you tell? Have you absorbed Charles Xavier’s powers?’ Thank god the panic didn’t show in your voice for a change because otherwise all those oscar worthy performances you gave in the shower would have been a waste of time. Scott’s face pulled into a smug smile as he sat down at the breakfast table you hadn’t left.

‘Oh poor Y/N,’ he pulled a mocking sad face and used his creepy high pitched voice you hated. ‘Is someone confused?’ He was revelling in having the upper hand for a change.

‘Funny. You’re funny. Now tell me what I did or didn’t do last night before I throw this plate at you.’ You both knew you would never throw a plate at his cute face. It wouldn’t be worth the lecture of Steve on manners either. Steve. What could he possibly teach you about manners - they were fucking impeccable?

‘That’s not asking nicely.’

Your stomach contracted slightly as you could almost visualise the two pathways the conversation could lead to. His eyes were burning into yours with a new intensity you’d never seen in Scott before. It made your mouth dry and you cheeks burn up slightly. You felt like you’d been shoved into an oven without warning.

‘Fine,’ he refused to break eye contact with you and it was infuriating in a way. You willed him to stop as if he could in fact mind read. ‘Please just tell me what happened.’ Normally you only took this tone with Tony, you couldn’t help but wonder if in a weird way it meant you were getting closer to Scott. Atleast more comfortable. That would help you make less of a spectacle of yourself on a daily basis (not that that wasn’t fun but- ).

He told you that it wasn’t as bad as everyone was making out but you had decided to play beer pong with Thor and lost. Badly. You’d apparently cried when Clint said he didn’t want to play just dance and stormed off like a grumpy toddler who couldn’t get her own way.

‘Jeez,’

‘I know. You’re classy.’

‘I can be classy!’

Scott snorted at your outrage, downing the last of his orange juice while you sat in mock disbelief. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’ Okay noted. Scott didn’t think ripped fishnets were classy. Interesting. His ex wife was classy - ah let’s not open that door.

‘I didn’t throw up did I?’ You finally asked the burning question every hungover Gen Z member had to ask. He ran his hands through his dark hair but you refused to let your eyes linger for too long. ‘No you didn’t.’ This was followed by a cat like stretch he seemed to revel in performing. You heard the bones in his wrists crack and narrowed your eyes at him because you couldn’t think of what else to say. He didn’t seem interested in speaking either, he was blank. Fuck it. You knew when to let a conversation end.

‘I’m gonna shower.’ and as you left Scott alone in the kitchen to find the bathroom empty you smiled: if Scott had been 18 he would have said ‘without me?’ and thank god he wasn’t. You liked your older men immature in some ways (the fun ways) but pick me boys you could not abide. Scott was certainly not one.

After you’d sucked any joy out of showering dry by obsessing over how sad Scott may or may not be about his ex wife (or if he wanted advice) you dried yourself. You were 18 what advice could you have for the man? Middle aged men did seem to come to you for advice despite your own doubts and lack of experience. When Steve had been left out of a mission because of another fight with Bucky you practically became his mother consoling the drama queen. Tony called it ‘hilarious’ but you had a different word for the experience. That being said you wouldn’t mind listening to all of Scott’s problems on a loop on a fucking tape but bias is bias.

The walk to Tony’s obnoxiously large living room was short from the bathroom. The sound of the cold tile against your bare feet was all you could hear for a moment before the sound of-

‘Shit. Shit!’

Clint.

You entered the crime scene cold and confused, your wet hair was dripping cold down your back making you shiver. Stood in front of the tv flaming at the nostrils was a pissed off yet guilt ridden Clint Barton looking down at his handiwork. Lay on the floor was the lamp you’d bought Tony for his birthday. Smashed.

Nat was scowling at the archer lecturing him on how to carry things like a cross teacher. Wanda, Vision, Bucky and Steve were less concerned. You weren’t concerned at all it was a fucking £10 lamp. ‘Nat it’s fine it was an accident it’s just a lamp.’ You interrupted her scolding which gained you a sympathetic smile from Clint. His eyes said thank you. Nat did not seem convinced but swallowed her pride and calmed down anyway.

You scanned the room until your eyes met Scott, which you knew you needed to stop doing so often. There they were. Pointing back at you : a mixture of humour and the sadness you couldn’t stop noticing even if no one else did. You caved first and smiled at him. It was impossible not to.

‘Are we forgetting he’s a millionaire?’ Scott laughed at his own comment.

‘Excuse me, billionaire.’ Tony revelled in correcting people on how much money he had. How many cars he owned was a fun one too or how many times he’d redesigned everything in the house because he was ‘bored.’ Nat rolled her eyes in your direction which you quickly returned.

‘Really? Billionaire?’ Scott couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His voice was so high and his eyes were so wide you just grinned at his adorable face. Bless him. He knew nothing about Tony’s empire. What no one wanted was Scott’s lack of knowledge to end in a long speech from the billionaire about his life story. No one would stay for that.

‘I bought you churros. You said I had to pay for everyone’s.’ Scott sounded as if he could cry, so naturally everyone laughed. Even Vision. You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him laugh before, it was so sweet. ‘Well I’m sure you’ll survive.’ Tony’s signature eyebrow raise was code for I’m-better-than-you.

Once everyone got up to get drinks and choose a film Scott snaked his arm onto your shoulder startling you. Everyone was on the other side of the room and no one was looking. There was a chance Tony was to see if you made a fool of yourself but you could live with that. ‘You jump so easily,’ he was not wrong. Everything startled you. ‘Did you know how much money Tony made?’

His hand left your shoulder, making you fight the urge to sigh in disappointment from the lack of touch. He sounded genuinely curious. Why he was fixating on Tony’s money you did not know. He didn’t steal anymore.

‘Everyone does. Why are you so interested? Are you planning a heist?’

Scott’s face changed. He was stood so close to you if either one of you moved there’d be no space to breathe. You wondered if he would ever fucking notice your ‘little crush’ on him or if it would continue like this forever. Would that be so bad? No. It would make more sense.

‘If I was you could be my accomplice.’ He sounded so confident. Of course it was a joke but still .. you? A criminal?

‘Hmm ... I think Nat would be a better choice.’ He smiled down at you as his hand found its way back to your shoulder. His touch, even in a non sexual way, made you feel like putty.

‘Sure she can come too. You’d be better company though, she’s a bit scary.’ You both laughed and then he was back to the sofa with the others. It took you a moment of standing around like an idiot taking Scott’s words in before you could join them.

Better company. Better company. Better company that a Russian assassin? Did that really mean much?

Taglist: @supraveng

#marvel #marvel fandom #scott lang x reader #scott lang fluff #scott lang #ant man #marvel x reader #thor #tony stark #peter parker #the avengers #marvel fanfiction

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yellowocaballero · 4 years

Text

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

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

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

EDIT: HAHA READMORE DIDN’T WORK, YIKES.

Sasha dreams, every night.

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

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

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

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

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

Sasha dreams, every night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sasha grunted.

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

Sasha eyed her warily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t, actually.”

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

“...I still don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tim: pick up your phone

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

Tim: baby please please pick up

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

Tim: dont text me back

Then two texts from two am:

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

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

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

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

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

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

That….probably wasn’t good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Beholding types?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

My dearest Jonah,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours, faithfully,

Barnabas

...supplemental.

Jon. Why did you show me this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am literally wanted by the police.”

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

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

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

“I hate clubbing.”

“You’ll like the way I do it!”

“I really don’t want to -”

“Tough nuts.”

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

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

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

Georgie said something to her.

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

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

You know...maybe she did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sasha shook her head no again, frantically.

“Aw, come on -”

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

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

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

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

“You coming?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Serial killers?” Julia Mauntauk asked flatly.

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

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

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

“Assholes?” Jude Perry said flatly.

“The sexiest Avatars around?” Georgie asked.

How did Sasha’s life devolve to this point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, Sasha was fucked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great,” Sasha said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m the idiot who -”

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

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

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

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

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

The line went silent again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...I don’t know.”

“...are we breaking up?”

“...still don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does Jonah Magnus respect you?” Sasha pressed.

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

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

“He talks to everyone like that.”

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

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

“I always give my -”

“Does he listen to them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jon was silent. They both knew the answer.

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

Jon didn’t say anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you could?

So this was what power did to a person, Sasha realized. So this was what power and immortality and money and supernatural gifts did to you. It made you someone who Sasha could never hope to understand, whose depths of depravity she could never truly rationalize. To Sasha, who prided herself on knowing people and being able to understand them and their motives - it was almost a relief, almost a blessing, that she couldn’t possibly understand the motives of Jonah Magnus at all.

Jon stared at her, fluorescent green eyes wide, and for just a minute she could see the fear that she knew was there written all over his face. For just a minute, Sasha and Jon were scared together, both trapped in tumultuous waters that they couldn’t control. For the first time Sasha empathized with Jon.

Jonah Magnus was somebody that Sasha could never understand. But Jon was, and for the first time Sasha knew what Martin meant when he said that he felt as if Jon had been a good person, a long time ago.

You can’t understand someone and hate them. Not really. You could be angry, upset, betrayed...but if you really understood someone, backwards and forwards, true hate was difficult to find.

“I have to go,” Jon said, almost dizzily. He shoved the manila folder at her, both of them having forgotten that it was even there in the first place. He glanced at it, frightened and guilty. “Be - be careful when meeting Jude Perry. Don’t take her at her word. I have to go.”

He fled, as if the hounds of hell themselves were snapping at his heels, and Sasha was left standing in an opulent hallway, clutching a manila folder as if it was a time bomb, completely certain that it was meant to hurt her and cause her pain and damage her, completely certain that she was going to read it anyway.

Like Jon - what choice did she have?

But as she stumbled back to her room, as she sat down on the comfortable chair and thumbed on the tape recorder that sat at the desk, the words of Jonathan Sims ran through her mind. His warning. A clumsy attempt at protection. At the very least, a signifier of desire.

Sasha knew, as she sometimes knew things, that Jon had started out somebody who deeply desired to protect others like him. To take revenge, to grab power, yes, but also to spread that precious knowledge and resources around. He had never stopped thinking of himself as one of those vulnerable people, people who society had stepped on and ground into the dirt. Deep down he had just wanted things to be fair, wanted some justice in the world. Jon, at one point, had only wanted to help.

Maybe she wasn’t so alone after all.

“Statement of Sasha James, Head Archivist…”

#my writing #YES I KNOW THIS IS TOO LONG FOR A TUMBLR POST BUT CONSIDER: ITS NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR AO3 AND MY STANDARDS ARE INSANE #jonathan sims #georgie barker #sasha james #archivist!sasha #human relations #tma #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #jonmartin #jason's tims age

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oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years

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Trophy Chapter Eight

Masterlist

You become confused and start to question your feelings whilst Henry tries to be romantic but Stephan manages to fuck things up.

Warnings: Obsessive Behaviour, Implied Smut, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Torture, Dark themes, Yandere, Swearing, Daddy kink, Spanking threats, Angst?, Violence, Dark fluff(even I don't bloody know)

A/n: its quater past 11....I should be sleeping...my cat is littarily meowing at me to got to sleep but im not so here have chapter eight!!! so this chapter is mostly plot no smut unfortunately but the next one will be 1000٪. I have finally finally got the entire plot to this fic finished and written, I actually have some scenes for the next three chapters done to! But as I said mainly plot I intendedthis to be a little confusing from y/n perspective I want you to get a sense of what y/n is going through juggling her feelings and all that apart from that I really hope you enjoy this one xx

Taglist: @havenoffandoms @aphrodites-punch @charlieferret @thatgirly81 @two-unbeatable-beaters @fitnees-motivation-2020 @viking-raider @iloveyouyen @black-ninja-blade

Gif not mine but the divider is xxx

Stephan was at a loss, sitting in the cheap b and b room he rented, papers strewn across the floral bed spread he had been going through his contacts agents. Friends. Investigative journalists. Anyone and everyone he could think of hoping someone somewhere would give him a break, a lead something anything! A way for him to distract Henry enough so he could slip you away from him. Fuck sake at this point he'd pull him in for a fucking parking violation just to get this barstard alone in a room for five minutes!! But no one was willing to help they were all in until the name Cavill was mentioned. He couldnt really blame them Cavill did two things to people who investigated him ruined them or off'd them.

Just last week another agent who'd been working undercover as one of the handlers of his prostitutes was found by the bay death by necklacing. A grusome death something he hadn't seen used in America before, usually it was a shooting or stabbing, necklacing was a brutal ,loud and mostly used in places like Africa and Brazil. Execution and torture all in one. It may be one of the cruelest ways to kill someone but it was in all honesty simple to do, hell anyone could do it which is why they couldn't pin it on Henry specifically, hands bound to your chest; in this case with wire and a tire full of petrol placed over you holding them still trapping them, doused in more petrol and set alight. Its a slow agonizing death that takes around twenty minutes, her screams would have been loud but no one in the area had heard or see a thing he bet they had and were just to frightened. He couldn't blame them he saw the girl before she'd been taken off to autopsy, agents; professional, trained to deal with anything agents,onscene were being physically sick from the sight and smell unused to this type of violence. The poor agent had suffered even before that. Autopsy showed she had been raped beforehand she was described as cut and torn up in the report, but they must have used condoms of some description as there wasn't any dna evidence. Or if there was it had been burned away like her charred skin, her body had been in such a bad way that there was nothing to go on. Without evidence they can't charge or formally question a suspect.

Safe to say everyone was shaken up, some left completley requested reassignment and all the ones who came before him were either dead of terrified of the man. Not only that word of Stephans fuck up had got out and he was now a laughing stock. Stephan was supposed to be a honey trap, go undercover seduce a woman of intrest to do one of two things one, prob for information, if she had some great! Stay and use it and If she didnt dump her move on to the next job simple Or two, find a woman to maintain a close connection to the target in this case that was you. It was believed that there was a connection between you and Cavill.

The mobster out of the blue was trying to buy a block of flats in a shitty area. Now Cavill owned property, lots of property but never flats and never on that type of estate. He owned fancy restaurants and night clubs stupidly high class bars that had dress codes and the residential properties were allways four beroom three bathroom houses worth millions with fucking suanas and shit. Bottom line it was out of character and the man was trying to rush through the sale. The higher ups had hoped with the way he was acting; so out of character and flustered, that he would fuck up. He a mobster kingpin with litteraly billions to his name was trying to buy a building that was falling apart, in a run down poor area, wasn't for sale and was willing to skip negotiations and overpay...

The only possible connection to it all was you. They knew Fletcher had dealings with Henry and knew Henry used the cafe for his smaller business meetings. That was the most infuriating thing they knew so much but they just couldn't prove it!. So Stephan was called in to see if you was privvy to Henry and his empire and if you was willing to be an informant. Simple. Until it wasn't and feelings got involved. He wasn't supposed to fall for you but he had and that had cost him the assignment. He was supposed to drop it but he wont, so he had to sniff around himself he knew Henry kidnapped you, he knew Fletcher set it up and he knew he was going to save you. With that in mind he decided to do something he never even dreamed. Stephan was going to go rouge.

Henry was content albeit impatient, he waited at the bottom of the stairs waited for you his wonderful little princess. He had arranged a night out in one of his top restaurants, he figured now that you were here willingly he could begin to spoil you, lavish you with the luxury you deserved and you had been good these past days you deserved a treat. Tonight was about showing you just what it means to be his, the respect, the glitz and glamour. He was hoping that he could begin to sway you more, he knew you were questioning youself and him, his intentions and as you were questioning he saw a change you were more compliant. He paced slowly his head of security Luke was there beside him stiff as a board, Luke thought it was a mistake flaunting you around so early. But Luke could go fuck himself, Luke was not in charge and Luke should keep his opinions to himself.

Henry was begining to get tired of the mans bitching it was clear that his head of security had something against his sweet pet. It may have been the fact that Henry; seeing the bruises on your wrists after your escape that was definitely not made from handcuffs, had investigated and watched the security footage seeing the way the gruff man had manhandled you dragged you through the house after taunting you, thrown you into your day room on the day you'd escaped. Yes Henry ha found out and promised the man a grizzley end if it ever happened again. The only man to leave marks on your soft skin was him. Luke was bitter over the fact you'd escaped further then the garden on his watch, well thats what Henry put it down to.

"If you sigh again I will stop you breathing altogether!" He finally snapped over his shoulder to the man.

"Sorry sir I just think-" Henry spun on his heel pointing at him.

"I dont pay you to think! I pay you to do as your fucking told! To protect our investments and you didnt! Incase you haven't noticed your on thin ice as it is, theres a line of others who would take your place in a heartbeat Luke so I suggest you start pulling your shit together unless you want an early retirement." The words were hissed a snarl he couldn't help the thrill that came from Luke's shocked fearfull look. Luke knew poeple didnt retire from his position, not the in the masive pay out and a sipping pinacolada on a sandy beach sense. The only retirement he would see is two foot wide and six foot deep if he was lucky. Henry watched steely eyes burning into the man before him, the guard finally looked away gulping nodding slowly.

"Y-yes sir..I will go make sure the car is ready" Henry smirked crossing his arms

"You do that! Be the most usefull thing you've done all day." Luke cringed at that but could say nothing he simply left the house out towards the drive shuting the door with a quiet click. Henry shook his head as he watched Luke descend the few step of the porch. He was going to have to do something about him soon.

He pulled his thoughts away from the dark path they had traveled and glanced at the stairs again then began his pacing from side to side once again looking at his the rolex upon his wrist. You were taking your time. Sighing he turned again looking expectantly at the stairs. Its not like you had to decide what to wear he had laid it out! He had done the hard bit all you had to do was hair and make up. He grunted making another lap of his choosen pace route. You better not be up there pouting, if you were he was going to be very annoyed. Five more minutes. He decided five minutes then he would go check and if you was being a little madam and pouting he would blister you ass with the belt at his waist and drag you out anyway dressed or not. He moved finally standing at the stairs hand gripping the banister in a white knuckle grip hissing through his teeth.

Then he heard it heels tapping on the marble floor slow and unsteady, you were coming. He held his breath waiting for you to turn the corner at the top of the landing. When you did he had to swallow dryly, you were a vision, stunning you were made to be on his arm there was no doubt about it. You made your way down the stairs trying not to topple over in the high heels, which you suspected he had put you in so you couldnt run. Well you could try but you have to unbuckle them first which would be a dead give away.

You'll admit the dress was beautiful and comfortable considering how figure hugging it was. A deep royal blue velvet ,thin spaghetti straps and a low open back stopping just at the swell of your bottom, the front had a soft swooping neckline showing a hint of the very top of your breasts. It was a fine choice, henry definitely had an eye for these things. Every outfit he put you in since being here was always well thought out and this was no exception. You had to be careful tonight, he had provided a dress, stockings garterbelt even jewellery and some new lipsticks! but no panties. It made you nervous, it was one thing to always be around the house in skirts with no undies but to go out? You had to be wary, the small mercy was that it was a knee length dress so hopefully no accidents. However that being said with how form fitting it was and the way it pushed up your boobs there was more chance of a nip slip then a lip slip.

There was a complete set of expensive looking Jewellery that each had been packed in blank leather jewellery boxes and was presented on purple velvet. The necklace was three long strings of diamonds one a choker then longer to your collar bone then the final resting just below your dress' neckline the middle string holding one single large diamond in the center, the weighty rock made you dread to think of the cost and matching small dangling earrings and a bracelet...And anklet he had insisted you to be head to toe in diamonds.

For your hair you had styled it up and away from your face in a sleek sophisticated look,your make up was light, you didnt want to go all out and make him think you were trying to impress him, although in some respects you did want to impress him but for now you would ignor that. You had settled for a light face of make up and one of your new lipsticks a dark nude shade between a peach and beige the last thing you wanted was for him to get angry about not putting in effort which was a real possibility with how the slightest things could trigger a mood swing.

You'd found the past week since you had....Assisted him in the livingroom something had changed, a subtle change at first. You found youself stealing quick glances and smiles at him, he had caught you staring a few times and winked making you flush and stutter. He still had his moments but it seemed your 'admission' of not wanting to leave and wanting to try to stay and fall in love with him had calmed him down significantly. Sure you'd been given a few punishments when he got insecure here and there. You had been finding yourself participating in all of the intimate moments he was forcing onto you, when you did things with him you could barely speak let alone think the throws of passion was an escape. To your own confusion and shame you now admitted to yourself you enjoyed him lathering you with attention it was becoming to easy to melt into his embrace, to tempting to kiss the man back and cuddle up to him as he soothed the burning prints he left across your skin. You were frightened at just how much you began to crave him and need him, you still tried resisting but it was few and far between. In reality you were giving in to him and you didnt exactly hate the change. despite everything it sill felt a little wrong to let him get his way but that bad feeling was becoming easier to ignore.

But don't get things wrong, you had no desire to stay here permanently you had just resigned yourself to it for the time being...You think things i your...Relationship were confusing at the moment you liked the man but hated how this had all come about. You tried reasoning that your feelings were changing in some sort of survival technique or something. That subconsciously you had to pacify him, make him believe you was slowly falling for him so he wouldn't hurt you or the ones you loved. But at this point you wasn't entirely sure. I mean if that were true and you did this all for Stephans life shouldnt you feel somthing for the agent. But in reality all you felt was abandoned and betrayed by him, but it didn't hurt not like the loos of a friend or lover as you thought it would have. Maybe you was just weird? or maybe you didn't really love him? What ever it was you was thankfull for it as you could concentrate more on yourself and what you had to do to get out of this alive, sane and single. You were not falling in love with this mad man no matter what he did and said you shouldnt fall for it you shouldnt fall for him. But you were slowly realising that just because you shouldn't didn't mean you wouldn't.

Henry's face lit up as you slowly made your way down the steps on wobbly feet unused to the heels that brought the top of your head up to his eye line. Seeing you struggling he smirked meeting you half way up the stairs linking his arm with yours. You flinched almost pulling back knowing you should but his grip was firm and you needed help. His voice was low and playful when he spoke.

"It seems you will need my help with walking tonight before you've even touched a drop of wine my love. Thats no matter, more of a reason for you to cling to me and I do enjoy you wrapped around me pet." You gave a quick glance, so you was in these ridiculous heels for a reason. You forced a smile letting go of the banister as he walked you down the stairs over to the door.

"You look stunning! I have the best table in the place reserved just for us but first" he moved spinning around you and just like a magic trick his hand appeared from behind him with a small ring box, he moved pulling up your left hand kissing the back of it. You shivered as he maintained eye contact feeling him smirk. You cursed yourself wanting to contorl your reactions but couldnt seem to. He spoke a cheeky grin his voice was playfull.

"Here something to complete the outfit I wont have my little girls hands bare~" You gulped as he pulled back the lid of the small box revealing an obnoxiously huge rock sat embedded in what looked like a silver but was most likely white gold band. You tugged at your hand and winced when he dug his thumb in your palm tugging your hand out hashly.

"Daddy! That's to much-I'm not one for rings please everything else is enough. " He blinked his face dropping.

"You don't like it? Whats wrong with it?" You eyed him carefully and shrugged.

"No-nothing I just..." he interrupted you growling at you scowling

"You don't want it? I had it made for you and now you don't even fucking want it? I just wanted to treat you baby? You've been so good and now your going to start acting up? When I'm trying to reward you for being so good. Just trying to have a quiet night out with you, I dont have to take you out, I could fucking keep you here day in day out" You could hear it, that of hectic insanity. Frantic undertones. You quickly shook your head.

"No no I want it! I do want it I'm just worried...It looks...Ive never had anything that looks that expensive" you moved forward to him placing a hand on his chest rubbing slightly, youd learned fast that initiating intimate gestures help calm him a little.

"I-i'm frightened that I'd upset you if I loose it especially if we dance..We are going to have our first slowdance tonight aren't we? I was hopeing we could..Tho people will laugh I've never danced like that before." It did the trick he calmed blinking slowly then beamed at you.

"Oh little one thats sweet of you to worry about daddys feelings like that..But baby I wont be upset if you lost it Id just get you another one pet... Now come here and keep still like a good girl" you sighed in relief as he calmed down you cringed and twisted your hand as he tried to place it on your ring finger, his eyes flicked up to you in warning.

"Its...thats bad luck I'd rather not.." he grunted and took your right hand placing it on your ring finger. You shuddered as you realised it fit perfectly. He moved back placing one parting kiss.

"That is your first warning tonight, daddy doesn't want any games...You ruin tonight and I will be very displeased and you will not like the outcome" you nodded takig a breath.

"Y-yes daddy I understand...I'll be good" he gave a quick look.

"You better now lets go" you released a breath tho calmer he wasn't happy youd argued, disagreed you wasnt supposed to do that.

Henry playing the part of a gentleman opened the door to the car for you. Once inside he set off out of the gate, you shivered a little trying not to glance at him. He moved his hand to your leg patting it softly rubbing the soft nylon of the stockings he groaned subtly to himself as he continued down the road, you cringed a little moving to pull the hem of the dress down not wanting him to take advantage of the rising skirt and your bare pussy merely inches above. He squeezed lightly feeling you tug the fabric down under his palm cutting off the contact. He rolled his eyes biting his lip to stop the comments on the tip of his tongue. No he wont ruin this night before its begun, anything that happens he can rectify later when you were restrained and withering one your final treat. He licked his lips as he thought about the nights festivities and hopefully what the outcome will be. He was pulled from his devious thoughts when you wriggled uncomfortably still trying to get used to wearing half a set of underwear... And lets face it stockings and garter belts aren't exactly the norm any way. It was after ten minutes of sighing, huffing and squirming that he spoke pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Whats the matter little one?" you snapped you head to him and smiled going to brush him off he removed his hand from your leg wagging a finger.

"Ah ah come on no lying that will be your second warning and we aren't even there yet~" you closed your mouth giving him a heavy pout he rose an eyebrow letting his hand land back in your lap.

"Its...Well I've never...I'm getting used to the stockings...Never worn them before and its strange under the dress...especially not having any panties on....I'm covered but not " he through his head back and laughed as he pulled up to a red light.

"Oh love! you should have said baby...I thought you were having a paddy! I was getting ready to take you back home and tann your naughty backside with my belt." you snapped your head in his direction gulping knowing full well he would have.

"Oh little one don't be so tense..I promise tonight I'm going to spoil you this is a treat baby girl a night of fine food, fine wine and even finer company" you smiled forgetting your underwear situation for a moment twiddling your new bracelet wanting to take your mind off things. You were going to try and enjoy the night try and forget everything just for one night. You smiled up at him shyly.

"I'm looking forward to it..But I get the feeling your taking me somwhere fancy and I've neve done fancy... think the fanciest place I've been is your house"he chuckled looking forward to the road cheking the lights then moved to face you.

"Our...Its our house pet you live there to now remember.. and don't worry I own the place so no one will say anything if you make a little slip up...Okay little one and if anyone does upset you ,you tell me straight away..I wont have my babygirls night ruined by anyone" you didn't want his words to effect you but they did, the idea of him caring enough to make sure you enjoy the night was sweet.

"Y-you mean it?" he nodded giving the lights another quick glance then focused back on you

"Of course! tonight is all about spoiling my number one! you can have anything you want and that includes a doggy bag of deserts to bring home" you smiled at him hopefully giggling.

"Deserts sound good! I'm excited now do they have cheesecake?" he pursed his lips thinking for a second wanting to prolong your cheerful mood.

"Yes, three kinds and I assume you'll be having a slice of each?" you nodded at him with a cheeky grin, Henry smirked at you leaning in playfully tucking his hand by your knee tickling the back making you giggle and squirm pushing at him.

"Well my love three slices..Now that is a big ask and deserves a pre-payment I think...Three kisses should suffice" you grinned shaking your head at him and squealed as he leaned over playfully growling stealing three sweet kisses then leaned back in his seat , he was gobsmacked when youd followed him placing a peck against his cheek. You froze realizing what you did and jumped back holding your lips in surprize. What the fuck was that? He smirked moving the car into drive as the light changed. You righted yourself in the seat leaning back choosing to forget that little slip up. But still felt optimistic maybe tonight would be a fun night out even if it was with Henry.

YES! it had paid off, a few days he had spent watching waiting but finally there was movement. he had been waiting here at the main road leading to the mobsters house. Parked next to a motel mainly used by truckers who stayed overnight, Stephan quickly climbed to the front seat of the car watching as the Aston martin drove past him, not just any Aston martin Henry's Aston martin, the only custom db11 in the city. He quickly pulled his binoculars out to see...Fuck yes!...He couldn't believe his luck! you were in the passenger seat and dolled up... He took a breath you looked incredible and to his utter despair and confusion you looked happy?.

Henry stopped at the intersection Stephan fumed as Henry laughed at something you said then moved his hand out of sight making you roll your eyes and press him away playfully laughing he didn't pull back instead he quickly leaned over kissing you, and the thing that cut Stephan most was that you let him, you seemed to enjoy his attention. Stephan's heart clenched seeing you like that, you were supposed to hate him...You were a captive. You couldn't possibly like the man could you?. He shook his head of course you didn't a mad man like henry? you were playing a part, hopefully a part that you could retire from tonight. He flicked on the ignition throwing down his binoculars if he could follow you both...If he could get in he had a chance, could give you a chance to escape! he could save you.

He took a second watching again as you moved you were smiling giving him a quick peck, he couldn't bare to watch anymore he closed his eyes gripping the steering wheel tight swearing. Could he be to late? He loathed to think of just what he had put in your head what he could have convinced you to do. The light turned green and car pulled away, he waited a few seconds then pulled out making sure not to be to close or be caught by the lights. It only took the disgraced agent around fifteen minuets to realize where you were being taken. It would seem Henry was taking you on a date? trying to romance you, wine and dine you but then what? there had to be a reason, and ulterior motive. Stephan held back watching as the Aston martin pulled around the front of the hotel, Henry exited the car and walked around holding your door for you. He felt a rush of anger as Henry helped you out of the car then tossed the keys across the car to the valet. Stephan stared gulping, you really did look amazing even if you were struggling to stand in shoes he knew you wouldn't have been caught dead in if you had a say. He must have forced you in to them, so he could have you wrapped around him, leaning and clutching at him as you wobbled about unsteady. His blood boiled as Henry moved offering you his arm when you took it he felt..betrayed almost asking himself if you were worth it now, it looked like Henry had got to you. He seethed watching you climb the few stairs to the hotel entrance linking arms with your captor ,you looked up at the mad man smiling nodding as he spoke completely at ease.

Something was very wrong with this image, a kidnapped woman going out on the town with her kidnapper? on what looked like a romantic date?. You hadn't seemed like one of those shallow golddiggers who'd do anything for a bit of bling or money, but Stephan couldn't help but wonder to himself at that point. You looked happy if not a little nervous? shy? you looked like a love struck teenager. But Stephan couldn't help himself he couldn't doubt you, you needed him to get you out, to save you. You needed him to try. He moved pulling the car around the back, thankfully as this was a hotel people were coming and going all the time so it'd be easy enough to get in, he was coming for you. Tonight he will save you and it will look like nothing more then a lovers spat! a perfectly realistic situation that would have no repercusions. Once he had you, you could testify against the mobster and this would all be over. Henry would finally be behind bars where he belongs.

You took a breath seeing the long line of people waiting to get in the restaurant each in expensive looking glad rags,you tucked your head down akwardly as Henry strode past the long line of people each making a fuss at the two of you. Some did not knowing just who the man on your arm was. Henry cut to the front interrupting the guest at the front.

"Is everthing ready?" His voice was bored as a woman quickly scampered over ready to let the owner in much to the anger of the other guest. The two at the front tried capturing his attention to give him a piece of their mind but Henry ignored them.

It wasn't long before you were in the high end restaurant in one of the towns two five star hotels that he owned. It was nice the restaurant was about fifteen stories up a dark blue almost black marble looking floor, tables all coverd with pure white table clothes that felt like some stupid 800 thread count material ,high back black leather chairs ,single white roses and candles on each table dotted around. The focal point was a huge wall with intergrated tropical fishtank that seperated the regular tables and vip area which was raised slightly. The set up was split in two, one half all centred around useing the veiw courtesy of the floor to ceiling windows looking over the town the other half had the fish tank to look at..It was clever really the fishtank gave you a faux sense of privacy a perfect divider that let light flow to the other half of the seating area.

Henry walked you straight past the fish tank to a high private table in the corner of the vip area a huge bouquet of roses sat on the table.

"For you babygirl" you couldn't help but smile brightly as he slid them to you. You leaned in smelling the roses slowly running your finger across the curve of the soft petals your heart warmed and for a moment you truley felt... Special? Cherished?.

You cast a sweeping gaze across the seating area admiring it whilst empty knowing it wont be for long, it was the most expensive place you'd ever been to eat. As you looked around you noticed that the other geusts were slowly trickling in being seated by smartly dressed servers. You looked slower taking in the decor more carfully. Henry wasnt lying when he said the table was the best in the place it had a uninterrupted veiw of the city and the restaurant.

"You like it?" You nodded looking around the decor was black and gold giving a art decor gatsby vibe. He moved pulling out your chair letting sit then sat himself across from you smileing as you pulled the roses across the table placing then on the corner out of the way blushing.

"Yes I was right it is a fancy place...A little daunting but exciting...And I can't wait for my cheesecake its my favourit and I haven't had it in sooo long!"

"Any thing for you my little one...But only good little girls who eat all their dinner get a desert you know that...ah ah no pouting!"

"But tonight's supposed to be a treat daddy" he gave you a stern look across the table at your pouting

"Yes and if your a good girl and ask nicely we would eat out like this everyday, but you were naughty to begin with and daddy has to be strict and have lots of rules...And one of those rules is no desert before dinner now enough pouting don't be ungrateful" you blushed stupidly enough you agreed with him in a way you'd come to enjoy some of his rules, they made you feel...accomplished in a way youd never experienced before, you had something to work to and when you did as he asked he praised you which always made a warmth in your chest blossom. You tucked your nose in a rose you'd plucked from your bouquet grinning softly.

"Im sorry Daddy...Thank you for the roses they are very beautiful" he smiled holding his arms out in a exasperated gesture tilting his head for emphasis

"Well at least you will accept flowers with out a fuss little one...Thats one thing I can now be sure of" You looked down still feeling scolded even if his tone was light you cursed the feeling in your chest. Like rocks had been stuffed in your ribcage making your chest heavy, he was obviously still bitter about the ring you could tellfrom how pissy he was being. You fidgeted worrying just what that would mean for you during the night.

Almost immediately after you sat down you were served a sweet smelling dark wine by a fairly handsome man who popped the cork with ease handing it to Henry whilst giving you a nervous smile you smiled back to him unaware of Henry's face turning sour he nodded and gave the young man a gruff grunt to proceed, the wine was acceptable apparently you watched as the server moved pouring you out a half glass with shaking hands well aware of Henry who was glaring daggers at him ,you smiled to thanking him. Henry must have taken it wrong as he snarled a 'fuck off' at the man who quickly placed the bottle on the table and practically ran out of sight.

"Hen- da I...what was?...I was just being polite please can we just enjoy ourselves...Please." he sat back regarding you one elbow on the arm of his chair twiddling his fingers, his gaze was unerving. He paid no mind to a waitress placing a bottle of bourbon and a glass finally he clicked his tongue smirking enjoying makeing you squirm. He smiled quickly leaning over pouring his own drink casually.

"I'd be carefull pet, you've got one warning left tonight it'd be a shame to have to reprimand you here and trust me daddy has no qualms of upending you on this table and giving you a sound thrashing" you jolted opening your mouth unable to find any words you settled on nodding quietly sipping at you drink meekly he rolled his fingers in a smooth motion until it was a loose fist.

"Answer me pet you know I hate you ignoring me unless you want to be made an example of here? want everyone to see your cute little bottom turned pink over daddy's lap as you kick and squirm like a naughty little girl" you squinted your eyes cheeks tniging pink at his words, deciding it was best not to test him you quickly slapped the drink down a few drops jumped from the glass staining the crisp white table cloth. You froze watching the dark liquid seep across the fibers.

"I-I'm sor-ry please I didn't mean-" you panicked and began begging looked up and could have cried for some reason he was keeping you on edge tonight more so than usual. He was smiling playfully into the rim of his glass, he had been toying with you...had he? you had hoped you knew his mind games but he was in an unpredictable mood tonight.

He moved slowly plucking the menu curling a finger calling a waitress over and ordered for the both of you. You sat twiddling your fingers unsure of what to do, he had seemed happy in the car but in here...It was like he wanted to keep you on a short leash, make you understand although you were out having a treat you were not free to do as you pleased. You settled on people watching moving to get a view of the other couples, they smiled and curled around one another so happy in love. Free.

You looked down blinking away tears, was this worse? Being out and seeing what you'd never have? In the house you could ignore it but here watching them be so genuine. No matter how much you fell at this mans feet you'd never have that freedom to feel, to be so careless in your love. You'd always be controlled be pressed into what ever made him happy...

Your purpose was to make this beautiful monster happy. But you'd agreed, was it wrong to let yourself go under? To fully succumb to his dominance and try to enjoy him. To find comfort in him and accept him as the beautiful yet cruel man he was?you would have to eventually so why wait? It'd save you heat ache in the end. And as the days blurred into weeks and months you knew that it would be easy. He was vindictive and spite full. He was ruthless and cunning yet to you he was almost kind, it would be easier if you swallowed your pride and let yourself fall for him. Life would be easier and you was slowly accepting that it was the obvious choice, you moved casting a glance at the couples around you. Could that be you? Could you have that happiness in the end with him? the frightening thig was. Yes. you could already feel that your feelings were changing slowly but surely, were you in love with him? no did you care for him? Yes.

You hadn't realised he moved until he had made his way arohnd the table holding ut a hand palm up below your down turned face. You jumped snapping your head up confused he furrowed his brows slightly pressing a hand to your cheek wiping away a few stray tears.

"Dont cry pet...Not here no one should see your tears but me, no one should put them there but me. Here come on take my hand" you quickly moved wiping them away once your face was free of tears he grasped your hand. Pulling you up slowly, you followed docile as he pulled you towards a large dancefloor at the back of you space just behinde the bar. You saw there were a few couples were already slow dancing you tensed.

He spun round to face you as the song changed to one you recognized, No peace by Sam Smith played loud yet soft through the speakers it was one of our favourite's but this time the words had a much deeper meaning. He held your back his palm hot against the bare skin he stepped forward pulling your hand up near his shoulder you held him softly. Swaying slowly you'r eyes darted around eyes were on you from those who knew Henry, guests and staff alike.

"Look at me...Forget them little one they are just curious its rare for them to see such elegance up close, and I must say you look divine...More of a little lady then a little girl" you flushed at the compliment trying to follow his skilled movements as he placed his feet expertly without a thought to it as he spun you around in smooth steps across the floor, you swore looking at your feet as you stepped wrong capturing his toes. He chuckled and lifted you effortlessly off his foot an inch or so and placed you back to the floor

"Sorry..I don't mean to..I've never danced like this before...Not very good on a normal dance floor and I'm ten times worse at this, these heels aren't helping...I must look like fucking bambi on ice" he chuckled smoothing his thumb across the skin of your back. Enjoying the backless dress pressing his hands into you feeling your shivers the ripples across your back as he smothered you in his huge frame, letting you feel small in his embrace. He quickly and subtly lifted you up once again as you nearly stood on him again.

"Bambi is a very fitting name I may steal that one" you gave a shy smile smirked spinning you aubruptly then pulled you back skillfully tugging you a little closer. He tilted his head down talking in a hushed baritone voice.

"Your doing fine...Just let daddy lead, daddy will look after you I promise" you gulped and nodded he spun you again this time making sure your bodys touched, slipping his feet between yours using them to move yours guiding your steps.

He settled you to him as he moved prompting you to lay your head on his shoulder he spun you both slowly bringing you near the center of the floor to make sue no one bumped into you. You sighed humming along quietly whispering the lyrics suddenly there was a lump in your throat you swallowed hard pressing your head into his neck. It looked intimate. It was intimate. You listened as he picked up where you left off humming he lyrice into your ear low and relaxing. You whined moving your hands holding him around the neck breathing a shaky breath into his neck. He moved pressing a sweet kiss to your head song changed and you was thankful, pulling your head up to see his eyes staring at you there was a fondness he gave a lopsided grin.

"Are you okay my love? Your very tearful tonight." You blinked shaking your head at him.

"I'm..C-Can I speak truthfully....without?.." he tensed as you trailed off, you wanted to speak freely without consequences. He mulled over the idea unsure if he should shoot you down, he decided against it if he halted you now you may never be honest with him again. He nodded to you giving you his undivided attention as he slowdance with you in the crowd. You took a deep breath unsure if it was the right time to have this conversation. He had given you permision but you will still be careful with your words.

"I'm confused... You confuse me Henry...Being here like this I..."You looked to the other couples wistfully then back to him.

"I want that...I want that love that freedom and...And I...We feel like a couple ,like we could be a normal couple like them ,but you frighten me, the things you say and do and I...I'm unsure of whats right and wrong now...Normal couples don't do what we do they dont threaten spanking's on dates!" he hummed in response mulling over your words for a few breaths, could everythinghave been his fault? You didnt understand the type of relationship he had with you therefor you dont know what he wants from you or what to expect, is that confusion why you were fighting so hard?

"I'd hoped you were finally accepting things now. I'm glad you were honest with me about being confused love and I'm proud of you. We feel like a couple because we are.... But normal? No we are not we are a bdsm couple, we live a bdsm lifestyle which suits both of us. Your mine and I am yours we are soulmates. You are just finally catching up to that and soon we will feel like this all the time, this happiness this relaxed and playful. I know its all still quite new now but soon you will be used to me being your lover, your daddy, your dominant ,your one and only and in time I will be your husband and father to your children. We will be like this for the rest of our lives. I apologize that I'm only just explaining this now and I can see why you were so reluctant and scared going form a normal vanilla and quite innocent relationship to being in this...very strict and quite demanding, sexually fueled one can be daunting. I was just so caught up wishing you would ajust quicker but matters of the heart can't be rushed and now I see that is what I was trying to do. I am content for now. Soon this will be normal, the jewellery the luxury anything you desire will be yours when you finally admit to loveing me back, when you succumb to your true feelings." He moved looking to the others around you then back to you smiling.

"You will be just as happy as them..If not more you will be the most treasured and spoilt woman in the city, the world even I promise and when that day comes you will make me the happiest man on the planet" he moved solidifying his statment with a kiss, a promise he words sounded like vows in itself. You sighed and pulled back he took a deep breath as you did.

"I'm trying I...Its a lot to take in and I'm glad I spoke to you...I think I understand a little more now...Your You dont mean to frighten me you just...Get excited? okay I can live with that...I've never been in love before its frightening" he smiled twisting you around pulling your back to his front holding you close placing a kiss to your shoulder.

"I know you are trying love, what do you think this is tonight? This is your reward for your week of good behaviour. I am patient I will wait for you neither of us are going anywhere. And in the end everything will be worth it you'll see"

You stood stock still freezing as you looked out into the now full restaurant.You spoke as you cast your eyes to the male in the crowd. He was glaring at you making your chest go cold.No. What did he see? What will he think? You dropped you hands from henry's arms your breath was a whisper.

"Stephan?" Henry brought his head up abruptly going rigid he hands wrapping around your waist tighter almost painfull as if you was going to run to the other male. He looked around growling low and dangerous searching for him finally he honed in on him. Was hair dye all someone needed to bypass his men? He seethed as you trembled in his arms he held his breath. Moving closer to your ear.

"You want him? you want to run to him? Do you? You can I will let you but he will be dead before you touch him!" His words were a hot hiss in your ear.

"No...I-I want him gone" the words were out befor you could catch them he hissed in your ear.

"Y-You what?" he turned you abruptly trying to sniff out a lie but you just held his gaze firm he swallowed his mouth going dry he covered his shock well then glared

"We will see...Come lets go see our dear Stephan shall we?" You tried struggled to keep up but he continued storming across the floor toward him. Henry half dragged half marched you through the dancing couples as you staggered in the stupid fucking shoes!. He turned to you slowly as you gained on Stephan who either bravely or stupidly stood his ground. Your heart beat faster tho you was unsure why you were worried but for who you couldn't say.

"Just remember our arrangement and he will leave here alive" you took a deep breath humming in response before hissing out an answer.

"I'm not leaving Henry" After what felt like an eternity to stood face to face with him, the one you could have seen yourself with on the arm of the man you were forced to be with.

"Y/n..." you looked to him blinking slowly

"Leave" you had to do it, to send him away Henry would hurt him. You wasn't sure if you were just saying that or not, maybe you wanted to stay with Henry. But that was a thought for another day.You swallowed standing tall looking straight at him, you will not have this mans blood on your hands and you will not be used by him again you had enough sorting out your own shit and trying to figure out Henry at this point Stephan could go fuck himself you will forget him.

Stephan, Fletcher and Henry all three were the cause of this. It was a mans game and youd somehow become a pawn for all three. You had to choose a side.

"Yes I think you should leave, this is reservation only I'm afraid." Henrys words had a bite to them anyone watching would assume Henry was just dealing with a gate crasher, no one other then the three of you would know how truley volatile the situation was.

"You? No..y/n I'm here for you! To take you back! Please I'm sorry give me one last chance? I love you baby I can't live with out you please?" You froze everything stopped what was he doing? What the fuck was he doing? Making a scene people watched as Stephan made a wild plea for you to take him back. He made a perfect storm, a brilliant and well thought out display.

Henry tensed holding you. You could feel it he wasn't prepared for this. Had Stephan just out witted the king himself in his own building. You held your breath unsure of what to do If he had was there a chance?. Could this be it? Your escape even if you didnt love stephan could you use this ruse to get away? To go into some form of witness protection?

"Ha! Honestly Stephan you think she hasn't heard?" You took a step back to Henry holding his wrist. No you wont take that chance not now. You have to settle, to just accept your lot with Henry for your own sanity. You had only moments ago realised where you stood and now had some understanding of what this was!. And if you was honest with your self you wasn't willing to trust Stephan he was to little to late.

"You've lost your job, your home everything! What could you possibly offer her? Safety? Please" you faltered at Henry's words were all but laughed out mocking. He lost his job? If so it wasn't safe you picked up on the hidden meaning to his words. You would not be safe. Stephan would not be safe. Not if you took this chance.

You placed a hand to Henry's chest and swallowed your throat closed up as tears sprang to your eyes. You looked stephan dead in the eye his face dropped. He knew. Before he could speak another word you gave your answer through trembling lips.

"I-I said leave! Your a liar! You played me I was a job Stephan and I will not be used again...Leave and don't ever come back. I-I'm with Henry now, we are happy and planning a future and I don't need you around trying to ruin what we have." You shuddered tears rolling down your face. Henry pulled you closer, you just hoped Stephan realized that you did this of our own accord, that henry was giving you a choice and the fact of the matter is you chose this beautiful dastardly man.You had to turn away from him tucking yourself into Henry's side.

"You heard the lady, she chose me now leave" 'while you can' those three words went without saying, hanging in the air. Stephan stood his ground trying to plead with you that he had somewhere to take you, somewhere safe but you just shook your head.

"No! I dont want you! I dont need you! Im happy with how things are and I can't believe youxd do this after all this time?!" You were trying to get through that he was to late the damage was done and youd already made up your mind, your reasons were unclear even to you but he doesnt need to know that all he needed to know was that you were staying exactly where you were.

"But baby you don't understand I was trying-" you shook your head at him desperately wanting hi to stop youd made your decision.

"Enough! Stephan...Ive moved on its to late now go! And dont ever look for me again!" You moved wanting those to be your final words. You turned your back on stephan and looked up to Henry and leaned in to him whispered below your breath.

"Make him leave, please daddy" Henry felt a warmth spread through him as you made the request. You wanted him to intervene to make this boy leave. He would definatly help, protect his babygirl. He acted quickly.

"Security! See to stephan here escort him out" you tore your head up watching as three men apprehended him dragging him through the space to the entrance whre he was destined after that you didn't know. You took a deep breath looking around slowly everyones eyes were on you. Henry growled and snapped at them making the restaurant begin the nights festivities. You stood hugging him a few seconds more then pulled you back slowly.

"Good girl...Such a good girl you did the right thing. My little love. The right thing." He pulled you in pressing his lips against yours slowly not forcing anything just happy to let you remain there in his arms. He moved slowly escorting ou back to yur table where a waitress brought out your meal after a few moments.

After the incident you found it hard to relax and only did so once back home. The rest of the night was overshadowed by it dread rolled in your stomach Henry was tense. And that normally meant bad things for you. If henry was angry with you he hid it well through dinner and you both tried salvaging the evening in your own ways. But even hree slices of cheesecake couldnt lift your spirits completely.

Once in the house he slammed the front door it echoed down the halls. You flinched and turned to him But he bypassed you and shouted loudly into the house standing tall shoulders back he was itching for a fight ou could tell he wanted to break somehing. Someone.

"LUKE GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OUT HERE!" Within a few short moments Luke came running stuttering.

"Hen-Sir I didn't know but we have him in-" he was knocked clean off his feet as Henry swung for him. No warning nothing just one fast powerfull fist connecting with his jaw. You screamed jumping back, the commotion got kals attention as the huge dog came barreling in to the foyer barking and growling on the defensive. You ignored the usually sweet now frightening canine watching the scene before you unfold shaking head to toe. Youd never seen henry hit someone before...not like that, he meant that he wanted to cause real damage then.Once his victim was on the floor he crouched wagging a finger at him.

"Hair dye...Thats all he needed to avoid you....your really loosing your touch about as quickly as I'm loosing fucking patience....This fuck up, your fuck up ruined my night! What was supposed to be our first date down the fucking drain because you let it slip A-FUCKING-GAIN! I don't care where he is, infact I don't want you to tell me but you get the info out of him and release him...Do not kill him" Henry stood at his full height hissing looking to you then clenched his jaw. Brilliant! Fucking brilliant you were shaking in terror just how he wanted the fucking night to end! Not! He sighed running a hand acros his face then looked to the man still on the floor.

"Tell me that you've atleast set the room up for us and this night isn't a complete waste" the man on the floor nodded cupping his jaw that was hanging at a funny angle it looked broken. You tensed Henry was powerful muh more powerull then he looked.Henry sighed he didnt move he didnt want you to bolt.

"Love... I'm sorry I just...i know its scary but you know daddy would never ever hurt you...Not truley, please love stop looking at me like that... Could you come here please?....That's it good girl I'm sorry little one good girl just like that" you moved slowly past the man withering on the floor. And stood before Henry it took everything not to flinch from him as he moved to hold your waist and made his way to the stairs pulling you with him. You didn't fight him, you were scared stiff you doubted that even kal would protect you from his master. He walked you right up stairs to the bed room you winced seeing that things were out...Toys. He moved past you huffing and swearing leaving you to just stand and wait. He made his way into the bathroom tense he was angry, furious even. You shook unsure how to tread it had been a while since he was this angry and you wasn't sure who he was angry at. You, stephan or luke...You hoped it wasnt you.

You leaned on the dresser undoing the buckles on your shoes sighing once the sore soles of your feet hit the cool floor. You looked to the bed the sheets were changed. A dark purple satin with matching pillow cases a single black rose on your side of the bed and petals scattered about the place. It was romantic. Well until you saw the contraptions attached to the chair facing the bed which was intended for you to be placed upon. A large purple cilindrycal arch placed on the seat and..Well there was a very satisfying looking dildo sticking right up in the center and a small bobble textured silicone mat just in front of it, there were cuffs attached to the two back legs of the chair that would make the 'toy' take your weight you shivered unsure if you wanted to do this is he was in a mood. You shook your head best get to work calming him down.

You moved slowly to the bathroom he was hunched over the sink he looked up meeting your gaze in the mirror. you blinked moving behinde him hugging him from behind he froze in your arms hands still braced on the marble.

"Thank you daddy...tonight was fun even if he tried to ruin it" you pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He turned abruptly grasping your chin making you look in his eyes.

"You..you had fun..I thought you was upset?" you shook your head at him he sounded angry but you'd thought it was at you aparently not.

"Of course it was our first date...and we had our first dance I just...I wanted you to know that I'm greatfull" he blinked shaking you

"LIES! How could you possibly? you wanted to go with him! to leave me! I LOVE YOU I FUCKING ADORE YOU AND YOU STILL WANT TO LEAVE ME! WHY? WHY DO YOU FUCK AROUND LIKE THIS? WHY DO YOU TRY TO MANIPULATE ME? MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME IM YOUR LOVER YOUR SOULMATE! IS THAT NOT ENOUGH?!" you screamed struggling as his nails broke the skin of your arms."NO!-NO PLEASE I DIDN'T- I WASN'T PLEASE DADDY DON'T!" you cried out loud trying to grab him as he spun you around slamming you to the door making it close with a slam the sound ringing in your ear

"ADMIT IT! ADMIT TO ME WHAT YOU REALLY WANTED! YOU WANTED HIM YOU WANT HIM!" you shuddered as his eyes searched yours but found only tears you shook your head trying to pull back from him.

"P-ple-ease your hurting me..Daddy I'm here with you-I chose you. I-I want you daddy, pl-please let go" your crying seemed to get more out of control as you now struggled to speak breathing was difficult. He blinked your painfull whimpers cuting him deep as he realized he was the cause. It snapped him out of it as he saw that he had infact hurt you he let go taking heaving breaths.

He expected you to run but all you did was stay still sobbing your heart out before him clutching your bleeding arms. he moved a hand to you you managed not to flinch but he could see it you wanted to. You wanted to run from him. He swore and quickly wrapped you in his arms.

"Oh my god my love, my heart I'm sorry..I'm so sorry love please shush its okay your okay...shh shh I'm sorry daddy is here, come here my baby..My sweet sweet girl" he pulled you close and just like that he was soothing you again rubbing your back. you trembled and clutched onto him sobbing he took a deep breath.

"I-I'm s-sorry But I didn't I didn't want to go...I wanted to stay with you...He lied he used me im here..I decided to stay with you" he closed his eyes he knew you were coming around. He was just so angry. At Luke at Stephan and at himself. He had fucked up from word one he knew that. This wasn't the plan. He had so desperatly wanted to make tonight THE night. The meal and danceing having fun then bring you back to a romantic room and make love to you. To get your consent, to toy with you untill you were dripping begging for him and finally. finally spend himself inside you. And wake up tomorrow morning with you wrapped around him happy. tonight was supposed to be the first night of the rest of your lives. the introduction to your new life.but now that seemed the last thing that was going to happen, after manhandeling you like that he was sure you were now going to try and reject him completely. that this whole shit show was going to set the relationship back a good few weeks. you looked up cutely blushing.

"The..The bedroom is sweet...I like the sheets and...And the roses its romantic" he smiled down at you seeing that you was trying to overcome the little spat. He hummed grinning rubbing his hands across your back slowly feeling you unwind.

"You did ,did you? well I shall remember that" you opened you mouth then closed it slowly

"What is it? you looked like you was going to ask something very important then little one" you shuddered squirming under his gaze he noted you rubbing your thighs together.

"W-what is that thing? I-in there on the chair?" he smiled at your innocence and began ushering you to move so he could open the door guiding you out.

"That my love is a gift..For you mostly but I will also get some enjoyment out of it..It is called a sybian...Just think of it as my little babygirls very own rocking horse." he chuckled noticing you froze on the spot, he pressed you forward making you take step towards it.

"It rocks?" Henry laughed moving you closer.

"No my little love it does not rock, I have no doubt however that you will be once your on it...Not tonight tho I've my outburst has ruined our night already" you blinked you couldn't help being curious of the thing you blinked tilting your head, you might aswell start enjoying yourself afterall tonight youd made it clear you was going to stay of your own accord maybe its time to just take a leap of faith.

"No I want a go...And you did say its mine and that youd spoil me tonight...I want to play on it" his jaw dropped. What? Were you seriously initiating sex? It was the first time you'd started anything or even showed any real interest. He gulped looking from you to the expensive vibrator then you again. Could him clarifying your relationship have caused this change? Or was there something more at work, were their feelings involved. He wasn't sure but not one to kick a gift horse in the mouth he smiled nodding making you blush brightly and move forward running the tips of your fingers over the slim dildo inspecting it naively. Oh yes the night was back on track and Henry couldn't be more thrilled.

#henry cavill fic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #mob boss henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill is daddy #daddy henry cavill

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

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Coding Creates Friendships

Author’s note: I got this interesting prompt from @vld-prompts about Pidge and Lotor bonding over programming. As I began to write, I thought programming and coding were the same...when they are not. This story is aimed at coding and not so much programming...sorry. The code that is mentioned in this story is presumed to be correct. I am still learning C++ myself, so if it’s wrong, don’t be obnoxious about it. Hope you all like the story and I think I’ll put this on my AO3 account for a collection of short stories. Happy Readin’!

Young Pidge Gunderson...always finding a way to pass the time. She loved science ever since she was a child. Now she seemed to be more interested in coding and programming. On Earth, there were several coding languages such as Python, C++, C#, and many, many more. She and Hunk would spend hours debating whether or not a code would work. As one knows, coding in any of these languages can be very difficult and can cause constant headaches, but it was worth it.

It was approximately 5 PM on an equivalent of an Earth Saturday evening and believe it or not, the team had downtime to complete whatever they wanted. Keith and Shiro spent their time practicing and sharpening their attack skills while Allura and Coran were reminiscing on old memories. Those memories allow them to keep pushing forward even though the road ahead looked dark. Both Hunk and Pidge were working on creating a jazz-like music producing program for musicians who were also on space missions to keep their spirits up and allowed them to stream on Earth’s internet platforms. Working and working for hours, Hunk decided to take a lunch break, one that was much overdue.

“I’m going to see if we have something other than goo. If we have pizza, do you want a slice?”

“Sure. Just set it on the table. Get me some pop too, please.”

“Sure thing!”

She was trying to input a code that changes the color of text on the program but for some reason, it wouldn’t work. The continuous “error” message nearly made her throw her laptop through the airlock. She grunted in anger as she took off her glasses and placed her hand over her mouth. If she couldn’t figure out this simple step, how could they input various different plugins or VST’s? Maybe she should have taken a lunch break...that usually seems to do the trick.

The automatic doors flew open and assuming it was Hunk, she entended her arm waiting to receive her pizza.

“Were you waiting for something,” a smooth, chilled deep voice asked in curiosity.

“Huh?”

Pidge turned around and to her surprise instead of Hunk, it was Lotor, the biracial prince that the team had been working with to take down Zarkon and revamp the entire empire. Why was he just lounging around on the ship? No one knows. You’d think he would be with his own generals but instead, he was here.

“Oh, hey Lotor. Have you seen Hunk?”

“I saw him in the kitchen eating what you all call pizza.”

“I guess he forgot to get me a slice.”

“I can get it for you if you’d like.”

“That’s ok. I need to finish this project before it drives me insane!”

“What are you trying to complete?”

The price walked closer and sat down beside her to get a better look at what she was completing. He stared in utter confusion, trying to figure out what the symbols were that she was using and the alphabet to make the code.

“What are the symbols and letters you are using?”

“These are the alphabet.”

“All of Earth use the same alphabet?”

“Heavens, no. In America, we use the alphabet you see here but in other countries, they use different characters that look different than ours. Sort of like how the Altean alphabet looks entirely different than my alphabet.”

“How did you learn all of this? It’s so much.”

“You learn it over the course of several years. If you were there, you’d learn it in no time!”

“What is this code going to be used for?”

“Hunk and I are trying to make a computer program for musicians that can create and stream their music to various countries and in space as well.”

“That sounds excellent! Which type of music, though?”

“Remember that sultry music that you and Allura were listening to last night? Put your head on my shoulder? Yeah, that’s quite a popular song on Earth...”

His eyes widened and he frowned trying to portray that he did not know what the green paladin was trying to insinuate. No matter how hard he tried, it was obvious what was going on and he could no longer hide the fact that he was seriously dating the princess. She turned her head, facing him and smiling, nearly about to laugh so loudly that would disrupt the endless void of space. Lotor blushed and rubbed the inner corners of his eyes along the ridges of his nose and released a sign.

“How did you know about that,” Lotor asked imagining endless mortifying encounters with the rest of the team during the day.

“The walls are thin.”

“Oh, no…”

“Hey, don’t feel bad now. You didn’t feel that way last night.”

Pidge obnoxiously laughed a laugh of both awkwardness and truly out of amusement. The prince tried to hide his relationship with Allura to appear neutral when it came to combat and any other incidents but now? The cat was out of the bag.

“Oh, stop it. It’s not funny, it’s mortifying.”

“Ok, fine. But thanks for the laugh, though. I needed it. You’re not so bad after all.”

“It’s a shame that it took that for you to warm up to me. Can we get back to your code now?”

“Ok, fine Mr. Grumpy.”

“Wait! You said you were using the Earth’s alphabet and symbols to code?”

“Yes…”

“I think I know the problem here. The Altean and Galra way of programming is the same as Earth’s. We have the same languages, we just replaced your alphabet with ours!”

“Ok...I see what you’re getting at. But how can I solve this problem?”

“You’d have to input the following:

// C++ program to illustrate coloring

#include <iostream>

#include <stdlib.h>

using namespace std;

// Driver Code

int main()

{

// Print this message

cout << "Name your track";

// We can print the statement first

// and then changed the color

// E for background Color(Medium Gray)

// 4 for text color(White)

system("Color E4");

return 0;

}. We would use the same code, just replace your letters with ours.”

She was hesitant, but tried is the solution. Quickly typing, Lotor stared at the computer screen watching the young engineer at work. It surprised both of them how much both aliens and humans had in common; they weren’t that different. When the “successful” message appeared on her laptop, she rejoiced. Ugh! Several hours of inputting the same dead code were dreadful! Without thinking, she gave Lotor a quick hug, threw her laptop on her beanie, and ran toward the kitchen.

“Wait! Pidge...Green Paladin…?”

“Yeah…?”

“Don’t tell anyone about that, ok? I’m not ready for the team to know yet.”

“Sure. Your secret is safe with me.”

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Justice League Indispensable: JLA #222: Beasts II: Death Games

January, 1984

I’ve noticed over two-hundred and twenty plus posts that villains love being tall and dangling heroes from their fingers.

That tactile sensation... It must feel amazing. And a little squirmy.

Not much else to say about the cover. Except that Hawkman’s legs seem to not exist.

Anyway.

Last time on Justice League: the Justice League have been dealing with a lot of weird animal/people hybrids. Has Dr. Moreau finally been adapted into DC? Probably not. But Flash, Elongated Man, and Hawkman all get badly injured in separate locations by these Ani-Men. And Firestorm catches a catgirl named Reena robbing the Empire State Building. She asks him for sanctuary so he takes her to the JL Satellite to spill the beans on the Ani-Men.

This time: Superman is in the hilarious position of interrogating catgirl Reena who has forgotten how chairs work.

Just sitting on the table. Probably getting hair everywhere.

Firestorm tells Superman to chill out with the hardnosed animated Justice League approach (I mean, he doesn’t, but animated Superman also needed to chill out, amirite?) because Reena volunteered to help.

Reena says she has no choice but to trust the League and that she’s lived in DAILY TERROR for the past few months.

She asks if any of them have heard of Repli-Tech?

Dang, shame Batman is off having recently formed the Outsiders because I bet he knows all the companies. All of them.

Ooooorrrr Aquaman does?

Aquaman: “Repli-Tech Industries... They were one of the first of the genetics companies to go public on the stock exchange, weren’t they? I remember they made quite a splash a year ago... But I haven’t heard anything about them since.”

Oh, Aquaman, you punster, you.

So Reena lays down some exposition about how Repli-Tech was a hilariously mismanaged company, where the executives forced a rapid capital expansion beyond its market niche and how a recession just bankrupt the overextended company.

But despite the dismay and panic of the other execs, hilariously mustached CEO Rex Rogan had a daring plan to save the company!

Rex Rogan: “Dr. Lovecraft and his genetic discoveries were the basis for our initial success, developing new forms of medicine -- new fertilizers -- even new fuels! He’s come up with a way out for all of us, involving a new, experimental form of DNA manipulation. It could kill us -- but the alternative is disgrace, financial ruin, and imprisonment.”

Oh, sure. Of course. Why not trust a guy called DR. LOVECRAFT.

But due to faith in Rex Rogan, CEO, or just fear of prison, the whole board all agrees to this wild plan.

And the wild plan?

Dr. Lovecraft uses SCIENCE to put them all in cocoons where they are transformed into furries.

Rex Rogan Maximus Rex: “We are reborn -- we are above the beasts, and above mankind! We will do more than merely survive -- we will conquer -- we will rule!”

Then with company guards also enhanced by Dr. Lovecraft, Rex has them steal a whole bunch of shit which is used to protect Repli-Tech from bankruptcy.

Huh.

Uh. I don’t really get how becoming furries was an essential part of this plan.

If the plan was just to steal a bunch of shit to make up for poor financial management. But live your best lives, Repli-Tech board of directors.

Anyway, having super hunky animal powers is handy when the superheroes inevitably become involved which oops look its happening. It happened last issue and this issue so good thing they had turned themselves into furries.

(Do the Repli-Tech board of directors not have to make any public appearances? They’re a publicly traded company, apparently.)

Also, Maximus Rex buys a warehouse to turn into an arena for some death games where humans fight beast-men for the amusement of the rich and powerful like politicians and corporate executives.

Not really sure how this specifically saves the company but I think that’s more of a personal project for Maximus Rex, lion hunk.

The blood sport did make Reena start thinking that maybe Rex was the asshole.

‘Uh no shit’ chimes in Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman who determine now is a good time to interject that Reena is just as much of a monster for sitting idly by as people were killed in blood sport.

Firestorm, Superman, and Zatanna counter ‘hey lets hear the rest of the story, mkay?’

Reena grew unable to stomach all the death and as luck would have it Rowl, one of the Repli-Tech guards recently transformed into an animal hunk also found the whole situation gross.

He helped Reena escape but wound up captured himself.

He did manage to high kick a scorpion man though. So that’s something.

Anyway, Rowl getting caught is why Reena was breaking into the Repli-Tech office in the Empire State Building. She wanted to find evidence!

Hawkgirl: “I don’t believe it. Not a word. She’s obviously a plant -- she said herself, she was Rogan’s mistress, that she always did everything he told her. Why should we believe she’d turn against him?”

Firestorm: “Look at her, Hawkgirl -- me, I believe her.”

Aquaman: “We can’t ignore what she’s told us, Shayera.”

Even Superman goes yeah lets believe the catgirl. And I’m sorta wondering about all the male Justice League members believing the catgirl while two out of three of the woman leaguers are like uhn uh I don’t trust that darn cat.

But we shortly see that Reena was telling the truth about Rowl, if nothing else.

Guards at the Arena snooze gas Rowl to drag him from his cell into the Arena.

A Guard: “Y’know, I used to be friends with this guy, when he was still human. Rex gives him a chance to be something special, and he goes and blows it helping some damn cat.”

Rowl comes to in the center of the Arena with the crowd roaring for his blood.

He tries to talk to the crowd, win their sympathy by saying he used to be human like them but they’re rich dicks who want to see someone horribly murdered for their amusement.

Trying to talk to them was a non-starter. And Maximus Rex even mocks him for trying.

Maximus Rex: “Human you may have been -- but you were never like them. Smell the air: it’s so thick you can taste it -- the oily sweat of a blood-hungry mob! They want a death, Rowl... They want your death!”

Maximus Rex asks the crowd what Rowl deserves and they chant DEATH and KILL HIM so Maximus Rex jumps down to the Arena floor to see to it personally.

He’s kinda like Roman Emperor Commodus from the historically adjacent movie film Gladiator who liked to gladiate instead of just watching Gladiator gladiate.

And unlike movie Commodus, Maximus Rex is no slouch.

Right off the bat, he blocks Rowl’s ultimate technique, a jump kick.

Poor Rowl is doomed.

And he doesn’t even know it yet. He manages to hit Maximus Rex once and thinks he’s winning.

Rowl: “You’re just as you were in the boardroom -- you’ve no stomach for a real battle! We used to laugh about you, Rogan, down in the ranks! All of us -- we called you a gutless wonder!”

Maximus Rex retorts by disembowling Rowl.

Maximus Rex: “So, Rowl... Which of us has no stomach now?”

Savage af.

Then he knocks Rowl down and RIPS OFF HIS HEAD TO SHOW TO THE CROWD??

Geez! This is a gory story! I mean, we don’t see anything really except for some dark blue blood but geez!

A lion man just ripped off a jump-kicking wolfman’s head in a gladiatorial arena for the ultra rich!

You’re bonkers, superhero comic books!

RIP Rowl, Justice League #222 (1984) - Justice League #222 (1984).

Back at the Justicey part of the plot, 22,300 miles above the Earth, the League receives an emergency message from Dr. Hamid of Cairo Hospital.

Or he says he’s Dr. Hamid of Cairo Hospital.

He looks like Tony Stark, that Ironman guy from Marvel.

Anyway, he got the JL’s top secret broadcast code from a device on Hawkman’s uniform.

Yeah. Hawkman. Remember how he was attacked by a giant scorpion last issue? Well, he’s in the hospital with an acute case of too much scorpion venom in him. And Dr. Toby Stark fears he may not last the night.

Hawkgirl is understandably upset and wants to rush to his side as fast as possible. And since the League has cool teleport booths, that’s... still not that fast because the booths only go to other booths and Cairo Hospital doesn’t have a booth.

She also asks Wonder Woman to go with her.

Superman wonders if Hawkgirl is maybe too emotionally torn up to go see her scorpion’d hawkguy.

Zatanna: “I won’t stop her, Superman. Will you?”

WHILE GIVING AN EXPRESSION THATS LIKE ‘please do not drag me into drama.’

Reena tries to commiserate with Hawkgirl but Shayera is having none of that.

Hawkgirl: “Your people did this. If Katar dies -- you killed him!”

Oof.

Zatanna tries to contextualize Hawkgirl’s outburst by explaining that Hawkman and Hawkgirl are just super close but Reena says she understands because she and Rex were that close.

And that despite everything she still loves him and it makes her feel like shit.

Oof.

Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl arrive at Cairo Hospital and Dr. Hamid tells them that Hawkman isn’t the only one who got scorpion’d.

Dr. Hall and his students were attacked by giant scorpion man to rob some archaeological relics they found. Several of the students are in the hospital after being stung and two have already died.

As for Dr. Hall, why he’s just plum gone missing. (Because he’s Hawkman)

From his hospital bed, Hawkman weakly (because of getting scorpion’d) apologizes for the argument they had before he left for Cairo and Hawkgirl claims she doesn’t even remember the fight. Because nothing makes you put aside hurt feelings like possible death by scorpion.

Dr. Hamid tells Wonder Woman that Hawkman is very likely to die unless they can get some giant scorpion man venom to develop into an anti-toxin.

And while they walk by, a random janitor mopping the floor reports the presence of the Justice League members to his ring.

HMMM.

I think that I suspect that this humble janitor is in fact actually a plant for the Rex Squad.

Yup.

Yuuuup.

That janitor was up to no good.

With two Hawks down with sleep gas, its left to the Rex Squad unit leader to handle Wonder Woman.

ITS A HECKIN RHINO MAN!

Of course, a hero as strong as Wonder Woman isn’t going down to a single rhino punch.

It takes a second whole punch to knock her out.

Womp womp.

Rhino Man: “Gas her and shove her in the ‘copter with the others, Mac. The boss wants ‘em all for a little TV show he’s planning. Way I hear, it’s gonna be a ratings smash!”

Rhino puns.

About an hour later, the Justice League subteam nicknamed Sit On Their Thumbs is still in the satellite wondering why Wonder Woman hasn’t called to tell them how Hawkman is doing.

But gosh darn it, if they don’t hear from her in two more minutes in time for the regular hourly check-in, then they’ll just have to do something maybe!

But they get a signal from Hawkgirl’s code and Aquaman main screen turns on... to reveal a big sneering lion man who is not Hawkgirl at all.

Reena: “oh god... he’s found me.”

Maximus Rex, full incoming ham: “Yes, Reena, I’ve found you. When this is done, you’ll suffer the fate of all who betray me. But first, tell your new friends who they face! I am MAXIMUS REX, LEADER OF THE NEW ORDER!”

Firestorm: “Y’know... Somehow, I’d already guessed that.”

Snrrk.

But Maximus Rex warns them not to mock his lionness and has the camera swung over to reveal that he has Wonder Woman and the Hawks as his hostages.

Hawkman is definitely going to die (from being scorpion’d) but Maximus Rex is Magnanimous Rex and instead of immediately killing them, he’s going to turn them into furries too.

Maximus Rex: “I think the Amazon would make a very proper pig, don’t you?”

Man, this guy must have loved the “This Little Piggy” episode of Justice League Unlimited.

Buuuut he won’t turn them into furries and make them fight in his Arena if the Justice League do him some small favors.

First thing, turn Reena over to him.

Second thing, “I want your full cooperation with my plans.”

When Superman tells him ‘obviously no’ Maximus gets mad.

Oh, Maximus the Mad. That’s a catchy name for him.

Maximus Rex: “In the hours to come, you will regret this decision, Justice Leaguers. My new order is the future. You cannot turn the tide of destiny. It will sweep over you... Draw you under... Drown you in the sea of history! Ours will be a struggle to the death -- your death! HA HA HA HA”

He is.

Frothing a little.

And as the mad lion lad continues just belly laughing on this collect call, Superman shakes his fist determinedly.

Superman: “Enjoy it while you have it, Maximus. We’re bringing you down.”

I mean, sure, half of the League is captured or in the hospital already from tangling with these Ani-Men but the League is probably due for an upswing, right?

Or maybe they’ll all get captured and I’ll get to see what the Justice League’s fursonas are.

My guess for Superman is the noble capybara, friend to all.

Follow @justice-league-indispensible or @essential-avengers which is my real liveblog. I’m sorry, this has all been a lie. A jape. A delightful jest. An April Fool. Like and reblog maybe. The more notes this gets the more I go oh no look at what kind of response Justice League gets and I’ve backed the Avengers horse, the April Fool turns out to be me! That’ll show me.

#Justice League of America #Justice League Indispensable #Superman #Wonder Woman #Aquaman #Hawkman #Hawkgirl #Firestorm #Zatanna #Reena the catgirl #Maximus Rex and the Ani Men #indispensable dc liveblogging

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